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The Pen is Mightier than the Sword
Salinye

What Happened To The Pen??

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"Mrf, MMPH, sssooo good."

 

Wyvern rubs his snout against the empty plate again in a futile search for any scraps he may have missed. He curls his tongue around his claws for a moment to soak in the leftover grease. Falcon2001 watches in a somewhat bewildered state, having not managed to touch any of the food let alone taste it. An extra loud stomach grumble causes Falcon to jump, and he looks towards Wyvern with a blank expression on his face.

 

"Barmaid!" Wyvern slams his claw down on the table several times, raising the plate in a clatter. He pats his growling stomach as the waitress approaches, his eyes following the front of her apron the entire time. "Yeah, I'd like to order another cheessseburger and another round of fries and some curly onion cheese doodles on the ssside please. Oh, and a kid's meal for my friend here."

 

Wyvern cocks a claw back at Falcon.

 

"Ooookay." The barmaid takes a step back, reluctant to get close to the lizard given his rude stare and ruder eating habits. "W-will that be all sir?"

 

"Well, if yer gonna put it that way, might as well make it a triple decker cheeseburger." Wyvern grins toothily and slides his forked tongue over his lips. "Sssay, what do you make these burgers with anyway? They're pretty damn good!"

 

The barmaid pauses and pulls out a list of ingredients from her smock.

 

"Well, we use the finest dwarven buns, and the patties are made from 100% grade-A narrative beast. And the special sauce is a secret."

 

Wyvern nods and watches the barmaid's rear as she wanders off, reaching into his mouth to pick at a few tiny hands that seem to be radiating in all directions between his teeth.

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The waitress beat a quick retreat under Wyvern's lecherous glare. Approaching a small high window she handed the order in. "Cheese mound, fry round, cheese dudes, and a squirt. Better make it crispy, this one's almost a dragon."

 

"Gotcha," came the reply, but all that could be seen through the relatively small and high opening were shadows through a smoky red glare.

 

The order quickly made it's way into the dark bowels of the kitchen, handed from one frenetic lizard man to another, each in the natural motion of his particular task. After a dozen such hand offs, taking less than ten seconds, the order was in front of the cook proper, with the accompanying verbal instructions. Fires raged. Pots hissed. Pans clanged. Meat hit the massive grill as potatoes and doodles splashed into the oil at the same time Bessy's handler cracked his whip.

 

A tremendous rumble shook the kitchen as Bessy let loose - the lone Red Dragon employee of the Pen kitchen. Heat seemed to pour from the walls themselves, and the air carried a thick acrid smoke . Spots close to the flame ducting of every oven and range glowed a hellish red. "AAARRRRGH!!!" shouted the head cook, who had previously served on the Black Pearl, as he pivoted on his peg leg and twirled his spatula like a cutlass. He threw a handful of cheese on each pattie, burying it under sizzling cheesiness.

 

The narrative beasts in the stable behind the kitchen mooed tragically. They were invited to dinner - and it would be their last meal. An ogre sat in a far off corner frustratedly trying to curl the doodles - but they were slippery and spry, and his fingers were rather thick. "Damn dese doodles..." he was heard to mutter repeatedly. Fortunately, he had a good sized bowl already finished, having maintained his position for years... The muse was at the condiments table, slicing, slathering, spreading, stacking. "So many hands, so few orders these days," she said, looking up reminiscently...

 

Sparks flew. Smoke poured. Dedicated sous chef's gave their lives in the line of duty. With machinelike precision the grub was built up and carried forward. "Order up!" shouted the last Lizard man in the delivery chain as the plates showed up back at the window. The barmaid hefted them up and carried them out.

 

Wyvern's eyes grew large at the sight of the approaching steaming meal, and he dripped a telltale stream of sooty spittle."Yesss!" he exclaimed, unable to control himself.

 

"Wait!" he said with alarm, once the food was in front of him. "What's this?" He pointed with a claw at a an odd shaped item on the edge of each plate. "A... a fortune cookie?"

 

"Yeah - compliments of the Cabaret Cafe*". She turned and left before Wyv could ogle her cleavage any longer, much to his disappointment. Deciding to jump on what pleasures life did offer, he quickly cracked open the fortune cookie.

