Merlin 2: 21 “Secrets of Darkness…”
While the wounded rest there is the night that circles the earth, darkness to the gods it is the masker of the mighty powers, which even giants call unlight, that the elves call the joy of sleep, and the dwarves call the dream horizon.
In the distant woods runs the river of reason into a macabre meadow, with a red storm that rains of the warring gods an early autumn storm slowly turning the leaves, fathoms beyond holds a solemn apple tree surrounded by saplings of the lawn, only two dozen acres from a dense wood that slowly reclaims the plains but at present is halted. To satisfy the needs of destined doe foraying from the forest to the regards and reckon of mead drinkers wandering quite nomadically as the skies rumble in the distance.
In the fields of Wolf’s Prairie as a barbarous storm gathers a collection of fresh fallen and fermented spoils by the dearth of necessity, startled by travelers’ presence, the same as urgency struck into memory, within the rustling of leaves and dead memories by a field in solitude, the loud reproofs of the leaves that cover a tangent path and their payload to the forest floor, one so thick and overgrown that even at its edge will not easily give to a field of fire, a dark old wood prepares to contend with a storm.
A cold overshadow slowly walks the terroir with introspection to blitz two drunken parsons newly at camp and nourishing themselves to the plentiful fruit with lassitude rhetoric as if come to visit the distant woods. Where the forests grow shadows they are the cause of premature death unsuspecting and delivered unto punishment amongst the rubric fruit, for well-nigh dusk and her embrace exterminates them both as trespassers, keeping them from duly damaging the future of waving grain in the devil’s orchard awaiting the rain of the shadow god beneath the cerulean sky.
The darkness in survey of a natural environment is a villainess unable to subside to an entire evolutionary myriad of foes that would succeed the two now vanquished. The lightning strikes to warn the darkness, the wildlife will revive their population too dark for fire and dew covered every morn, no matter how close the suns above the forest of the mist. Beneath the promontory apple tree the dead lay in eternal rest for three days, being consumed by the ravenous ground and the ravens, dwelling creatures of the shade beneath shadows of an ancient importance, a dignitary of deeply graves bestows a scathing caprice where the living will numb and vice and linger until the Valkyrie came to take the corpses to Asgard. As where light seeks to cover and connect darkness ere it fortuitously grows as monolith and seeks to fill the echoes of the mind, the wind of the cold world lets a gust to signal credence but sends neither fire nor ice to instill judgment.
Recondite the travelers ensconce their camp anent the lonely orchard tree, to sleep and converse, to wash and eat near the river. The tree ties and feeds the horses well for at their height they are not half tall as the fruit. While Troy throws apples in the air the phoenix catches them, the land of local shadows bids a lenient departure into the woods to investigate whilst the virtues of evening are a font of magic for its ability. They all rest untouched as Merlin holds hidden in his hands strands of tattoos that run beneath his skin across his body, effulgent by spell in the darkness, as all sleep they are signs and symbols in the eyes of the demigod shadow. Reflecting or absorbing the stars Merlin’s insignia glows bright into the sky through clothes that wrap the skin, and of the others their powers display discourses benevolent. The great darkness is of this forest seeking only to harm the stray vagabonds of Midgard, in curiosity as it nears to view them sleeping the sound of wind parts around the silence and void startles Merlin, but only shadow in darkness beneath a black diamond sky to be seen it moves passed the fire as the flame light washes through it to the grass dissipated.
All are buried in their dreams as Troy sleeps while his wounds heal, a cavernous abyss stands next to the phoenix in disbelief, in the eyes of Troy the traces of a shadow are nothing more and dismissed as such, but while restive the phoenix peers and watches him look at night and look away with a scoff, the phoenix turns its head aside to learn of come what will thou may and sees the demon in full darkness splendor. Affrighted exigency, bathing in hatred, the great phoenix opens its wings and roars with fiery display, the shadow figure falls into the grass like poured water and vanishes as such, each of the high fortune their legends purvey with them now awake. The added heat of turmoil causes the meadow to be dry and the fire to be soon without fuel in the biting cold of eventide, but with a spell cast in duality the last of the embers become diamond coal stones that are kept warm in the evening by the breathing phoenix.
Eventually again they sleep of wantonly dream for softer slumbering but as Troy sleeps on a lavish billow of falcon crest and shoulder warm and comfortable, the companions wont for the course, Anathema a fire mage warm but disfavoring the conditions and Nickolas though of mortal emotion has come to terms with his senses, able to sleep through death in the cold and reawaken a warm artesian, her mostly contemptuous flame adjoins to union and coppice. Merlin turns in the cool air alone, smitten by the stars he loses himself in stare of heaven, kept warm by the larger lines among the intricate inlaid pattern that covers his body, with arms crossed until a fade blurs consciousness. In the morn, unwitting he rolls his feet too close to the phoenix and his feet catch fire not soon after dawn as the others watch. Merlin gives high interest and full effort into a lifting spell the same as through his slumber, ruffling without a coherent word from laying on his back the wind is born of his very hand and lifts him through his robes upright as a sail, thrusting him aback and abetted and sultrily without fettered leathers to his feet.
They speak the morning of jest and Merlin calls for a large hunt, concordant Nickolas and Ana on separate horses slowly gait until they spot a doe and scare it into a flit, with a marker flare Troy shoots the animal from above and Nick finishes in mercy, it is nice meat while new leather boots are worked by fire and blade and talk of philosophy.
Troy: “Liberty is the value of responsibility.”
Ana: “Respect is the value of logic.”
Nick: “Humor is the value of intelligence.”
Troy: “Love is the value of freedom.”
Merlin: “Nothing like battling your own mind.”
The phoenix is distraught, with a rudimentary balking cadence it seems to mock them all with a simple alphabet collected to a belligerent rendition of two puppets arguing, disconcerted the phoenix begins to clumsily move surly from them into the fog, serving as the humor for a dreary day. They make for the forgotten forest to the river intent to travel the shore upstream, through the bleak woods the leaves are reds and yellows in fade and falling, and the path never and nonexistent through thick overgrowth dank and inconvenient. Dismality looms as the storm fills the world between the horizon and night is the new day, shadow becomes wind and the torches are lit to soon be delible, night stands before Merlin and lets he and they from her grip of blinding darkness. Their torches erstwhile without use now blind them and they struggle to adjust their eyes as the demon of the fall speaks.
Nott: “…when you look into an abyss, the abyss also looks into you…”
Merlin: “We knew not your signs or our trespass.”
Nott: “If you do not kneel Ana, I cannot share my message.”
Ana: “Lady Shadow.”
Merlin: “Methinks I shall stand on ceremony.”
Ana secondly knelt after Nickolas, as thence Troy, his trusted phoenix taking to a cautiously slow retreat, all looking to the ground then to Nott, she stands before them fair in the leather garb of a trained rider, cloth and eyes of pure white.
Nott: “I dare a message in hopes the gods cannot see me through the storm over the darkness.”
Merlin: “What sight must you tell to us?”
Nott: “I see all at the edge of darkness, Etain has convinced Dagr to grant her with the great flame.”
Merlin: “But why share this news?”
Nott: “I did not mean to scare the phoenix, I merely wanted to see its beauty closely, but if it wishes to go as it does, it and rider may depart.”
Merlin: “Troy, take this knife and find the first river or clearing ahead of us.”
Troy: “Aye sir.”
Troy quickly mounts the phoenix and takes swiftly to flight, rushing through the branches and wet leaves, breaking and shaking them to the ground post haste.
Ana: “You waste your time with pleasure in danger?”
Nott: “Thor would not strike me, for I owe him too many favors…or him I.”
Nick: “You came to us when you could have left a note.”
Merlin: “Or the mead of poetry, Night.”
Nott: “She has made a coven with two sisters of your station, they seek to apportion Midgard, all the land is dangerous for you and yours, and you will need stronger and new powers Merlin. I cannot stay.”
Merlin: “Where are you going?”
Nott: “I move shadows for life to sleep, not die, it’s nay moving with I the same.”
Behind Nott the shadow tangible is a thick border to the scene, the sky thunders as she mounts a horse from the shadows so dark it cannot be seen named Hrimfaxi. Lightning flashes from the field far behind them but the thunder does not wait to shake the ground.
Nott: “If it’s all the same to you I’m expected elsewhere.”
Merlin: “A thousand thanks.”
Nott: “Apologies if you're vexed Merlin, your grace is well and seemly your foes in anger. The tables turn, farther need you be, and need you see.”
In the hallow footsteps a faint glittering of stars and Nott disappears before the sound of hooves, faster than can any in the light, unobstructed by obstacle, for the darkness is her first home. From the heavens comes a torrential rain of bitter wind and water from the mountains.
Answers are the way. Don't chase dreams, but believe in them. Don't believe goals, but chase them. Emotions are limited only by the culture you reflect. TLDR.SPQR.LLAP
28 November 2011
Neocon, I
Neocon, I
I was going to start a newspaper called the Communist-Nationalist, they both hate capitalism so I could put whatever I wanted in it, slandering them, and they would never know. Then I realized that they would just steal it, but then again my hopes were that they wouldn't be able to read it, because they don't believe in capitalism it stands to reason, literally, that they wouldn't pay a teacher to instruct or discipline their minds, and thus never would learn to read. One thing certain about those who hate capitalism, they appreciate it and then despise it, championing it in three steps, first the unprecedented exploration and technological advancements, secondly they prize it's ability to keep the mind occupied, as if it were a tree in their destructive forest of the mind, for this most liberals enjoy all things creative, and thirdly industrialization presents ideas to copy. We know the artist creates to feed himself, and the zealot clings immediately to the cult of personality and idolizes other idolators. Once those three ideas are surveyed their creativity dies and a destructive nature plays a key role in destruction of both progress and education by means of power and control respectively. Seeking power entitles the hunting spirit within our shallow souls, taking power does not show any sign of receptiveness, for listening is the first task of a student which some may never choose to do. Those opposing capitalism feel that economic production centralized leads to favorable conditions for communism to emerge, every piece of literature supporting communism thru the relinquishing of democracy or by nationalism through the relinquishing of peace is the political equivalent to mobbing science with torches on grounds of witchery, even in cases of manifestos filled with delusions of grandeur and loathsome vilification.
Their consumerism radiates as the liberal profligates fear fiscal responsibility because it entails not buying the electorate, and the fascist despots fear reform because it may limit power and increase responsibility. Those crying for social justice want entire societies eradicated, those wanting civil liberties want their personal right and greedily their wishes granted prior to others, both in display of rampant inequality while childishly calling for fairness. Whatever ultimately is the impetus for their chaos it is motivated by cultural beliefs and random ideas that capitalism destroys human values and is antagonizing natural elements of society by means of exploitation, as if squirrels do not collect nuts or that humans do not use tools. This misconception stems into two maniacal constructs that harm the innocent. As they believe that it undermines and individual's sense of personal value in daily interests, they proceed to be the exception to the rule, or they believe that wealth undermines human relationships, in a contextual precipitation to currency it protects commerce without guaranteeing the benefits of commerce, such as products, profit, profession/occupation, and the control of economies, to an ineffectual imbecile.
Life is a blank page for eccentric nihilism confusion, fascism of the nationalists can fail to become theocratic fiends, and liberals can break trust to contradict themselves, what history does not remember time will only tell. It's best to avoid revolution, it only exists in history books and around you, in certainty the word itself means circularity, redundancy, untenable, and you cannot make anyone believe it or do it. The inevitability of it comes from the perpetuity of rumor and incontinent faith, and it's dangerous to believe that a question can be an answer; an overwhelming longing for security creates amateur politicians, and an overwhelming fear of anarchy creates an amateur economist. Compulsory unionists think pay for organization is the same as pay for the labor that earns it, infatuated sectarians will never find the innocent when they exterminate. Both despotic systems believe that classless existence can be achieved by class warfare, that oppression ends with treachery, and that contradiction ends with confrontation. The flawed integrity obviously fails, yet they hope for semblance without seeking potential.
Their lies are mostly stored and propagated on a form of media. When connected to a society and used for revolution, the faceless propaganda moves from the media into the host, like a common virus. The social programs have grown from focused operations to socialism, criticize the ambitions and outcomes of welfare programs, favor capitalism and provide a functional economy that can sustain a fight against poverty and public interests of tradition without undue influence. I've noticed that liberals can't count and conservatives have little patience, but intriguingly that libertarians are always on the fence about society, so for them this is how I might describe proper socialism if I were asked while having a spirited drink.
Socialism is like going to a bar or pub, first you need capitalism because strangers don't get bar-tabs, then you come and buy a drink for commerce. You might tip the barkeep for your aspect of charity or you might buy someone else a drink, but you pay the sales tax whether it's over or incorporated, which is pure socialism. The tax is what keeps socialism alive, otherwise it would be donation. If the locals decided they don't like you or your money and they make you buy yourself, or them a drink, or even take your money, that's blatant nationalism, whatever the reason they were to give. If they made you buy a drink because that were the law, that would be communism, anyone who couldn't or doesn't drink avoids the tax with the consumerist burden elsewhere, no matter of financial recipient or social cause. The patron is at their heart a person, whether a generous or cheap one is their choice, they are not republican or democrat, libertarian or anarchist, they are capitalist. Political parties only serve to either diminish productivity through corrupt redistribution or to oppose those who punish success. When you choose which side to play, there are more than two, remember that neither their names nor their opinions are not what make them, only facts support logic. Capitalism is natural, it is conscience, a rabbit eats herbs but not the roots, a deer eats apples but not the tree, humanity should not shit where it sleeps, no matter who calls it art.
21 November 2011
Urdarbrunn
The Book of Earth
9. Urdarbrunn
The world was great and the mountains were so high that no human could reach their peaks. The land was so vast that it had yet to be charted, the cities were the finest monuments to humanity and honor, and the oceans were rich with life, but the population grew. The coasts were mapped, the waters were drank, the lands were harvested, the food was eaten, and the population began to mine the earth to find the world below them. They planted their crops on the walls of the wells, but the end of the world could not be found, they soon flew, and swam, and dived into the sea, and could not find the end of life, or a sign of the earth's center. Where the land was cold they burrowed beneath it and harnessed the elements for the light they needed below the earth, and finally one day when mining they found a stone the size of a city. They could not carve it, nor could they blast it, nor could they move it, so they mined around it, and for many years examined it, but one day of disgrace upon them when the inevitable civilized life forms chose to be anything but that, there was a murder at the stone below the surface somewhat close to the center of the earth. For all the blood sweat and tears shed upon the stone, the blood of murder awakened a danger, the stone consumed itself with a collapsing rupture and quake, where the stone was became a fire from the ancient worlds where the gods had once warred, and the fire was hotter than that which could be most hot. Everything close to the rapture died and from the old fire there were terrible lizards on claws and talons and razor tails, by winged beast and terrors keen to feast with fangs of predation, of last came of them beasts combined of the dangers and angers of all other beasts called dragons.
Their life ran from destruction, and the fields would no longer be their home, not one region was safe from tyranny because every terrain was the domain of the tragic beasts, no mountain too high, no valley too low, no river too deep, no ocean too strong. The beasts chased them into the mines, natural caves, and from their tunnels to which they could not hide and fortify defenses fast enough. The pretenses of survival were surely rough and all to eat was beast, for they were predators without civilization, and the people ate only meat for many generations. If not stronger taller, if not faster smarter, if not clever more apt, survival was imperative and for the fittest, and was so claimed by the best as the survivors tunneled downward straight to the center of the earth.
One day a tunnel emerged and found better dragons than were born of fire, hunting and killing, and the traps that fed humanity were further exploited, four tribes eventually found their tunnel exits at the ends of the earth. Fate prepared them to battle and one day a warrior survived a small beast giving pride to those who saw, and soon blinded new in generations to the powerful sunlight they cautiously roamed the earth, this was each the way the other tribes survived, but the beasts were too many for survival. With the courageous lost the evolution of humanity suffered losses in progress, but patience redeemed, among them were born the first of the gods, who could die but after much more damage. After an age the gifted would fight but have children with combined power, after an epoch they would seem invincible to humanity, after an era they would have trouble killing themselves, after an eon they would be truly immortal with powers unlike mortals, but there were still beasts that grew alongside them. Monsters of the deep to hunt for sport and others to train for hunting, yet there were still those who took shelter in the caves and perhaps some who did not escape the mines at all in the ancient past, the tale is that they grew small, divided by species and in form, to hide from the dangers of existence and to seek creatures for a hunt of their own, how small are they that a world just as small could reside beneath them.
