#Twisted Trillium

[faguscarolinensis]

Trillium stamineum / Twisted Trillium at the Sarah P. Duke Gardens at Duke University in Durham, NC

[the-masquerade-council]

Twisted Trillium

Trillium stamineum is a species of plant in the Melanthiaceae family, It is native to the southeastern United States,in  Alabama, Mississippi and Tennessee. It grows well with partial shade, well-draining soil that organic and alkaline, consistent moisture during its growing.

Trillium flowers are used as symbol of bisexuality, due to the first recorded usage of the term "bisexual" being in reference to the flower having both stamens and stigmas.

[take our flag survey if you feel so inclined + backerkit teaser page if you want check that out]

[fuzzkaizer]

Trillium - The Empyrian

"famous because it was on the David Letterman show with a band called Mute Mat ... The performance took place on 8/27/09. This is an Namm 2009 award winning amp that is 7 watts based off the Fender Black Face with a twist. The main power transformer has been switched with a switching power supply that eliminates a 90 cycle hum. This amp is louder than most 40 watt amps. It can use a 6L6, 6v6 or an EL34. All tube all handmade. Fingered maple and walnut. It also has 2/12 weber signature speakers custom made for this amp."

cred: reverb.com/Gear Outlet

[the-king-and-the-druidess]

Personal ramblings about my Mormor Fic:

It's been a year and three months since I started my Morgana-Centric-with an occasional Merlin-centirc-chapter-or-two-Mormor longfic, Trillium. 100kW+ rare ship written in a foreign language (English) My teachers would have been proud, lol.

It started with a boring moodboard and an idea for it: Mordred and Morgana are druids and perform some kind of ritual. But then I asked myself a question, why they are there and what they are doing, and the idea for this weird twisted(in a family-friendly way) mix of Arthurian elements and BBC's cliches unfolded and is not going to end (I hope I'll finish the sequel, Aconitum, in 2025)

I put all my love for this strange otp of mine I kind of obsessed by, Mordred/Morgana, this darker Merthur's foil, into the fic, and made up several ideas and headcanons I personally find cool. Arthur and Excalibur, Coins of Life and Death, Crystal of Fire, Morgana and Emrys, Avalon and Camlann, the Plagues.

I made Mordred adult (the only reason why he is a child in S1 is a nod to the legends' affair of Arthur and Morgana) and a foster son of Aglain. Yes, his father was killed by the Knights of Camelot when he was a child, yes, he killed them all in return, but he grew up in a good and peaceful family and therefore was more or less healed. There were no slavery or cruelty, his soul remained intact. His love and loyalty to Morgana, their destiny together, is not overshadowed by anything. (So far) I also tied his and Morgana's childhood through Gorlois.

Morgana stays with the druids after the Nightmare Begins, she avoids Arthur's raid. She begins to study magic and the Triple Goddess's faith with them, but is it enough to prevent her fate?

Trillium and Aconitum are not a Character Driven Story, it's Destiny Driven. Destiny here is basically the pattern of the Arthurian Legends; they will come true one way or another; the stars cannot be rewritten, only reassembled. The Legends' key elements are the laws of the story's universe. But the characters do not know these laws, even if they can see visions of the future; they think they follow the path lead by their own decisions and beliefs.

So, Morgana staying with the druids and falling in love with Mordred influenced Arthur, Merlin and Camelot. Mordred's break up with Kara helped Merlin to reveal his magic to Arthur, etc. (Artifacts are also important and fateful in my stories. If one brings a magical artifact in the world it worries the destiny's waves) Though briefly, I explored all Morgana's roles: seer, druidess, princess, Saxon's queen, Arthur's healer, the Triple Goddess' vessel and Judgment (along with Mordred)

There's no milking of the revealing, no Uther's long suffering, I just don't like these and got rid of them as fast as possible. King Arthur and his Wizard Merlin with no delays, fighting against the Barons and Nature rebelling against the Kings' order.