 

It said:

Watch the news that IS news - Wyvern's Almost Report!

(See it on the Walls of the Pen.) ;)

 

 

 

*There are many cafes and bars where one could eat in the Pen, but most were served by a single massive hellish kitchen, powered by a Red Dragon and run by a Pirate.

Edited by The Portrait of Zool

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Where have I been? Why haven't I posted? These seem to be the questions each of us should (must?) answer.

 

I've been lurking. I come on and read, but don't log in. Seemed to lose my muse also. While there have been a few mentions of what/where a muse is/can be found, the fact remains that muses are held captive by reality. And everyone knows that reality hides under the furniture - since reality shares a remarkable resembalence to dust bunnies. One must sneak up on reality in order to catch it unawares, pounce upon it, beat it within an inch of it's life and (dare I say) waggle an admonishing finger at it, before it will release a captive muse. This in no way means, that the muse will be grateful and inspire it's savior. They are fickle that way.

 

I haven't had the will for such an endevore. Medical issues have kept me out of work for awhile (hoping to get back to work soon), this isn't an excuse for not posting, in fact, I should be posting daily. Really don't know why I don't.

 

Pretty sure I'm depressed. Took an on-line depression test (the extent of my bordome that led me to do this, depressed me) and I scored high to very high on all types of depression except for two. Manic depression and post-partum. It was depressing not to score high/very high on manic depression, because it meant that I didn't have the joy of at least having brief episodes of exhilerating manicness. Since I'm a guy, not scoring high/very high on post-partum depression made me think, "Yay me!" - for a while, 'till I realized that, as a guy, unless one of my highly illegal and questionably ethical cloning, artificial life or reanimation experiments actually succeeds, I will never feel the joy of creating life (or of standing over my creation and screaming, "IT, IS, ALIIIVVVEE!!!"). This depressed me. 'Till I figured out that, without the experiments, I would have to squeeze out an object that was roughly 2 feet long and about as round as a grapefruit, through a very tiny bodily orifice. Once again, "Yay me!"

 

I really should post. I've been wondering what Snypiuer has been up to.

Edited by Snypiuer

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Tzimfemme pinches up a stray cheese dude by the back of his collar just before he skitters over her foot, then whisks him clean with the end of one of her finer braids. Artificial cheese powder flies every-which-way, uncovering. . .a locust? "You again?" she inquires, and tries to uncrimp her facial expression. Artificial cheese powder has locked onto it like stage makeup. You know how your mother said if you keep on making that face, it'll freeze that way? She left out the bit where artificial cheese powder set like plaster when it came into contact with sweat.

 

"What else is a bug gonna do in this lousy economy?" The locust folds up its front four legs and seethes. "And don't go whining to the FDA neither. See if they care! Great-Grandmaw lost her only son to a vat of Fig Newtons and did they stop the conveyor belt? Acourse not!" It doubly points to the right. "Them jerks in the kitchen promised time-and-a-half for every time we escaped and got back to the kitchen so's we could be served again. Like we're gonna see any of that!"

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try fish oil, it's a natural anti-depressant. That and steer clear of melatonin. Works for me.

 

rev...

At first I thought this was suggesting an avoidance of melanin, which would be very strange indeed.

 

I actually go tanning in the winter to help out with moderate seasonal depression that I have. It's bed for me to not get enough UV rays, or something.

 

 

 

Also, yea, lots of old faces here. Go figure.

 

I've switched my muse from writing to dancing, so that's my excuse. But it's good to pop in and read every once in a while.

Edited by Vlad

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Naw, melanin has something to do with skin pigment. Melatonin is naturally occurring chemical that your body produces to help regulate your sleep cycle. You can buy it over the counter in the U.S. It works great for people that work night shifts or are on submarines. That and it also gives you very intense dreams. However exposer to sunlight probably does trigger its production somehow.

 

Anyway, only problem is the last thing a person with a history of depression needs is an intensified will to sleep. Pretty much, its feels harder to get out of bed when you're on it; sleep feels like a drug. Still, I gave it to my insomniac friend (he's got all kinds of sleep issues from the first gulf war) and he loved it. Said it was the only thing that really gave him a good night sleep, even better than prescription drugs the army gave him.