Thus so the stones would grow, the mountains gave magma, the sky cried, far and wide the world continued to grow. The only mystery of the universe awaited only the question of its ability to contain life, and the world grew large to venture at endless bounds where the children of the old gods played, as time unfolded so did the earth itself, until the dark wistful shallow spirits grew voids in their souls. Then upon them within the world a dark stone came to existence from deep within the recesses of immortality, and the black diamond grew. It contemplated and spread like poisonous crystal, and it consumed other stones of great power by seeping to the surface and taking them until it became a bright darkness. Pure with thought of evil the dark stone worshipped itself and contaminated its inner shadows until it opened a passage and Jotunn the manifestation of apparition darkness set foot on earth. Divided it spent its time torturing life and growing the dark crystal against the otherworld Vanaheim. The Jotunn did not name the second world and only considered it a priority to expand a dark empire. Long as all of time had been nine times nine times more a red blood stone opened from the innermost implicit infinitesimal essence, and it grew and survived the destructive power of itself until the power tore a portal into the nether existence to release another master of worlds, this time the Asgard. In this trinity, where the lighting was fire and the water was sand, the three worlds battled and the life evolved to manifest destiny, of immortality were insects beneath the gods. A terror between worlds and among dragons and armored beasts, while the wars continued in madness time escaped and it soon began to grow, and by the autumn of the first life of time the three worlds had each become three unto the like and had made war an art as is done. To each they kept styles of battle but so much the same they wielded until their will be done, of types unique to each world they summoned metals as which would surface when called to be thrown at each other, as some would die, others would be born better to stand the test of time, three worlds by three, connected and embattled.
On the day when Midgard was wounded by they who are half demons and they who are half angels, in a great battle bringing revelation a great warrior from Asgard stood, annoyed by feast and blood and mostly battle, disgusted by some of the gods, those from the house of Vanir who could see the future but refused to prevent wars for mortals. In the moments of time longer than mortal existence the warriors from house Aesir took violence until victorious, unto thus a truce beholds the worlds of life as existence murdering all who murder in the name of another.
/
9. Urdarbrunn
The world was great and the mountains were so high that no human could reach their peaks. The land was so vast that it had yet to be charted, the cities were the finest monuments to humanity and honor, and the oceans were rich with life, but the population grew. The coasts were mapped, the waters were drank, the lands were harvested, the food was eaten, and the population began to mine the earth to find the world below them. They planted their crops on the walls of the wells, but the end of the world could not be found, they soon flew, and swam, and dived into the sea, and could not find the end of life, or a sign of the earth's center. Where the land was cold they burrowed beneath it and harnessed the elements for the light they needed below the earth, and finally one day when mining they found a stone the size of a city. They could not carve it, nor could they blast it, nor could they move it, so they mined around it, and for many years examined it, but one day of disgrace upon them when the inevitable civilized life forms chose to be anything but that, there was a murder at the stone below the surface somewhat close to the center of the earth. For all the blood sweat and tears shed upon the stone, the blood of murder awakened a danger, the stone consumed itself with a collapsing rupture and quake, where the stone was became a fire from the ancient worlds where the gods had once warred, and the fire was hotter than that which could be most hot. Everything close to the rapture died and from the old fire there were terrible lizards on claws and talons and razor tails, by winged beast and terrors keen to feast with fangs of predation, of last came of them beasts combined of the dangers and angers of all other beasts called dragons.
Their life ran from destruction, and the fields would no longer be their home, not one region was safe from tyranny because every terrain was the domain of the tragic beasts, no mountain too high, no valley too low, no river too deep, no ocean too strong. The beasts chased them into the mines, natural caves, and from their tunnels to which they could not hide and fortify defenses fast enough. The pretenses of survival were surely rough and all to eat was beast, for they were predators without civilization, and the people ate only meat for many generations. If not stronger taller, if not faster smarter, if not clever more apt, survival was imperative and for the fittest, and was so claimed by the best as the survivors tunneled downward straight to the center of the earth.
One day a tunnel emerged and found better dragons than were born of fire, hunting and killing, and the traps that fed humanity were further exploited, four tribes eventually found their tunnel exits at the ends of the earth. Fate prepared them to battle and one day a warrior survived a small beast giving pride to those who saw, and soon blinded new in generations to the powerful sunlight they cautiously roamed the earth, this was each the way the other tribes survived, but the beasts were too many for survival. With the courageous lost the evolution of humanity suffered losses in progress, but patience redeemed, among them were born the first of the gods, who could die but after much more damage. After an age the gifted would fight but have children with combined power, after an epoch they would seem invincible to humanity, after an era they would have trouble killing themselves, after an eon they would be truly immortal with powers unlike mortals, but there were still beasts that grew alongside them. Monsters of the deep to hunt for sport and others to train for hunting, yet there were still those who took shelter in the caves and perhaps some who did not escape the mines at all in the ancient past, the tale is that they grew small, divided by species and in form, to hide from the dangers of existence and to seek creatures for a hunt of their own, how small are they that a world just as small could reside beneath them.
Thus so the stones would grow, the mountains gave magma, the sky cried, far and wide the world continued to grow. The only mystery of the universe awaited only the question of its ability to contain life, and the world grew large to venture at endless bounds where the children of the old gods played, as time unfolded so did the earth itself, until the dark wistful shallow spirits grew voids in their souls. Then upon them within the world a dark stone came to existence from deep within the recesses of immortality, and the black diamond grew. It contemplated and spread like poisonous crystal, and it consumed other stones of great power by seeping to the surface and taking them until it became a bright darkness. Pure with thought of evil the dark stone worshipped itself and contaminated its inner shadows until it opened a passage and Jotunn the manifestation of apparition darkness set foot on earth. Divided it spent its time torturing life and growing the dark crystal against the otherworld Vanaheim. The Jotunn did not name the second world and only considered it a priority to expand a dark empire. Long as all of time had been nine times nine times more a red blood stone opened from the innermost implicit infinitesimal essence, and it grew and survived the destructive power of itself until the power tore a portal into the nether existence to release another master of worlds, this time the Asgard. In this trinity, where the lighting was fire and the water was sand, the three worlds battled and the life evolved to manifest destiny, of immortality were insects beneath the gods. A terror between worlds and among dragons and armored beasts, while the wars continued in madness time escaped and it soon began to grow, and by the autumn of the first life of time the three worlds had each become three unto the like and had made war an art as is done. To each they kept styles of battle but so much the same they wielded until their will be done, of types unique to each world they summoned metals as which would surface when called to be thrown at each other, as some would die, others would be born better to stand the test of time, three worlds by three, connected and embattled.
On the day when Midgard was wounded by they who are half demons and they who are half angels, in a great battle bringing revelation a great warrior from Asgard stood, annoyed by feast and blood and mostly battle, disgusted by some of the gods, those from the house of Vanir who could see the future but refused to prevent wars for mortals. In the moments of time longer than mortal existence the warriors from house Aesir took violence until victorious, unto thus a truce beholds the worlds of life as existence murdering all who murder in the name of another.
/
Ghost of the Sun
The Book of Earth
8. Ghost of the Sun
Life and death before dawn in the dark night, was of task the shadow king, the world was what it seems to be in light, unknown to him what seeing is, for seeing is a gift under the sun, and from the coal four kinds of stone, hatred for the world for the smell of smoke, so coy and tryst within the mist, amenities of life often were had, to pace the days with shade of lies, other ones who follow are just as lost, libraries of futures extend, where the world will fall with kingdoms complete, and tragedy will speak to trees, the numbers of the soils of worlds are nine, combined to one a war exhumes, always is the lust for light imperfect, to wage a dream above the sky, but where it seems the dangers owe their life, a dark abode abides by none, a terror in the night is soon concealed, of king and wraith and even war, without the light the darkness always roams, an ill desire to see the fire, when matters of the darkness to combine, another sets the trail of death, however there is hail upon the frost, the gods are blind behind their eyes, just as angry mirrors of the soul, crawling over broken shadows, the carrion of time is all but black, existence lives and grows complete, nothing exists without eternity, the evidence in outer space, the shadow lord is blind for all of time, without the light you could not know.
8. Ghost of the Sun
Life and death before dawn in the dark night, was of task the shadow king, the world was what it seems to be in light, unknown to him what seeing is, for seeing is a gift under the sun, and from the coal four kinds of stone, hatred for the world for the smell of smoke, so coy and tryst within the mist, amenities of life often were had, to pace the days with shade of lies, other ones who follow are just as lost, libraries of futures extend, where the world will fall with kingdoms complete, and tragedy will speak to trees, the numbers of the soils of worlds are nine, combined to one a war exhumes, always is the lust for light imperfect, to wage a dream above the sky, but where it seems the dangers owe their life, a dark abode abides by none, a terror in the night is soon concealed, of king and wraith and even war, without the light the darkness always roams, an ill desire to see the fire, when matters of the darkness to combine, another sets the trail of death, however there is hail upon the frost, the gods are blind behind their eyes, just as angry mirrors of the soul, crawling over broken shadows, the carrion of time is all but black, existence lives and grows complete, nothing exists without eternity, the evidence in outer space, the shadow lord is blind for all of time, without the light you could not know.
The Plague of Man
The Book of Earth
7. The Plague of Man
When the civilized world was complete the queen of alchemy died, much to the disappointment of the alchemy king, alas he had tried to postpone her dying and avert her death, but he could not and his heart became a vicious torrent of anger against humanity. He began to tempt the Norns which at the point of tranquility had become the only crime even considered by scientific minds. A swath of genocide intrigued the king, for unsuitable he found replacements, their diseases could be cured and again alas they were not his lost love. A terrible envy plagued him of the gods, to quell his anger he created a disease to rid the world of its human life except himself, but the civil scientists only cured and eradicated his plague after plague after plague. His infatuation with death disallowed his uninterested reprieve, so he created a blight to harm the vegetation in waves of horrid affectation one after the next, first botany, then agriculture, then weeds, but once again tho with some trouble they disinfected the staggering blight. His thoughts were still dead set, he thought until his thoughts revealed a damning virus, his mind rolled in succinct jubilant revelation, and he created a poison that would kill the animals of the world and thus infect that which consumed the beasts and remain infectious and untraceable, but the world was cautious and fasted and designed a machine to churn the clouds and draw air away from the continents, and the animals were euthanized, and eradicated. His madness was replaced with deeper madness which was so replaced by chaos, with his anger he attacked the machines and fought the lighting within the storms of the clouds, and there fought to the death the storms and the wind and the reverent skies, losing his life.
The king stood in the afterlife, his body resting before him in the storm swept land of faded glory, where Loki the trickster approached to give condolence and offer a trickster's deal. A life of the undead, to heal slowly and eat the living and even to control others of the afterlife spells of necromancy. The king of course accepted to further his hate that had not died with him. Loki raised his red hand and devils of hell raised from the earth, with a prim sole promise to sew the king to the mortal world Loki took a knife and threw it into the king's head, the king awoke in the world of the living, still with his wounds where lighting had pierced him many times implicitly, but the wounds were healing. The demons looked to the king with the mending scar on his face and he could read their thoughts and by his wishes alone they obeyed the orders of his mind. The after gangers were as puppets his messengers of death, but a different poison ran in the king's blood than of the vitriolic demons, for when they slayed their foes death held the slain, yet when the king of death battled his blood became a disastrous contagion, those infected were not under his control. The zombie contagion infestation obeyed only the demons, he slayed in jest an after ganger and the mist of blood carried in the air infected other life just as he the first. As he found that they were not his puppets he slayed them and ordered the demons to forfeit their ready growing legion of the hungered dead, but the demons denied him and had strayed from him. The king of the dead having lost superiority felt envy again and killed one of the demons, from the battle his wounds healed but as he hunted and killed nine demons hiding on the earth each, his wounds began to heal slower than they had with each he killed, leaving him believe that the demons were the source of his immortality, so he trapped and imprisoned the final demon in a cage made of poison. When the king deserted the prison the final demon was actually the trickster, puppeteer of the demons, deceiver of providence, and walked through the prison walls.
Tho the king’s wit had left humanity it had not abandoned him, when he saw that the dead were only attacking the young, the machines to purify only dragging the virus over the land quicker, he set to destroy every undead creature to liberate all life, but with each slay the disease only spread faster, into the water, into the air, into the darkness, and in the fires into the light, until the world was consumed by death and all life was lost.
The alchemist king wandered an empty world until the gods had enough sport of his insanity and Loki washed the world with holy fire. It was a trick by the trickster to entertain the gods, the sun washed the world with warmth and the waters purged themselves against the mountains of the sea, the plants began to grow powered by the life of the universe. When the world was mended by the Vanir as best they could, paying Loki with some of the deviant souls, the Aesir returned all of the wrongfully fallen to their lives just as they had existed before catalyst mischief.
/
7. The Plague of Man
When the civilized world was complete the queen of alchemy died, much to the disappointment of the alchemy king, alas he had tried to postpone her dying and avert her death, but he could not and his heart became a vicious torrent of anger against humanity. He began to tempt the Norns which at the point of tranquility had become the only crime even considered by scientific minds. A swath of genocide intrigued the king, for unsuitable he found replacements, their diseases could be cured and again alas they were not his lost love. A terrible envy plagued him of the gods, to quell his anger he created a disease to rid the world of its human life except himself, but the civil scientists only cured and eradicated his plague after plague after plague. His infatuation with death disallowed his uninterested reprieve, so he created a blight to harm the vegetation in waves of horrid affectation one after the next, first botany, then agriculture, then weeds, but once again tho with some trouble they disinfected the staggering blight. His thoughts were still dead set, he thought until his thoughts revealed a damning virus, his mind rolled in succinct jubilant revelation, and he created a poison that would kill the animals of the world and thus infect that which consumed the beasts and remain infectious and untraceable, but the world was cautious and fasted and designed a machine to churn the clouds and draw air away from the continents, and the animals were euthanized, and eradicated. His madness was replaced with deeper madness which was so replaced by chaos, with his anger he attacked the machines and fought the lighting within the storms of the clouds, and there fought to the death the storms and the wind and the reverent skies, losing his life.
The king stood in the afterlife, his body resting before him in the storm swept land of faded glory, where Loki the trickster approached to give condolence and offer a trickster's deal. A life of the undead, to heal slowly and eat the living and even to control others of the afterlife spells of necromancy. The king of course accepted to further his hate that had not died with him. Loki raised his red hand and devils of hell raised from the earth, with a prim sole promise to sew the king to the mortal world Loki took a knife and threw it into the king's head, the king awoke in the world of the living, still with his wounds where lighting had pierced him many times implicitly, but the wounds were healing. The demons looked to the king with the mending scar on his face and he could read their thoughts and by his wishes alone they obeyed the orders of his mind. The after gangers were as puppets his messengers of death, but a different poison ran in the king's blood than of the vitriolic demons, for when they slayed their foes death held the slain, yet when the king of death battled his blood became a disastrous contagion, those infected were not under his control. The zombie contagion infestation obeyed only the demons, he slayed in jest an after ganger and the mist of blood carried in the air infected other life just as he the first. As he found that they were not his puppets he slayed them and ordered the demons to forfeit their ready growing legion of the hungered dead, but the demons denied him and had strayed from him. The king of the dead having lost superiority felt envy again and killed one of the demons, from the battle his wounds healed but as he hunted and killed nine demons hiding on the earth each, his wounds began to heal slower than they had with each he killed, leaving him believe that the demons were the source of his immortality, so he trapped and imprisoned the final demon in a cage made of poison. When the king deserted the prison the final demon was actually the trickster, puppeteer of the demons, deceiver of providence, and walked through the prison walls.
Tho the king’s wit had left humanity it had not abandoned him, when he saw that the dead were only attacking the young, the machines to purify only dragging the virus over the land quicker, he set to destroy every undead creature to liberate all life, but with each slay the disease only spread faster, into the water, into the air, into the darkness, and in the fires into the light, until the world was consumed by death and all life was lost.
The alchemist king wandered an empty world until the gods had enough sport of his insanity and Loki washed the world with holy fire. It was a trick by the trickster to entertain the gods, the sun washed the world with warmth and the waters purged themselves against the mountains of the sea, the plants began to grow powered by the life of the universe. When the world was mended by the Vanir as best they could, paying Loki with some of the deviant souls, the Aesir returned all of the wrongfully fallen to their lives just as they had existed before catalyst mischief.
