I did one the other day!

Part 4 is up.

Gah! I didn't even see it :facepalm:

I shall read.

Ah well, what can I say? Another excellent piece of writing, Emperor. As always, your description was amazing, and I had a beautiful portrait in my head.

Not much more I can say; I've never been great at giving criticism. But oh well, great stuff, and I look forward to the next chapter.

I think I am going to redo the last conversation with the dragon. I have alot more of a funny course for their talk in my head, so I cut it off where it needed improvement. Suffice it to say that I think this idea will be one of the best things that happened to this story

Ah well, I look forward to seeing that! Make sure to tell us when it's up.

Much to my confutation and consternation, I have been confronted with yet another vicissitude of the consanguine variety (:P) thus prolonging Qiams tale. I made some modifications to the previous chapter, so drastic they were that I thought to submit the renewed version seperately... This adds about 500 words as well.

The conversation with the dragon is turning out to be really fun to write...

Its a little choppy though

The Poet of Grey Watch-- Part 4 v 2.0

Qiam sinuously slid, by way of an elegant, anatomical compression, through the slender cavern opening. Anon he fumbled instinctively through the darkness, aware of naught but a fetid aroma emanating from below and the padding of his wet feet on the cold stone. He groped tentatively --like a blind man bereft of cane-- his innate night-eye ineffectual in a darkness of such concentration. Normally, he would have employed a light spell to assist him in navigating the cavern, but he had exhausted his daily magicka reservoir in an encounter with a rogue barbarian -- the self proclaimed "Emissary of Xzaegith", whose composite features presently bedecked the mountainside in grotesque ornamentation.

Suddenly, and without reservation, the cavern was ablaze with a blinding light, perpetually variable in color and tone. In this new luminescence, the details of his environment were plainly revealed. The walls were glazed with crystals of infinitesimal proportions, shaped, clustered, and fused so as to resemble polymerized origami. They were brittle, like the shed shells of loci, and grew in chaotic, inextricable patterns. They shifted restlessly --independently-- through various iridescent hues, spanning the whole of the electromagnetic spectrum. Qiam felt the combined visual effect comparable to being thrust amid an aurora. Each hue (and variant thereof) corresponded with a harmonious chime of inexplicable source, like a symphony of bells and gongs ringing in barely perceptible, celestial rhythm. Never before had Qiam witnessed such a wondrous panorama of synchronized light and sound. Though he was confused as to the nature of this display, he marveled at the kaleidoscopic exhibit like a child marvels at the sea, or the limitless expanse of the firmament.

From far back in the cavern came a score of tenuous tendrils, floundering in languid activity, like the arms of octopi. A boreal wind attended it, ruffling his robes, caressing his spine with chill, sensitive strokes. A voice followed, and it was of a patently familiar frequency and pitch.

It resonated deep as the rumbling preparatory to a volcanic eruption. "Come, Khajiit," it articulated. "We have much to discuss. Primarily: your explicit hostility toward my servitors, your multiform exploits, and your dashing good looks?which, verily, rival my own. Come, and we shall discuss these things amid my manifold treasures: my jewels and phylacteries, my armaments and appurtenances, my supple seducers with jet black hair and ivory white skin. Come, and I shall greet you warmly."

Both the auditory and visual pageantry abruptly faded, as if it they were but a product of the eldritch voice.

Qiam was suddenly cognizant of a fabulous fragrance, an aromatic odor, a regal cologne?as would appropriate the marble white wrists of a voluptuary. He bethought the scent pleasurable beyond adequate description, intoxicating in its density. And as he ventured further forth, the smell grew ever more pervasive.

To either side of that virtuous vagrant ignited a succession of flambeaux, illumining a seemingly immeasurable expanse of material prosperity. Never before had he beheld an affluence so haphazardly divided, so arbitrarily dispersed, so chaotic and disorderly. Here sprawled heaps of varicolored coinage dappled with alluring coruscations-- emerald, sapphire, jade, turquoise, onyx?wrought in multiplex geometric formations; there-- a medley of brooding, ritualistic impedimenta. Indecently postured Gargoyles leered at him as he traversed the corridor, countenances ominous and phantasmal, lecherous and perverse, portraying an insatiable rapine lust.

