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Post by anirbas on May 22, 2007 23:58:43 GMT -6
Impeccable posture... Back straight as a sword blade... Shoulders square as the hilt of said weapon... Long of leg, stepping long of stride... An odd way, for one dressed in the rough hewn robes of a monk to move down the cobblestone path... Leading into the village at the foot of the hill... No stooped by copious reading slant to the carriage, often a stance held by monks from perusing manuscripts of scriptures and such, into the wee hours of the eventide by tallow fatted and dripping candlelight... Perhaps, a novice...Young and fresh enough to not yet be bent and stooped...A younger son, offered up to the church, by a family of the nobility, per chance... Either or, the hooded, berobed stranger, with a leather pack, strapped to it's unbent back, continued the long stretched gait, til reaching the village inn... More ale house with a clutch of rooms let out to the occasional weary traveler, to be found on the upper floor. The lower floor of the building, more a gathering place for the locals to natter and lie about the news of the day in the village and the expansive fields and low rolling hills, surrounding it... The brown clad figure entered the establishment...Pausing at the door, to take in the change of light, from the bright still left of the setting sun to the smoke filled nascence of the moment before gregariously chattering gathering of local men, there in... Hushed by the appearance of the monk... Until aforementioned monk moved across the room, reached somewhere within the folds of the voluminous robe and laid coins upon the long, enclosed truncheon table from which the owner of the inn served libations from the kegs behind him...[does ale come in kegs? hmmmm...the narrator is wondering outloud, here...] "We've only ale here, Father...No wine..." In response, the hood of the berobed figure, moved back and forth in the age old gesture of "No". "Ah, it's a vow of silence you've taken then, eh, brother?" Queried the innkeeper, expecting no answer, following it quickly with another question, "Is it a room, ye'd be liking to take with us this foine evenin', your grace?" The hooded figure ignored the good natured gibes and shook the hood in the age old up and down gesture of, affirmative, yay, yes...[Pick the one you as the reader, likes...That makes this, an interactive experience...ggglgggl] "Well then, will that be for the eventide?" Again the negative response... "For a week?" Again the positive response... Then, ye'll be needing three more coins to go with the one, ye've laid out, Father. And three more to boot, if ye'er expecting me to be sending me bonnie Betty, upstairs to bring ye meals to ye'er room...Or, you can pay as you go, down here, if you prefer our religiously genteel atmosphere, brother." A hand slipped into the folds of the robe, and six coins more jingled and jangled, onto the ones already laid out on the table. "Up the stairs and first door to your left... There's an empty room there, Father... And if you choose not to share it... That'll be three acous more..." Three more coins sang the song of money, flashing with a ring, onto the growing pile... Then, the hooded figure turned towards the stairs, at the foot of which the inn keeper called out, "I'll send me, Betty, up shortly with a bowl of mutton stew for you, your grace, but you'll have to wash it down with a pint of good old lowland ale." Before he could finish, the hooded figure had already disappeared up the stairs... Bounding them two at a time... ~*~ To be continued...Or not... Not the end...Or is it?  ?? Ah, it's a rough draft of a tickle of something or nothing... Needs work...Just brain gasing... Playing around...And now, out of steam I've run...Off to the Land of Nodz to get my sleeping thing on... ;D |
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Post by wistfuldragon on May 23, 2007 0:34:49 GMT -6
Do continue...Do continue...Do...
I love it when you craft this way...leaving me holding breath for the next page...
And it may be rough but its wonderful...more...more...more...lol...
hugs...
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Post by anirbas on May 28, 2007 10:05:34 GMT -6
Not sure there is anymore to it, Lady Bright...Just threw it out to tease you to throw out a story poem, the other night...Method to my madness and all that rot...LOL...I enjoy ripping a yarn, and I enjoy reading your's and others that dare the longwinded poetical epical genre...
To bad we don't have Rob and Drak here doing their versical and prosical collaborations...
Those boys can rock the written word like it's nothing but a thing when they put their heads together...Wish Rob would bring what he's doing at LYCF to this spot on the map, too...
