The Collective Works of Jacqueline Dulcimer

[VengefulSeraphim]

[FONT="Palatino Linotype"][COLOR="White"]This painting shows in the foreground Marcus Bellbridge clad in bloodstained dark steel armor, appearing every bit the quintessential black knight - one would guess him a knight, were it not for the crown that sat atop his head. In his hand rests a vile-looking sword and underneath his cloak, an axe covered in fresh crimson stains. The brooch for his cloak shows a pewter version of Garagos' well-known tentacus - five arms, all holding bloodied scimitars, arranged around each other in a circular formation. His eyes glow a dark crimson.

He stands with his back against Christine's, a maiden depicted as both as indescribably beautiful and pure, covered in head to toe with regal attire - a warm glowing smile is prominent upon her countenance, the kind of smile that would find melt any cold heart, turn any sinner into a saint.

Although they at first appear to look towards opposite sides of the painting from one another, a glamour appears to have been put in place upon the work of art - subtle, but there, for certain. If one looks at the painting for a few seconds, Bellbridge's head shifts, the crimson glow in his eyes fading, his expression reminiscent of one who has been smitten. The spikes on his armor slowly fade away, and his armor turns from being black and covered with blood to being grey, and then eventually white and pure.

Written in one corner is the name of the work: "DEFECTION". Written in another is the name of the artist, "Jacqueline Dulcimer".[/COLOR][/FONT]

[FONT="Palatino Linotype"][COLOR="White"]Done on a sheet of thick vellum, this painting shows a pair of halflings - one, appearing to be a self-imagining of Jacqueline Dulcimer, sits in a throne, a lap-harp resting on her legs as she seems entranced with her own playing. A crown, which is also a beret, rests on her head, slightly off-kilter. Her regal attire seems to resemble quite closely the motley she generally wears, though the colors have been bleached ... save for the red and white.

A male halfling courtier can be seen on her right, smiling and engaging in no shortage of flirtatious behavior. Although at first glance, it appears as though the female lightfoot on the throne is having none of it, her cheeks blush and she wears the smallest of smiles.

The two courting halflings are flanked on either side by a lion and a unicorn, regal beasts, one magical... one mundane, but both incredible in their own right.

Written in the corner of the painting is the name "Jacqueline Dulcimer".

[/COLOR][/FONT]

[VengefulSeraphim]

[tface=Callig]"DARKNESS

My arms and legs spread-eagle
The pain is too great
I soon become little more
Than a base thing full of hate

I cry out for help
Yet no one will hear
My entire being
Is consumed by the fear

Horrifying sounds
Echo through waters deep
Black tentacles, long and slick,
Along the floor, start to creep...

Images and flashes affecting my dreams
Beware my child, for not all is as it seems

Broken and weary,
For lost innocence, I search and find,
The shattered pieces,
Of my fractured mind."[/tface]

[VengefulSeraphim]

[COLOR="Lime"][FONT="Georgia"]A new painting has been produced by Jacqueline, done quickly as though by a man possessed. The painting appears far from rushed, however, and no doubt it does what a painting of this sort would do - evoke horror.

Produced from the darkest recesses of Jacqueline's haunted dreams, perhaps without conscious understanding of what she was producing, this painting depicts something large and wholly alien lurking in brackish waters. The many eyes of this horrific creature appear fixated on the viewer; no doubt to stare too long into this beast's eyes within the confines of reality would make one fall into a state of madness.

Many tentacles, long and slick, can be seen coming from the beast, and they appear to reach out. Some of them wrap around cyclopean structures that seem to refuse to adhere to normal geometry, which lurk within the water itself.

Various strange symbols and sigils can be seen flanking the painting in certain places; to try and read them would probably cause one to retch. One cannot help but wonder what sort of troubled mind would produce such a beautifully terrifying work of art. [/FONT][/COLOR]

[VengefulSeraphim]

[tface=Callig]A MAN MOST NOBLE

A man most noble, quite hard to find;
Stands out quite a bit from those of his kind,
While some look down their noses at their lessers and scoff,
He proved that he wasn't merely some churlish toff

His name was Hadrian, of the Kenvaren house,
When it came time for battle, he was surely no mouse.
With greatsword in hand, he struck foes with fury,
Not with brute force and strength, but with finesse in a flurry!

A gentleman in manner, oh - what a sight!
He was no doubt worthy of the title "knight"
He sent brigands and rogues to run in a fright
And always stood beside his friends as they fought H'Bala's blight.

