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So, with all the promoting forum happiness and stuff, I just came up with a mini quest! (Here's hoping that it wouldn't get trolled :p)

Dedicate a song, a poem, a piece of prose, a picture, an item, a creature, a line or absolutely anything that you can for a player who has made a difference in your in game life or your real life. There can be multiple submissions, but only to multiple players. Like X can dedicate a piece to a, b, c, 2, 5 etc, but cannot dedicate more than 1 piece to a. Also, the dedications should be positive, with a one line caption and a tiny personalised note on how the person made a difference in your real life or MD life. The dedication must be to a fellow MD player only. It should be positive only. If any kind of emotionallY or physically unhygienic posts are made, ones even with a slight hint of negativity, you shall be banned from my future quests. And i have planned some big ones. The dedications can be your own work, or someonelse's. If its not your work, please mention the source. If you submit your original work as a dedication and it happens to blow me off my feet, you may get a wish point. Else, the winner will get 5s-1g depending on the quality of your entry. Please post your dedications in this thread. Spread the love!

Deadline: july 1st 2013 2359 ST.

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i couldn't agree more shem




Never had I pondered that
In this life or at my death
Mother nature was so kind
Rider’s fate and mine entwined
Over mountains we will travel
Darkened secrets we’ll unravel
Ever fighting side by side
Loving her until I die



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Thank you you two... you people just made my day! :) thanks a lot :) *huggles both of them tightly*  :wub:


Edit: Small things like this keep me stuck to MD... Thank you again MD for rocking my world.

Edited by Nimrodel
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I have a few more poems scribbled on my notebook at home, but wanted to post the ones I wrote while at work today. :P
I'll edit the post when I find the papers I scribbled on quick before falling asleep yesterday....

I was feeling dangerously Poetic yesterday, and needed to get these out of my brain before they burned.

[log='For Fang Archbane']
That wolfen fang, that wolfen eye,
Sees sometimes more than you or I.
That wolfen eye, that wolfen paw,
grabs surely towards the dreams he saw.
That wolfen paw, that wolfen fur,
chained only to himself (and Mur).
That wolfen fur, that wolfen bite,
snaps out with ‘Will’, when others “might”.
That wolfen bite, that wolfen howl,
is never throwing in the towel.
That wolfen howl, that wolfen fang,
Inspires me with his freedom, dang!

Fang, keep on your 'Meteoric' rise to fame and fortune.

[log='For Phantom Orchid']

Perhaps her answer never told or maybe...
Over rivers crossed, her idea died.


A small poem, plus a gift of a rose-tinted mirror. Rose glasses are too cliche, and a mirror is more active than merely filtering the incoming Light.

Thanks to Poe for making a Dream give me a fresh perspective, when Life in both realms was getting me down.

[log='For Lashtal']
Three times three, and ten again, plus three is this one’s name.
Leading off on shadowed trails, is how he plays his game.
an old man? Shade? yet something othered,
since death his countenance has crossed
Yet light within can not be smothered
nor ever not forever lost.
He taught bits of undiscovered things,
of mirror shards and the darkling dust
So for inspired storms that now minds ring
A dedication to him, must.

Thanks for our chats about shades and shadows! I love those talks.

[log='For Nimrodel']
Her breath across a woodwind blew, and ripples aired across the breeze.
The leaves they rippled likewise to the fingers flying over octave keys.
Nimrodel, though claimed un-Lady, in my experience is one.
An LHO, and helpful elf, but to avoid too much mush, I’m done.

Nimmy is a very helpful lady, not just because of her Stars. Thanks for this quest, and all you do.

[log='For Princ Rhaegar']
(not my original poem. Original source: [color=#1155cc][font=Arial][size=4][background=transparent]http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/240908)
The boat, barely visible, leaves a leaden lacey ribbon
aiming directly for the burnt orange sun. As it reddens,
for a moment, their standing silhouettes eclipse it.

Then the sea restores its dominion, dark as the coffee cooling
in our cups. Dangling from the vine arbor, the lights reflect
a constellation on the table’s dark top. I trace my fingers among them,
hoping conjecture would shine on the mind’s calculus.

Thanks to Rhaegar for our many, MANY talks on topics within the Seekers of Enlightenment, and elsewhere. You always make my mind feel less sleepy, and I’m glad to have met you.

[log='For Kiley']
One I know, less as maeself, but more as alter’nate’d names.
Yet still, behind the keyboard typing, must her include in poem parcels for this quest.
It might not rhyme, but poems seldom due in the dusty sorts of books that fetch most value from the scholars and sages down through history’s river.
And that’s why Kiley adds herself to lists of those I wish to thank.
For greeting me in-game, when first we met, and casting smiles as she went.
For swims and splashes by Willow’s shore, for giggling at my alt’s kiss, and so much more.
Now a Fusioneer, and hawtest of them. Thanks for lemon drops, and fires of friendship.

