Rambling Ranting Rally

[Merelas]

The dark, stormy night that is so cliché among flights of fantasy was a reality in this fairy tale… for here, of course, IS Cliché. That’s his name. Cliché.

 

Cliché is a product of a dashing, handsome young warrior who wooed a damsel in distress straight into his bedchamber after slaying the dragon she was guarded by in the tall, central tower that was surrounded by boiling hot lava. Aaron swept Mariah off her feet immediately, literally, and carried her off to his castle where they could… talk.

 

And after a whole three minutes of stimulating conversation, Aaron and Mariah were involved in the act of… well, they were fornicating under the consent of the king, anyway. And, thus, Cliché was created, as all things… or humans, anyway… are.

 

And now, here stands Cliché, clutching his sword with as much force as his father had that fateful day when he was… conceived. Bold Cliché (named by his witty, strongly moral mother) and his companion, Merelas, are having a slight disagreement.

 

“You nincompoop! Incompetent! Conveyor of Idiocy! If I were in the mood to do good deeds today, I would wipe you from the face of the earth to save us all from your fanatical retardation!” cries Merelas, his cynical face burning red, as he shouts at the brave, bold Cliché.

 

“Nincompoop? I went before we left, thank you very much!”

 

“BAH! Get out of my way!” Cries Merelas, clutching his staff, and cracking Cliché over the head with it as he goes, all the same.

 

And so, following in his fuming companion’s wake, Cliché treks behind Merelas towards the looming tower, in the dark, stormy, moonless night. The two stop at the pool of lava, and Cliché looks momentarily perturbed… this wasn’t in his plan.

 

“What now, oh brainless one?!” cries Merelas, sarcastically.

 

“Well… don’t you have a trick that should…”

 

“Of course I do!” snapped Merelas, cutting off Cliché, “obviously you’ve got to depend on me!”

 

Merelas stands still serenely for a moment, holding his arms out to his side, with his staff still clasped in his right hand. After a moment, he twirls the staff over his head, and thrusts it into the ground. Immediately, his feet rise above the surface of the earth, and he looks angrily at Cliché, before cracking him over the head again… and the spell now applies to our gallant knight.

 

The two soar over the lava, and Merelas immediately touches down, but Cliché is having too much fun with the flying stuff. “This is great crap! Why don’t you give me some of this more often?” he calls down, performing a loop in the air, swinging his sword around with flourish.

 

With gritted teeth, Merelas says, “I really should,” before snapping his fingers, and sending Cliché soaring… down to earth with a crash.

 

“Idiot!”

 

And, with a sour look from Merelas, the two trudge onward, with Merelas in the lead, towards the looming tower, in the dark, stormy, moonless night.

 

And now they’re at the door. Cliché warns him to stay back—this is a Knight’s Work!

 

And so Merelas simply smiles, and gestures at the door serenely. “If you really think you can handle it… I mean… a dragon must be your area, after all, right?”

 

“Of course!”

 

And he charges straight at the door, steps through, and charges…

 

And runs straight into the princess, knocing her off her feet. Merelas follows him in, disgustedly. Just his luck that the bumbling brute would run into a lady instead of a dragon…

 

“Hello, fair maiden. I am Merelas en’Bella, a half-firelf, half human sorcerer, at your service.”

 

“Hi,” she says distractedly, staring at Cliché with her eyes wide.

 

Merelas snaps up out of the bow he’s sketched, and rolls his eyes so far back into his head that all you can see are the whites, briefly.

 

“Hey… nice to feel—I mean meet you!” says Cliché, and he takes the woman’s hand, and leads her upstairs…

 

Merelas rolls his eyes once more, realizes that all Cliché’s must come to an end, and this one’s is overdue. He storms out of the tower, and slams the door with a wave of his hand.

 

“Women! And Knights!” he exclaims, stalking off.

 

 

OOC:

 

This is my first try at irony/humor blend, and obviously it's a fairly poor attempt, but it stands as my application nonetheless.

 

Patiently,

 

 

 

Merelas

[Wyvern]

Tapping his fingers patiently against the armrest of the applicant easychair in which he sits, Merelas glances towards the venerable grandfather clock ticking in the corner of the room and raises a brow as he notices the time. The weary applicant had been waiting for the reptilian Elder of Initiates for several days now, and had yet to hear a word from the greedy lizard... Though he had heard disturbing rumors about the evil and lazy nature of Wyvern, Merelas was never the less disturbed that the almost dragon's absence might be somehow related to the nature of his application.

 

Raising himself from his seat and stretching for a bit, the eager applicant suddenly jumps in surprise as the front door of the office slams open. Quickly combing his hair and making sure his garmets look presentable, Merelas strides up to the figure who had just entered the room and smiles, shaking the figure's hand firmly and saluting him. The blood in the half-firelf's veins boils as he suddenly realizes that the person who had entered the office wasn't Wyvern, but rather the equally-despicable Cliche'.

 

"Merelas ol' buddy!" exclaims Cliche' as his slow thought processes suddenly come to terms with his companion's presence. "Fancy meeting you in these halls!"

 

"Cliche'?!!" exclaims Merelas in an extremely annoyed voice. "What are you doing in the Pen?! Dear Lord... this must be a nightmare... you're jeopardizing my application!"

 

"Awww don't worry about it Mer'... that Jeopardy gameshow business was last week. I won't be getting in your way at all, I'm just here to slay a Wyvern. Have you seen any wyverns around these parts?"

 

"Slay a Wyvern?!" exclaims Merelas while clawing at his pointy ears in distress. "Why did you choose the Pen to do this?!"

 

"Well... I heard from my stereotypical all-knowing wizard information sources™ that the Wyvern that resides in the Pen is a cliche' himself... here, just read this pamphlet..."

 

Having said this, Cliche' hands his friend Merelas a long sheet of paper labeled "Potential Enemy Cliche's" on which the following section has been highlighted:

 

"Wyvern of the Mighty Pen: fits the typical greedy, perverted villain cliche'. Slay him, and yee shall gain the trust and respect of all the tax collectors in the land..."

 

"B-b-but..." stutters Merelas uncontrollably "... you can't slay him, he's supposed to respond to my application..."

 

At that moment, the office door swings open again and Wyvern strides in wearing dark sunglasses and a trenchcoat. Poking Cliche' on the shoulder and nudging him a few times, the overgrown lizard points towards the courtyard outside the office window and hisses:

 

"Psssst... I think da Wyvern went datta way..."

 

Cliche' nods to this and mutters:

 

"Thank you kind sir... here's a gold piece for your services. Now, I shall be off! Best of luck with your application, Marelas my friend!"

 

Having said this, Cliche' jumps out of the office window in pursuit of a wyvern while the trenchcoat-clad Elder of Initiates winks at Merelas and stamps his application story ACCEPTED.

 

 

OOC: A very good application story, Merelas, certainly ACCEPTED! Welcome to the Mighty Pen, and my apologies for the wait! I hope you find the Pen a warm and acceptant writing community, and look forward to reading more of your posts in the near future.

[Quincunx]

Evoé, Bacché. . .live again until the fall. . .

 

(Tzimfemme's eyes are opaque, as in the days when Archmage was crumbling. . .)

[DL_Snake]

Congratulations and welcome. Can't wait for more of yoru works