/
The Philosopher's Stone
The Book of Earth
6. The Philosopher's Stone
In the darkened morbid forest stood a demon of red iron scales, strong and in good form, a cape of red buck leather is the only soft element of the chimera, from the violent covens of witchcraft and innocent sacrifice it moved south following a seven headed constellation named Leviathan, through the forest setting fires and other vile mischief, unto a valley where he summoned innocent victims by wishing for shooting stars in sparse amounts and preying, each would suffer and he would carve their bones, every time he would wash in their blood and drink from their skulls if an entertaining battle had occurred, until the boredom of malaise offered only immense grief to the hunter demon. He thought of the end of the world and of the dark horizon, another stargazer came and was lynched against a tree and drained by the demon for the chance to drink his blood and torture simultaneously, like a sack of horrid wine the wrist was slit and blood let, and then more contemplation. In the foothills of a mossy crumbling mountain he had never seen a cat, and so with that thought he slit the other wrist, with the blood the chimera raised a panther in the night with fire and black magic, the red warrior summoned the thing from the ground and raised it through the soil with a grasp of the nape, pulling it from the fertile earth.
Chimera: "Unholiest hunter I call darkness, speak and be heard."
Panther: "You have made another way to die."
The cat lowered, scowled, and leapt at the chimera demon, a horrible roar and swift soar with claws and jaws of fearsome fangs, a skirmish to battle death, and the demon was bit in the waist and hurled the cat with both hands into a tree. He grabbed his scurrilous blade from a sheath filled with poison oil as the panther leapt again. His cape was torn as it lied against his wounds as the cat attempted to batter with its claws the open sores from the bite. With his hand he took the panther's throat, pressed against the same tree he held the poisonous dagger to the throat, his arm beheld the blade blocked the other paw.
Chimera: "Hunt for me and I will not kill you!"
The claws in the black paw retracted, the chimera demon reasserted his choke hold and taunted with the sickening blade once to display dominance as much as to flinch his own insanity. He released the cat that slunk down the tree and cowered, timid and skittish not knowing if it could escape the demon.
Chimera: "It is not my flesh you smell, it is this creature’s; eat of the kill as I, without fear of your food."
The demon cut into his prisoner who screamed if dire agony, a piece of flesh was tossed to the predator who did not hesitate to feast.
Panther: "What is it you will of me?"
Chimera: "Fear me and not these things make you a spy but not their enemy."
Panther: "To what end?"
Chimera: "I task you to feast on the village over the rise, unless you cannot hunt or are scared?"
Panther: "Why not do you go?"
Chimera: "I cannot freely pass among them, besides, you can speak, speak as their god and they will follow you to any cave."
Panther: "And from a horde of rats I will run them to you."
Chimera: "Endure."
The panther thought as it licked its paws and cleaned itself, incessantly spreading the smell of blood over itself before lazily heading over the hillside. The hostage had died, below the body the chimera digs a hole in the fertile earth, and the remaining blood was drained and began collecting in the bloody pit of horror. The demon looked at his hand of stone and submerged it in the red blood, removing it the stone was gone but the scathing from the cat remained.
Often heathens would practice pagan rite, a fire in the night inside a sitting circle of those who took turns tossing a different colored flammable powder into flames and repeating some words from a book written by a drunkard or a mad person, hoping that a devil would approach them for they to ask upon it their wiles. The panther happened upon them by circumstance and tended to exploring for to curiosity is a solemn thing that a cat cannot leave to chance. The fire was frightening to the panther with its seamless saunter, but there were few enough men to maim them, and take one for supper, but first it would have to watch them in their baggy clothes and see if they carried knives as they tarried.
The fire was alluringly mysterious, how it brought twilight to the trees but not into the darkness where the hunt resides. The patience wore thin and the cat's hunger became a lungful pang. Insidiousness lasted until the cat heard them speak the word for enemy in any word and effortlessly the cat leapt to the dirt floor from the shadows.
Panther: "You have called for me, I am Osiris of legion."
Bash: "We seek a magic for which to kill nations."
Panther: (pacing) "Which nation do you wish to kill?"
Petric: "Those beyond our borders that keep us in asylum."
Panther: "You know them not?"
Montu: "There is a vast army that brings horror; we cannot enslave enough to fight them"
Bash: "We offer our worship and fealty o great panther spirit."
Panther: (sitting) "A dark, in the cold moon, my power."
Bash: "By your ken, do you grant or share your power?"
Montu: "Will we be magical or immortal?"
Halroy: "By so close you should not be, if ever to spells and lessons."
Panther: "You will be remembered."
With a fierce angered roar the cat clubbed Bash and delivered a strike a deathblow and a bite to Petric. Bash pulled daggers and pricked the panther in the back as Montu wielded a torch club and strikes the cat with fiery spear. A sinister growl half-quieted by anger as the panther leapt to Bash's chest forcing him to the ground on his back as the panther tore his throat with fangs, on four legs the panther paced encircle thirteen gait and lunged with a roar to wake the ravens from their nightmares to kill Montu, but what feared three to strike made Halroy flee into the darkness. Even in darkness the earth was solid, the moon was reborn a shadow of itself and barely a sliver of light reflected from the moon to show the black cat a hunting paradise, but such levels of vision are not afforded to man and Halroy ran in the darkness. Tripping on mounds and broken boughs, the panther trod through clearings and leapt obstacles, a leisurely indirect course of sport weaving playfully through the trees, the victim did not stand to chance, claws to the back so painful was the agony that intensity did not allow him to faint before he died, he was consumed as the moon draws near.
When the panther ate his full he moved sluggishly back to the fire and began to feast, the chimera silently approached and clubbed the cat with a branch across the head from behind it. The panther was put unconscious, but eventually woke to the demon eating an eye from the end of a knife.
Chimera: "I asked you to lead them to me."
Panther: (yawning) "...you would have me share my kill?"
Chimera: "I will have you lead me to your hunts, if you are chased, you can lead them to me."
Panther: "Or I could tempt fate with you again."
The chimera opened his mouth and hissed, just as a cat, showing his fangs, sharper than that of the beast. The demon continued to eat and cautiously the panther joined him. As was wished the cat stalked the forest with the demon following behind not far, after each kill they would choose a new direction circling the fortified city, which held a contemptuous interest of the demon. In this way the talking cat terrorized the forest for three years, three months, three weeks, while insulting the gods before each prey lured by intrigue and the allure of promised power followed by slaughter, but took an overwhelming hatred towards holy men and made certain to play with his food at these confrontations.
The travelers came into the city sparingly, but citizens rarely ventured, and hunting parties searched for the cat, each party larger than the last, when they began to be too big to kill or lead to the demon, the demon would fell them earnest by all at once slowed with spells to mire them and have target practice with a knife on a whip. In the newest day a war began from the tensions of southern raiders and the woes the demon and panther had begun in the woods. The fallen warriors in the infinity war cycle had not perished but had gone to war leaving the huge city less the most of its regiment. On that night the panther sleeked into the city and after clubbing him unconscious took a hostage of a holy bishop into the woods.
From thence this action the cat made ally with the tenant farmers wherever it could, and spoke to them of sedition and treason, first upon the first that he found twelve men farming through the sunset and complaining as they worked.
Panther: "If you hide he will find you and lie to you there."
Blither: "Don't trust the black cat."
Panther: "If you quarrel by axe, does not your lord take an axe to you? Show me the way to your landlord and lead him out of home to me."
Egregiously the farmers gladly accepted the advice of the cat and lead the landlord to a place in the wood predetermined, where they met the bishop in a chair deep in the forest drugged by the demon.
Landlord: "What is this bishop?"
Panther: "The bishop said I should bring you here for your death, that I may have my peace."
The Bishop: "I said no such thing, across your path this black cat brings hex upon us all...no!"
The chimera demon silently approached one of the farmers and with sword began to hack into him, the others fled in exhaustive fear. The panther slipped behind the bishop's chair and with a voice mockingly similar to the bishop said, "kill them all my demons," and then leapt after the fleeing farmers. After killing one the chimera shouted to the panther urging a postponement of further hunt. The farmers returned to the city and took holy hostage at the first temple they found, demanding to know the meaning of their dilemma, through chaotic anger the hostages were killed and a bloody civil war broke within the city.
With the city in turmoil the demon sneaked into the city, maiming and claiming lives while heading toward the main temple. At the holy cemetery three guards battled and lost to the demon, the chimera knelt before one of the bodies and stabbed the dead man countless several times, as more guards followed the path of destruction they found the demon had lifted the pierced body over his head to revel in a shower of blood.
The demon vaulted the body and profusion of blood to bash six from a score of guards to the ground. The other men fought bravely but were slain one by one, as if they were toys. Behind the demon stood a door with a board across it to keep whatever contained, with a strike of the sword the beam was cut and the door was then kicked from close. The room was painted black, in the center a rough diamond with a chain suspended in the air over a limestone block with moss the white color of soft lightning effulgence, growing from the walls to the relic except beneath the philosopher's stone. The chimera's skin that faced the rough diamond began to cover with a dust that gradually turned his scales and skin to granite stone, he swiped the diamond from the air, his hand pained him so as it turned to freezing stone, he opened his fanged jowls and swallowed the precious stone being sure to loop the golden necklace under his silver tongue as to not swallow it completely. Soon nepenthe coursed his veins, the stone sickness was purged, his scales turned black and his leather skin became white or smeared with ash, the chimera hunted the panther and hung it from the city gates while fires within burned. It was there he was hunted by every able hunter to the white cliffs where the demon was forced to stage a spurious death.
/
6. The Philosopher's Stone
In the darkened morbid forest stood a demon of red iron scales, strong and in good form, a cape of red buck leather is the only soft element of the chimera, from the violent covens of witchcraft and innocent sacrifice it moved south following a seven headed constellation named Leviathan, through the forest setting fires and other vile mischief, unto a valley where he summoned innocent victims by wishing for shooting stars in sparse amounts and preying, each would suffer and he would carve their bones, every time he would wash in their blood and drink from their skulls if an entertaining battle had occurred, until the boredom of malaise offered only immense grief to the hunter demon. He thought of the end of the world and of the dark horizon, another stargazer came and was lynched against a tree and drained by the demon for the chance to drink his blood and torture simultaneously, like a sack of horrid wine the wrist was slit and blood let, and then more contemplation. In the foothills of a mossy crumbling mountain he had never seen a cat, and so with that thought he slit the other wrist, with the blood the chimera raised a panther in the night with fire and black magic, the red warrior summoned the thing from the ground and raised it through the soil with a grasp of the nape, pulling it from the fertile earth.
Chimera: "Unholiest hunter I call darkness, speak and be heard."
Panther: "You have made another way to die."
The cat lowered, scowled, and leapt at the chimera demon, a horrible roar and swift soar with claws and jaws of fearsome fangs, a skirmish to battle death, and the demon was bit in the waist and hurled the cat with both hands into a tree. He grabbed his scurrilous blade from a sheath filled with poison oil as the panther leapt again. His cape was torn as it lied against his wounds as the cat attempted to batter with its claws the open sores from the bite. With his hand he took the panther's throat, pressed against the same tree he held the poisonous dagger to the throat, his arm beheld the blade blocked the other paw.
Chimera: "Hunt for me and I will not kill you!"
The claws in the black paw retracted, the chimera demon reasserted his choke hold and taunted with the sickening blade once to display dominance as much as to flinch his own insanity. He released the cat that slunk down the tree and cowered, timid and skittish not knowing if it could escape the demon.
Chimera: "It is not my flesh you smell, it is this creature’s; eat of the kill as I, without fear of your food."
The demon cut into his prisoner who screamed if dire agony, a piece of flesh was tossed to the predator who did not hesitate to feast.
Panther: "What is it you will of me?"
Chimera: "Fear me and not these things make you a spy but not their enemy."
Panther: "To what end?"
Chimera: "I task you to feast on the village over the rise, unless you cannot hunt or are scared?"
Panther: "Why not do you go?"
Chimera: "I cannot freely pass among them, besides, you can speak, speak as their god and they will follow you to any cave."
Panther: "And from a horde of rats I will run them to you."
Chimera: "Endure."
The panther thought as it licked its paws and cleaned itself, incessantly spreading the smell of blood over itself before lazily heading over the hillside. The hostage had died, below the body the chimera digs a hole in the fertile earth, and the remaining blood was drained and began collecting in the bloody pit of horror. The demon looked at his hand of stone and submerged it in the red blood, removing it the stone was gone but the scathing from the cat remained.
Often heathens would practice pagan rite, a fire in the night inside a sitting circle of those who took turns tossing a different colored flammable powder into flames and repeating some words from a book written by a drunkard or a mad person, hoping that a devil would approach them for they to ask upon it their wiles. The panther happened upon them by circumstance and tended to exploring for to curiosity is a solemn thing that a cat cannot leave to chance. The fire was frightening to the panther with its seamless saunter, but there were few enough men to maim them, and take one for supper, but first it would have to watch them in their baggy clothes and see if they carried knives as they tarried.
The fire was alluringly mysterious, how it brought twilight to the trees but not into the darkness where the hunt resides. The patience wore thin and the cat's hunger became a lungful pang. Insidiousness lasted until the cat heard them speak the word for enemy in any word and effortlessly the cat leapt to the dirt floor from the shadows.
Panther: "You have called for me, I am Osiris of legion."
Bash: "We seek a magic for which to kill nations."
Panther: (pacing) "Which nation do you wish to kill?"
Petric: "Those beyond our borders that keep us in asylum."
Panther: "You know them not?"
Montu: "There is a vast army that brings horror; we cannot enslave enough to fight them"
Bash: "We offer our worship and fealty o great panther spirit."
Panther: (sitting) "A dark, in the cold moon, my power."
Bash: "By your ken, do you grant or share your power?"
Montu: "Will we be magical or immortal?"
Halroy: "By so close you should not be, if ever to spells and lessons."
Panther: "You will be remembered."
With a fierce angered roar the cat clubbed Bash and delivered a strike a deathblow and a bite to Petric. Bash pulled daggers and pricked the panther in the back as Montu wielded a torch club and strikes the cat with fiery spear. A sinister growl half-quieted by anger as the panther leapt to Bash's chest forcing him to the ground on his back as the panther tore his throat with fangs, on four legs the panther paced encircle thirteen gait and lunged with a roar to wake the ravens from their nightmares to kill Montu, but what feared three to strike made Halroy flee into the darkness. Even in darkness the earth was solid, the moon was reborn a shadow of itself and barely a sliver of light reflected from the moon to show the black cat a hunting paradise, but such levels of vision are not afforded to man and Halroy ran in the darkness. Tripping on mounds and broken boughs, the panther trod through clearings and leapt obstacles, a leisurely indirect course of sport weaving playfully through the trees, the victim did not stand to chance, claws to the back so painful was the agony that intensity did not allow him to faint before he died, he was consumed as the moon draws near.
When the panther ate his full he moved sluggishly back to the fire and began to feast, the chimera silently approached and clubbed the cat with a branch across the head from behind it. The panther was put unconscious, but eventually woke to the demon eating an eye from the end of a knife.
Chimera: "I asked you to lead them to me."
Panther: (yawning) "...you would have me share my kill?"
Chimera: "I will have you lead me to your hunts, if you are chased, you can lead them to me."
Panther: "Or I could tempt fate with you again."
The chimera opened his mouth and hissed, just as a cat, showing his fangs, sharper than that of the beast. The demon continued to eat and cautiously the panther joined him. As was wished the cat stalked the forest with the demon following behind not far, after each kill they would choose a new direction circling the fortified city, which held a contemptuous interest of the demon. In this way the talking cat terrorized the forest for three years, three months, three weeks, while insulting the gods before each prey lured by intrigue and the allure of promised power followed by slaughter, but took an overwhelming hatred towards holy men and made certain to play with his food at these confrontations.
The travelers came into the city sparingly, but citizens rarely ventured, and hunting parties searched for the cat, each party larger than the last, when they began to be too big to kill or lead to the demon, the demon would fell them earnest by all at once slowed with spells to mire them and have target practice with a knife on a whip. In the newest day a war began from the tensions of southern raiders and the woes the demon and panther had begun in the woods. The fallen warriors in the infinity war cycle had not perished but had gone to war leaving the huge city less the most of its regiment. On that night the panther sleeked into the city and after clubbing him unconscious took a hostage of a holy bishop into the woods.
From thence this action the cat made ally with the tenant farmers wherever it could, and spoke to them of sedition and treason, first upon the first that he found twelve men farming through the sunset and complaining as they worked.
Panther: "If you hide he will find you and lie to you there."
Blither: "Don't trust the black cat."
Panther: "If you quarrel by axe, does not your lord take an axe to you? Show me the way to your landlord and lead him out of home to me."