My Arthurian OC's Sir Galahad and Elaine were my special pleasure. I redesigned the image of Sir Galahad to fit him in the BBC's show. Who can this Knight-Saint be in this pro-magic, pro-druids universe? How can Elaine (who is a druidess and Aglain's daughter in Trillium and Aconitum) affect Lancelot? How can Lancelot affect Mordred and Morgana?

Even though I hate the Crystal Cave episode because of Merlin's decisions there, but I was fascinated by the Cave itself, the Source of All Magic. So I came up with a lore for it, and made it a centrepiece of the story (just like the show, yes): Taliesin the Bard, Keepers, Crystals, and Nature Elements. Morgana and Mordred, not Merlin, see the future in the crystals and hear the Disir, but Merlin saves it. These three, they are like always dancing in harmony.

As everything in this fallen world, this story could have been better; especially in the terms of language. But for almost a year and a half, writing this story has become my main hobby, and I feel that I will not rest until I finish everything that I have planned, good it is or bad, I just must.

Now I'm coming up with the sequel, Aconitum, and have many ideas to step into the untouched for me personally and for this pairing land: magic is free, but what's next? What is the Golden Age? As Mordred asks himself, what do heroes do when the happy ending comes? Like in the first part, there will be a misunderstanding trope: the characters are sure that they know, but in fact they know nothing. There will be the Holy Grail, I absolutely love it, united Albion, tragic Gwencelot, cursed found family of Morgana, Mordred, Morgause and Cenred (I always regretted Morgause and Cenred died so early.) And secrets from the past(it ends where it all began), and someone will die in the end, as foretold.

[brewyork]

The Grand Delancey announces closure

The Grand Delancey, a bar that has served New York beer drinkers one of the best selections of beer in the city for over four years, has announced its closure. Its final day of operations will be Sunday, February 18th. The bar is located in The Market Line, an underground food hall in a somewhat hidden location in on the Lower East Side, which has seen a loss of vendors in recent weeks that contributed to the closure, the bar’s owner said in a statement.

Notwithstanding the twists and turns that have affected the industry in the last few years, we have loved getting to know our neighbors in the Lower East Side and the many, many friends we have made in and beyond NYC’s craft beer scene. We still believe in the vision that brought us to New York in 2019: the marriage of the best craft beer in the world and the collection of amazing NYC-based food and beverage operators like Nom Wah, Schaller and Weber, Veselka, Peoples Wine, and many others. Unfortunately that vision was never fully realized, and now with just a handful of fellow vendors left it has become impossible to sustain our operations at The Market Line. While our original location may be closing, we're actively seeking a new home for The Grand Delancey so that we can continue our mission of delivering the most memorable craft beer experiences to the New York market. In the meantime, please join us over the next two weeks as we say goodbye with a host of bottle and draft specials. We look forward to raising a glass with all of you. - The Grand Delancey

The Grand Delancey hosted numerous noteworthy beer events over its short time in business — a period that included the Covid-19 pandemic. Among the noteworthy events were a lot of Belgian imports, like massive drops of bottles and kegs from Cantillon, a visit from Brasserie de la Senne founder/brewer Yvan De Baets, a tasting with Pierre Tilquin of Gueuzerie Tilquin, and a meet-and-greet with the producers of 3 Fonteinen. And while the occasional Belgian invasion was fun on its own, many noteworthy American breweries passed through their doors over the past four years, including Trillium, Hill Farmstead, Monkish, Good Word, Lawson’s, and more. They were one of the few bars in the city to support cask ale through its near-extinction and slow recovery in New York. And their bartenders were some of the most knowledgeable people in beer in the five boroughs.

The Grand Delancey's home, The Market Line, is expected to close fully in April.

[realstuffbyrealme]

Air

Photo by Lukas Schiller on Pexels.com I twist, I lay still, I cause fury and death, I bring dandelions, wild cornflowers, trillium and beauty to secret places for you to discover; I am messing up your perfect hair, stealing your last breath so I can refill the atmosphere with all you’ve stolen in your presence here. I cause ripples on the lake, dust to blind your eyes, I am here, always, pure…

[speakingofnature]

An interesting feature of the Twisted Trillium (Trillium stamineum) is the way the petals lie horizontally while the stamens point straight up.