Sorry about depriving you of oxygen...ggglgggl...Hope you don't turn blue waiting for the next installment...As this was a teaser piece, as said, to bait and hook and drag you into posting that dratted epical you keep tantalizing me with vague details about...BRING IT ON, or start pm'ing it to me...LOL...Thanks again, mon ami Mishie...Been skimming everyone's work, even if I don't have the time to comment right now...And I am so thrilled with the efforts you and our Nims are putting out on the Fantasy board! You guys are rocking the board and the raft!!!!!
hugs backactcha...
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Post by dawness on May 28, 2007 16:29:57 GMT -6
oooooh sabs, to be in the element of things divinely primitive... you are fantastic!  |
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Post by anirbas on May 29, 2007 0:17:36 GMT -6
soft smile~thanks, sweets...good to see your pristine precense
lighting up the place...you've been missed, Ms. Boisterously Busy...whilst you were aloft
knifing wings of your own through skies spreading beauty in your wake all the while...Nir.
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Post by anirbas on Jun 5, 2007 11:25:10 GMT -6
The mantled monk reached the top of the stairs,
stepped into the hall and walked towards
the first door on the left, opening it
and entering the room.
A small, spare space
with naught to be found within
but a narrow, straw filled mattress
upon the floor, a chair and a small table.
The monk reached long, slender fingers
for the hood to throw it back,
when at the door, came
a knock-knock-knock.
Hastily, the monk readjusted the hood,
turned and opened the door.
Betty bustled in with a bowl
of steaming mutton stew,
a tankard of ale, and a lit candle
on a wide platter of wood,
which she sent upon the table.
"Auld Borus isn't a waster, yer grace.
I'd naught be wasting the candle reading,
as 'e might not be willin' to give ye another.
Our auld Bor is quiet the collector of acous
and e'd be up to chargin' ye for another if you do."
The pub doxie smirked what passed for a smile
and flounced out the door, slamming it behind her.
Our cloaked and hooded, here-to-fore silent figure,
crossed the room, and dropped the leather strap
on the door, over the peg, driven into the wall,
next to it, to essentially lock the door
for added privacy.
Standing next to the straw mattress,
the monk removed the pack, laying
it gently on the bed.
Then, threw back the hood,
revealing jet hair, pulled tight
at the nape and braided,
and eyes that glowed
with an unholy fire of gold;
untied the cloak, slipped it off
and threw it over the bed, too.
Next, dropping the rough hewn
cloth of the brown robe, revealing
our monk was a woman child,
and a warrior at that...
A sword scabard, strapped to her back,
poniards at her waist and daggers
tucked into the sandal laces
that wrapped round her calves.
She wore a pleated, leathern skirt
that feel midways down her thighs;
a shirt of leather, as well; and a breastplate
of silver metal that covered her chest
and upper torso.
A long, scar ran from one knee to disappear
beneath the leathern hem of her skirt.
Another scar etched the flesh of her face,
from her temple to her jawbone.
This was naught a monk...
Or leastways, naught your everyday variety...
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Post by wistfuldragon on Jun 6, 2007 7:22:04 GMT -6
you wondrous tease!...I love it when you get to spinning...and yes...I am almost ready to post the new one...almost...tweaking it here and there for a better read...
;D
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Post by anirbas on Jun 8, 2007 1:40:49 GMT -6
Yes, I am...A wonderous tease...ggglgggl...I'll do anything to tease you to post your latest poetical epical...As you've already teased me, with it's premise...Don't worry about tweaking it...That's what we've got modify for, here...Logan, my nephew, has already read yours, Nims and RRW's draconian inspired poems and is slogging through The Dragon Hunter, now...Talk about needing some tweaking...Looking at that one with fresh eyes, I see it needs some work...And would like to illustrate it with pics from the net...I know if I find the pics I'd like, DMc
will help me to put them in...Hey, do you know of some sites with some really good dragon and knight pics? I tried drawing some illustrations when I was working on it...My knight looked like a drag queen...Nothing wrong with that...I just can't draw men...My dragon looked like a skinny snake with wings...But, the witch turned out pretty good...
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Post by wistfuldragon on Jun 8, 2007 12:31:03 GMT -6
Yes I've a few links I'll send you for pics...good ones...