The walls were hung with tapestries of an exquisite make, depicting a variety of traditional mythological scenarios, rendered in vivid pigments. One such decorative item exhibited a paladin clad in black panoply engaging a ferocious basilisk, another?an elfin wizard affecting a motley array of mystic articles. The floor, a veritable wading pool of rarities, was punctuated at frequent intervals with human skulls?their eye-sockets inset with faceted rubies, radiant and baleful, like frozen blood. Iron-wrought reliquaries bedizened the hall, brimming with gold coins, silver ingots, and polished gemstones. On a low table, leg deep in sundry scintillations, stood an array of alchemic appliances-- alembics, retorts, a diverse assortment of flasks? sheathed in ethereal refractions and mercurial strands of light.

The stretch terminated in a vast rotunda lined with individuals of sinister aspect. In the center, occupying a major percentage of its capacity, Qiam spied that which he had sought since the beginning. The dragon lounged like a great, languorous lion atop a mound of gold coins, sifting them in sparkling rivulets through its paws like so much sand. It tilted its head in studious examination of Qiams figure. Hardly could Qiam return this scrutiny, however, for its bedding was as bright as the sun, reflecting the frenzied light of the flambeaux.

Silk laden women sprawled in sensuous abandon about the dragon's perimeter, lithe and seductive. How voluptuous and beautiful they were-- eyes like glistening moonstones; lips like ripe, sanguine blossoms; bosoms soft and pliant as dough! They affected the representative attire of odalisques?a variety at once opulently adorned and overtly revealing, provocative and negligible. To the dragon they proffered trays lain with an extensive selection of victuals?abundantly bundled graqes; hardened wedges of cheese; tenderized slabs of meat; freshly aromatic breads glistening gold with butter; opaque wines hued like deepening twilight?which, at intervals, he casually consumed.

A prodigious pipe hung from his mouth, sustaining a copious cumulous mottled with shades of umber and black. He roused listlessly --in an opiate induced stupor-- displacing a minute percentage of his mound with an amplified tinkling. He lifted the pipe from his mouth, contracted the circumference of his lips, and projected a lengthy stream of smoke in Qiam's general direction, enveloping him in a dusky, leisurely revolving shroud. Qiam coughed and waved indignantly, producing several inarticulate protests. One of the concubines laughed resonantly, briasts heaving, headdress of peacock plumes bobbing.

By slow degrees, the dragon's laughter diminished in intensity. His lips parted in a sardonic grin, revealing a mouth lined with lustrous white teeth curved like scimitars. "Tell me, Qiam" Quoth he, "On what impulse have you come to Akavir?"

"More importantly," Qiam responded, coughing intermittently, "on what impulse did you see it fit to delay my impending appointment, render me the subject of yonder vixen's amusemant, and propel a cumulous of opium about my person? I hesitate to argue with a demigod (due to an instinctual concern for my immediate well being), but this type of behavior is not the proper etiquette for welcoming strangers into one's hall."

"Bah!" admonished the dragon, lifting an excited concubine in his paw like a delicate, ivory fetish. She was garbed in a diminutive skirt of gossamer silk that served to accentuate, rather than conceal, the appearance of her voluptuous contours. It hung like an opalescent waterfall from the jewel adorned girdle affixed loosely about her waist. Her fingers and toes were ornamented with silver circlets, brass rings, filigreed trinkets, each of a meticulously detailed configuration. Chief in seductive aspect amid her affectations were a pair of briast plates patterned with concurrent circles-- in the center of which protruded a pyramid of lapis lazuli. With a passionate adoration he stroked her black, silken tresses, fondled her emblazoned apparel, caressed her ample endowments. She yawned and stretched, flaunting her curvaceous attributes, the torchlight flitting in restless flares off her bejeweled apparel.


Anon the dragon elaborated upon his exclamation. "I am old, and in order to alleviate the tedium of quotidian life, I often subject others to embarrassing scenarios from which to obtain vicarious pleasure. For instance--" the dragon abruptly withdrew his hand from under the harlet. She plummeted with an undignified floundering of ivory limbs, a flaying of bright silks, to land square on her buttocks and yelp pathetically. She scrambled to her feet in an awkward, undignified manner, repositioning herself in the shade of her master. Her sable locks hung from her scalp in lank rills, partially concealing her shamed countenance.