[iseesound]

Aired 03.09.23

"I just can't figure out what!"

Featuring music from Èl GINGER*, Playboi Carti, and Trillium Angels.

I don't exactly remember when I came across ÈL GINGER*, wether it was on TikTok or Spotify. However what I do know is that when I found their music I was introduced to an expressive discography filled with remixes of songs I love. PAPI CHULO is an experimental twist on a classic song. It ends with a symphony of police sirens that transition perfectly into Lifelike's Night Patrol. The song is a classic nu disco sound infused with police sirens, created a sense of worry and confusion throughout its 7 minute runtime.

There's something about the Noticed I Cried Flume Remix by PinkPanthress that screams something isn't right. Her distorted vocals repeating throughout the song give an eerie feeling all allthroughout.

New Neon by Playboi Cart sets the scene for a section of the hour dedicated to a new age of dance music. From, Tone, Tan (Fit and Ready) by Human Part, a California Gurls remix, SOPHIE's ethereal Infatuation - Litchobegen Remix, o Rosalia and nusar3000 Jersey Remix of DESPACHA.

The video for Basement by Brockhampton really sold this song to me. From the screams in the background. This song could have easily gone in last weeks episode. I honestly couldn't fit all the songs I wanted to. This episode is somewhat of a continuation.

Effeminacy by Sega Bodega begins the hyper pop section of the show. A genre based on twisting the pop genre in experimental ways. Little Bit by Shygirl and Eartheater and COUCOU CHLOE's Supersoaker are perfect examples of the genre.

Looking back at it, I should have included at least a few songs by Drain Gang. I am beginning to warm up to their music. The One and Only by Trillium Angels and Kirsha, although not part of that group, its from an album with a Bladee feature. The song overall has an odd sound. Especially with the album cover being so blurred. It introduces the last section of the show with a songs from a variety of genres.

Crickets by Cecilee Believe and Mothamor by Swordes both feature distorted vocals layered over ethereal instrumentals.

Love You Too, Death by MGMT has what I think is the oddest instrumentals from any of the songs on the show. With buzzes, triangles, shakers and even a recorder layered over one another. Not to mention the pff putting vocals and lyrics. Celestial Ether by Cedar Livansky continues with the unique instrumentals but returns to the ethereal vocals.

Stankonia (Stanklove) by Outkast

"Where do you end and where do I begin?"

Terrified ends the show, a song that blurs the line between zombies and Black people. A song where Childish Gambino sings what I think is the most intriguing line of the hour,

"I'm going to eat you alive Please don't find me rude But I don't eat fast food"

[blackswallowtailbutterfly]

Me: Let’s see what other plants on my list I can find available that I haven’t been able to find before!

My bank account: You need to stop.

Me: But I found another place!

My bank account: You can wait another couple of paycheques.

Me: But what if the places I haven’t found yet that have plants I want get them bought out?

My bank account: It is MARCH.

Me: But what if someone is just waiting to sell me twisted stalk or skunk cabbage or painted trillium or wild coffee or bladderwort or bellwort, etc. etc. and I don’t buy and no one else does so they stop carrying it?

My bank account: Remember this when you get antsy over having to wait to get the new Pokemon game.

[faguscarolinensis]

Trillium stamineum / Twisted Trillium at the Sarah P. Duke Gardens at Duke University in Durham, NC

[the-masquerade-council]

First five flag flora

English Lavender(LGBTQ+/Rainbow flag), Martagon Lily(Lesbian flag), Elegant Gayfeather(Gay flag), Twisted Trillium(Bi flag), and Mexican Morning Glory(Trans flag)

[set two] [set three]

[avauntus]

Yo you have My Country WIPs? How exciting! I've been meaning to read Messenger for a while, that reminds me.... anyways, can you tell me about and/or post a snippet of trillium??