Unfortunately for Hadrian, he would meet his end,
And I would lose one who I regarded a friend,
Death would claim him early - what an injustice it must seem!
To find noble Kenvaren lie naked, pilfered, in a stream.[/tface]

[VengefulSeraphim]

[tface=Callig]THREE ROGUES

Gaevynn, Gaevynn, his head has a shrub,
Gaevynn, Gaevynn, non-elves he does snub,
Fighting on behalf of the King-to-Be,
He now lies on the Wall of Infamy,
His blade's always Angwi, his mood's always dour,
How can one stand an elf who's so sour?

He always guards Vasily Oozefriend,
They fight 'gainst the Maiden to postpone the End,
He longs for a lover, a putrid old hag,
When his search fails, his heart it does sag,
The slime trails he leaves gets on everyone's patiences,
As do his many friends and all his acquaintances.

Ronald Fryth, a depraved malcontent,
One has to wonder where his sense may have went.
Stabbing a knight in the back with his sword,
No remorse to be shown as he cut away life's cord,
He condemns the dead for their eyes made of coal,
But the only thing black around here is his soul.[/tface]

[VengefulSeraphim]

[tface=Callig]INK MOST BLACK

Ink most black dripping on the page,
I am far removed from the learn'd sage,
My mind, from brilliance, is far removed,
I am hardly a great scholar or a talented mage.

Yet from my soul I write, not in analytical treatise,
Not in lemmas and axioms, not with theorems in series,
I draw meaning from work in ways these men don't,
I chase down purpose in places still others won't.[/tface]

[VengefulSeraphim]

[tface=Callig]WITHERING AWAY

I am slowly withering away,
Quicker with each passing day,
The flies gather one by one,
The maggots in my skin here to stay.

Despite the cures offered by the priest,
The promises of the old crone,
Save for the insects that swarm me,
I stand all alone.

Despite my cries of pain and my groans,
All come to ignore me.
My groans become hungry wails, tortured moans...
Soon I fear that my mind is not my own.

Before long, I become the Maiden's slave.
'Tis your flesh that I desire and crave.[/tface]

[VengefulSeraphim]

[tface=Callig]LITTLE BLACK VIAL

A little black vial is all I need,
For what it brings to me.
Within my mind, it's planted its seed,
For what pleasure I do see.

A rush consumes me,
Then a feeling of bliss,
Then incredible vigor,
Something quite hard to miss.

I feel numb,
To the pain of the world,
I could sail the seas,
With my mast now unfurled.

Yet if I go without,
My little black vial,
What I face, dear reader,
Becomes quite the trial.

In incredible pain,
It becomes what I crave,
I easily blow,
What I meticulously save.

Does this make me a monster,
Sickeningly depraved?
Does it mean I'm preyed upon,
By some rogue or some knave?

Perhaps.
For I'd brave death or walk a great many miles...
To taste of the other world,
The world of pleasure,
Brought by the little black vial.[/tface]

[VengefulSeraphim]

[tface=Callig]SIR TYBAULT

Sir Tybault, unremarkable, was not a brave knight,
In fact he was craven, and barely knew how to fight,
With clumsiness and brute force did he swing his flail,
Yet in spite of this, he saw victory where others did fail.

For noble Sir Tybault was obscenely rich,
And always had a potion for when he was in a pinch,
For why show your skill, your talents and abilities,
When you can easily use an apothecary's facilities?

Eventually, Sir Tybault, he encountered his better,
His sword, used in battle, was considerably wetter,
He was clever of mind and had actual skill,
And noble Sir Tybault, he intended to kill.

Sir Tybault did drink every draught, every curative,
Every vial, every flask, every minor abjurative,
He was invincible! He could not know defeat,
His foe in combat, Kelemvor he'd surely meet!

The man fought 'gainst Sir Tybault, repelling blow after blow,
Not any blood was spilled on the freshly fallen snow.
Tybault did not realize, his foe bided his time,
For Tybault's potions to wear off - what irony most sublime!

As the last of the potions ceased to have effect,
Tybault was outmatched, his tombstone you can check,
His epitath remarks that the man's final cry,
Was that the 'great' warrior seriously lacked supply.[/tface]

[VengefulSeraphim]

[tface=Callig]TWINKLETOES

Who's that fellow with the fez,
And the rather long nose,
You know who he is,
His name's Twinkletoes!

A comedian of legend,
He once roamed the land,
Shaking his maracas,
In his thick meaty hands.

He brought a laugh to many,
Though here lies a riddle;
How did a gnome,
Wind up in that fiddle?

Truth is, he's but a figment,
Of our own imaginations,
A magical illusion,
Playing on worldly sensations!

But that does not mean he's not real,
He's as real as can be.
One just has to be fooled,
By what your own eyes might see.