And I am still working out the bugs but will post the new one asap...its been so long that it feels new to me...I know I used to build them well and easy at one time...now its all shadows of thoughts and doubts...but getting there with it...
off the page rounding the bending...
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Post by anirbas on Jun 8, 2007 13:05:59 GMT -6
yeah, know what you mean there...feel the same way about poetical epicaling now...
"...it's all shadows of thoughts and doubts..." seem to have lost my trancing knack...an important tool for epicaling if you ask me...LOL...doing this off the wall piece to tease you into posting your's feels like I'm talking with my mouth full of cotton batting...ggglgggl...so, we're helping each other to get back on the same horse we both fell off of...ggglgggl...big draft horse of a beast...hehehehe...like a true battle charger...still rolf when they show "knights" riding skinny horses in movies...they rode brutes that looked like Clydesdales, Percherons and Shires...Not Thoroughbreds and Standardbreds and such...LOL...storying, Mishie? JUST BRING IT ON...I DARE YOU...I DOUBLE DAWG DARE YOU...Nir.
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Post by wistfuldragon on Jun 8, 2007 22:33:21 GMT -6
Otay buckwheat...will be doing it...probably tomorrow or sunday...
And I love when they show the small horses...its so funny...but the small ones cost less...lol...
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Post by anirbas on Jun 8, 2007 22:56:05 GMT -6
and makes the movies lose their historical validity...big heavy knights, big heavy horse to carry big, heavy knights...A Knight's Tale I loved....But cracked up roflm*o taking a gander at the horses used...stickler for detail I guess...I wanna see a movie where the knight is on a real charger...
good to know, you're almost ready to post that story you told me about...this one, mine... is going nowhere...it's a hologram...about to disappear...LOL...
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Post by wistfuldragon on Jun 9, 2007 0:59:40 GMT -6
hehehehe...love how you dance the words about...and yes soon will post the new one...soon
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Post by anirbas on Jun 9, 2007 1:12:19 GMT -6
ggggggggggooooooodddddddd to know...soon to bed does head this sleepyhead...nightie night, sweet pretties one and all................................................................................*
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Post by wistfuldragon on Jun 10, 2007 13:58:38 GMT -6
Hope you slept well...dreamed sweet...and woke refreshed...
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Post by anirbas on Jun 11, 2007 14:21:10 GMT -6
Everyday, I've been free, I awake refreshed...I sleep well, when I lay my head to the pillow...And dream of sweet things to come and be...I know all will not be easy in the days to come and be...But, I'm free...Ivy is free...We are free...And everyone surrounding us now, loves us unconditionally...It causes my heart to swell, each time she laughs and smiles here...WE were both becoming such dour maidens, in Hades...Shutting up...gggglgggl...Or am I? LOL...Evernir.
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Post by wistfuldragon on Jun 15, 2007 11:11:09 GMT -6
So wonderful to hear how you are both blossoming...I love it...because you and her both deserve to be happy...need to laugh...enjoy the freedom you've earned...beautiful friend...
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Post by anirbas on Jul 1, 2007 2:15:54 GMT -6
Roger that, Major!!!! ;D
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Post by wistfuldragon on Jul 4, 2007 12:41:43 GMT -6
I recall not too long ago a time when I wished with everything I had for Great Spirit to fly you out of the clutches of the other and into the beauty you both deserved so...my heart is full of gratitude for those who helped you start your new life...so full...
Wonderful creatures of light and loveliness that you both are deserve only the best this world can offer...
Anyway your mushy mishie friend is leaving off the mushy here for you...but it is all heart felt...of that I hope you know...
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Post by anirbas on Jul 4, 2007 21:32:15 GMT -6
mushy or not, I appreciate all the prayers and wishes from you and others, that have bolstered my confidence and spirit til the window of opportunity finally opened
and let mini-me and me free...prayers and wishes backatcha, as u know...evernir....
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Post by wistfuldragon on Jul 5, 2007 19:57:26 GMT -6
my everclear/evernir...you and mini you deserve the world in all the colors it comes in...
hugs and love...
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Post by anirbas on Jul 20, 2007 20:27:14 GMT -6
yes, we do...LOL...and so do you...