Thanks for asking! (If you end up reading Messenger, I hope you enjoy it!) 😀

Trillium

(another WIP set in @staidwaters One more lie... -verse. Hwi & Seon-ho on the road.)

What we call the trillium ‘flower’ is no flower at all...trilliums have no above-ground stems or leaves. Instead, the plant is a fragile extension of its underground rhizome, a process that happens, hidden and secretive, for up to seven or more years before a trillium grows from seed to a mature, blooming plant.

They weren’t even two days on the road when they had their first (post-death) argument about, of all things, a horse. Yi Bang-won had, inconceivably, decided not to kill them after they survived the first round of arrows and spears. That had been an odd hesitation that Hwi could not recall having seen before in his eight years of service to the lord, prince, and now King of Joseon. But Bang-won had given them enough supplies for a few weeks -- enough to load down a pack horse, also provided-- and sent them into the wilds. 

If they had decided to bicker over the direction, or the degree of trust they had in Bang-won’s word that they would be allowed to flee if they kept their survival quiet, that might have been understandable. Instead, they seemed to fall into an unspoken accord-- if Bang-won was going to change his mind again, there was little to be done about it, and clearly northeast into Gangwon-do and its mountainous landscape dotted with tiny valleys was going to be their best chance at vanishing. 

On the morning after they’d left Bang-won’s escort on the road, Seon-ho had rolled out of their blankets and said, calm as anything, “We should stay here awhile before heading out.”

“Why?” asked Hwi, blinking sleepily. He wouldn’t mind the chance to rest, but-- “Bang-won is going to expect us to go further away if we’re meant to disappear, and the longer we linger down here in the foothills, the deeper the mountains will be into winter when we get that high. The leaves are already turning,” he said to Seon-ho, although he would have thought Seon-ho knew all this, already.

“I’ll only need a few hours,” said Seon-ho, and Hwi had shrugged and yawned. Fine by him, then.

...

Seon-ho nodded, but didn’t otherwise comment, and Hwi huffed out a slightly frustrated breath. “Are you actually angry about something, or just brooding?” Hwi asked at last, and Seon-ho’s chin shot up-- he’d been staring at the ground, but now he met Hwi’s gaze.

“If I went ahead, you could probably return to Hanyang,” said Seon-ho levelly. “Whatever this is that Yi Bang-won is doing, it’s for you, not me. He’d take you back into his service if you asked.”

Hwi made a face, feeling the certain instinct he always had about Bang-won’s motives-- Seon-ho might be right, but that would only be enough to save Hwi alone. Bang-won’s own suspicion of the people around Hwi would lead him to act, sooner or later. 

“Maybe,” he told Seon-ho, serious. “But I don’t want to return to his service, and especially not without you! That promise he made to leave Hui-jae and Ihwaru’s network and the Northern Forces settlements, Chi-do, Jeong Beom, and Mun-bok alone, to not kill you-- it only lasts as long as we play his games, and this is one of them.” He grinned a bit. “Besides, it doesn’t sound so bad, retiring to the mountains! This is what I always wanted, you know-- freedom and enough space to settle down and live well. It won’t be a noble estate, but…”

“Hwi, it’s fall, and soon it will be winter,” Seon-ho cut in seriously. “I don’t think settling down is going to be a possibility in snowbanks deeper than our heads, and Bang-won isn’t going to allow for us bedding down in a farming village for the winter either, not if we’re meant to be dead.”

“How will he even know?” asked Hwi, and Seon-ho gave him a look.

“He’s had men tailing us since we left his guards on the highway,” said Seon-ho, and Hwi’s mouth twisted, because he couldn’t argue-- that sounded right. “In any case, I’ve sorted out the supplies, and I think I can carry enough of them that you can ride the horse from here on out without laming it,” continued Seon-ho, still level and nearly breezy, as if this were a foregone conclusion and they were just repeating their next steps.