Qiam chuckled involuntarily.

"Entertaining, yes? We might have fun, you and I" ruminated the dragon, discharging a diaphanous ribbon of smoke from either of his slender nostrils. "But first-- be frank with me. You came for my treasure, did you not? To plunder a proportion! To pinch a profit! To purloin a percentage!"

Qiam shook his head in rueful dismay. "I am afraid you are mistaken. My intentions are,in essence, wholly unobtrusive."

"Is that so?" the dragon inquired.

"It is indeed so," was his stolid reply. Just as soon as Qiam finished this sentence, however, his purse unfastened, the straps from which it hung suspended released, and the heretofore enclose articles spilled forth in a brilliant, tinkling cataract. With his assorted curios, trinkets, and implements spread before the dragon, Qiam felt like an addict confronted by his family members with an array of confiscated paraphernalia.

Of particular note among these subsidiary appurtenances was a leather bound tome shut with verdigris encrusted clasps. Such was Qiam's spell book-- terrible and malefic in aspect, etched with cryptic runes that blazed with the fervidity of witch fires, or seared at the touch, like a mordant acid. Herein, upon pages of soot-stained vellum, were inscribed all the summons, thaumaturgies, and mystic invocations of his arcane erudition. On the volume's cover, emitting a frigid blue radiance, was a sapphire of profound density, dark as the ocean deep, in which swam strange and indefinite grotesquerie.

The book, by means unseen, ascended to an altitude parallel with the dragon's face, opened, and lay there, gently bobbing, like a buoy at sea. An invisible hand began to cycle through its pages, like a vehement wind.

After an interval of sifting, studying, and cogitating upon the contents of Qiam's spell book, the dragon reprimanded him in tones of controlled aggravation. "I can't help but note several conspicuous insertions herein-- inscribed in fresh ink! This spell, listed as 'The 99th Lucrative Mysticism', infused with magick vitality but a fortnight ago, possesses a description of disconcertingly specific aspect: 'For the immobilization of a dragon.' That of an associated spell, 'The Ultimate Agony', is equally acute, and indubitably the work of a disturbed mind: 'For the introduction of a carnivorous Molester Worm into the cranium of an immobilized dragon by way of nasal incursion.' Indeed, in regard to the last, I am instantly curious as to what a Molester Worm is."

Qiam's countenance instantly brightened. "If you would --for but a moment-- distend the perimeter of your nostrils --"

"I would rather not."

Qiam shrugged indifferently, "A missed opportunity. Few are willing to experience the thrill. "

"I can only imagine."

"Virtuous vagrant"... not only a poignant and efficient description, but an alliteration! No wonder you call yourself (well, Maiq, but in your writing style!) the poet of Graywatch.


And the image of a dragon sprawled on the classic gold pile while surrounded by scantily-clad women and dining on wine and cheese between puffs of a pipe... it made me giggle, and I'm not entire sure why. I suspect that is a mental image I will be keeping for quite some time.

The conversation regarding Qiam's spellbook is absolutely delightful for its sheer understatedness. You continue to write this story with definite style. It's a bit difficult to get through (no light reading, this!) but is definitely worth it.

An excellent update (I almost wrote "awesome"... but that seemed too colloquial for this thread. ). How will our unreliable narrator contrive his way out of this one?

Well, Emperor, since you have so graciously contacted me by PM and allowed me back into this thread, may I first say this:

Literary criticism can be a touchy thing at times, and when I decided to be 'clever' and do a literary criticism of you, and NOT a tactful one at that, and not in prose, but in RHYME...

Only four words apply.

WHAT. WAS. I. THINKING? :facepalm:

Note to all critics: never try to be 'clever' in critiques, unless you're doing a self-parody.

:lol:

In our PMs, Emperor, I said that your previous effort at the last chapter was "too much spice and not enough meat". I shall now give a new metaphor. Words in a story are like both the stuctural support and the decorative flourishes of a building: let there be only structure, and you have a building that can be used, yet is plain, drab, and boring: let your building consist only of flourishes, and you have no building at all - it collapses under the slightest strain. Let there be a balance between the structure and the flourish, so that we have a structure that stands tall and strong and yet is aesthetically pleasing to the eye: better still, if ever possible go for the master's touch of using the same unit as both structure and flourish, so that we have strength and beauty combined in the same masterstroke.