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Post by anirbas on Nov 14, 2007 8:48:57 GMT -6
Impeccable posture...
Back straight as a sword blade...
Shoulders square as the hilt of said weapon...
Long of leg, stepping long of stride...
An odd way, for one dressed in the rough hewn
robes of a monk to move down the cobblestone path...
Leading into the village at the foot of the hill...
No stooped by copious reading slant to the carriage,
often a stance held by monks from perusing manuscripts
of scriptures and such, into the wee hours of the eventide
by tallow fatted and dripping candlelight...
Perhaps, a novice...Young and fresh enough
to not yet be bent and stooped...A younger son,
offered up to the church, by a family
of the nobility, per chance...
Either or, the hooded, berobed stranger,
with a leather pack, strapped to it's unbent back,
continued the long stretched gait,
til reaching the village inn...
More ale house with a clutch of rooms let out
to the occasional weary traveler,
to be found on the upper floor.
The lower floor of the building,
more a gathering place
for the locals to natter
and lie about the news
of the day in the village
and the expansive
fields and low
rolling hills,
surrounding
it...
The brown clad figure entered
the establishment...Pausing at the door,
to take in the change of light, from the bright
still left of the setting sun to the smoke filled nascence
of the moment before gregariously chattering
gathering of local men, there in...
Hushed by the appearance of the monk...
Until aforementioned monk moved across the room,
reached somewhere within the folds of the voluminous robe
and laid coins upon the long, enclosed truncheon table
from which the owner of the inn served libations
from the kegs behind him...[does ale come in kegs?
hmmmm...the narrator is wondering outloud, here...]
"We've only ale here, Father...No wine..."
In response, the hood of the berobed figure,
moved back and forth in the age old gesture of "No".
"Ah, it's a vow of silence you've taken then, eh, brother?"
Queried the innkeeper, expecting no answer, following
it quickly with another question, "Is it a room, ye'd be liking
to take with us this foine evenin', your grace?"
The hooded figure ignored the good natured gibes
and shook the hood in the age old up and down
gesture of, affirmative, yay, yes...[Pick the one
you as the reader, likes...That makes this,
an interactive experience...ggglgggl]
"Well then, will that be for the eventide?"
Again the negative response...
"For a week?"
Again the positive response...
Then, ye'll be needing three more coins
to go with the one, ye've laid out, Father.
And three more to boot, if ye'er expecting me
to be sending me bonnie Betty, upstairs
to bring ye meals to ye'er room...Or,
you can pay as you go, down here,
if you prefer our religiously genteel
atmosphere, brother."
A hand slipped into the folds of the robe,
and six coins more jingled and jangled,
onto the ones already laid out on the table.
"Up the stairs and first door to your left...
There's an empty room there, Father...
And if you choose not to share it...
That'll be three acous more..."
Three more coins sang
the song of money,
flashing with a ring,
onto the growing pile...
Then, the hooded figure
turned towards the stairs,
at the foot of which the inn keeper
called out, "I'll send me, Betty,
up shortly with a bowl of mutton stew
for you, your grace, but you'll have to wash
it down with a pint of good old lowland ale."
Before he could finish, the hooded figure
had already disappeared up the stairs...
Bounding them two at a time...
The mantled monk reached the top of the stairs,
stepped into the hall and walked towards
the first door on the left, opening it
and entering the room.
A small, spare space
with naught to be found within
but a narrow, straw filled mattress
upon the floor, a chair and a small table.
The monk reached long, slender fingers
for the hood to throw it back,
when at the door, came
a knock-knock-knock.
Hastily, the monk readjusted the hood,
turned and opened the door.
Betty bustled in with a bowl
of steaming mutton stew,
a tankard of ale, and a lit candle
on a wide platter of wood,
which she sent upon the table.
"Auld Borus isn't a waster, yer grace.
I'd naught be wasting the candle reading,
as 'e might not be willin' to give ye another.
Our auld Bor is quiet the collector of acous
and e'd be up to chargin' ye for another if you do."
The pub doxie smirked what passed for a smile
and flounced out the door, slamming it behind her.