Egregiously the farmers gladly accepted the advice of the cat and lead the landlord to a place in the wood predetermined, where they met the bishop in a chair deep in the forest drugged by the demon.
Landlord: "What is this bishop?"
Panther: "The bishop said I should bring you here for your death, that I may have my peace."
The Bishop: "I said no such thing, across your path this black cat brings hex upon us all...no!"
The chimera demon silently approached one of the farmers and with sword began to hack into him, the others fled in exhaustive fear. The panther slipped behind the bishop's chair and with a voice mockingly similar to the bishop said, "kill them all my demons," and then leapt after the fleeing farmers. After killing one the chimera shouted to the panther urging a postponement of further hunt. The farmers returned to the city and took holy hostage at the first temple they found, demanding to know the meaning of their dilemma, through chaotic anger the hostages were killed and a bloody civil war broke within the city.
With the city in turmoil the demon sneaked into the city, maiming and claiming lives while heading toward the main temple. At the holy cemetery three guards battled and lost to the demon, the chimera knelt before one of the bodies and stabbed the dead man countless several times, as more guards followed the path of destruction they found the demon had lifted the pierced body over his head to revel in a shower of blood.
The demon vaulted the body and profusion of blood to bash six from a score of guards to the ground. The other men fought bravely but were slain one by one, as if they were toys. Behind the demon stood a door with a board across it to keep whatever contained, with a strike of the sword the beam was cut and the door was then kicked from close. The room was painted black, in the center a rough diamond with a chain suspended in the air over a limestone block with moss the white color of soft lightning effulgence, growing from the walls to the relic except beneath the philosopher's stone. The chimera's skin that faced the rough diamond began to cover with a dust that gradually turned his scales and skin to granite stone, he swiped the diamond from the air, his hand pained him so as it turned to freezing stone, he opened his fanged jowls and swallowed the precious stone being sure to loop the golden necklace under his silver tongue as to not swallow it completely. Soon nepenthe coursed his veins, the stone sickness was purged, his scales turned black and his leather skin became white or smeared with ash, the chimera hunted the panther and hung it from the city gates while fires within burned. It was there he was hunted by every able hunter to the white cliffs where the demon was forced to stage a spurious death.
/
The Thief
The Book of Earth
5 - The Thief
An ash cloud disturbed by light, a great mountain was angered and the blood fires poured from Muspel, great sulfuric fires brought dastard ash over the sky that pushed the clouds, the air was dense as it rained, until the water stopped, the grounds were clean and awaited the ash to lay on the earth. A thief named Ninjaryu wearing the color of night stole from a city in the fields of flax, and its citizens, the river of fire poured from the mountain caused by the opened heart within the god of death, the thief's treasures were not tithing to his comfort, but his tools were, when his neighbor told him of the calamity he looked at the torrent of molten stone that bled down callous mountainside with the rising calamity and he took his tools close to his vest. He kissed the stolen statues of the gods around his quarters and ran for the lava. Through the town he ran with everyone running the other way, the law escaped horse trampling children, the grocers stocked carts with food and not the elderly had long left at the start, for their notice from the market had been the first. The thief continued to run unto the strong house where the cartel resides, he killed seven guards to penetrate the gates, through the garden where the servants are dead for stealing horses, to the master house of the compound. He was bid to leave in consoling solace by the boss so that the boss and subordinates could part with treasure that they had spent their lives stealing.
Rilkar: "It is high time you left Ninjaryu, as we are, you may help if you'd like, but you must vacate our destiny."
Ninjaryu: "You take your slow treasure, and not your children?"
Rilkar: "They have earlier parted on the horses that were almost stolen, as you have surely seen. I cannot stem the storm so we make for a Hringhorni, what brings you thief?"
Ninjaryu: "I need strong explosives immediately."
Rilkar: "...that is going to cost you...because of the storm...what's mine is yours, but if you’re going to leave I'll need to charge you for the tour..."
The thief began to kill them, a guardian got his spine hacked below the base of the skull and an arrow from a crossbow flew behind Ninjaryu's head as the body of his opponent fell to the earth, another guard fared poorly as each arm was broken at the elbow simultaneously, a crudely patent insult from a skilled combatant, with both arms in lock the thief broke the guard's nose with his head strong enough to nearly kill him, another arrow loosed before his face as he dropped the second body onto the piano and swiftly punched a third guard then put his heel into stomach, a third and fourth of five approached the thief, as a dance of fighting clouded the close quarter combat the thief took an arm and wrapped himself in his enemy, the third was punched accidentally in the face by the fourth before he was shot in the head by an arrow with his name on it. The fourth guard was not alive when his neck was broken. The fifth guard was kicked in the chest, knocking him backwards into the wagon and broke the wheel causing gold to spill.
Rilkar: "Ah! You stupid fucking rube, you're going to pay."
Ninjaryu took the crossbow from the mobster, his knee kicked the crossbow and he grabs it with his hand, and punched the mobster with the other, his fist clasped the trigger and turns the crossbow upright.
Ninjaryu: "There is something I've always wanted to take from you."
The thief rode up the empty street on a stolen horse with a second horse in tow, the satchels packed with explosive powder, his sight and intent were the temples of Syrinx, hoping that if one of them fell in an angled path of other large buildings in the capital the lava might divert, but it was not true for the sight of wrath was upon the earth, the lava was not a river to be stemmed, it was a tide from the torrent of death, it was a satanic wake wroth to cleave existence from fate, tearing through buildings as if they were castles made of sand. He turned and ran from the fires, from the volcanoes, the beloved royals and cursed regents he hoped are flit from the carnage, the blue jays that kill only when creatures are struck by fear had their work cut out as the black hawks fast flew from mice and men. The wraiths and gargoyles smiled with sinister smiles and stood in wait and watched for sport.
Ninjaryu hastily stopped to fill a pouch with abandoned oranges but the sight and the noise drove him from peril. The lava rolled with the sound of the giant snake Jormungand crushing all in its path as the clouds of arsenic ash billowed and vast poured across heaven and shadowed the earth, as if the edge of the earth were rising into the fires of dawn.
The lava boiled the reservoir and broke the dam, the water poured through the trickling meadow stream as a torrent, the babble was hidden by the thunder, the ash fell and the fires began to ignite in the doomed city, what seemed like meteors begin to fly into the city, Ninjaryu turned the horse toward the dry riverbed Elivagar, the path was open, the race was faster upon escape, behind him the water rushed faster than he.
When the flood came he was farther from the fires than he had expected and closer to the sea than he needed, he and the horse were washed beyond the coast, when the water washed the docks the ships were foundered, all but the Hringhorni. When the wave broke the fires of war still approached from the mountain, as tall as two men the fires melted stone and turned thought to ash. Ninjaryu found a small boat and rowed from the coast, watching the destruction. The large boat slow upon escape took him aboard and lassoed the horse from the water by the neck, the fires consumed the air and drew the sails the wrong way, they were cut by desperate people and the men sat out the oars and began their distance. With long fishing spears children took floating oranges from the surf as they escaped the cannonade of hell's conquest.
/
5 - The Thief
An ash cloud disturbed by light, a great mountain was angered and the blood fires poured from Muspel, great sulfuric fires brought dastard ash over the sky that pushed the clouds, the air was dense as it rained, until the water stopped, the grounds were clean and awaited the ash to lay on the earth. A thief named Ninjaryu wearing the color of night stole from a city in the fields of flax, and its citizens, the river of fire poured from the mountain caused by the opened heart within the god of death, the thief's treasures were not tithing to his comfort, but his tools were, when his neighbor told him of the calamity he looked at the torrent of molten stone that bled down callous mountainside with the rising calamity and he took his tools close to his vest. He kissed the stolen statues of the gods around his quarters and ran for the lava. Through the town he ran with everyone running the other way, the law escaped horse trampling children, the grocers stocked carts with food and not the elderly had long left at the start, for their notice from the market had been the first. The thief continued to run unto the strong house where the cartel resides, he killed seven guards to penetrate the gates, through the garden where the servants are dead for stealing horses, to the master house of the compound. He was bid to leave in consoling solace by the boss so that the boss and subordinates could part with treasure that they had spent their lives stealing.
Rilkar: "It is high time you left Ninjaryu, as we are, you may help if you'd like, but you must vacate our destiny."
Ninjaryu: "You take your slow treasure, and not your children?"
Rilkar: "They have earlier parted on the horses that were almost stolen, as you have surely seen. I cannot stem the storm so we make for a Hringhorni, what brings you thief?"
Ninjaryu: "I need strong explosives immediately."
Rilkar: "...that is going to cost you...because of the storm...what's mine is yours, but if you’re going to leave I'll need to charge you for the tour..."
The thief began to kill them, a guardian got his spine hacked below the base of the skull and an arrow from a crossbow flew behind Ninjaryu's head as the body of his opponent fell to the earth, another guard fared poorly as each arm was broken at the elbow simultaneously, a crudely patent insult from a skilled combatant, with both arms in lock the thief broke the guard's nose with his head strong enough to nearly kill him, another arrow loosed before his face as he dropped the second body onto the piano and swiftly punched a third guard then put his heel into stomach, a third and fourth of five approached the thief, as a dance of fighting clouded the close quarter combat the thief took an arm and wrapped himself in his enemy, the third was punched accidentally in the face by the fourth before he was shot in the head by an arrow with his name on it. The fourth guard was not alive when his neck was broken. The fifth guard was kicked in the chest, knocking him backwards into the wagon and broke the wheel causing gold to spill.
Rilkar: "Ah! You stupid fucking rube, you're going to pay."
Ninjaryu took the crossbow from the mobster, his knee kicked the crossbow and he grabs it with his hand, and punched the mobster with the other, his fist clasped the trigger and turns the crossbow upright.
Ninjaryu: "There is something I've always wanted to take from you."
The thief rode up the empty street on a stolen horse with a second horse in tow, the satchels packed with explosive powder, his sight and intent were the temples of Syrinx, hoping that if one of them fell in an angled path of other large buildings in the capital the lava might divert, but it was not true for the sight of wrath was upon the earth, the lava was not a river to be stemmed, it was a tide from the torrent of death, it was a satanic wake wroth to cleave existence from fate, tearing through buildings as if they were castles made of sand. He turned and ran from the fires, from the volcanoes, the beloved royals and cursed regents he hoped are flit from the carnage, the blue jays that kill only when creatures are struck by fear had their work cut out as the black hawks fast flew from mice and men. The wraiths and gargoyles smiled with sinister smiles and stood in wait and watched for sport.
Ninjaryu hastily stopped to fill a pouch with abandoned oranges but the sight and the noise drove him from peril. The lava rolled with the sound of the giant snake Jormungand crushing all in its path as the clouds of arsenic ash billowed and vast poured across heaven and shadowed the earth, as if the edge of the earth were rising into the fires of dawn.
The lava boiled the reservoir and broke the dam, the water poured through the trickling meadow stream as a torrent, the babble was hidden by the thunder, the ash fell and the fires began to ignite in the doomed city, what seemed like meteors begin to fly into the city, Ninjaryu turned the horse toward the dry riverbed Elivagar, the path was open, the race was faster upon escape, behind him the water rushed faster than he.
When the flood came he was farther from the fires than he had expected and closer to the sea than he needed, he and the horse were washed beyond the coast, when the water washed the docks the ships were foundered, all but the Hringhorni. When the wave broke the fires of war still approached from the mountain, as tall as two men the fires melted stone and turned thought to ash. Ninjaryu found a small boat and rowed from the coast, watching the destruction. The large boat slow upon escape took him aboard and lassoed the horse from the water by the neck, the fires consumed the air and drew the sails the wrong way, they were cut by desperate people and the men sat out the oars and began their distance. With long fishing spears children took floating oranges from the surf as they escaped the cannonade of hell's conquest.
/
The Saboteur
The Book of Earth
4 - The Saboteur
Fenrir, god of wolves, sat below the world with his sister advantageous Hel, the highest princess of Muspellsheim and Niflheim and Hel as named for she. In the underworld kingdom Muspellsheim there is a lake of fire, the malicious demons do the bidding of their masters, they are born of fire to bathe in it, generations never dying having demonic spawn stronger than their ancestry in a cesspool of deviance far older than mortality. For their actions they are rewarded with carnal pleasures and reincarnation in the house of the Surtur, in their demise they return to Hel a failure, shortcomings which are punished in the ways of hell. When they return they are not arisen within the lake of fire but instead returned to the great darkness, suffering purgatory and the seven rungs of hell before they can return to the comfort of their molten sulfur where punished for failure to punish humans, it was their way that gave dismay unto them, and unanimously they contended their preference to be returned to the great lake of fire when they decease. The pleasure of demons is fire, for this would erupt on the three worlds of men and allow Surtur's rising, so Hel used ice to hold the lake of fire above the dungeons where failure and sin is tortured.
A world of chaotic fire and torment with swathes of feudalism and discontent and insanity above a crystalline layer of ice within the chasm, from below it is clear and transparent and the flames look like wisps of thin smoke and from above the demons cannot see down to Fenrir and Hel who sit staring at a magical sky of fire and ice from a distance no taller than twice of a man tall, as could be tallest among other men. The ice barrier cracked and made a terrible rumble, and Hel mended the fracture caused by the growing numbers of demonic saboteurs with pleasure. For the actions of the demons making such havoc Odin ordered the gods Freyr and Sunna to end their bringing of warmth and light to the worlds of mortals, in optimistic hopes it would despoil the efforts of the demons. By such a command the mountain became cold and Thor shook the snow from above and the earth was cold forever indignant of the three fates. Hel decided that if her demons could not torture Midgard and Alfheim and Svartalfaheim, that she would be the scourge of the land, she faded from existence in the darkened hell and reappeared from an ice cave in the world of Midgard to play in the witching hour.
The world was bleak and the light of the gods remained forever passed the shore of the horizon, barely a glow. The cold culled the demons and weakened the others until they were hunted and killed by men, from which they each returned to hell. With far too many in the lake of fire, even those that were not reborn in flame were approaching the unstable ice plane that held the lake of fire, which was cracking and breaking. Hel had forgotten her deed and continued to search for sinners and the weak willed whom she might sway to dastardly effects only to poach them for her kingdom beneath the world.
Fenrir was woken by the sound of the ice breaking. He could not freeze the demons nor abolish them as Hel could, so he decided to warn them. His words served only to alarm them, their hectic ruckus began to frenzy and the ice continued to fracture, he then ordered them to war amongst themselves to which the brazen and bold were apt and compliant, but the battles of the monstrous demons only worsened the fire and war. Holes in the barrier began to form and the fires of hell that pore over souls began to pour into the dungeons of contempt and despotism, in a panic Fenrir began to slay and slaughter the demons, there were far too many and even decimated their flesh crawled along the ground, they were far too much and the violence only made them more fervent and Fenrir more exhausted.
In haste Fenrir commanded the armies one by one to go below and support the ice with their hands, their warmth did more damage than good when their efforts were sabotaged whilst they were killed in the chaos they resumed in the lake with youthful vigorous fires from which they spawn, where they held the cracks together the ice would mend but the entire layer was melting faster than could be helped, Fenrir would order the demons to support each fracture as they were spotted, but eventually the ice could not hold the torrential lake of torture and thus it collapsed.
Hel above wandering the ice age had murdered many men and curtailed the weak of spirit until they succumbed to evil and she reaped their souls then sent them to the despotic dungeons of hell. From them she took their stolen map written in a language much like her own, which had long been unspoken by the people of Midgard. It was a dry and worn map uncovered from an unmarked rusty metal box that had stained the parchment red and made it brittle. A simple path it foretold whence it lead to a stone in the yard the height of a midget, hidden by hex she used a star, a grain of sand, and spring moss to open the stone, but it was the a puzzle that painted the symbols of sounds with firelight, the message warned that practical magic would not save whoever took the blade, that only divine witchcraft would prevail if the blade was stolen, as the stone from top to bottom turned to falling sand. She took the dagger and the world around her became drawn to the dagger wherever she moved, using her magic time stopped as she left the spirit trap. With her she carried the first finely crafted dagger that humans had ever made which was also the first knife used to kill a man, when came one of her generals whom was in charge of torture innovation.
Dvalin: "Greetings your majesty?"
Hel: "What is it now Dvalin?"
She held the knifepoint beneath his chin, the demon flushed faintly over its red skin and tried to camouflage with the surroundings to escape, but Hel made the air cold and dense and pierced the skin of the demon.
Dvalin: "It is a wonderful knife, my liege, where did you get it?"