Edited by reverie

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Thanks for the advice Rev.

 

But, if I bring fish oil home, the fish get the wrong idea. Then I have to put up with really suggestive remarks and looks that. . . well, frankly. . . make me feel REAL uncomfortable in my no-no place. You COULD say it's my own fault, you make ONE mistake! You have a little too much to drink, come home, there are the fish. They're very understanding and friendly, one thing leads to another and the next thing you know, you wake up and think, "Oh no! What did I do?" Of course the fish are understanding and supportive, "Things happen, we got carried away." they say. They agree that it should be forgotten as if it never happened, but they end up being passive aggressive and constantly trying to pressure you into 'things' then, apologizing and saying they couldn't help themselves. Then one day, you're tired and they offer a massage and you find their fins rubbing your shoulders. . .well, I don't have to tell anyone HERE what happens next. We ALL know how manipulative fish can be. :(:huh::blink::unsure:

 

ANYWAYS, let's not dwell on it.

 

Think I'll try to see what Snypiuer has been up to while I've been away.

Edited by Snypiuer

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A shadow falls across the table as Wyvern's toothy maw hovers inches away from his savory meal. Frowning, he glances at the newcomer blocking the light meant for his Scaliness alone. Draconic eyes widen in surprise as a familiar figure settles next to him. "Hullo, Wyv. Care for a strong shot of something to go with that?" Brute smiles at Wyvern's momentary silence and nods to Falcon, then quickly produces a certain decanter, worn with use...

Edited by Brute

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As the shadow falls on Wyvern the door to the room opens to admit a tall woman with large silver wings. She waves timidly to the others in the room and quickly begins to make her way to a table in the corner.

 

OOC: Well it is hard to be able to post when you don't have an internet connection. That is my only excuse. Umm..... That will probably double as Brute's too.

Edited by Silver Dragon

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With a grin, Ozymandias produces many, many steins of an inscrutable metal.

 

Summoning a small retinue of shadow creatures with a wriggling of fingers to help him carry them to Brute, he sings lustily, "May love and wine their rights maintain, and in united pleasures reign...!"

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As the Death of Rats leaps through the air, he realizes too late. . .it's a trap!

 

After a mighty fight - with many a SQUEAK, flurry of obscenity scribbled posts-it notes, fish scales and amputated fins - the Grim Squeaker is captured.

 

Snypiuer sees all his plans coming together.

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I'll be honest. This place to me has always been a place that commanded respect and attention to detail. Posting like that is exhausting when there is little time to spare and I found myself starting many posts only to dismiss them later as uncreative or unimaginative. I guess I wanted to be as interesting as some of the other amazing contributors here and the pressure got to me. I did my impersonation of a doe in the headlights and ran for cover.

 

After that - life took over, relationships changed, I moved and settled again. Work is INSANE and stressful and un-rewarding but part of the game of life (I am shooting for the rock star square on my next roll.) I found it increasingly harder and harder to connect with my inner child which was the creative feed for Rune. Her spirit started to fade and I was losing my connection.

 

I’ve always loved this board and I miss posting here. I should probably make friends with some other inner characters so that I have a variety of people to post from. Hard to be a little one when you are feeling entirely too grown up.

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Rune stops dead in her vocal tracts by the sight of the shiiiiiiiiiny candy. One particular piece seemed to resemble a falling star. She makes a wish! then quickly unwraps it and chews it up.

 

Yums~

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I don't know about your Rune, but my Minta thrives on being in a community. I can't write her effectively when cut off from the online world and not among hyper people.

 

As for the relative quiet of the past few days, compared to the relative volume of drinking songs a few days before THAT, I call mass hangover.

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Was told that perhaps it was time to move on, So I did. Dived into WoW and my guild there, and didn't really come out again. I still write, every now and then. Started a thread here, 1 loyal person reacted (yay for Wyvern).

 

Still miss certain people from here, but the community is no longer mine. Seems like moving on, instead of trying to hold on to something that no longer existed (the boards when I first came here) was the right choice.