He ran for Lord-Mayor,
In the year of '82,
He was willing to make a sandwich,
The Lord-Captain too!

He would have seen the Market Hall,
Soar above clouds,
His dizzying speeches delivered,
Brought large laughing crowds.

He stepped out of the race,
Giving others their space,
There was not much to satire,
For t'was clearly a disgrace!

Now he goes searching,
for the Crown of the Isles,
A journey for which,
He has walked many miles.

So when you hear,
Some maracas shake,
'Tis no reason for your heart,
To begin to shake!

He will make you laugh,
So it becomes hard to breathe,
He'll grant you no quarter,
Certainly no reprieve.

How does he do it?
Nobody knows.
A great gnome like no other,
His name's Twinkletoes![/tface]

[VengefulSeraphim]

[tface=Callig]THE BRIDGE IS OUT

The bridge is out, the bridge is out!
'Tis quite time to worry, 'tis quite time to doubt!
The paupers and beggars, the men of great clout,
All are inconvenienced, for the bridge... it is out!

The troll that lived under, who loved to plunder,
Watched his lovely home get torn asunder,
What would cause this brute to go into rout,
It does not take a wizard to figure that out,
My friends, my fellow citizens - the bridge... it is out!

The merchants and their oxen gripe and complain,
"You must go around," the constable explains,
The merchant talks on about his crippling gout,
The pain in his foot he won't stop rambling about,
He must walk around all the same - for the bridge, it is out!

From the upright man, to the most villainous lout,
From the elders who prattle, to the children who pout,
From the tall and lanky, to the short and the stout,
All are inconvenienced, for the bridge is still out![/tface]

[VengefulSeraphim]

[tface=Callig]ODE TO A FRIEND

I ask for a miracle,
To come on your behalf,
Or perhaps a great spell,
From an archmage's staff,
Anything and everything,
'till nothing's left in my purse,
For your freedom from her touch,
Freedom from that curse.

You traveled to unhallowed grounds,
In search of a cure,
You were hopeful it was there,
In fact you were sure.
Yet there was nothing holy there,
There was nothing pure.
Nothing you could do,
From resisting her allure.

Now you are damned,
To a fate worse than death,
With every step that you take,
She steals some of your breath.

Now fair Christine,
Is worse off than a widow,
When will she stop crying,
Into her small pillow?

I hope rest soon sees you,
That you know a paladin's purge,
I will be most pleased,
When I can play your funeral dirge.

Of before, not of now,
Are the memories I keep,
Yet what you've become haunts me,
Haunts me while I sleep.[/tface]

[VengefulSeraphim]

[tface=Callig]IN THE COURT OF THE FEY PRINCE

Here walks the prince, wearing his thorny crown,
Soon follow are the nymphs, wearing gossamer gowns,
Hoary hunters ride by on glimmering steeds,
Pixie servants fly 'round, tending to the court's needs.

The grigs are enraptured, the sprites all bend knee,
At the arrival of the Prince, the great Thopsee Shee,
All are quite jolly, at His Benevolence's decree,
Faerie fire starts to dance for all mortals to see.

Tents are erected, with many bright hues,
Mortals come to play games (woe betide those who lose),
From the young barmaid Julie, to the carpenter Neville,
All join eternity, in the great endless revel.[/tface]

[VengefulSeraphim]

[tface=Callig]FROM MY BALCONY WINDOW

From my balcony up high,
In the darkness of the night sky.
There is much comfort I find,
Which I use to get by.

When my thoughts turn dark, I look to the moon,
That shining orb with its many tears, fairest Selûne,
When I lose focus and look, to the oblivion of Shar,
I concentrate and look instead to the Red Star.

The stars and constellations dance slowly around,
To an inaudible song, to a celestial sound,
Beauty in simple things can be easily found,
Focus on the sky, dear, not just on the ground.[/tface]

[VengefulSeraphim]

A TALE OF TWO SISTERS
A Comedy by Jacqueline Dulcimer

CHARACTERS:
Lodia â€" Chandra
Jacqueline â€" Sandra
Maximilian â€" Renard


Chandra and Sandra: A pair of hin lasses who allow their vanity and their jealousy towards one another to get the better of them.
Renard: A debonaire, charming gnomish thief, who plans to seduce and rob Sandra.

[The entire play takes place within a halfling burrow. The backdrop will be done via signs on the right-hand side, and there will be two chairs, a table, and a bed placed within the arena, where it will be performed. There will also be a few chests and shelves covered with what appear to be valuables.]

[Chandra and Sandra walk on stage, from the same side, laughing and looking merry as they set baskets-worth of fruit on the table, center-stage, which is also adorned with a silver candlestick holder.]