I think you have already understood this, if I understand your PM to me correctly.

Your narration has now improved...but the problem...ah, I suspect you know it already...


is that NOW it doesn't match the styles of the beginning of your story! Remember when I called your story 'Munchausenesque' in the beginning? Now your story is becoming defined - more Arabesque than Munchausenesque - to be coherent you will have to revise all your previous chapters...

Ah well. You don't have to do it, really. Although it would be much neater, IMHO, if you did.

But now may I finish with a request?

A dragon...pipe smoking...plenty of seminvde 'harlets' to play with...(and although you may say that he only plays with them innocently, I have plenty of XXX images of dirty dragon in my mind now, GRRR, it's all YOUR fault) and one with a dry wit and sharp mind as well as plenty of majika as well...


PLEASE PLEASE DO NOT KILL HIM OFF QUICKLY! I have fallen in love at first sight with this Dirty Dragon (sorry, but between the harlets and your unpronounceable name, that's what I'm going to call him from now on ) and I would LOVE to see him for at least five to ten more chapters duelling with Qaim in words, strategies, and magic!!!

I didn't think you were doing many more chapters. I'm not complaining or anything

Well, I'd really like to sit down and give you a detailed critique, but that might have to wait until Friday. Sorry, I have a project for Lit I need to finish :shrug: Just wanted to let you know I read it and I'm not ignoring your pms. I promise I'll be back to go into more detail sometime this week, and if I forget then please pm me

Thanks, it looks really good. Keep it up :goodjob:

PS It makes me wonder why you haven't signed up for Feyfolken yet... /end shameless advertising

Update coming soon... Keep an eye out.

Ah, I thought that with five pages of posts this story would be much much longer. Thus my hesitation to take a peek until now (Terribly sorry, by the way. I thought it would be an hour long venture or more to read five pages worth of story. To my surprise, it ended up taking less than half that :embarrassed: ). Regardless of my late arrival, I must say my critique follows the same pattern as last time: a disturbing lack of anything decent to say. Nonetheless, I shall try- just because I respect and like you so much

Now then, first let me say how frustratingly difficult it is to read a humorous peice and try to think of relevant, meaningful information. I have practiced all my forum life to critique serious narratives of all lengths, but one incredibly humorous and enjoyable story like this and I am left speechless. Not to say you didn't do an outstanding job, you have very much accomplished your goal of good imagery. I still have a problem with your sophisticated vocabulary, but- for the most part- I am able to follow along fairly well. I have to really concentrate on what many words mean, relying on context clues more often than not, but I get the overall feel. For the first time since I read Lord of the Rings when I was seven I had to look up words from a story in a dictionary :sadvaultboy:

Like I've said before, I cannot hope to give you any advice on your characterization, plot, etc. in a third person, told-by-the-protagonist, comical story. All that remains to take a look at is flow and descriptions, which are already way above what I can hope to produce in my writings. However, I can critique many levels above what I can write, so I might have a little advice for you here. The level of description in a story- as I'm sure you know- changes the speed at which one reads it. This is the main principle behind the flow and speed of a story, and it is a terribly difficult thing to get right (Like I said, I have little ability to do it myself). For the most part, you seem to be doing very well- you tell when it is appropriate to get past time consuming events, and you show whenever something must be entirely described. However, I also feel that you occasionally show a little too much detail. It makes us feel the scene, yes, but it also slows it to a grinding halt, and too much of that makes your story a very slow and difficult read. Hence my predicament (Which I guess with near certainty is what many others have trouble with as well).

Other than that, all my other feelings are just one restatement or another of a great annoyance at what emphasis you placed on the harem's... features. I understand that he is telling this story to a bunch of lonely Nords in a tavern, but it bothers my young mind. It's kind of like a hidden joke, really.