 

Doesn't mean I'm not thankful for the time I've had here, just means that I've excepted that time goes forward, and not back :)

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Moving forward is good, but you are welcome here too.

 

Take care of yourself. We have not forgotten you.

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I'm taking a well deserved break from writing and critiquing poetry at the moment after three years of intense instruction in the craft. I have a few drafts that could be revised and tweaked here and there, but pretty much I'm spent.

 

Only one week left in classes, so my focus now is enjoying what time I have left with my friends on the East Coast before the big move to California in a few months.

 

Regarding the workshop environment, I think I learned the most through osmosis. In that as far as lovers of poetry go, I am very poorly read. I've read more novels than books of poetry. Heck, I've read more online comics than published verse. But the majority of my peers were significantly better read than me, and being forced to read their work week after week; year after year, I think helped me absorbed a fair amount of what they learned from the published types. So in a nut shell, I'm like the modern day rock guitar player that learned the blues by imitating Eric Clapton who learned his stuff by imitating Robert Johnson.

 

cheers,

 

rev...

Edited by reverie

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Tommy the Kat had many a story to tell

But it was a rare occasion, such as this, that he did...

(Primus)

 

 

Just got ready to start up again and my AMAZING run of continuous bad luck again kicked up.

Suffice it to say, Snypiuer isn't getting back to work any time soon.

 

Oh well.

 

It seems that there really isn't that much of a decrease in Pennites that look but don't post. Lots of lurkers.

 

Most posts get a decent amount of reads.

 

Look back around 2005, there was another "What happened..." type post.

 

The Pen is still here.

 

Even those that say they "moved on" or lost their muse still return, lurking.

 

That is NOT a bad thing.

 

Every now and then, they post. A reply or a sudden inspiration.

 

Think ALL this has been said before, but I think it's important to repeat.

 

Pennites may "move on", start their own blogs, but The Pen is their home.

 

They return to the old neighborhood.

 

How many of their blogs have a PROMINENT link to the Pen?

 

How many promote the Pen to people who read their blogs?

 

I personally don't see the appeal of blogs, they remind me too much of the old Bulletin Board System of the early internet (here's to you 'Control' in Colorado Springs - 1985). But, that's me.

 

Yet, isn't a "forum" like the Pen, technically, a community blog?

 

What if there was a Mighty Pen on Myspace that featured select posts once a week or month that pointed back to this site for those interested in reading more or becoming a member?

 

Has this been considered by the few Pennites who consistantly post (and I MUST say, the one's we ALL owe a debt of gratitude to for their dedication - a VERY humble and heart felt 'thank you' from this unworthy hypocrit of a lurking Pennite)?

 

Just a few thoughts.

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Whoa...

 

When I decide to drop into the pen, I guess I start epic threads without meaning to!!

 

It was neat reading through this thread and hearing updates from newer people I don't know and some amazing old timers that I haven't heard from in a long while. :0)

 

I drop in when my fevered muse can be restrained no more, but often can't find writing companions to satisfy it. Hard to just drop in and demand interractive rp lol!! Then I end up getting sucked away into life and don't return for awhile because I failed to get involved in anything that kept my muse going. So I'm making a real effort to start or jump into something this time around. :0)

 

My professional life is based around writing, but not this creative writing that I so love. I think my favorite is interractive RP, but I like the storylines that have a little bit of guidance so that it doesn't dwindle into chaos or nothingness. PIcky, picky, I know. :0)

 

I can't believe this thread has 72 posts! I would respond in character, but Sal is technically not at The Pen at the moment. But I'm working on bringing her back. She technically disappeared during the battle in "The Hunt". I would enjoy a Salinye sighting, though. :)

 

Anyway, lovely to hear from you all. ;)

 

~Salinye

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"Living is simple

it's gravity

gravity

isn't so hard

 

Living is simple

it's entropy

entropy

falling apart

I'm falling apart again

 

Living is simple

and breathing is easy

it's easy to do

Living is simple

and losing is easy

I'm losing my cool

 

All will be made well

will be made well

will be made well

will be well"

 

-Switchfoot, "Living is Simple"

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