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The Pen is Mightier than the Sword

Kilroy Wuz Here


Snypiuer

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Wyvern leans in closer to examine the clear calligraphy and unobtrusive size of the words on the Cabaret wall, twisting his snout and snorting to himself as he re-reads the polite pennite excuse for tagging. The overgrown lizard rakes his claws along the wall where the words are written and scoffs, clearly unimpressed and not planning on being outdone by a rival pirate broadcaster. He scratches his chin and stares at the length of the wall for a moment, then snaps a claw and races out of the room with a sneer smeared on his face. Wyvern returns only moments later with a white smock, a paint roller, an artist's ego and a palette containing many different shades of crimson.

 

"Let'ssssss see here..." Wyvern squares his claws and looks over the wall from an almost dragonic artist's point of view. He sticks out his tongue and rolls his paint roller over all of the colors on his palette, then sprinkles some diamond-shaped shiny sprinkes into the mix to form a concoction that would have made any grade school art teacher proud. "I'll show Mr. Ssssuicide squirrel what a true graff artissst is capable of, muahahaha!"

 

The reptilian Elder begins rolling jagged lines over the Cabaret Wall, coating the thick sparkly paint over a few expensive paintings and narrowly missing Snypiuer's tag.

 

Wheyvee

 

"WYVERN!"

 

Wyvern freezes at the scolding tone of the voice, guessing Ozymandias in Gyrfalcon's absence. The overgrown lizard doesn't turn around to face the figure, dropping his paint roller and lifting his claws over his head.

 

"L-l-lisssten, I can explain... thisss was all part of that death planet brainssstorming exercise. Y'know, like esssoteric messages written on walls...?"

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In a dark corner of the Cabaret room the Raven sits watching the shadowed figures and Wyvern write on the wall.

 

The Raven grinned, a very avian grin, that looked like the visage of a raven under most circumstances. Slipping a chain and very bling looking pendant over his head the Raven set his aviators in place and took flight.

 

Mynx sat in by a window, relaxing in the cool air and warm sunlight, kittens strategically placed around her keeping watch. The flap of a high speed raven drew her attention, Mynx shifted her sight from kitten to kitten following the path of the Raven as he flew around the room.

 

The Raven dove, wings folded and bling gleaming in the sunlight. His aviators reflecting the image of the kitten watching him most closely. The last minute cornering ability of the winged runebird allowed only his tail feathers to gently fan and clip the kitten on the nose.

 

Mynx yelled, “oi bird!! What are you playing at?”

 

The Raven swooped again, timing his angle of descent to clip two kittens as the sight for Mynx shifted between them. Mynx was now on her feet and with the speed and dexterity of the weapon trained feline, abruptly halted the Raven’s path, and plunged him deep into the bucket of treacle that now floated close by her side.

 

With a half spin and a flick of her wrist the Raven spun from Mynx’s treacle covered paw and hurtled spread ravened into the wall of graffiti.

 

With a plop, the Raven landed on the floor, bling somehow untouched by treacle, shining sofly in the shadows.

 

Upon the wall, the words in a treacle imprint of a raven simple stated, “Mynx was here” and in small print just below, “oh, and the Raven too, 4-28-2008”

 

:raven:

 

ooc: thanks Mynx for proof reading and helping

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  • 9 months later...

THERE WERE NEVER NINE

 

It's almost obliterated, with fingerprint marks and two plum-sized swirls betraying that the eraser was the palm of a writing hand. Underneath, in neater small-capital letters:

 

Exponentially, there could've been, but we didn't deal in exponents. Our population growth was multiplicative.

Proof available at Cftm!

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A slight figure slipped out of a doorway and into the hall. Glancing furtively around, she made sure no one could see to identify her. She grinned, then pulled two cans of paint and a massive paintbrush from under her cloak.