She withdrew the knife scraped his skin at the same time then wiped the blood from it, as the demon's complexion resumed a scorned color.
Hel: "It was buried near the lost castle at Gaul, traitorous thieves were in contest for a trove map in a language that they could not read to a puzzle they shan't solve as mortal men, so I relieved them of their desires and paid them in their deaths...you had come for a reason I presume."
Dvalin: "The Lake of Fire will soon awaken Surtur; you have left your armies writhing and not warring and now the levee breaks."
With a snap of her fingers she and Dvalin were in hell and everything was inanimate. The water stopped before falling, the formation of each drop was wide at the bottom and pointed at the top as is any water drop, the points sharp enough to scrape steel. The steam would not move without great force and would drag across the armor of those who could try to part it, and the water was blackened and stolid like granite and steel. Above her the demons frayed and washed into the abyss were also frozen and trapped in the cold elements, positioned in awkward poses. Dvalin pulled on the cusp of a solid flame, a kindle fraught flicker that did not move, but was as ardent as a living flame.
Hel: "Dvalin, be gone!"
Dvalin: "It is only a piece I need take for a despot I have below."
She paused and watched with awe as in a formidable moment Dvalin broke a piece and retreated with it into the darkness. Fenrir waited with worry shown by the wolf blood within him, hanging his head low in respectful fear.
Hel: "This is a tragic problem that I cannot be in two places at once; at next offense you must come and get me sooner."
Fenrir: "Thank you for averting disaster, your wish is my command."
Hel: "Simpler things are known, I command you to send me the Minotaur king and leave my sight for one year, or until you are needed by father."
Fenrir: "Thy will be done."
With that Fenrir vacated Hel's side and retrieved the Minotaur regent for her then went to Jotunheim for his sentence, hunting in the snowy mountains. When the Minotaur arrived he knelt before the high queen Hel.
Minotaur: "All hell for thee your majesty."
Hel: "We must begin repairs at once, thaw the slaves as needed and begin immediately, use your labyrinth so that the little devils do not escape."
Minotaur: "It will be done by your all-wise command."
Hel: "I will be in the court of the damned if needing be."
Hel left the realm of her prison into the shadows and the Minotaur began thawing and rebuilding the prison and the lake of fire with blood and magic and as predicted containing the demon slaves as they systematically tried to escape.
Far below the reconstruction Dvalin stood before the culprits of the treasure map malice, three men in tattered and soiled worn and ovum soaked leather, the first blond, the second blue, and the third of crimson.
Blue: "Your attempts to take our freedom away are merely the god-king Odin at hope to let you play."
Dvalin: "By your heavy souls you each killed the other and the queen killed you third."
Blonde: "Absurd, you have our death?"
Dvalin: "Yes."
Crimson: "How, we are not dead, where are we?"
Dvalin: "You are in over your head, for your sabotage in your lives you will be now tortured, regularly, unless you have other wishes?"
Blue: "Do we not get a trail, a place to plea?"
Dvalin: "It is impolite to answer a question with a question my blue friend, besides that, you're not going anywhere."
Blonde: "Demon!"
Dvalin: "Yes, don't interrupt, this is a blade made from solid fire forged from the lake of sins, the first of its kind I have acquired to accost prisoners, and you will be my...experiments...it should cut you causing great pain but keep the flesh from cooking and peeling from your bones...who wants to go first?"
4 - The Saboteur
Fenrir, god of wolves, sat below the world with his sister advantageous Hel, the highest princess of Muspellsheim and Niflheim and Hel as named for she. In the underworld kingdom Muspellsheim there is a lake of fire, the malicious demons do the bidding of their masters, they are born of fire to bathe in it, generations never dying having demonic spawn stronger than their ancestry in a cesspool of deviance far older than mortality. For their actions they are rewarded with carnal pleasures and reincarnation in the house of the Surtur, in their demise they return to Hel a failure, shortcomings which are punished in the ways of hell. When they return they are not arisen within the lake of fire but instead returned to the great darkness, suffering purgatory and the seven rungs of hell before they can return to the comfort of their molten sulfur where punished for failure to punish humans, it was their way that gave dismay unto them, and unanimously they contended their preference to be returned to the great lake of fire when they decease. The pleasure of demons is fire, for this would erupt on the three worlds of men and allow Surtur's rising, so Hel used ice to hold the lake of fire above the dungeons where failure and sin is tortured.
A world of chaotic fire and torment with swathes of feudalism and discontent and insanity above a crystalline layer of ice within the chasm, from below it is clear and transparent and the flames look like wisps of thin smoke and from above the demons cannot see down to Fenrir and Hel who sit staring at a magical sky of fire and ice from a distance no taller than twice of a man tall, as could be tallest among other men. The ice barrier cracked and made a terrible rumble, and Hel mended the fracture caused by the growing numbers of demonic saboteurs with pleasure. For the actions of the demons making such havoc Odin ordered the gods Freyr and Sunna to end their bringing of warmth and light to the worlds of mortals, in optimistic hopes it would despoil the efforts of the demons. By such a command the mountain became cold and Thor shook the snow from above and the earth was cold forever indignant of the three fates. Hel decided that if her demons could not torture Midgard and Alfheim and Svartalfaheim, that she would be the scourge of the land, she faded from existence in the darkened hell and reappeared from an ice cave in the world of Midgard to play in the witching hour.
The world was bleak and the light of the gods remained forever passed the shore of the horizon, barely a glow. The cold culled the demons and weakened the others until they were hunted and killed by men, from which they each returned to hell. With far too many in the lake of fire, even those that were not reborn in flame were approaching the unstable ice plane that held the lake of fire, which was cracking and breaking. Hel had forgotten her deed and continued to search for sinners and the weak willed whom she might sway to dastardly effects only to poach them for her kingdom beneath the world.
Fenrir was woken by the sound of the ice breaking. He could not freeze the demons nor abolish them as Hel could, so he decided to warn them. His words served only to alarm them, their hectic ruckus began to frenzy and the ice continued to fracture, he then ordered them to war amongst themselves to which the brazen and bold were apt and compliant, but the battles of the monstrous demons only worsened the fire and war. Holes in the barrier began to form and the fires of hell that pore over souls began to pour into the dungeons of contempt and despotism, in a panic Fenrir began to slay and slaughter the demons, there were far too many and even decimated their flesh crawled along the ground, they were far too much and the violence only made them more fervent and Fenrir more exhausted.
In haste Fenrir commanded the armies one by one to go below and support the ice with their hands, their warmth did more damage than good when their efforts were sabotaged whilst they were killed in the chaos they resumed in the lake with youthful vigorous fires from which they spawn, where they held the cracks together the ice would mend but the entire layer was melting faster than could be helped, Fenrir would order the demons to support each fracture as they were spotted, but eventually the ice could not hold the torrential lake of torture and thus it collapsed.
Hel above wandering the ice age had murdered many men and curtailed the weak of spirit until they succumbed to evil and she reaped their souls then sent them to the despotic dungeons of hell. From them she took their stolen map written in a language much like her own, which had long been unspoken by the people of Midgard. It was a dry and worn map uncovered from an unmarked rusty metal box that had stained the parchment red and made it brittle. A simple path it foretold whence it lead to a stone in the yard the height of a midget, hidden by hex she used a star, a grain of sand, and spring moss to open the stone, but it was the a puzzle that painted the symbols of sounds with firelight, the message warned that practical magic would not save whoever took the blade, that only divine witchcraft would prevail if the blade was stolen, as the stone from top to bottom turned to falling sand. She took the dagger and the world around her became drawn to the dagger wherever she moved, using her magic time stopped as she left the spirit trap. With her she carried the first finely crafted dagger that humans had ever made which was also the first knife used to kill a man, when came one of her generals whom was in charge of torture innovation.
Dvalin: "Greetings your majesty?"
Hel: "What is it now Dvalin?"
She held the knifepoint beneath his chin, the demon flushed faintly over its red skin and tried to camouflage with the surroundings to escape, but Hel made the air cold and dense and pierced the skin of the demon.
Dvalin: "It is a wonderful knife, my liege, where did you get it?"
She withdrew the knife scraped his skin at the same time then wiped the blood from it, as the demon's complexion resumed a scorned color.
Hel: "It was buried near the lost castle at Gaul, traitorous thieves were in contest for a trove map in a language that they could not read to a puzzle they shan't solve as mortal men, so I relieved them of their desires and paid them in their deaths...you had come for a reason I presume."
Dvalin: "The Lake of Fire will soon awaken Surtur; you have left your armies writhing and not warring and now the levee breaks."
With a snap of her fingers she and Dvalin were in hell and everything was inanimate. The water stopped before falling, the formation of each drop was wide at the bottom and pointed at the top as is any water drop, the points sharp enough to scrape steel. The steam would not move without great force and would drag across the armor of those who could try to part it, and the water was blackened and stolid like granite and steel. Above her the demons frayed and washed into the abyss were also frozen and trapped in the cold elements, positioned in awkward poses. Dvalin pulled on the cusp of a solid flame, a kindle fraught flicker that did not move, but was as ardent as a living flame.
Hel: "Dvalin, be gone!"
Dvalin: "It is only a piece I need take for a despot I have below."
She paused and watched with awe as in a formidable moment Dvalin broke a piece and retreated with it into the darkness. Fenrir waited with worry shown by the wolf blood within him, hanging his head low in respectful fear.
Hel: "This is a tragic problem that I cannot be in two places at once; at next offense you must come and get me sooner."
Fenrir: "Thank you for averting disaster, your wish is my command."
Hel: "Simpler things are known, I command you to send me the Minotaur king and leave my sight for one year, or until you are needed by father."
Fenrir: "Thy will be done."
With that Fenrir vacated Hel's side and retrieved the Minotaur regent for her then went to Jotunheim for his sentence, hunting in the snowy mountains. When the Minotaur arrived he knelt before the high queen Hel.
Minotaur: "All hell for thee your majesty."
Hel: "We must begin repairs at once, thaw the slaves as needed and begin immediately, use your labyrinth so that the little devils do not escape."
Minotaur: "It will be done by your all-wise command."
Hel: "I will be in the court of the damned if needing be."
Hel left the realm of her prison into the shadows and the Minotaur began thawing and rebuilding the prison and the lake of fire with blood and magic and as predicted containing the demon slaves as they systematically tried to escape.
Far below the reconstruction Dvalin stood before the culprits of the treasure map malice, three men in tattered and soiled worn and ovum soaked leather, the first blond, the second blue, and the third of crimson.
Blue: "Your attempts to take our freedom away are merely the god-king Odin at hope to let you play."
Dvalin: "By your heavy souls you each killed the other and the queen killed you third."
Blonde: "Absurd, you have our death?"
Dvalin: "Yes."
Crimson: "How, we are not dead, where are we?"
Dvalin: "You are in over your head, for your sabotage in your lives you will be now tortured, regularly, unless you have other wishes?"
Blue: "Do we not get a trail, a place to plea?"
Dvalin: "It is impolite to answer a question with a question my blue friend, besides that, you're not going anywhere."
Blonde: "Demon!"
Dvalin: "Yes, don't interrupt, this is a blade made from solid fire forged from the lake of sins, the first of its kind I have acquired to accost prisoners, and you will be my...experiments...it should cut you causing great pain but keep the flesh from cooking and peeling from your bones...who wants to go first?"
The Cheater
The Book of Earth
3 - The Cheater
The prince cannot be beaten unless by the king, not even by his professor, so sat an early and young Loki, his whipping boy Lini, and his teacher, Arnwald.
Loki: "If you thirst for power you are not free, if war dost thou make ye will not be?"
Arnwald: "And when insurrection is taking the pattering of new feet?"
Loki: "It is not the first thought of action or the last action of thought."
Arnwald: "But who will make a king one day must know what of a slave?"
Loki: "That we are not born as slaves, without command we will become."
Arnwald: "Think more of the grain, it is not born our food but is consumed by the animals, and, the farmers."
Loki: "And that is why we must condemn the heathen father fights in the south!?"
Arnwald: "...why does he fight in the south?"
Loki: "Why does anyone?"
Arnwald: "why does Loki fight in the south?"
Loki: "For our protection?"
Arnwald: "The wheat does not kill itself, it propagates, such is life, yet we kill the wheat, the south is in confederacy only for the purpose to kill again. If I were to kill the first servant that I saw on the street what would you make of me?"
Loki: "I would have you dead and make quick about it."
Arnwald: "And if our rations were scorned by Hel, what then?"
Loki: "We would make as ants equal unto the light as says the city scrolls."
Arnwald: "What makes a servant different than a slave in the eyes of the heathens that would have us be slaves or worse?"
The young Loki's teacher Arnwald waited for a response, but Loki hesitated, aversive he requited his paucity by awaiting proper instruction.
Arnwald: "It is Succor to leave well enough alone, the temple would have us both remiss if I did not learn you indifference, take up your inks and parchments and write me a missive, connoting three places you have been where you were forced to make a choice, be sure to list the choices properly for me, I will return with your lunches post haste."
Loki sat with confusion only for a moment as he scanned his memories, then began promptly without an expression on his face. The pillars were white and beyond the grass green. A covered porch of sorts, marble with heavy roof, two walls, two sided rows of columns, in the second wall a door to the palace where Arnwald had retreated. They worked driven on their essays and soon Arnwald had returned with a platter of wine and red meat brazed and rare, in exchange for the letters they were given their meal. Arnwald looked over the message and scrutinized, expectations met and missed, until Loki was finished eating, then he put the letter on the empty platter.
Arnwald: "And now to prove it."
Arnwald waved his hand and Loki opened his eyes in a field of clouds. All that surrounded him was white, without boundaries above, beyond or below. From the distance a fighter in black fabrics ran at a steady pace toward Loki, soon he could see that the soldier carried a sword and was fierce and foaming at the mouth. The assassin attacked without hesitation or greeting or prayer, and Loki craftily ended his opponent's life by turning the sword in on the attacker, breaking the knee backwards, stepping on the back, and punishing his skull. Then came two from the distance alongside themselves, upon their attack they were mangled and wretched to intolerable limits and their necks were broken, one by hands, the second by swift kick to the face. Loki collected his nerves and pondered.
Loki: "What are your intents Arnwald; we have not played these games in many moons."
Arnwald and Lini watched without being seen or heard or felt. From the distance another assassin in black rushed toward him, but from behind another three in a row, as the assassins began to increase their numbers, they did not wait or hide in rows to begin their siege until another before them had died, they came in droves, as their ascension progressed their garb became lighter and clearer than the prior, the black-clothed were the fastest, but the fair cloth was ever treacherous to see, the shades of grey became tinctured of clouds and wind and Loki could begin to see through them. He choked them with their blades and disabled them so that they fell like sacks of grain, twenty enemies were felled before he was pained by a well-placed strike thrown to his side, but another ten before Loki could not commute his anger to hesitation or harder defense, fearing defeat he grabbed a weapon of the nearest assailant, and instantly the training illusion was done. He was back with his patient teacher Arnwald and an amused Lini, a smile to greet him and his wounds, his exhaustion apparent by the sweat on his brow.
Arnwald: "It is fault that separates a thief from a king."
Loki: "I took their life for mine."
Arnwald: "And yet you hold the blade you took, give it to me."
A profound shock and contemplation became the thoughts of Loki as he handed the blade to his instructor, the blade was glass, and water, and air, to make it invisible, as Arnwald peruses the magic contents that hex the blade itself. With inclination Arnwald gives breath to the sword and it became a sharpened steel blade with a wrought iron spine, a slightly curved sword with a lofty handle and light weight. Arnwald tossed it to the ground much to Loki's dismay and discontent heard in a sigh of disbelief and a slight movement of his hand as if a thought to have grabbed it as it shattered on the ground.
Arnwald: "If you would have known your wind spells, you would have been on to the rooks of the Avalon plane, eat, rest. I will send for you Freyja's daughters Hnoss and Gersemi to refresh your knowledge of the wind, until I return from hence a fortnight.
/
3 - The Cheater
The prince cannot be beaten unless by the king, not even by his professor, so sat an early and young Loki, his whipping boy Lini, and his teacher, Arnwald.
Loki: "If you thirst for power you are not free, if war dost thou make ye will not be?"
Arnwald: "And when insurrection is taking the pattering of new feet?"
Loki: "It is not the first thought of action or the last action of thought."
Arnwald: "But who will make a king one day must know what of a slave?"
Loki: "That we are not born as slaves, without command we will become."