All I can say is to keep doing what you are doing- I have great confidence in your progression into a great author. I only wish you would do a real narrative- none of this comedy nonsense Perhaps a short story :poke:

That's a good idea. (for people like me that have to look up quite a few)


@OP - The story is really good (funny) and very interesting - I was just getting bogged down in the eloquent wording. That you have an extremely creative imagination is obvious.

Your avatar is Freud is it not? You should be familiar with the "Freudian slip" My dwelling on describing them was totally unconcious. I think its a cool descriptive paragraph, but I might want to put it somewhere else.

The fact that I love women comes into play, of course, ^_^ but no more than the succulent foods, aged wines, fancy jewels ect ect. They are all part of an atmosphere I am trying to establish in the dragon's chambers-- one of total decadence and hedonism. The "grandiose verbiage" I employ can be seen as just another factor in the equation.

I understand that my narrative is choppy. Almost unbearably so now that I look back on some of the previous chapters. I'm working on trying to rectify that. I am thinking about posting a revised version of this story once its complete.




You will be relieved to know that my next fanfic is about Dark Elf Androids.

:P

Indeed it is he, thank you for noticing. I recently read a few psychology textbooks whilst waiting in the lavatory, and find his theories to be equally interesting for their ground shattering principles (completely changed our understanding of the mind) and their intense contreversy. But enough of that, this is the fan fiction board, afterall.

Ah, yes, unconcious writing- happens to me all the time. I write something really good (for me), but then I can't do it again next chapter. But that's not really your problem; you are trying to create an atmosphere here. As you said, there is such a thing as laying it on too thick, but don't ease up too much or you'll lose that style we all love.

The whole thing with the women is fine; it does add to the feeling well enough, but it feels like it's bordering on inappropriate. You skirted the line quite a few times, but I think it should still fall under the PG13 limit of the forum. Besides, if you're mature enough to understand that kind of wording, I think you can handle some insinuations for the effect.

Just keep looking to improve- you can never stop and say "I'm done, I'm good enough". It simply doesn't work like that

Androids... :cryvaultboy:

Least favorite chapter. Mostly trash. Mainly because it envolves a fight scene, which (as you might be able to surmise from my laborious style) I am none too apt.


The Poet of Greywatch-- Part 5

Meanwhile, the dragon subjected what remained of Qiam's paraphernalia to a comprehensive examination. After a lengthy interval debating the merits of each article, one in particular aroused his attention. Via telekinetic manipulation, he commenced to lift the map Qiam had purchased in the capital city. Once it had ascended to an elevation at which it could be comfortably anolyzed, he unfurled it with delicate, measured rotations by way of the same method, and the slim ruby red ribbon binding the parchment floated gracefully to the ground, like a plummeting adder. Qiam grit his teeth in anxious anticipation of the dragon's looming reprimand.

"Ho!" exclaimed the dragon in a mode at once jovial and derisive. "What have I stumbled upon? A map detailing the topography of a curiously familiar locale! Allow me to observe its attributes in high contrast. Wait but a moment?"

At which point The Dragon arrested his commentary, procured an immense pair of steel rimmed reading glasses, and slid them to a length halfway down his extensive snout. Behind the composite filter, his eyes assumed an abnormally inflated appearance, lending him an air of intensified pomposity.

He shook his head in feigned displeasure. "As I suspected, it is a map of Akavir's eastern mountains. And look? A disturbing detail. Enclosed in an oval of violet ink is my cavern's exact location!" The dragon sighed. "Verily, I ached to believe you, Qiam. However, any excuse you can possibly afford is hereby negated by your possession of this document."

Qiam was suddenly conscious of a curious tingling sensation in his extremities, coupled with a multitude of fervid (but minute) subcutaneous pulsations. The feeling was not alien, rather, explicitly identifiable, for it indicated the complete regeneration of his magicka reservoir. Swiftly he felt it surge throughout his body, emanating from the razor sharp terminus of his retractable talons. To the dragon's perceptive eyes Qiam effused a tangible aura, azure in hue, gossamer in tenuity, whipping and writhing like a voluminous mass of wind-blown curtains.

Thence did Qiam make his move. He recited the incantation for divine intervention, maintaining direct eye contact with his foe, so as to not arouse his attention. Just as he relaxed his posture in pleasant expectancy of escape, however, an encumbering weight beset him, laying him flat.