“That’s not necessary, Seon-ho,” said Hwi with a little frown, looking intently at the other man. “If anything, you should ride and I’ll carry the supplies; you were much more seriously wounded at the palace than I was.”

“I’ve recovered enough, and I’m not the one who was reckless enough to offer myself up to a rabid tiger in search of a crown,” said Seon-ho.

Hwi bristled at the implication in the statement. “There wasn’t another way to halt the bloodshed,” he told Seon-ho shortly. “Besides, who attacked us first? Yi Seong-gye. Bang-won had nothing to do with that!” He stood up and grabbed the cookpot off the coals with a hand wrapped in the folds of his shirt, and began forming the remaining rice into balls, briskly. “You want to prove something by hauling part of the horse’s packs uphill yourself, go ahead. I can tie you on to the horse’s back when your goat-stubborness leads you to pass out from the strain.”

Seon-ho huffed out a breath through his nose and smirked at him, as if Hwi were the one being ridiculous. “Hwi, your skin has been the same shade as campfire ash ever since we left the highway. It’s not me collapsing we need to worry about. This isn’t something you can wish your way out of.”

“I’m not!” exclaimed Hwi, then sighed at himself. He should be happy that Seon-ho cared, right? He should, and he was. This wasn’t Seon-ho trying to slash at him, verbally or otherwise, Hwi reminded himself. Maybe they could be the same as they had been, before Liaodong-- he’d like to get back to that, if it was even possible. That meant Hwi needed to try. He took a deep breath and smoothed his expression, even managed to laugh at himself, a little. 

“Sorry. I guess with everything, and worrying about Hui-jae and the others, I’m a little too on-edge. I really am fine. I’ve just been sore these past few days; I’m dealing with it, I promise,” he told Seon-ho earnestly.

“It doesn’t seem like just your arrow-wounds,” said Seon-ho, still looking at him seriously.

“Seon-ho, I know you mean well, and I appreciate that,” Hwi said, finishing shaping the last of the rice balls and setting it on the pot lid with the others. “But you don’t know me, now. We haven’t done much more than yell at each other from the opposite sides of a battle for years. I am fine, except I don’t like arguing with you about this,” he finished, meaning to bring the discussion to an end.

“Fine,” said Seon-ho flatly after a moment. “We’ll load it all back on the horse, then,” and they did, although Hwi noticed that Seon-ho kept some of the supplies split out into the smaller bag, as if he were preparing to carry them later. Hwi really didn’t want to fight, though, and left the organization of the horse’s packs unremarked upon.

It was a warm autumn day, for all they had been discussing snow and ice earlier, and they made decent time. Hwi was beginning to sweat more seriously as midday wore into afternoon, and he could feel the odd twinge and stab from his poisoned wound and stomach. Their supplies of medicine were limited, though-- they would have to find someplace to settle and work out how to contact an apothecary or doctor for more without alerting Bang-won’s men, and that would all take weeks, if not months. So Hwi resolved to save what supplies he could now, pushed on without the usual second dose he’d take at this point, with all the activity they’d been up to, and convinced himself that it really was fine. The pain wasn’t much different from his arrow-wounds, and those were healing. 

When Seon-ho paused at a fork in the road, Hwi realized it wasn’t just the pain-- he felt...light, almost. As if he could take a step forward and just float away. But rather than try it, he came to a swaying halt and looked at Seon-ho. 

“Right is more direct, but left might take us closer to a town,” said Seon-ho. “More wheel tracks. What do you think?”

 Of the two of them, Hwi had always been the more talkative, but this was getting ridiculous, he thought. Seon-ho was going to be down to single-word sentences soon. “Why are you so...tense?” Hwi asked, meaning to grin. His lips just twitched instead. “Did the Jurchen have something...against words?”

Seon-ho turned to stare at him, brow wrinkling as his eyebrows drew together, and Hwi took a shallow breath so as to not pull at his aching chest, then sighed.

“Go right,” he told Seon-ho. Better to arrive wherever they were meant to be going sooner, wasn’t it? 