Arnwald: "Think more of the grain, it is not born our food but is consumed by the animals, and, the farmers."
Loki: "And that is why we must condemn the heathen father fights in the south!?"
Arnwald: "...why does he fight in the south?"
Loki: "Why does anyone?"
Arnwald: "why does Loki fight in the south?"
Loki: "For our protection?"
Arnwald: "The wheat does not kill itself, it propagates, such is life, yet we kill the wheat, the south is in confederacy only for the purpose to kill again. If I were to kill the first servant that I saw on the street what would you make of me?"
Loki: "I would have you dead and make quick about it."
Arnwald: "And if our rations were scorned by Hel, what then?"
Loki: "We would make as ants equal unto the light as says the city scrolls."
Arnwald: "What makes a servant different than a slave in the eyes of the heathens that would have us be slaves or worse?"
The young Loki's teacher Arnwald waited for a response, but Loki hesitated, aversive he requited his paucity by awaiting proper instruction.
Arnwald: "It is Succor to leave well enough alone, the temple would have us both remiss if I did not learn you indifference, take up your inks and parchments and write me a missive, connoting three places you have been where you were forced to make a choice, be sure to list the choices properly for me, I will return with your lunches post haste."
Loki sat with confusion only for a moment as he scanned his memories, then began promptly without an expression on his face. The pillars were white and beyond the grass green. A covered porch of sorts, marble with heavy roof, two walls, two sided rows of columns, in the second wall a door to the palace where Arnwald had retreated. They worked driven on their essays and soon Arnwald had returned with a platter of wine and red meat brazed and rare, in exchange for the letters they were given their meal. Arnwald looked over the message and scrutinized, expectations met and missed, until Loki was finished eating, then he put the letter on the empty platter.
Arnwald: "And now to prove it."
Arnwald waved his hand and Loki opened his eyes in a field of clouds. All that surrounded him was white, without boundaries above, beyond or below. From the distance a fighter in black fabrics ran at a steady pace toward Loki, soon he could see that the soldier carried a sword and was fierce and foaming at the mouth. The assassin attacked without hesitation or greeting or prayer, and Loki craftily ended his opponent's life by turning the sword in on the attacker, breaking the knee backwards, stepping on the back, and punishing his skull. Then came two from the distance alongside themselves, upon their attack they were mangled and wretched to intolerable limits and their necks were broken, one by hands, the second by swift kick to the face. Loki collected his nerves and pondered.
Loki: "What are your intents Arnwald; we have not played these games in many moons."
Arnwald and Lini watched without being seen or heard or felt. From the distance another assassin in black rushed toward him, but from behind another three in a row, as the assassins began to increase their numbers, they did not wait or hide in rows to begin their siege until another before them had died, they came in droves, as their ascension progressed their garb became lighter and clearer than the prior, the black-clothed were the fastest, but the fair cloth was ever treacherous to see, the shades of grey became tinctured of clouds and wind and Loki could begin to see through them. He choked them with their blades and disabled them so that they fell like sacks of grain, twenty enemies were felled before he was pained by a well-placed strike thrown to his side, but another ten before Loki could not commute his anger to hesitation or harder defense, fearing defeat he grabbed a weapon of the nearest assailant, and instantly the training illusion was done. He was back with his patient teacher Arnwald and an amused Lini, a smile to greet him and his wounds, his exhaustion apparent by the sweat on his brow.
Arnwald: "It is fault that separates a thief from a king."
Loki: "I took their life for mine."
Arnwald: "And yet you hold the blade you took, give it to me."
A profound shock and contemplation became the thoughts of Loki as he handed the blade to his instructor, the blade was glass, and water, and air, to make it invisible, as Arnwald peruses the magic contents that hex the blade itself. With inclination Arnwald gives breath to the sword and it became a sharpened steel blade with a wrought iron spine, a slightly curved sword with a lofty handle and light weight. Arnwald tossed it to the ground much to Loki's dismay and discontent heard in a sigh of disbelief and a slight movement of his hand as if a thought to have grabbed it as it shattered on the ground.
Arnwald: "If you would have known your wind spells, you would have been on to the rooks of the Avalon plane, eat, rest. I will send for you Freyja's daughters Hnoss and Gersemi to refresh your knowledge of the wind, until I return from hence a fortnight.
/
Wingless
The Book of Earth
2- Wingless
A conspiracy brewed in sacred torture of captured bliss sewn silent in treasure and the fiery lakes of hell was to take place as a daily phenomenon of treachery, among the great horrors of hell were minions, among them were the demons, of which one roamed the countryside of Hvamm to bear a message to a certain Valkyrie upon this tale, to which three of her sister approached her as she approached the rendezvous. The demon intended to only meet one who was not a Valkyrie in the forest, scared was the demon and it fought them by throwing branches, it broke boughs and bit spears and hurled them into the air. The Valkyrie tried to avoid dealing death, yet the demon avoided it by suicide, sending the demon directly to acrimonious hell, but not before wounding the Valkyrie messenger. She landed at the demon's burial grounds, as one who only used her magic to send the slain to Valhalla or Folkvangr, she knew neither what had happened nor how to send a body without soul, thus she mourned in solace. With smiles and laughter her sisters flew to the gods leaving her to walk home, careless and irreverent messengers of the wind.
The trees held the sky, the ashes came from the flippant wind, a cold night became a frigid darkness, and the black sky fell upon the leaves so heavily the pressure made them bleed red, but the pillars of life would ill hold upon the darkness from the earth. She roamed the woods of the black forest looking over a demon that was her pet named Illyrius. The soil would not drink the blood, the tears of the ice moon would soon shatter on the darkness and make the glittered stars, and the demon corpse would begin to decay. The Valkyrie flayed her pet and took the heart of steel and hid it, then took the flesh and peeled it, a fire of bones and carrion to cook the meat, and the sharp bones were put into makeshift strap made from the demon's clothes to pierce shadow lords and cloud lizards, daggers from ribs in the holes of a belt. She made campfire in the empty fields of night in the sparse forest in the endless plains.
The Valkyrie ate what she could of the slain demon, but it was little for nourishment, so in the darkness that forms simple humans, and where they make their guises and despise themselves until the sermon of Odin, her wings would be of no use impaled by the demon on the path she planned to take, so she cut her wings from her back. The black blood dripped unto the fertile soil and burned sleek holes through it to the dark star scape on the other side of the earth. Time quickly consumed the feathers, for without life they gave to the autumn effect and cracked behind the teeth. Next she tore the flesh of the demon before it became leather, tearing strips quite too large and eating them like the wolves of the mountains, down the gullet thoughtlessly. Next the muscle and sinew and bone, this was patience acceptable for it was better to be eaten solid and rough, it soon became hardened obsidian and ready to carry. She broke, crumbled and ate the dark powder far better nourishment than anything grown, while walking wearing the garb from the demon to protect her back, without shoes that Valkyrie do not have and demons are forged not to need. She walked step by step on loam, on dust, on leaves, on dirt, on clay, on twigs, on water, on blood, on sand, on ash, on magma, on beach, and on glass. 13 days in 13 steps, how long they felt, finally reaching the mountain, forged of burning tome and the blackened blood of demigods, she stands an altar washed in stardust, where water flowed down for the chattel and the cattle.
The demons of noon appeared from behind, above, before, and from the crags of the mountain, when the Valkyrie took her first step on the bitter cold granite. They were winged rats and bloody wolves from the dark cold hell below the sediment, the Valkyrie had not trespassed on the granite but made insult by walking with the sun above her, for beings in the worlds the hell below and the heavens above, their battle is for middle earth. The lead rat and lead wolf believed emphatic by their world that if breathers do not pray for the sun to leave, that it would burn the earth and scorn it until it dried to resemble hell and so demanded their traditions be honored.
Adlerad: "They are not ever relentless of cultures, that are not here nor there, I am Adlerad, and this Thorolf."
Thorolf: "You will kneel before this mountain and implore it; you will beg the sun to leave."
Adlerad: "It is in your best interest your eyes may not notice, there is no ocean."
Thorolf: "Not that will cool the tortures of the fire."
Valkyrie: "Remind me if I am not bowing before demons."
Adlerad: "You will appease the light bringer, and have not question!"
Valkyrie: "Can you not cool the soil with what lets from the bloody wolf?"
Thorolf: "This blood follows me where I am ravenous and soaks into my skin from my wounds of war and there is always war."
Valkyrie: "Do you not fly to the light bringer and ask it to leave?"
Adlerad: "Scoff, your wishes...one cannot fly to the stars...you will prey or you will become it."
The dusty rat stood on hind legs like a little winged geezer before the Valkyrie, on a pile of ashen soot that was falling from its wings, and the wolf behind the Valkyrie grey and dripping but just as foretold, drawing blood from the ground like thirsty desperate roots, sucking the silt and the dust from the rat's wings.
Adlerad: "Though his fangs do not savor my wishes...I will turn you to ice if you do not comply, so that you may thaw and give spring with the earth."
Valkyrie: "I am well enough to do as you bid, but I wish to do so yonder, on that plateau not hence but paces close."
Adlerad: "...very well...and I will watch, if be that you might stray..."
The Valkyrie spilled from her parcel a portion of her obsidian powder as she walked. The hungering wolf tread over it about to deceive her, the wandering blood merged with the blackened dust and was drawn into the ravenous beast, it began to slow and only felt tired, it began to woe only to have felt mired, it could not speak and began a transformation into an obsidian statue poisoned by hellish demonic death. When the rat demon noticed a great demonic furor began a transformation, the blood grew angry and Adlerad's muscles flared, its talons shined, it sweated a vile poison that burned like sulfuric acid on the stone. The Valkyrie grabbed the rat and forced it to the ground on its back, then stabbed it in the chest, again the throat, many times with the blade fashioned of the demon bone. She stood and held the rat over her head and drank its blood as if it were a wine sack. The shower of blood nourished, the scent of demon flourished, the subservient demonic wolves and winged rats came forth, the wolves retreated at the sight of their leader and his blood turned to stone, the rats chose to attack but stopped once they saw the Valkyrie hold the rat's heart without the acridity burning her skin, to her they were anent merely rats.
The journey continued for the Valkyrie up the mountain, through the jagged edges, to the top of a mountain covered in ice, the rock goblins gradually making their presence known when they are to realize that the Valkyrie is not human and has not faltered by the heights of the mountain. A time of passing is become paused by the interests of the stone warriors hide behind bridges asking questions whose questions if unanswered of thrice attempts are and were considered heinous trespass.
Myr: "You tell the tale, which from the vale, among our wit, you will not flit."
Valkyrie: "...the journey has been long, this is my only song."
The goblins were pleased that the Valkyrie knew and accepted their rhyming ways, despite the time to take and the words it spoke.
Myr: "Where you nary barely go, dare you very rarely know?"
Valkyrie: "...from afar, to the star..."
Myr: "Feckless person giving track, reckless worsen in that sack."
Valkyrie: "oh yes...god bless...fall becoming wary, all that I could carry."
The goblins wanted the sack of obsidian powder from the Valkyrie, and they were pleased to see it, their white eyes bright behind their dark grey skin for a prize they would surely use to make an evil dragon. When the Valkyrie gave the inquisitor the satchel the goblin became covetous, it licked its finger and dabbed the dust then took a taste, a smile of consideration adorned the Valkyrie and her silent patient vigil, then quietly and cautiously the others came to taste, all licking their fingers and tasting, sure to not be wasting. From the darkness of the evening within the shadows of the grey canyon a woman of the goblins approached, not alone encroached not dressed for war, to her the pouch was given in graceful motions in notions. They withdrew into the mountain abandoning the Valkyrie.
The Valkyrie walked over the mountain filled with caves where those with hearts of stone feasted on angels and raised terrible beasts with alchemy, of flesh and desiccated and petrified, a single feather would have revealed her without unbeknownst, the trees were fewer and far between at the heights of the climes of the environs. Tired where the air is thin, unwitting rock goblins sleeping who should be slain beneath the mountain for laziness in their darkness lured by the black ashes of the dead devil, at such haste and touching clouds, the mist is cold and collects on the ground and on her face. At the top of the mountain the endless darkness provides an immortal dawn, in the brisk morn the air shined the twilight of stone, the valley far would not catch the water until hied from the air averse to normal ground. The promise of Asgard deigns the Valkyrie to persist through the stone piled on stone in the greatness of the mountain, be hence the gods of light to dark and sound to stone of raven's wings midair, to where the breaking dawn rests at the top of the mountain before washing the land behind her with light. Hateful songs echo in the hearts of the humans caused by the Gjallarhorn, Hel communicates no parlor of ill repute nor prison condemnation but gathers the damned behind newly raised fortress walls, with a secret message from her spy Illyrius unsent, soon worlds were to collide and the Valkyrie would very much like to have her wings, but first imperatively needed find Thor among the mountains.
2- Wingless
A conspiracy brewed in sacred torture of captured bliss sewn silent in treasure and the fiery lakes of hell was to take place as a daily phenomenon of treachery, among the great horrors of hell were minions, among them were the demons, of which one roamed the countryside of Hvamm to bear a message to a certain Valkyrie upon this tale, to which three of her sister approached her as she approached the rendezvous. The demon intended to only meet one who was not a Valkyrie in the forest, scared was the demon and it fought them by throwing branches, it broke boughs and bit spears and hurled them into the air. The Valkyrie tried to avoid dealing death, yet the demon avoided it by suicide, sending the demon directly to acrimonious hell, but not before wounding the Valkyrie messenger. She landed at the demon's burial grounds, as one who only used her magic to send the slain to Valhalla or Folkvangr, she knew neither what had happened nor how to send a body without soul, thus she mourned in solace. With smiles and laughter her sisters flew to the gods leaving her to walk home, careless and irreverent messengers of the wind.
The trees held the sky, the ashes came from the flippant wind, a cold night became a frigid darkness, and the black sky fell upon the leaves so heavily the pressure made them bleed red, but the pillars of life would ill hold upon the darkness from the earth. She roamed the woods of the black forest looking over a demon that was her pet named Illyrius. The soil would not drink the blood, the tears of the ice moon would soon shatter on the darkness and make the glittered stars, and the demon corpse would begin to decay. The Valkyrie flayed her pet and took the heart of steel and hid it, then took the flesh and peeled it, a fire of bones and carrion to cook the meat, and the sharp bones were put into makeshift strap made from the demon's clothes to pierce shadow lords and cloud lizards, daggers from ribs in the holes of a belt. She made campfire in the empty fields of night in the sparse forest in the endless plains.
The Valkyrie ate what she could of the slain demon, but it was little for nourishment, so in the darkness that forms simple humans, and where they make their guises and despise themselves until the sermon of Odin, her wings would be of no use impaled by the demon on the path she planned to take, so she cut her wings from her back. The black blood dripped unto the fertile soil and burned sleek holes through it to the dark star scape on the other side of the earth. Time quickly consumed the feathers, for without life they gave to the autumn effect and cracked behind the teeth. Next she tore the flesh of the demon before it became leather, tearing strips quite too large and eating them like the wolves of the mountains, down the gullet thoughtlessly. Next the muscle and sinew and bone, this was patience acceptable for it was better to be eaten solid and rough, it soon became hardened obsidian and ready to carry. She broke, crumbled and ate the dark powder far better nourishment than anything grown, while walking wearing the garb from the demon to protect her back, without shoes that Valkyrie do not have and demons are forged not to need. She walked step by step on loam, on dust, on leaves, on dirt, on clay, on twigs, on water, on blood, on sand, on ash, on magma, on beach, and on glass. 13 days in 13 steps, how long they felt, finally reaching the mountain, forged of burning tome and the blackened blood of demigods, she stands an altar washed in stardust, where water flowed down for the chattel and the cattle.
The demons of noon appeared from behind, above, before, and from the crags of the mountain, when the Valkyrie took her first step on the bitter cold granite. They were winged rats and bloody wolves from the dark cold hell below the sediment, the Valkyrie had not trespassed on the granite but made insult by walking with the sun above her, for beings in the worlds the hell below and the heavens above, their battle is for middle earth. The lead rat and lead wolf believed emphatic by their world that if breathers do not pray for the sun to leave, that it would burn the earth and scorn it until it dried to resemble hell and so demanded their traditions be honored.
Adlerad: "They are not ever relentless of cultures, that are not here nor there, I am Adlerad, and this Thorolf."
Thorolf: "You will kneel before this mountain and implore it; you will beg the sun to leave."
Adlerad: "It is in your best interest your eyes may not notice, there is no ocean."
Thorolf: "Not that will cool the tortures of the fire."