Our cloaked and hooded, here-to-fore silent figure,
crossed the room, and dropped the leather strap
on the door, over the peg, driven into the wall,
next to it, to essentially lock the door
for added privacy.
Standing next to the straw mattress,
the monk removed the pack, laying
it gently on the bed.
Then, threw back the hood,
revealing jet hair, pulled tight
at the nape and braided,
and eyes that glowed
with an unholy fire of gold;
untied the cloak, slipped it off
and threw it over the bed, too.
Next, dropping the rough hewn
cloth of the brown robe, revealing
our monk was a woman child,
and a warrior at that...
A sword scabard, strapped to her back,
poniards at her waist and daggers
tucked into the sandal laces
that wrapped round her calves.
She wore a pleated, leathern skirt
that feel midways down her thighs;
a shirt of leather, as well; and a breastplate
of silver metal that covered her chest
and upper torso.
A long, scar ran from one knee to disappear
beneath the leathern hem of her skirt.
Another scar etched the flesh of her face,
from her temple to her jawbone.
This was naught a monk...
Or leastways, naught your everyday variety...
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Post by anirbas on Nov 14, 2007 8:57:29 GMT -6
She moved to the table
and wolfed the stew down
like a starved child, not even
bothering with the wooden spoon...
Simply bringing the bowl to her lips
tilting it and pouring the steaming
contents down her throat...
On the run, from her pursuers,
it had been two days since she'd eaten
anything other than found berries and nuts...
Unsafe to build a fire that might draw their glance
and she'd never developed a taste for raw meat...
Dropping the empty bowl with a clatter to the wooden tray
she washed the stew down thirstily, the long column
of her throat moving up and own with the effort.
Wiping the back of her hand across
the foam still riding her upper lip
from the ale, she turned
towards the pack
and began
emptying it's
contents upon
the straw mattress...
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Post by anirbas on Dec 3, 2007 22:31:56 GMT -6
A necklace
of garnets and gold,
with drop earrings to match,
that caught the wan light of the single
tallow candle and glowed like embers in her hands;
a heavy brooch fashioned of pearls;
a silvern ring crowned with a broad chunk of amethyst;
and a large, heavy book with many a dogeared page...
She slipped the ring onto the first finger of her left hand,
repacked the rest of the cache
that resembled nothing neither
a monk nor a warrior would carry...
As the book, a monk wouldn't be caught dead, carrying...
Stepped to the single narrow opening in the room's wall
that served as a window, drew back and tied the leathern curtain,
turned and blew out the candle, then, summarily stripped all that she wore off,
including her weapons in the darkened room and returned to the window...
Once there, she begin to speak in a sing song voice
words from an ancient tongue whilst twisting the ring on her forefinger...
Seemingly, as she chanted, she grew smaller and smaller...
Her nose grew into her lips as they thinned, sharpened and hardened
from soft flesh to a beak of yellow...Her ears flattened against her head,
became holes then completely disappeared as her black hair transformed
into a crown of jet feathers...And where once her shoulder blades had been,
she now sported the wings of a raven...With a raucous caw, she jumped
from the floor to the window slit, momentarily eyed the full moon rising
then flew straight towards it and the scatter shot stars sprinkling
the indigo field of the heavens...
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Post by wistfuldragon on Dec 4, 2007 15:03:59 GMT -6
the indigo field of the heavens...Sabrina***
Loved that line Lady...just as I love the rest...
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Post by anirbas on Dec 4, 2007 20:15:53 GMT -6
frankly, have no idea where this one is going...this one doesn't have a skeleton to build flesh upon with words of narrative verse...it's just going...LOL...but, thank you, none the less
for the reading of it and the loving of it...perhaps, i shall receive some wayward divine
intervention once i get mini-me to bed, as to what to do next with it...t-he-he-he...
roflmao...just realized i've not even named this broad...
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Post by wistfuldragon on Dec 5, 2007 21:18:18 GMT -6
hehehehe...you're awesome...making me laugh all the time...well save for the times you make me think...or when you have me crying...hehehehe...
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Post by anirbas on Dec 6, 2007 5:52:02 GMT -6
;D
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