(have a cup of coffee, on me)


[log='For Nadrolski']
Drop drip drop, don’t ever stop.
The high-five boss, a training top.
This sir, is one I always know
to great things, he will surely go.
Sir nadrolski, thanks for trees, and water, and Bringing the Light!

Edited by Maebius
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For Nimzy Whimzy:


Nimzy Whimsy is the best

Nimzy Whimsy wrote a quest

Zesty Westy wrote a poem

Zesty Westy couldn't think of a last line for the poem



I will write you a better one soon!

Edited by Jester
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who reminded me how to play with fire and water.


Change's personality is perfectly balanced

with no flaws or irregularities.


(Thank you for alerting me to how my alarming recruitment practices cause harm to other players.  And alerting me to a number of other things.  And teaching me to use a cauldron.  And letting me use a cauldron.  And giving me tea cups, and giving me tea.  And having fun conversations.)

Edited by Ackshan Bemunah
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A walking figure of death and decay,

Comes out of her Necrovion to play.

Her walk hypnotizes most men,

I will always call her my kin.

Shadows in the glory of the greater good,

Though her shadow wears no hood.

She is friend to most, and enemy to few,

Indeed would be a friend to all, if they only knew.

A goat, the wisest of them all,

Knew that Peace's name would never fall.

So to her I write this little ditty,

That we don't see her more is quite a pitty.


We love you Peace!

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A Weaver's Knot


By moonlight and unfettered sea

The crow's nest of the Crimson Blade

Memories, rich, flooding the garden

Busting walls in cacophonous cascade


Memories, rich, flooding the garden

Stretched in an endless line

Whenever we sail the night together

Under the bridge of Time


And every Time becomes one

All rivers touch the sea

Every night is all one night

When you sail here with me


Out along the ocean

When you sail here with me

And still moonlight kisses us so

Where the rivers touch the sea




(To Adiallinda - from the yardarms with love and grit.  Thank you for showing me the ropes.)

Edited by Phantom Orchid
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  • 2 weeks later...

[log='Principle of Transposition']
You said if a man sits in place long enough, with enough will and water he will turn into a tree, and so you did.

You showed me how the man who gave you limbs was really just a man, and I shouldn’t worship him for doing what we all do naturally, just with a healthy dose of charisma. I said (wanted to believe that) charisma can make all the difference.
You essayed to write a poem a day, and sent me them for a while. One was second person and I thought it was for me. You said Not so. I say Forer effect, and the molding of ideas to fit their containers, how they stiffen when the heat fades.

You said you read Coriolanus that night and so I stole it from the place with short ceilings and never gave it back, despite going back a couple months back. I still haven’t read it, like everything else, but I intend to.
      Intention is a little.

Death you once called a fur about your neck, in which I saw a grandmother’s whole mink slung with eyes for exes, that you hadn’t seen.

Your scent is apt: spring, all potential: the wind through this window. Your light is the morning highway with Photoshopped black & gainsboro birds and the Pretenders.

We fought our separate clichés and hashed them down together. Who started it doesn’t matter, just how we finish them off put them down stop this once and for— It’s no use, they’ll always be around the corner, crouched.
      But we can wait there, too.
I read you 2 October '10, and you said it was very like its author, which was true. It was very him.
    Mur exudes himself, but who doesn't? Our words are fingerprints, and some of us just can't wait to make our mark on the panes.
You once told me we had our own language. As always, your words speak truer than mine. Where mine are halting and just a smidgen over the top in places you are smooth and piquing and a subtle breakthrough. Where I can’t but speak formalese, you ringed circles around my prose and called me the tern—the winderwild—that stopped at only the ionosphere, when it's too late to turn back and the wax is coming undone.

Late one day in the summer I lay on my father’s bed and the circle and its void point came to me. 
I told you but you were taken by other things.
          Like Sanskrit, this idea iterates variedly:
                - One needs three points to define a specific circle and a fourth point to complete that circle.
                - Two qualities, graphed, mapped into two dimensions, is 22, is four points. (23::R3::sphere, and so on out to Riemann.)
                - Numbers are defined, encircled by void—we stop counting because there is no more to count without retracing the circle.
                - Humans achieve self-actualization through creating something greater than themselves.
                - Whenever an attempt is made to close a system, a leak will appear that leads into a larger system. This is the smaller system’s point of void.

I pɔərd over waves and sines. You thought I meant signs of hello/goodbye, and so they became.

You asked me in anger how I twisted backwards and fit through the needle’s eye.
         Your words, not mine.
                I said: With {among other things} splitting and headphones and a flashlight and matches and the admiration of small children and fossils and big rain and the kick of a cat and a slew and a spate and spats and the same thing over and over and less rain now and bicycle rage and plodding and plotting and hating and waiting and time.