The Dragon responded with a spasmodic paroxysm of laughter. Lolling in ecstatic revolutions, he spilled, with an involuntary sweep of his thick tail, a collection of ornate items about the westward side of the rotunda. "I commend your audacity," quoth the dragon between passionate guffaws. "Though it is, in all probability, the product of your infantile ignorance."

Eager to escape, Qiam recited "The 88th Dispelling Aura" an incantation intended to negate the effects of an inhibiting hex-- such had evidently been placed upon him. Upon completion of the verse's final syllable, he was enveloped in a fervid inferno-- the product of another counter spell. With frantic immediacy he employed an enchantment specifically designed for the onset of such a scenario: "The Ice Maiden's Embrace." Thereby a tenuous, pale blue mist-- in which swam glittering, crystalline motes-- descended upon his figure like a nimbus, and the flames which held him luridly swathed vanished instantaneously. His reaction proved excessive, for now he stood shivering, as with ague, his tattered attire bedecked with a multitude of icy epaulettes.

In response, The dragon (laughing boisterously) summoned a score of peculiar arachnids, barbed with inextricably convoluted protuberances. They propelled themselves through the air, legs menacingly outthrust.

Qiam utilized a fundamental rune to defend himself: "The First Barrier," so named for its meager intensity, and a translucent sphere, swimming with a variety of iridescent hues, encircled his person. Upon contact with the barrier's surface, the insects splattered into pulpy blots, wherefrom legs, innards, and viscera dribbled in slow rills, to accumulate in a grotesque reservoir about his perimeter.

Having prevented the Dragon's offensive maneuver, Qiam disengaged the protective sphere and converted it into a mass of condensed electricity. He prompted it levitate in front of his face: a sapphire ball from which extended numerous lashing, effervescent bolts, then projected it towards the dragon's head.
Only moments preceding impact, its velocity plummeted, as though traversing some viscous medium. Its proportions distorted; it lengthened to the point of diaphaneity, and with a distinctive svcking noise, vanished.

Impelled by an innate feline clairvoyance, Qiam spun. The ball, exiting an opaque portal in the air, was directly behind him! He attempted to dive, duck, move, evade-- too late! It slammed against his side, enveloping him in a suit of writhing, incandescent tendrils. He convulsed frenetically, gibbering through clenched teeth. The rotunda fulgurated through alternating phosphorescent tones: sapphire, gold, sapphire, gold. By slow degrees the pain departed. Qiam slumped to the ground, wisps of acrid smoke curling up from his scorched robes. He noted yon lissome maidens giggling mellifluously amongst themselves, with him the apparent focal point of their amusemant.

The Dragon smiled. "Your humorous obstinacy is a welcome deviation from the repetitious enticements, captivations, and erotic enscorsellments of mine dull courtesans?"

Qiam closely regarded the postures, attributes, and proportions of said "dull courtesans" reposed in sensuous contortions on the gold mound. He coolly interjected: "For a nominal fee, I will relieve you of several of the more pulchritudinous specimens?"

The Dragon ignored him, "Despite possessing an?" the dragon telekinetically maneuvered Qiam's spell book, "?appreciable compendium of prodigies, conjurations, and mysticisms, your aptitude with their implementation leaves much to be desired. Jack of all trades, master of none, eh? Forsooth, I would rather you engage one of mine reanimated servitors, so that the outcome be not so manifestly transparent. If you survive, well? We shall see? we shall see..." The dragon beckoned an enigmatic figure currently presiding in the shadows.

"Servitor." The dragon addressed him.

"Lord Xzaegith," emanated a voice of ominous passivity.

"Reflect on yon intruder. How his appearance would improve if one were to extract his spinal cord, rearrange the contents of his cranium-- thus and so--" the dragon made a harsh, wrenching movement with his paws. Qiam winced. "--transfer his tail to his forehead, and graph his ears to his neck!"

"I am astounded at the congruency of our aesthetic preferences, Lord Xzaegith."

"To conclude: rearrange his components in a succession of obscenely imaginative concatenations."

"Consider it done."

"Qiam: prepare to experience my servitor's infamous transpositioning technique!"