Valkyrie: "Remind me if I am not bowing before demons."
Adlerad: "You will appease the light bringer, and have not question!"
Valkyrie: "Can you not cool the soil with what lets from the bloody wolf?"
Thorolf: "This blood follows me where I am ravenous and soaks into my skin from my wounds of war and there is always war."
Valkyrie: "Do you not fly to the light bringer and ask it to leave?"
Adlerad: "Scoff, your wishes...one cannot fly to the stars...you will prey or you will become it."
The dusty rat stood on hind legs like a little winged geezer before the Valkyrie, on a pile of ashen soot that was falling from its wings, and the wolf behind the Valkyrie grey and dripping but just as foretold, drawing blood from the ground like thirsty desperate roots, sucking the silt and the dust from the rat's wings.
Adlerad: "Though his fangs do not savor my wishes...I will turn you to ice if you do not comply, so that you may thaw and give spring with the earth."
Valkyrie: "I am well enough to do as you bid, but I wish to do so yonder, on that plateau not hence but paces close."
Adlerad: "...very well...and I will watch, if be that you might stray..."
The Valkyrie spilled from her parcel a portion of her obsidian powder as she walked. The hungering wolf tread over it about to deceive her, the wandering blood merged with the blackened dust and was drawn into the ravenous beast, it began to slow and only felt tired, it began to woe only to have felt mired, it could not speak and began a transformation into an obsidian statue poisoned by hellish demonic death. When the rat demon noticed a great demonic furor began a transformation, the blood grew angry and Adlerad's muscles flared, its talons shined, it sweated a vile poison that burned like sulfuric acid on the stone. The Valkyrie grabbed the rat and forced it to the ground on its back, then stabbed it in the chest, again the throat, many times with the blade fashioned of the demon bone. She stood and held the rat over her head and drank its blood as if it were a wine sack. The shower of blood nourished, the scent of demon flourished, the subservient demonic wolves and winged rats came forth, the wolves retreated at the sight of their leader and his blood turned to stone, the rats chose to attack but stopped once they saw the Valkyrie hold the rat's heart without the acridity burning her skin, to her they were anent merely rats.
The journey continued for the Valkyrie up the mountain, through the jagged edges, to the top of a mountain covered in ice, the rock goblins gradually making their presence known when they are to realize that the Valkyrie is not human and has not faltered by the heights of the mountain. A time of passing is become paused by the interests of the stone warriors hide behind bridges asking questions whose questions if unanswered of thrice attempts are and were considered heinous trespass.
Myr: "You tell the tale, which from the vale, among our wit, you will not flit."
Valkyrie: "...the journey has been long, this is my only song."
The goblins were pleased that the Valkyrie knew and accepted their rhyming ways, despite the time to take and the words it spoke.
Myr: "Where you nary barely go, dare you very rarely know?"
Valkyrie: "...from afar, to the star..."
Myr: "Feckless person giving track, reckless worsen in that sack."
Valkyrie: "oh yes...god bless...fall becoming wary, all that I could carry."
The goblins wanted the sack of obsidian powder from the Valkyrie, and they were pleased to see it, their white eyes bright behind their dark grey skin for a prize they would surely use to make an evil dragon. When the Valkyrie gave the inquisitor the satchel the goblin became covetous, it licked its finger and dabbed the dust then took a taste, a smile of consideration adorned the Valkyrie and her silent patient vigil, then quietly and cautiously the others came to taste, all licking their fingers and tasting, sure to not be wasting. From the darkness of the evening within the shadows of the grey canyon a woman of the goblins approached, not alone encroached not dressed for war, to her the pouch was given in graceful motions in notions. They withdrew into the mountain abandoning the Valkyrie.
The Valkyrie walked over the mountain filled with caves where those with hearts of stone feasted on angels and raised terrible beasts with alchemy, of flesh and desiccated and petrified, a single feather would have revealed her without unbeknownst, the trees were fewer and far between at the heights of the climes of the environs. Tired where the air is thin, unwitting rock goblins sleeping who should be slain beneath the mountain for laziness in their darkness lured by the black ashes of the dead devil, at such haste and touching clouds, the mist is cold and collects on the ground and on her face. At the top of the mountain the endless darkness provides an immortal dawn, in the brisk morn the air shined the twilight of stone, the valley far would not catch the water until hied from the air averse to normal ground. The promise of Asgard deigns the Valkyrie to persist through the stone piled on stone in the greatness of the mountain, be hence the gods of light to dark and sound to stone of raven's wings midair, to where the breaking dawn rests at the top of the mountain before washing the land behind her with light. Hateful songs echo in the hearts of the humans caused by the Gjallarhorn, Hel communicates no parlor of ill repute nor prison condemnation but gathers the damned behind newly raised fortress walls, with a secret message from her spy Illyrius unsent, soon worlds were to collide and the Valkyrie would very much like to have her wings, but first imperatively needed find Thor among the mountains.
Salt the Graves
The Book of Earth
1- Salt the Graves
1- Salt the Graves
All this sight that I’ve carried
Verdict let us out
Dead and blurry inside
Tonight it ends, we are close, my life
Now know this that is haunting, my realm
Deny the ends, later washed away, roses
mine
Again I slay, a drip of blood
Now waiting turn of fear, should light lose
The sign has, collapses, enter dark now
Enter soldier, grown to within
I hunt, psycho man
I’m from, sin beside you
My last deafened ear, and together sigh
A dirge from the land below us
Lock is wound, with your tears
By a tribe, losers amass
So men at wars, deep fires of fear
Wishing amputate
Burn my lies, all those my sorrow erase
Again a slave, I dream of here
The waiting, shards of fear, should not
mourn
The sickness, collapses, enter dark now
Enter rose hue, rotting within
I march, side of man
I reign, stand beside you
For this deceive you, bound to underside
Lies cold
20 November 2011
Super Committee's Prospects for Success Dimming - National Journal Staff - NationalJournal.com
Super Committee's Prospects for Success Dimming - National Journal Staff - NationalJournal.com
mjb - this is because it's part of a trilateral process, fool, when the legislative branch subcommittee known as the super-committee has finished their deliberation, then the executive branch can ratify or veto the process, these conspiracies and collusion brought forth by Kerry and other meddlers is what provokes the idea that the super-committee is subversion of the constitution. The federal government comprises three distinct branches of government: a legislative, an executive and a judiciary. Distinctively the legislative branch is itself bicameral, consisting of The House of Representatives and The Senate. The majority of political parties include; democrats = politicians/liberals, republicans = citizens/conservatives, and libertarians = independents/neutralists. /mjb
"Beware the ides of March."
[[[Sen. John Kerry, D-Mass., on Sunday revealed some details about the internal super committee discussions that have led to stalemate, saying that the White House and President Obama had been asked to keep out of deliberations. "They were asked to be hands off," Kerry said on Meet the Press. "The Republicans said, 'Don’t let Obama get into this because it will be political.'" But Kerry added that he's "talked to the White House maybe once a week" on the deliberations anyway.]]]
mjb - this is because it's part of a trilateral process, fool, when the legislative branch subcommittee known as the super-committee has finished their deliberation, then the executive branch can ratify or veto the process, these conspiracies and collusion brought forth by Kerry and other meddlers is what provokes the idea that the super-committee is subversion of the constitution. The federal government comprises three distinct branches of government: a legislative, an executive and a judiciary. Distinctively the legislative branch is itself bicameral, consisting of The House of Representatives and The Senate. The majority of political parties include; democrats = politicians/liberals, republicans = citizens/conservatives, and libertarians = independents/neutralists. /mjb
"Beware the ides of March."
18 November 2011
The Frozen Swamps
The Stars at Hand
Act 1, Scene 2
The Frozen Swamps on P-34r7h
Broken console once worthy as a helm
Cold florescence difficult repairs hence
From memory of distant shelter cove
A sight to see so patiently focus
The words to read with sight at sooner speech
Than stroke of key would soon the script be writ
Lest cold winter take warmth to not be proud
Repairs to this the ship of space en route
The code complete rejoins intelligence
By sound of speaking maps authority
That soon placates a new distinct rebirth
Often correct a nuance font reboots
Computer:
“Please state the system destination now”
Damien:
“System diagnostic, cartography”
Entails the time it takes to run the scan
Moments for the thoughts about his plan
Computer:
“Navigation: off line - degradation”
Damien:
“Of course, I want a damn system repair.”
Diagnostic fault error in the cells
Power builds or conduit is broken
To damage the casing might fatal prove
Better shapeless a hope than broken hull
Swift verity reconnoiter the fuel
Then cabin side pilot of the sunset
To wait surfeit for boredom patiently
Wonder passes soon the sun will dead fall
To hide radiation from solar pane
From magnetic receptor while he sleep
Staring colors the catch of eyes receive
Reprieve in warmth and fear the depth of night
Woken by early dawning dust and snow
A special morning wave of new sunlight
Trickles brook out of summer spring flowing
Close depletion renewed by system star
Algorithm consternation complete
He soon will search the stars of creation
For a respite at lodging for pilots
With hope, his company will be demure
Yet bawdy are the thoughts in compromise
Sweet revelation of his new design
The code inside the wires will take him home
Damien:
Closest populated human planet
Computer:
Brewery, moon, seventy-one leagues
Advice old in nature convincingly
He bids a kiss to a photo pasted
A summoned prayer to the gods this world
Speaking grace a wit of what once was lost
Remit no more wretched journey damage
Bound from surface lift at soon to manage
Asleep to dream in deepest, darkest, space
The mind outside nightmare without a chase
Act 1, Scene 2
The Frozen Swamps on P-34r7h
Broken console once worthy as a helm
Cold florescence difficult repairs hence
From memory of distant shelter cove
A sight to see so patiently focus
The words to read with sight at sooner speech
Than stroke of key would soon the script be writ
Lest cold winter take warmth to not be proud
Repairs to this the ship of space en route
The code complete rejoins intelligence
By sound of speaking maps authority
That soon placates a new distinct rebirth
Often correct a nuance font reboots
Computer:
“Please state the system destination now”
Damien:
“System diagnostic, cartography”
Entails the time it takes to run the scan
Moments for the thoughts about his plan
Computer:
“Navigation: off line - degradation”
Damien:
“Of course, I want a damn system repair.”
Diagnostic fault error in the cells
Power builds or conduit is broken
To damage the casing might fatal prove
Better shapeless a hope than broken hull
Swift verity reconnoiter the fuel
Then cabin side pilot of the sunset
To wait surfeit for boredom patiently
Wonder passes soon the sun will dead fall
To hide radiation from solar pane
From magnetic receptor while he sleep
Staring colors the catch of eyes receive
Reprieve in warmth and fear the depth of night
Woken by early dawning dust and snow
A special morning wave of new sunlight
Trickles brook out of summer spring flowing
Close depletion renewed by system star
Algorithm consternation complete
He soon will search the stars of creation
For a respite at lodging for pilots
With hope, his company will be demure
Yet bawdy are the thoughts in compromise
Sweet revelation of his new design
The code inside the wires will take him home
Damien:
Closest populated human planet
Computer:
Brewery, moon, seventy-one leagues
Advice old in nature convincingly
He bids a kiss to a photo pasted
A summoned prayer to the gods this world
Speaking grace a wit of what once was lost
Remit no more wretched journey damage
Bound from surface lift at soon to manage
Asleep to dream in deepest, darkest, space
The mind outside nightmare without a chase
-
15 November 2011
Merlin 2:20 Martyr Art
Merlin 2:20 “Martyr Art”
While ideologies syllogistic serve chaos espousing pillagers focused on the basic needs of their clan their hatred in resolve to experience denies the individualism they had once intended to protect, an empire built in blood to defy in hypocrisy another. Small fires burn throughout the castle as the stovepipe royal chamber smolders as its ceiling collapses, a slow burn spreads within stone walls to be seen on display from the high dawn skies.
To new unprecedented exploration benevolent colors of retribution, a thrill of pursuit and eagerness of battle, a war concluding and a battle ensuing by cultivar justice, lowered upon the canopy of a morbid forest, the leaves dead and passing beneath the wings in the winds of flash and thrashing, faster by the flicker flames growing at the edges of feathers midflight, in a countryside made unto harvest the spoils of war and the spoiled warriors exploit the benevolent tender.
The endless autumn wind begins bringing a storm in the darkness, the rain in the distance sounds like running horses between the distant clouds and mountains as seen from flight, arrows shot from the wagons miss Nickolas as her guards are ordered to attack him, distant lightning strikes blinding white, the gods must be angry or intrusive, a long pause before the roaring thunder that drives them masked by the dozens of trampling hooves, in their hallow steps the soil already damp glistens, the storm swells leaving the dead leaves and the dirty ground.
From his horse Nickolas sees Etain smiling to him beyond the two riders, Jacobi and Wynn, sent feverishly to kill him, but as he approaches they are dead in their saddle, both with white arrows launched from Troy in the sky, the horses are nearly stopped in their tracks as he passes them. When Etain looks and sees Nickolas pass the defenses she scans the land for a reason, eventually in the air she notices Troy upon the vigorous phoenix, and delirium overwhelms her as she urges her driver to deliberately hasten
Etain: “Move faster or you won’t be coming with us!”
From his horse Nickolas throws a knife at one of the witch’s guards striking him in the throat, the guard tries to leap to him, but his own blood keeps him from a solid footing and falls before the horse being slightly trampled before left to die in the dirt. Etain is keen to watch Nickolas as he throws another knife at her, it misses her as she stares smitten by his heroics, he makes close to the wagon, from the back she toils with him eventually dislodging him from his mount with a spiraling firestorm that grows until it topples he and the horse, she waves as she departs and nods her head in mockery of him, against a secondary battle.
Nickolas looks down the forest road discontent to see Etain look back only once, alive and breathing this is his only response as well. He lays back into the road again, the horse he rode sleeps after being whirled unconscious and thrown to the ground. One of the riders from the two horses dead falls hapless and lifeless to the ground three seconds before the phoenix slams its talons into the road nearby him.
Troy: “Having fun yet?”
Nick: “Scores and dozens, why did you bring the body?”
Troy: “I was going to drop it on the carriage but Merlin has druthers.”
Nick: “This place is evil.”
Troy: “We must protect it.”
Troy dismounts and takes Nickolas’s hand only to painfully join him on the ground, his wounds in the white skin are dry but pierced by blade and bruised by hilt, the blood does not bleed the understanding of which is beyond both of their comprehension, they wait in wonder of what happens at the castle.
The system of political theory organized to prevail in destructive force was underestimated, having as its basis the relation of lord to vassal with all land held in fee and in proclivity the characteristics of homage, yet the service of tenants under arms and in court, peerage, and forfeiture. This palace of mindless self-indulgence after attack of reprehensible violence is worse for wear than a communist cesspool in a nationalist warzone, there is nobody near that is not hiding from something egregious and deviant, thusly revolution fills the hallows of the great hall, the many busy bodies to take space with all else they have ravaged and plundered, there serve the Saracen soldiers remaining by playing the lyre, imparting melody for the witch of the Mist of the echoing vale song, a different homage melody than the gradual homilies of the royalists, with pentatonic scales in lacerating bends of minor tonalities in response to the triumphalism of drovers and shepherds who now are looting the armory.
Indomitable determinism surreptitious of callous irony to confute interlocutors trammeling the apocryphal expostulate, the obtainment of décolletage is in paucity and seems prandial hierarchy, having their fill of confrontation Merlin and Ana leave the castle on the road to find and aid the others. Peregrinations of adventitious complicity whist the drollery, procrustean ice magic behests time itself. The quisling insurrection hath ended and does not follow them.
A horse runs in the distance from a dead body in the road nearly underfoot of the other horse bucking its dead rider so that it may catch the other horse and does so successfully. When they finally meet the others and the phoenix Ana uses her knife to cut the sleeve of one at the shoulder, which reveals a tattoo of a flower just as the one in the castle. Merlin’s eyes see the tattoo and he knows immediately who has brought the destruction.
Merlin: “Was she strong, hot, and tried to kill you?”
Nick: “Yes but Troy is hurt!”
Troy is napping, with every breath his blood seeps in and out with each draw and let of air. When he moves he agonizes and decides against further wrest of tumultuous wroth.
Merlin: “You should have stayed mounted, stitch him up!”
Ana: “With what, Nicolai’s ligature wire?”
Merlin: “Yes, his skin’s leather.”
Nick: “Do you want to tell the rest of us who she is?”
Merlin: “Etain, daughter of Saturn and niece to Loki the trickster.”