As Seon-ho continued to frown at him, Hwi took a step forward down the right-hand road, meaning to show the other man how it was done, and his foot lost contact with the ground as his stomach spasmed. A bright flash of grey-white pain shot across his vision. He had a moment to be confused, and then was briefly, intensely irritated with himself before he hit the dirt and whited out entirely.

[thiskryptonite]

Tagging: August Knight, Mentions of Arachne (Familiar), and Isaac (NPC)

Timeframe: January 23rd, 2019

Location: August’s apartment

Word Count: 1015

Notes: August prepares to take the path of Ceremonialism, by murdering his husband. TW: Murder, Self Harm, Blood

August stood before his sink, hands gripped either side as he watched the unreadable eyes of his own reflection. Rage, sorrow, fear, frustration, joy. He felt all these and more, and August resented every single one. He recounted every moment from the faerielands and clung to each memory, hungry, as some resolve continued to stir within him. Every sight, every glance, every encounter. It had been transcendent, the lights, the music, even the way it had at last been resolved.

A fitting end, August thought. For that was how it had felt, almost like he was saying goodbye. One last party, if so, it was the best wake he’d ever attended.

The scar in the shape of an X burned over his chest, Isaac was calling him, once again. It had flared periodically over the last couple of weeks, but it had not hurt any greater than the day that followed the Blood Moon. In his gut, a pain twisted.

He’s injured.

August had thought, and part of him had wanted to answer that call. He could steal from Trillium the draughts that would restore Isaac to health, but no matter what pulled him, August would not fulfill the allure of the mark, he would not be commanded at the bequest of another. Never again.

While the emotions worked to try and cloud his judgement, soften his resolve, he was used to them, he’d been dealing with the conflict now for years. It was his end of the contract, after all. Isaac had already fulfilled his end of their bargain and so much more. Isaac was a witch, and a powerful one, he’d nurtured the gifts that now flourished in August: art of the steal.

At the time, he’d been a mentor, a guide, a means to an end. But magic had made them more, and while marriage had seemed a trivial thing in exchange for access to the grimoire that had belonged to August’s mother, now he knew the meaning of the word. Isaac, had bound August to him, magic and soul, heart and affections. Even now, August wondered if he could ever bring himself to end it.

Arachne was with him now, soothing him as she did were her voice that was softer than any spider’s silk. Dear boy, why do you think I chose you?

His ears burned, the tone was not patronizing, but soothing as a mother did her son. This was the appeal of the familial connection, they were the truest reflection of yourself, your greatest ally, your unfailing confidant. For one of the few times in his young life, he listened.

I have always come to witches who have been bound to another, even across the plains, your mark called to me. It is time August Knight, take what awaits you, and be unbound at last.

You hear its call as well, do you not? That blade that calls to you, it is the key to your gilded cage. Return us to your workshop, and I will teach you the way.

“But he is more powerful than me,”

For now, but he has entered our web, my dear boy. You have him at last.

He was uncertain of what outcome this would have, but she was right, the blade had invaded his thoughts, the key to his mother’s grimoire had never been closer.  

In the workshop of his apartment he stood before a small mirror, the door to the rest of the unkempt place was kept open. Trash and garbage flooded every field of view, there was nothing in place, nothing in order, no real hope of finding anything. It was all meaningless, to the world, it was just the crap that August had grown to hoard over the years. They thought him sad, maybe, poor boy that didn’t even know how to take care of himself with a garbage bag over a broken window and a pantry filled with junk food.

With a word, he drew a blade across the old scar on his palm, he had opened this one time and time again. White and clear, it was evidence of every act he’d ever kept hidden. Or maybe he’d cut his hand on a letter opener, two things could be true.

August’s words whispered against the curve of the wound as he dipped an index finger in his own blood and began to draw the sphere he knew so well. His aunt’s voice feeding him the need for the spell as, even now, she whispered against his ear: tell me, foolish boy; where does a circle end?

