Static Shadows
From Muse Board Wiki
Warning: Contains moderate filth!
Fifth sexiest male Muser, cohort to Fluffy the Conqueror. Indeed, they are in the process of swapping hair via shipping and an unruly dwarf named "Gerald The Tortellini-Tosser", hired for the price of three brightly coloured collinders, the complete works of Shakespeare, and a novelty sized spatula.
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General Mythology
Marks are rare creatures of Celtic origin, who stagger through the rain soaked asphalt streets of Cardiff drenched in fragmented moonlight. They are known to live off a steady diet of wine, bought through the sale of poems to intoxicated Elven children (who awake hungover to discover scrappy pieces of paper covered with semi-mystical scrawls have mysteriously replaced their oak-leaf bound wallets). After a successful sale, a Mark will retreat to a small incense soaked room and sit cross legged on a Saharan rug. Pulling out a strange guitar from a mysterious smoke shrouded corner, he will then proceed to sing ode's to the lost forest kings and mourn the sad demise of giraffe's at the seaside. See this Mark's 'band' - Neither Goat Nor Cow - for sound samples of this frustratingly bizarre ritual.
Marks are often noted for exceptional writing skills and a vivid imagination, which has occasionally been known to send female members of the board into unimaginable spasms. This particular Mark is currently sweating away at Cardiff University to gain mastery over these skills. It has been claimed that he is almost certainly the most poetic boardie of all time. A title he is happy to claim, as no one else seems to want it. A sample of said poetry can be found below:
There was a young badger called fred,
Who had a rather large head.
He jumped in a hole
Where he met a fine mole,
Who said "you've sat on my wife, she's quite dead."
Board history
On the board Mark has been likened to a ninja, floating from Main Muse to Banter before making a cosy nest in The Love Boat, from which he occasionally stalks Banter for prey. Said prey is usually attractive or bearing wine. He was an original member of the Muser House Party/Orgy threads where he spouted an astonishing variety of poetical sexual filth. This is now mostly contained within his loveboat, usually involving the beautiful and mysterious Cydoniababy, and the occasional chemistry related innuendo orgy with the aurora. As a result he has now married the aurora's voice. He has also since married the bundle of irrepressible joy that is Sair, and has been granted permission to live in her attic. It was whilst crouched under a splintered beam in said attic that he discovered an army of mice in a battered suitcase, and is currently training them to nibble away any political or theological posts he deems to be idiotic. After becoming this mouse backed dictator, Mark will be eventually forced to topple himself, and will crash through the ceiling to land in a shower of dust on Sair's bed. Hopefully she will by this point be old enough to sail off on their long, wine soaked honeymoon.
Wine
Marks are known for their love of wines, which can be used to bribe them into performing foot massages, face licks, or other such vaguely erotic favours. This often leads him to be incredibly drunk by night. He is involved in some way with the Wine Society at Cardiff University, and has a clear preference for red wines, preferably taken orally, but through the eyeballs is acceptable.
Travel
He has been to 48058 different countries*, so is rather well traveled, to the jealousy of most Board Members. The Barsteward.
- including England, Zambia, Botswana, Australia, Thailand, Wales, Netherlands, France, Switzerland, Spain, Morocco, Poland, Slovakia, Italy, Greece, Republic of Macedonia, Bulgaria, Romania, Serbia, Bosnia, Croatia, and Birmingham.
Other
Mark has edited his own page so much, it's bordering on narcissistic. But that's apparently fine, because he's a Mark and really dislikes split infinitives.
For reading this Mark would love to become one with you in an infinite sexual dance to Venus in the woods, tumbling over the crisp leaves into a bed of rose petals, sending our souls soaring towards the heavens in a shower of groans and whispered sighs as our skin and shadows fuse, flaring so brightly a beautiful dawn spreads through our cores with a satisfied, glowing, warmth.
...alternatively, sharing a cup of tea with you would be good, and a bottle of red wine with you would be even better!