 

The sound of humming, interspersed with giggles, soon filled the hall as Freya dipped her paintbrush into blood-red paint, then swept it onto the wall with elegant cursive strokes. Pulling another, clean, paintbrush out of her cloak, she outlined her previous artwork with gold-tinted semi-tranparent glitter-paint. A mischevious smile could be seen on the diminuative elf's face as she gathered her supplies and fled the "crime" scene. The only evidence that she had ever been there: a slightly illegible, very sloppy piece of graffiti reading,

 

Berserk Healer Elf

2-16-09

OOC: I hope it's ok for me to post this here... I'm still an Initiate... :unsure:

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Wyvern steps into the Cabaret Room and immediately pauses to examine the latest in Pen tagging, tracing a claw along the intricate cursive font and twisting his snout as he notices a hint of uncertainty in the final letter F. He scratches his chin for a moment, then pulls out a ragged Almost Dragonic Brand Shredded Armadillo Hide Brush™ and a spittoon filled with brown paint. The reptilian Elder licks his lips and squints as he finds the proper spot for his little attempt at graffiti. He overlaps the tail-end of Freya's tag date as he begins scrawling in a large, extra-indecipherable font:

 

ANONYMOUS BERSERK HEALER ELF: PLEASE NOTE, WHOEVER YOU ARE, THAT YOU'RE MORE THAN WELCOME TO WRITE HERE REGARDLESS OF YOUR RANK. WHETHER YOU'RE AN INITIATE, A PAGE, A QUILLBEARER, A TROUBADOR, A STORYTELLER, A POET, A BARD, AN ELDER, AN ADMINISTRATOR, A LURKER OR JUST SALINYE FOOLIN AROUND, ANYTHING YOU CHOOSE TO WRITE AND SHARE HERE WILL BE TREASURED. MAYBE NOT TREASURED AS MUCH AS GELD, BUT TREASURED ALL THE SAME. JUST KNOW THAT THESE WALLS AND HALLS ARE ENTIRELY PUBLIC AND FREE FOR YOU TO SCRIBBLE UPON. I HOPE THAT THIS MESSAGE WILL REASSURE YOU FOR YOUR NEXT PIECE, AND THAT YOUR DOUBTS WILL FADE IN DUE TIME WHEN YOU COME TO KNOW OUR VARIOUS KIND-HEARTED ARTISANS. ONE THING IN PARTICULAR THAT YOU SHOULD ALWAYS WRITE UPON IS OZYMANDIAS, AS HE LOVES BEING COVERED IN PAINT AT ALL TIMES. ANYWAY, I'VE GOT TO GO SCHEME NOW, BUT I HOPE THIS MESSAGE REACHES OUT TO YOU AND GIVES YOU SOME EXTRA MOTIVATION FOR YOUR PENMANSHIP. PERHAPS SOME DAY, WE'LL MEET IN THE MIDST OF PAINTING AND WILL BE ABLE TO EXCHANGE FRIENDLY GRAFFITI JABS. UNTIL THEN I REMAIN, SINCERELY YOURS,

 

ANONYMOUS GREEDY LIZARD

2/19/09

 

Wyvern pauses for a moment and wipes the paint from his horns, head, snout, mouth, claws, arms, hide, wings, legs and feet. The overgrown lizard tilts his head to admire his work, then picks up his brush again and adds:

 

AND DON'T FORGET TO INVEST IN ALMOST DRAGONIC BRAND SHREDDED ARMADILLO HIDE BRUSHES™! THE NEW MUST-HAVE GRAFFITI INVENTION OF THAT EXTREMELY SEXY GENIUS, WYVERN Q ALMOSTDRAGON!

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A notice is placed upon the wall:

 

Defacing public property is punishable by

a FINE and/or INCARCERATION

Underneath is scrawled:

 

Down with AUTHORITY

:gun:

And:

 

ANARCHY against the ESTABLISHMENT

:poke:

:demon::devil::censored::mad::zorro::banghead::fear:

Edited by Snypiuer
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The mysterious grey-cloaked elf stood in front of the wall once again, straining to read all of the Graffiti written beside her own. Grinning, she whipped out a can of purple spray paint and set to work. Five minutes later, with more paint on her clothes than on the wall, she had written:

OZYMANDIAS! I AM COMING FOR YOU! BEWARE!

and underneeth in smaller letters:

It's not my idea, but it sure sounds fun...
~The Berserker with Purple Paint~
~2-19-09~


which was followed by a large, crooked smiley face.

The elf smiled mischiviously, then ran down the hall, dripping paint from her cloak. Dissappearing around a corner, her laughter rang out in the hall long after she had gone.

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