The friend who showed me Richard Siken says this reminds her of him, and since I consider you like him (ENFP), that fits.
            I showed her once your ballerina and my fields and asked which was whose. She got it right, but it took a while.

Your longest, best friend here I never got to know and she always seemed tired and a little confused but with reason to be—as though she’d spent a hard day trying and just needed a rest is all. Maybe it was the lowercase.
       She gave me Nina Simone, you Here We Go Magic and don't take my life away.

Portrait: the overlaying of several roads into the sun with power towers reflected on asphalt that aches to end with the sidewalk.

We once decided your job was to make me uncomfortable like the sculpture that can’t stay settled and so keeps moving until it finds a place to stay, whereupon it dies, sharkic.

I get your jokes.

Just now I reread what I had written you as advice and thought you wrote it to me. This is why I never put names on these records: so that one day this might happen and I could be as good as you were when we first met.
                As I reread this happens more and more, but maybe I just want to believe you rubbed off on me.

Your once- (still?) friend introduced himself to me at the foot of your less-animate rival and from there we went to sea.

I spent forty hours sleepless to see what it was like, because he said that sixty was when the voices came. He once tried to go crazy and stopped because it was working too well. You said you were crazy and that was the only way to be, because the world was. I agree that the best people are worse off sane.

Bards, he said, stole all the girls with their pretty talk. But it’s not nearly so much glurgey flowers as emotion tied into the syllables.
          By all definitions of “bard”, you’re one.

I winced away three nights in inverted chutes drawing I had no clue what, but definitely for you. You didn’t know what to verb preposition it but could look at it for a while, which is fair and was all I asked or expected. Its sun just hung there while people flowed.

Once you thought I’d mastered something of yours, and it was an honor. “Verb preposition” resembles that style, and that will have to do because copying straight is out of the question.
There's something about copying exactly that just doesn't feel right, like recorded music: the same each time, not fitted differently for each audience, one exact sequence of bits or pock-marks of sound—broken-up waves.

I [don’t][didn't] have to tell you how I feel for you to know, and that[’s][was] huge.

You can't stand people who aren't, who pack their emotions like suits into waterproof gutproof resealables overhead—Either they irk you or I impose my own views on you, or somewhere along that scale.

More and more you’ve resigned yourself to the body and its bounds, or so I believed.
      You sent me flowers of glass with a baby in a carriage and you on the too-green lawn with the hose to nowhere that ended with your grandmother sipping carrot juice and shattering a daylily whose perfumed center hadn’t quite yet worn away. It stopped at an absurd poem, which elided perfectly because the whole thing was way oversaturated, but then sometimes life is too colored, too.

You insisted that things came in fours and wouldn’t explain why, but I couldn't let that go.

You've been called the transposition master. I agreed, because you more than maybe anyone else have transformed me into someone who could speak (sometimes), and movingly. But I wonder if it’s like a spell cast by a witch who’s killed: the glamour fades until a toad is just a toad once more.
    In that sense, this is a plea.

{Xxxx xxxxxx xxxx} and I didn’t know what to say, so we didn’t, and we haven’t since.[/log]

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Some youtube love:


The Man Who Planted Trees - Rumi


If You Forget Me - Amoran


Límites - Tarquinus


Start Wearing Purple - Mur


Hoping we can Work it Out - dst


Drop of Water - nadrolski


The Carnival is Over - lashtal


Where Have You Been - Junior


Mrs. Premise and Mrs. Conclusion - Chewett


In the Aeroplane Over the Sea - Zyrxae


Wuthering Heights - Z

Edited by Phantom Orchid
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The quest has ended. I thank you all for the submissions. It was pleasant to find so many dedications. Contrary to the popular belief there is love amongst players in MD after all. THough all original submissions were really good, I am quite happy to say there was one entry that did manage to blow me off my feet. The piece was so well written that i could feel it seep inside me. Congratulations Zyrxae, your entry tugged one of my heart strings. Hope it does the same to the one the piece is dedicated to. You win a wishpoint for this.

Edited by Nimrodel
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Thank you, Nimrodel, your words touch me in returning.


In all honesty I feel more than a little funny accepting the wishpoint, maybe most of all because it feels like it makes the submission less genuine or more "commercial" (no insult to Nimrodel or others)...but then again this wouldn't have been finished, let alone made public had it not been for this topic. Disputing the reward would look (and probably would be) insincerely self-sacrificing and childishly attention-seeking and rude to Nimrodel, whose generosity should be rewarded, not punished.


To that end: No idea if this is still happening or if the TKs are the only deciders here, but I'd like to nominate this topic for a wishpoint. (Nim, I'd give you one right now, but no bets how long you could keep it..!)

Correlation's twitchy eyebrows be damned, the hate has simmered down since this topic was started and improved by each contributor. I think that deserves at least as much recognition as any one entry.


EDIT for posterity's sake: The TKs gave Nim her well-deserved wishpoint.

Edited by Zyrxae
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