Chandra: Oh my goodness, can you believe what prices that other merchant was going to charge us?

Sandra: I know, it’s absurd, right? By Yondalla, I cannot imagine why he thought we had that much silver on us!

Chandra: It’s beyond me, sister. Anyhow, you said you wanted to talk to me about something, once we were through going to market.

Sandra: Well, it’s just that I’ve met this gnomish fellow â€" he’s not from around here, but my goodness, he is such the gentleman… and a hunk, to boot. [titters] His name is Renard, and… well, he’s a gnome, which I know sounds really strange…

Chandra: What?!

Sandra: Look, come on, I invited him over for dinner tonight, and I think you’d find him really nice!

Chandra: [panicks] Why did you go and do that!? This place is a mess… oh, goodness, what are we going to prepare for dinner?! You should’ve told me, I would have made you both something nice like a quiche or maybe a casserole, or maybe a casserole-quiche, and…

Sandra: [holds up a hand, as if to console her sister] Relax, I’ve got it all under control…

A series of knocks are heard. Off-stage, the sound of several pots and pans falling can be heard.

Sandra: Well, I had it under control. [calls out loudly] Coming! [moves quickly over towards the ‘door’, in this case, stage-left, where Renard waits, holding a bouquet of roses]

Renard: [smiles charmingly underneath his mustache beard] … Ah! My beautiful darling! How are you this eve? Well, I hope? I am certainly doing quite wonderfully, as I’ve been given the esteemed privilege of being allowed to court someone whose beauty would make Lady Firehair turn green with envy!

Sandra: [blushes and beams] You’re too kind, Renard â€" won’t you come in?

Renard: [steps inside, turning to face the audience, giving a nefarious smile as he offers an aside] Mwehehehe! I’m a thief! The best thief. This dumb lass is so smitten by me, I’ll rob her and her friend out of house and home! Mwehehehe!

Chandra: What?!

Sandra: [looks at Chandra with confusion]

Chandra: Did you not hear that? [gestures to Renard, looking incredulously at Sandra]

Sandra: Hear what?

Chandra: The gnome is a thief! He just said so in some sort of villainous monologue!

Sandra: Chandra, stop acting strange â€" Renard is nothing short of a total gentleman.

[Renard, in a completely unsubtle manner, decides to steal the silver candlestick holder on the table. Chandra stares on dumbfounded, before trying to get Sandra’s attention!]

Chandra: Sandra, look!

Sandra: Uh, what?

Chandra: Look! He’s stealing from us! He is very obviously stealing from us! We should get the guards!

Renard hides the candlestick holder in his tunic, before deciding that won’t work, instead sticking it in his trousers.

Sandra: [looks around, staring blankly at the table] .. Goodness, I could have sworn I placed the candlestick holder on the table, did it fall off the table and get lost somewhere? It was there only but an hour before! How am I supposed to have a romantic dinner with Renard… without candles?!

Chandra: He just stole the candles, stupid! There’s a rather obvious bulge in his trousers!

Sandra: [suddenly focuses on Renard’s trousers, pressing a hand towards her chest] .. Oh my. Renard, my goodness.

[Chandra mumbles something like “excuse us”, before pushing Sandra, who is continuing to stare at Renard’s codpiece shamelessly, off the stage, which is basically “outside” for the purposes of the play.]

Chandra: For Yondalla’s sake, Sandra!

Sandra: You know what, Chandra?

Chandra: What?

Sandra: I think you’re jealous.

Chandra: Jealous? Of what, exactly?!

Sandra:  That this stud of a gnome and I are an item, and you’re left out in the cold! Listen, this doesn’t jeopardize our relationship as sisters, and I’m pretty sure we can find you someone who, you know, would be willing to date you!

Chandra: Look â€" the man is clearly a thief. Why can’t you see that? The man practically reeks of larceny. He’d burgle his own mother if he were given the opportunity and proper incentive, I think! Look at him. [narrows her eyes and points at Renard, as if viewing him through a window] … Beady little eyes. Shady-looking hat. Curly mustache… come on, what was the first thing mother taught us? [beat] Never to trust a man with a mustache that thin, come on!

Sandra: Listen, Chandra… this is really petty of you, and I can’t see why you can’t just trust Renard and be nice to him. Listen, why don’t you just go and take a walk, let me enjoy my romantic evening, and stop ruining it for me!

Chandra:  Fine. You’re not going to listen to reason. Maybe it’s time I moved out, anyway. All the stuff in that burrow is yours anyway, so it’s no snot on my nose if he turns out to be what I said he was. [scoffs] So I am leaving! Goodbye!