Ana: “But you’re a trickster?”
Merlin: “Not as much as he is.”
Troy: “Will we be tracking any of them?”
Merlin: “No, we will make hospice and mend the wounded.”
Nick: “Is that all?”
Merlin: “She is a zealot on vengeful mission, waging war, on the human condition, engages in the destruction of law, volatile and offensive.”
Ana: “Sounds passionate Merlin.”
Merlin: “That’s not the half of it.”
In the distance Halle stands after having hurriedly followed under duress of slowed time, a spell and trek exhausting, but disappears the moment Merlin notices her spying, hoping he dismisses it as notion.
Troy: “This from an inquisitor of unchecked power?”
Ana: “She is a high priestess of fire in a reign of witches having or showing a stoical and unreasoning desire for vengeance.”
Nickolas rises to his feet and dust himself, the daylight sun is bright and shines against the coming storm and a rising moon, what scares children and all philistines of prehistory is no more than an eclipse, but the world without light and a moon discontent with the power over the tides trying to steal the light brings great pain to both Troy who begins to bleed profusely and the phoenix whose radiant colors burst into great aguish flames. Merlin puts all hope in eclipse and looking to the sky counts how long it takes for the moon to pass, as the sun pushes aside the obstruction the pain subsides, mentally and physically. The time of total eclipse was thrice as many digits on one hand but once cleared the phoenix is grown and Troy is stronger though woefully unhealed, the fiery avian hungers for meat and so gnaws on the dead soldier’s boots, Troy staggers to the last green autumn leaves in the sunlight of the sundry path, stripping them stuffing them into his mouth.
Troy: “I may ne’er eat meat again!”
Merlin looks to Troy with confusion, but meanwhile the castle broods with the storm, foregone voices in the mist, foreshadowing it is thither Lynn daughter of Vivienne awaits in the castle at the head of table of the abandoned festivities for a dead king, bodies on the floors and on the table itself, as she eats swine meat with the blackest of wines, staring at a painting of her mother in the hall. By her concise magical ways the background sways but the distal subject without discourse remains lifeless. Halle returns from reconnoiter foreshortened by Etain’s successful escape with grace on display.
Lynn: “I will return to our sister’s chair to her side or in her stead. Follow our brother...indeed, Merlin outstrips, acquiescence, follow him with diligence and temper, we had well be nigh behind his first step.”
Halle: “If he falters in trouble dare I help him?”
Lynn: “…it is your choice; I shan’t miss him if he hangs from cordon the same as she upon him.”
Halle: “You should raid this antique dungeon, course upon the main, and then sink it.”
Lynn: “Your man Ophiuchus stands behind you.”
Indeed, he had slithered in behind her as if he had powers of his own, desperately silent, mystically violent, arcane be not forsooth upon the same.
Ophiuchus: “Your man Merlin arrives shortly.”
Lynn: (Sigh) “Then I am loath of this place.”
Lynn floats to her sister and they place palms together, an eternal vigil they share one last thought and separate, she floats to the door as smoke swirls hiding her extant exit .
Lynn: “I bid farewell in peace.”
Lynn turns into dissipating vapors within the smoke that hides her, Halle turns to Ophiuchus and puts her arms around his neck.
Halle: “Do not let the wizard know of our presence here…or I’ll turn more than your heart blue.”
She kisses him and he smiles before parting, Ophiuchus leaves for the shadows as she vanishes.
While ideologies syllogistic serve chaos espousing pillagers focused on the basic needs of their clan their hatred in resolve to experience denies the individualism they had once intended to protect, an empire built in blood to defy in hypocrisy another. Small fires burn throughout the castle as the stovepipe royal chamber smolders as its ceiling collapses, a slow burn spreads within stone walls to be seen on display from the high dawn skies.
To new unprecedented exploration benevolent colors of retribution, a thrill of pursuit and eagerness of battle, a war concluding and a battle ensuing by cultivar justice, lowered upon the canopy of a morbid forest, the leaves dead and passing beneath the wings in the winds of flash and thrashing, faster by the flicker flames growing at the edges of feathers midflight, in a countryside made unto harvest the spoils of war and the spoiled warriors exploit the benevolent tender.
The endless autumn wind begins bringing a storm in the darkness, the rain in the distance sounds like running horses between the distant clouds and mountains as seen from flight, arrows shot from the wagons miss Nickolas as her guards are ordered to attack him, distant lightning strikes blinding white, the gods must be angry or intrusive, a long pause before the roaring thunder that drives them masked by the dozens of trampling hooves, in their hallow steps the soil already damp glistens, the storm swells leaving the dead leaves and the dirty ground.
From his horse Nickolas sees Etain smiling to him beyond the two riders, Jacobi and Wynn, sent feverishly to kill him, but as he approaches they are dead in their saddle, both with white arrows launched from Troy in the sky, the horses are nearly stopped in their tracks as he passes them. When Etain looks and sees Nickolas pass the defenses she scans the land for a reason, eventually in the air she notices Troy upon the vigorous phoenix, and delirium overwhelms her as she urges her driver to deliberately hasten
Etain: “Move faster or you won’t be coming with us!”
From his horse Nickolas throws a knife at one of the witch’s guards striking him in the throat, the guard tries to leap to him, but his own blood keeps him from a solid footing and falls before the horse being slightly trampled before left to die in the dirt. Etain is keen to watch Nickolas as he throws another knife at her, it misses her as she stares smitten by his heroics, he makes close to the wagon, from the back she toils with him eventually dislodging him from his mount with a spiraling firestorm that grows until it topples he and the horse, she waves as she departs and nods her head in mockery of him, against a secondary battle.
Nickolas looks down the forest road discontent to see Etain look back only once, alive and breathing this is his only response as well. He lays back into the road again, the horse he rode sleeps after being whirled unconscious and thrown to the ground. One of the riders from the two horses dead falls hapless and lifeless to the ground three seconds before the phoenix slams its talons into the road nearby him.
Troy: “Having fun yet?”
Nick: “Scores and dozens, why did you bring the body?”
Troy: “I was going to drop it on the carriage but Merlin has druthers.”
Nick: “This place is evil.”
Troy: “We must protect it.”
Troy dismounts and takes Nickolas’s hand only to painfully join him on the ground, his wounds in the white skin are dry but pierced by blade and bruised by hilt, the blood does not bleed the understanding of which is beyond both of their comprehension, they wait in wonder of what happens at the castle.
The system of political theory organized to prevail in destructive force was underestimated, having as its basis the relation of lord to vassal with all land held in fee and in proclivity the characteristics of homage, yet the service of tenants under arms and in court, peerage, and forfeiture. This palace of mindless self-indulgence after attack of reprehensible violence is worse for wear than a communist cesspool in a nationalist warzone, there is nobody near that is not hiding from something egregious and deviant, thusly revolution fills the hallows of the great hall, the many busy bodies to take space with all else they have ravaged and plundered, there serve the Saracen soldiers remaining by playing the lyre, imparting melody for the witch of the Mist of the echoing vale song, a different homage melody than the gradual homilies of the royalists, with pentatonic scales in lacerating bends of minor tonalities in response to the triumphalism of drovers and shepherds who now are looting the armory.
Indomitable determinism surreptitious of callous irony to confute interlocutors trammeling the apocryphal expostulate, the obtainment of décolletage is in paucity and seems prandial hierarchy, having their fill of confrontation Merlin and Ana leave the castle on the road to find and aid the others. Peregrinations of adventitious complicity whist the drollery, procrustean ice magic behests time itself. The quisling insurrection hath ended and does not follow them.
A horse runs in the distance from a dead body in the road nearly underfoot of the other horse bucking its dead rider so that it may catch the other horse and does so successfully. When they finally meet the others and the phoenix Ana uses her knife to cut the sleeve of one at the shoulder, which reveals a tattoo of a flower just as the one in the castle. Merlin’s eyes see the tattoo and he knows immediately who has brought the destruction.
Merlin: “Was she strong, hot, and tried to kill you?”
Nick: “Yes but Troy is hurt!”
Troy is napping, with every breath his blood seeps in and out with each draw and let of air. When he moves he agonizes and decides against further wrest of tumultuous wroth.
Merlin: “You should have stayed mounted, stitch him up!”
Ana: “With what, Nicolai’s ligature wire?”
Merlin: “Yes, his skin’s leather.”
Nick: “Do you want to tell the rest of us who she is?”
Merlin: “Etain, daughter of Saturn and niece to Loki the trickster.”
Ana: “But you’re a trickster?”
Merlin: “Not as much as he is.”
Troy: “Will we be tracking any of them?”
Merlin: “No, we will make hospice and mend the wounded.”
Nick: “Is that all?”
Merlin: “She is a zealot on vengeful mission, waging war, on the human condition, engages in the destruction of law, volatile and offensive.”
Ana: “Sounds passionate Merlin.”
Merlin: “That’s not the half of it.”
In the distance Halle stands after having hurriedly followed under duress of slowed time, a spell and trek exhausting, but disappears the moment Merlin notices her spying, hoping he dismisses it as notion.
Troy: “This from an inquisitor of unchecked power?”
Ana: “She is a high priestess of fire in a reign of witches having or showing a stoical and unreasoning desire for vengeance.”
Nickolas rises to his feet and dust himself, the daylight sun is bright and shines against the coming storm and a rising moon, what scares children and all philistines of prehistory is no more than an eclipse, but the world without light and a moon discontent with the power over the tides trying to steal the light brings great pain to both Troy who begins to bleed profusely and the phoenix whose radiant colors burst into great aguish flames. Merlin puts all hope in eclipse and looking to the sky counts how long it takes for the moon to pass, as the sun pushes aside the obstruction the pain subsides, mentally and physically. The time of total eclipse was thrice as many digits on one hand but once cleared the phoenix is grown and Troy is stronger though woefully unhealed, the fiery avian hungers for meat and so gnaws on the dead soldier’s boots, Troy staggers to the last green autumn leaves in the sunlight of the sundry path, stripping them stuffing them into his mouth.
Troy: “I may ne’er eat meat again!”
Merlin looks to Troy with confusion, but meanwhile the castle broods with the storm, foregone voices in the mist, foreshadowing it is thither Lynn daughter of Vivienne awaits in the castle at the head of table of the abandoned festivities for a dead king, bodies on the floors and on the table itself, as she eats swine meat with the blackest of wines, staring at a painting of her mother in the hall. By her concise magical ways the background sways but the distal subject without discourse remains lifeless. Halle returns from reconnoiter foreshortened by Etain’s successful escape with grace on display.
Lynn: “I will return to our sister’s chair to her side or in her stead. Follow our brother...indeed, Merlin outstrips, acquiescence, follow him with diligence and temper, we had well be nigh behind his first step.”
Halle: “If he falters in trouble dare I help him?”
Lynn: “…it is your choice; I shan’t miss him if he hangs from cordon the same as she upon him.”
Halle: “You should raid this antique dungeon, course upon the main, and then sink it.”
Lynn: “Your man Ophiuchus stands behind you.”
Indeed, he had slithered in behind her as if he had powers of his own, desperately silent, mystically violent, arcane be not forsooth upon the same.
Ophiuchus: “Your man Merlin arrives shortly.”
Lynn: (Sigh) “Then I am loath of this place.”
Lynn floats to her sister and they place palms together, an eternal vigil they share one last thought and separate, she floats to the door as smoke swirls hiding her extant exit .
Lynn: “I bid farewell in peace.”
Lynn turns into dissipating vapors within the smoke that hides her, Halle turns to Ophiuchus and puts her arms around his neck.
Halle: “Do not let the wizard know of our presence here…or I’ll turn more than your heart blue.”
She kisses him and he smiles before parting, Ophiuchus leaves for the shadows as she vanishes.
09 November 2011
No surprise
[ mjb <----->; "imperative that Congress be free to forge national solutions to national problems", is nazi mentality. "seems to us a political judgment rather than a recognition of constitutional limitations" is blatant hypocrisy by example of bias as he writes "seems to us" but not all Americans, or the ones he/she doesn't like. the oppositional tenet is not regarding the burgeoning mandate, but that the mandate is unconstitutional, by contention of the first amendment and the fourteenth. wherein the Due Process Clause prohibits state and local government from depriving persons of life, liberty, or property without certain steps being taken to ensure fairness. this quintessentially includes any mandate for any purchase, whereas fairness is not achieved to persons conscripted to care when "welfare state" has the option to not use state healthcare services, and by having a welfare state the fairness of choice not afforded, thereby the offense to the first amendment, would logically dispose the fair government action for healthcare be an introduction of socialized-medicine, (such as National Health Service for example) and not the mandate. this fascist judge should be impeached, liberal is another word for radical, socialist is another word for communist. <-------> /mjb ]
Blog: No surprise: Liberal appeals court upholds Obamacare legality:
by Rick Moran
Read more: http://www.americanthinker.com/blog/2011/11/no_surprise_liberal_appeals_court_upholds_obamacare_legality.html#ixzz1dBvKrqR0
"Who said anything anywhere about being "free" of federal regulation?"
Blog: No surprise: Liberal appeals court upholds Obamacare legality:
by Rick Moran
The judge who handed down this decision was appointed by Bush #41 and his opinion is a recipe for eventual servitude:
Brace yourself for some bad news from SCOTUS on Obamacare. Historically, the Supremes look very closely at appellate decisions for guidance. The tally is not good - 3 out of 5 appeals cases have come down in favor of Obamacare. This does not bode well for the case now before the Supreme Court.
"The right to be free from federal regulation is not absolute, and yields to the imperative that Congress be free to forge national solutions to national problems, no matter how local -- or seemingly passive -- their individual origins," he wrote. The fact that Congress may have never issued an individual mandate to purchase something before, a central argument for many opposing the law, "seems to us a political judgment rather than a recognition of constitutional limitations," he wrote.This is what passes for learned opinion in the courts these days. A "political judgment?" If there was ever a constitutional question to be decided, it is with the mandate. And how about that strawman argument with regards to federal regulation? Who said anything anywhere about being "free" of federal regulation? The argument is that the regulation goes too far - a simple concept that escaped this idiot judge.
Brace yourself for some bad news from SCOTUS on Obamacare. Historically, the Supremes look very closely at appellate decisions for guidance. The tally is not good - 3 out of 5 appeals cases have come down in favor of Obamacare. This does not bode well for the case now before the Supreme Court.
Read more: http://www.americanthinker.com/blog/2011/11/no_surprise_liberal_appeals_court_upholds_obamacare_legality.html#ixzz1dBvKrqR0
"Who said anything anywhere about being "free" of federal regulation?"
06 November 2011
Capitalism by Example
In this discussion you will be debating the ways to handle installing software in Linux, comparing it to other OS methods such as application stores and standalone install files. Make sure the following are answered (using at least 200 words):
- What advantages and disadvantages do you feel a repository offers compared to other installation methods?
- Why do you think other OSes do not use this?
- How do you feel Linux handles non-repository installs compared to other operating systems?
---------------------------- My Answer: ⊇ ----------------------------
Concerning repositories while
installing software my logic of thought brings me to two separate analytical
opinions. As you know a repository is used to download software for an operating
system, Linux specifically uses repositories for updating software included
with each distribution. For this the software is located and downloaded if the
version is new. The process for the *yum command is manual, but can be
scheduled into an automation process. I am hesitant to say repositories are
good or bad, in Linux applications are downloaded or updated, but the proposed
question, “Why do you think other OSes don’t use this?” seems to overlook that
Windows does use an update service. Whereas Linux offers files from repository
their continual presence in the repository rests with demand, verbose or by notable
download amounts, notoriety becomes a defining factor instead of demand. The
development of coded applications eventually becomes required learning, which
Linux rightfully provides the opportunity as expectant users of competing
operating systems might feel an entitlement. Many programs, herein Linux and
Windows, have scheduled update discovery events to look for new software or
exploit consumerists with an update only designed to advertise a new service.
Linux proprietary software develops in a natural state, existence by necessity,
the ‘no need to reinvent the wheel’ idiom, as a flood of useless software
bombards consumers who merely need one that works. Therein I believe is the
sole flaw of open-source, the developers are open agents who may take exodus
from one project to another, to which the idiot-proof Windows Update
repositories offer the “bigger is better” solution that commercial interests
require and are given despite which developer is the acting functionary.
Examples: Red Hat, Apple, Oracle, Cisco, all are proprietary systems, among
others, that have software repositories.
The choice is by consumer on a case
by case basis, learning Linux allows you to support Linux and at the same time
know more about it to not have to wait for tech support to help. Then you can
teach others the sustainability.
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