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The Pen is Mightier than the Sword

The Pen RP


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(OOC: I thought with all this talk about members getting to know each other better,this would be a good way to learn about the people behind the characters. Just think a really big IRC chat ^_^)

 

 

This adventure takes place in a strange setting. Not a small village torn between war,not in the high mountains full of dragons,not in any of these cliche' settings. No this story takes place in our own home,the warm cozy place we call The Pen.

This is a story of emotions,friendships,and most of all random stupidity. This is a place to jump out of the cliche' RPG adventure and start to really live in The Pen. ....Sounds fun no?

________________**Poof**_______________________

Vincent brushed his long sliver hair back from his eyes as he walked through the middle of the court yard of The Pen; from here he was able to see many of the activities in this busy commuinty.

He turned his attention to the Recruitment Office and laughed,seeing himself in many of the recruits. If they're any smart at all, they'll slip in a few geld with that app; that should get Wyv to think a bit quicker

He made his way to the Cabaret Room and pushed open the door. There, he was greeted by laughter and the heavy smell of every type of alcohol known to man (or any other race for that matter).

The large seraph ordered his usual red wine and sat down at an empty table.

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Damon sighs, holding this new RP as a regard to say something in his own natural character. He contemplates on how to word his sentence for a second, scratching his head thoughtfully, attempting to bring his thoughts to full fruition.

 

"Mr. Silver? Certainly, I have interest in all RP's in this forum, roleplaying being something of a hobbie of mine, but I would think it nice that the 'DM' so to speak, would hold his appearance where he begins it. In essence, I am inquiring if you would be present to assist in the running of this game as well? Forgive me if it sounds rude in any manner. Having someone feel bad is the last thing I would like to do... I must inquire on a secondary note though. Why would one consider the fantasy roleplaying style 'cliche' when there is much more to it than simple dragons and the like. Certainly the beginning may always be the same, a group of people banding to gether to fight evil or cause it, but the storylines in themselves are hardly cliche when the proper imagination is put to it. I hold no dragons in my tales, lest they are appropriate, but rather I wish to play off of various legends that are created by my imaginations. The situations may seem cliche at first, as the overall goal is effectively to attain something powerful, or to save the world, but the adventure in achieving that goal is not cliche. The adventure is not about the final outcome, in my opinion, but rather the experiences therein which develop the characters as friends... or enemies. In basic literary senses... the beginning and end of the book is not nearly as interesting as the middle..."

 

He pauses, shifting his form slightly so that his eyes glow their natural yellow, leathery black wings sprout from his back as he fans himself briefly. "But, in spite of all of that... sure, I'll join. I just hope you can as well..."

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Damon winces slightly, realizing he might have said something he shouldn't have.

 

"Please forgive me Vincent. I honestly meant no harm, and it seems that I was a trifle too analytical. I honestly did not mean to ruin whatever mood you might have been in, as I despise myself should I bring anyone discomfort in any manner. I have no intention on examining this RP in any manner, though I may have, pending upon what I wrote. As you have said, this was meant for fun, not for a logical analysis of various aspects under the technicality of roleplaying. surely I will gladly beat my face in with a brick should I offend you in any manner beyond what I seem to have already done. I am truly sorry, and should there be any way that I may make it up to you, I will do so. The amount of hesitation, however, depends on what it is. Should you ask that I refrain from joining this in lieu of what I have done in my logical frame of mind, I have no qualms, and I will not argue about it. I will simply leave you to yoour thoughts and keep my banter elsewhere. again, I am truly sorry, and i await conditions as to how I may make it up to you..."

 

With that, he crawls into the nearest dark corner and ponders whether or not his overactive analysis has killed him or not. >*_*<

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Peredhil wanders through distractedly, followed at a discreet distance by the attentive Guido and Nuncio, his Giant Guinea Pig Bodyguards.

Despite his distraction, however, he manages to murmur polite greetings to all and sundry (sundry being those who cirlce around to be greeted again), occasionally stopping to hug. Despite his tendency to touch everyone, on the sleeve, the arm, as if reassuring himself they are real, he is endured, as if all can sense his love and concern.

 

Now where are Elladan and Elrohir? He mutters. I do hope Elladan has given up on scrubbing Zool's portrait with paint thinner. I'm quite certain Zool wouldn't ever steal from the Pen's inhabitants.

 

Pausing to pick up a gum wrapper and put it in the nearby garbage disposal (black holes are so useful when bound by magic), he paces off again.

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  • 3 months later...

While the two dedicated members of the pen, Vincent Silver and Damon Inferal continued to chat, they did not realized that something was particular about the portrait of Zool in the background. (not that a portrait of Zool isn't any particular) In fact, if you look just closely enough, you'll see the two eyes of the portrait is particularly lively. So virbrant that it looks like real eyes...

 

"Ah ha!" a dark shadowy figured closed the slot behind the wall as silently as he could as Peredhil and his wild gang approached. Elves have sharp eyes and he dared not risked being discovered, by an ancient at least. Yet he was glad to have many secret eye and ear hole made around the pen castle, and he was particularly pleased with himself for eardropping into vincent's own conversation.

 

Every every adventure must have its own villian... the great lord mused... and slowly he retreated back into his secret hide out to prepare...

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"Ahhhhhh!" forewarned the room that someone was in trouble, or at least, wanted everyone to think that way. Annael ran in, her butterflies chasing after her, picking at her wings and skirts. Annael tried to stop running, but ended up tripping over a sleeping Daryl in his werefox form and was sent flying, head over heels onto the floor and came to a stop against something, or someone. Slowly looking up the furry legs, Annael realised that it was on of Peredhil's giant Guinea Pig body guards.

 

"Hi there. Thanks so much for stopping my tumble..." Annael stopped and tried to look around the giant rodent. "Pered? Any idea why my butterflies decided to attack me?"

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Skitter skitter skitter...

 

The sound of rust-free wheels could be heard echoing about the halls somewhere. It was not an unfamiliar sound; it was slightly annoying to some however. Regardless, they continued rolling along. To one standing by, they'd catch a quick glimpse of the multicoloured vehicle of comfort speeding by at speeds faster than any couch on the market could achieve. If one were to listen closely, they'd hear an almost familiar voice, screaming at the top of his lungs...

 

 

"Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! Wooo-hoooo!" and then, in a normal voice, "Alright, Mr.Bunny, set engine diafragaemeteroso to 1.39 degrees, central click, then adjust the temparamoo to 12 and pump up the shoosamabob 4 times. We're taking this baby into overdrive!"

 

"..."

 

"...neither do I! Let's rock!"

 

"..."

 

Skitter SKITTER SKITTER

 

CRASH!

 

And then, like on so many of such adventures for Stick, the couch would hit a wall, just in the wrong place, and just at the wrong time. Pulling himself from the re-assembling wreckage, the tall warrior stepped out, stretched, and gently placed his travelling companion and best friend, Mr.Bunny upon his shoulder. After splicing so many commas, not to mention drawing out so many sentences, The Big Pointy One was hungry. Unfortunately, Vincent Silver and Damon Inferel were blocking his path to the kitchen. He stared blankly at his two fellow Quill-Bearers and scratched his head.

 

 

"So, uhhh, yeah, what's up with you guys?"

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