[The two have a momentary scoff-off. Sandra scoffs after Chandra says ‘goodbye’, Chandra responds with a scoff, Sandra with a derisive snort, and so on and so forth ad absurdam. Eventually, Sandra makes her way back inside while Chandra goes upstairs to rest in the Mist’s End. Renard is hiding, waiting for Sandra to get back inside (on stage).]

Sandra: Renard? Darling? [speaks in a husky, suggestive voice] My sister’s gone, now the truly fun part can begin…

Renard: Indeed, it can! [clocks Sandra on the head with a mallet, knocking her out]

[The gnome proceeds to heft her over towards a chair, tying her to it, while he proceeds to take a sack and loot the ‘house’ of everything valuable. He talks as he pilfers everything…]

Renard: You’re brilliant, Renard â€" simply brilliant! It’s almost remarkable how well you charm the pants - quite literally - off these ladies, and every single time they leave breadcrumbs right to the jewels! [picks up something, picking up a golden goblet] … Mmm. Not really gold, too light. Must be gilded. Ah, well, might still be valuable! [tosses it in his bag, before continuing to rifle about]

Sandra: [stirs, looking around with a bleary expression] .. Whuh…

Renard:  â€¦ Ah, she stirs! Good evening, m’dear. I think you mentioned a desire to be tied up in one of our private conversations, though I’m pretty sure this is not how you envisioned such an evening would unfold. You see! I’m afraid you’ve been hoodwinked â€" granted, it’s not your fault, many others have fallen for my clever ruse before… all love-struck individuals such as yourself! Fact of the matter is, I’m simply too good!

Sandra: [begins to struggle and tug on the ropes, finding little give] … You’ll never get away with this! [suddenly frowns] … Oh gods, Chandra was right. She was right and I was wrong â€" ugh, I’m going to hate having to admit that to her.

Renard: I’m… almost done here. Just have to.. reach this top shelf. What is a bookshelf this high doing in a halfling burrow, anyway? [takes a step-ladder and tries to get up on the bookshelf to reach an expensive vase]

Sandra: [looks to the audience as she begins an aside] .. Listen, I need you to get Chandra and tell her that I’m in trouble, all right? One of you, go and tell her! Don’t just sit there in the seats!

Renard: What are you doing? You can’t break the fourth wall, only I can do that! [gags her]

[Sandra makes numerous noises from behind her gag and strikes at Renard’s groin soon after, causing the gnome to double-over briefly.]

Renard: [holds his nether regions protectively, wincing in clear pain as he gets back up] I’m fine.. ! I’m fine! I’m.. I’m fine. Damn, right in Garl’s golden nuggets…

Renard resumes his pilfering, and eventually, one of the audience members gets Chandra from upstairs in the Mist’s End (who is told by the audience member that Sandra is in trouble and doesn’t break character â€" improvise!) â€" she comes down to rescue her sister, arriving on-stage with a gasp.

Chandra: I knew it!

Renard: Oh, it’s you… aye, you nearly rumbled me for a moment there. Sadly, this is where I depart, I’m afraid! I’ve everything I need in this bag right here. [pats it down] Farewell! [pauses, attempting to use a wand which fizzles] … Blast. Never should’ve trusted that sorcerer.

Chandra:  [withdraws a shortsword]

Renard: [withdraws his own shortsword] .. So this is how it’s going to be, huh? Well, fine, en guarde, madameoisselle!

[The two begin to have a small swordfight on the stage. This will be more or less improvised. Witty banter will occur throughout, and it will be a chance to show off some interesting blade-play. Once the fight has gone on for long enough, Chandra straddles Renard, who is now held at swordpoint.]

Chandra:  Right, I’m only going to ask you once â€" leave, and never come back.

Renard: Ehm.. all right, I’ll just.. leave. You all, uhm, can keep the valuables. I’ll just… [steps off-stage anxiously, eyeing Chandra as she keeps the sword trained on him, before simply running off towards the end]

[Chandra gives an expression, as if to say, “good riddance”, before moving to Sandra and cutting away at the ropes that bind her, removing the gag. She gives a smug look at Sandra.]

Sandra: What?

Chandra:  I want you to say it.

Sandra: .. You’ve got to be kidding.

Chandra: Say it!

Sandra:  [sighs] You were right… and I’m sorry I accused you of being jealous, sister. You matter to me more than I think anyone will perhaps ever know. Will you forgive me? Can you forgive me?

Chandra: We’re sisters, it’s already been forgiven. Now, let’s get something to eat from the neighbor’s place. I heard they’re throwing a party, and some handsome hin lad’s going to be there.

Sandra: I might pass on a relationship for right now.. [laughs gently]

[The two exit the stage.]