Qiam vociferated: "Hold now! Hold! I would like to declare an objection to the blasphemous molestation of my physical organization! I am content with its symmetry!"

"Silence! Servitor, eviscerate this garrulous nuisance; heed not his importunities." The dragon dismissed Qiam with a condescending gesticulation, and presently took to entertaining his concubines with inquisitive probings, to which they responded with indignant laughter, rubicund complexions, insincere protests. All the while came a melodious tinkling as their ornamentations clattered.

The figure emerged: a haphazard assemblage of grafted limbs, tattered skin, and matted tufts of black hair. From a wide aperture in its stomach issued long ropes of intestines, lubricated with digestive fluid. One eye, lolling uninhibited in its socket, was set high on the forehead. The other was plastered against the nose, exuding rills of white fluid. It shambled on crooked legs to stand parallel from Qiam. Its flabby, pallid lips slowly parted, disclosing a lubricious smile laden with xanthodontic snaggleteeth. The surface of its brain lay exposed, rhythmically palpitating. It was garbed in a threadbare loin-clout from which hung a corroded cleaver, several potent potions, a shrunken head.

Qiam recognized the figure as none other than The Emissary of Xzaegith-- the arrogant brute he had caused to explode only hours previously. He had, apparently, been necromantically reassembled. The Emissary assumed the outline of a provoked simian, shoulders hunched, legs wide, arms lank, eyes like wan, sulphurous flames.

OH yEAH BABY!!!! OH YEAH!!!!!

NOW you're ROCKING!!!

Previously...it was like the moves of a student who had only half-learned the martial arts: the moves were THERE, but they weren't connecting into a coherent whole: disjointed, a travesty of the intention of the trainer...

but now...Baby, you got ya [censored] together!!!

"And thus, from tenuous travesty of previously puerile writhingly witless writing, arose forth, ascended, arrived in an awesome alarcity the poignant phoenix of powerful prose, the new emote of the Emperor of Dreams! Scintillating were its sentences, magic its mysteriously morphing myths, passionate and picaresquely picturersque its pointillistic phrases. The Dragon rose forth from its depths in sinuously seductive solitude, being the being of myth, might, and mystery so oft seen in our reveries of our reminisences of romances read: yet in portrayal contemptible cliche was cunningly circumvented, cooly, cleverly, and convincingly! Both Amusing and Amazing in Appearance, Sly and Sinister in its Speech, a veritable Magnus Magus of Magic, with his power to project peril that passes close to perdition...Qiam's deft attempts to defeat the Denizen of Doom-Depths dazzle the distraught reader and make him wish to shout for the sensation of the sheer shiveringly sensually seductive feel of the tactile text of the now polished prose!

Rejoice, for more revelations are yet to come! Emperor, elide into more elegance, elope with our emotions into the elysian fields! Carry us deeper into this captivating carnival, this kaledescopic carousel of cascading credenzas! Bewilder us with youre bejeweled sentences, amaze us with your astounding plot! From the flight formed by the fancy of your fiery imagination, carry us to realms yet undreamt of...for yours is the mind, and we the readers but follow behind!"

As usual your descriptions are amazing - as is your humor!

You forgot Pulchritudinous One of my favorite words.

Funny how I percieved this to be my worst chapter...

:shrug:

Well, its been three days, and noone has stopped by, so I'll give this a bump.

Presently, its almost on the third page, so I think this is warranted, given that I just posted my longest chapter.

I like it. Perhaps a bit wordy, but I think that's what gives it flavor.

Humorous in the classic TES style.

Makes me want to get back to some writing.

All in all, it's good.

I don't see how Qiam (Chapter 3?) whooped up on the ogre-whatever and then got whooped by some Cliff Racers.

Heh. I do believe I've been out-critiqued by D.Foxy.

I've got nothing to gush over that I haven't repeatedly. The heavy action in this chapter was a bit bogged down by the verbiage, which slows the pace to a crawl. Just be careful about how many long, obcsur words you use during fast-paced parts.

But it's nonetheless pure poetry. :goodjob:

And thus the ascended scribe becomes the embodiment of enlightenment, filling the formerly pulchritudinous artifice with phantasm.

And the crowd shouted "Holy [censored]!"