Lisa had spoken of preparedness for a witch like some guardians told their children to look both ways before crossing the street. This was what she had meant, the painstaking work that went into survival it was no easy task, even for a witch, but surviving was not enough. He wanted his life, he wanted power, and he would crush whatever stood in his way: his heart, included.

He completed its shape, the words rattling the wind on the glass as the uncoiling of a serpent could be heard as it unfurled upon itself the great running of a thousand legs skittering across the tangled web, pulling back strings as order came from the chaos of his home. The knots and strings pulled back to reveal the intricacy, the detail of his work. The rooms were all righted, as if another world entirely, not an item out of place, the walls were lined with the product of his painstakingly tedious work. The grinding of bones, the hammering of nails, the carving of skin, the pigment of ash and dust. His home was his vault and his workshop, his blood and magic the only key. If any came through his door now, they would find only the disaster of an apartment, and nothing more.

He bent over the pages of his magical writings now, those he’d pilfered and those he’d earned rightfully himself. There was much work that needed to be done, resources to be gathered, Arachne whispered the spells the spells he would need to prepare his mind, and his body for what was to come. Death awaited him at every turn, it always had, and eagerly, the young witch would greet it with a knife. Tradition had stained him, now he merely wished to wipe it away. Isaac, would be first.

August heard his reply to his Aunt Lisa now: a circle ends where it begins.

[songoftrillium]

Song of Trillium 1 of 9: Echoes of the Past

In the shadow of Gulaka'i, the land whispered stories of the ancients, stories carried on the wind and etched into the bones of the earth. The Tawatuy pack heeded these whispers, their hearts bound to the land and its spirits as tightly as the roots of the mighty trees.

The world around them thrummed with life, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and the rich decay of fallen leaves. Lush ferns and vibrant mosses blanketed the forest floor, their delicate tendrils reaching for the sky like a living tapestry. Here, in the heart of the wild, These Red Talons found their home and their purpose.

Eril, wise and steadfast, guided his pack with the calm certainty of the ancient oaks that sheltered them. Beside him stood Rala Blood-Claw, her fiery spirit tempered by the gentle wisdom of Yara Silent-Step. Together, they forged a path through the untamed wilderness, their steps echoing the heartbeat of the land.

As the pack journeyed deeper into the shadows, they encountered a place where the veil between worlds seemed to shimmer like the surface of a still pond. Here, the scent of the Wyrm clung to the air, a noxious miasma that made their fur bristle with unease. The zintasha awaited their approach.

Fyra, fearless and unyielding, charged headlong into the fray, her fangs bared and her howl a war cry that shook the heavens. Zintasha recoiled before her fury, their twisted forms retreating into the darkness like a plague of serpents. Behind her, Varka and Sura called upon the spirits, their voices intertwining with the song of the land, weaving a tapestry of power and protection around their packmates.

Gorak, ever the trickster, darted through the chaos, his laughter a balm that buoyed their spirits even as they faced the horrors that lay before them. And Lira, relentless and unwavering, struck down their enemies with the fury of a tempest, her eyes alight with the fire of her indomitable spirit.

As the pack battled the twisted abominations, the very earth beneath them began to tremble, a low rumble that built to a crescendo like the heartbeat of the world itself. With a roar that shook the heavens, the land split open, revealing a cavernous maw that swallowed the Zintasha, their twisted forms disappearing into the inky void.

In the aftermath of the battle, a sound, like the breath of the earth itself, reached the ears of the pack. They raised their gazes skyward, beholding the majestic form of a colossal spirit, draped over the mountain and gazing down at them, drawn to the site of the fierce conflict. Her fungal fur and wolf-like visage stood sentinel over the land, an ancient guardian awakened by their struggle. The ancient spirit surveyed them, her moss-laden fur rustling like the forest floor, her eyes pools of ancient wisdom and sorrow.As they approached the mountain covered in white oak and Douglas fir, they found themselves in the presence of Dume'fa, the legendary Summer Wolf. They beheld her, draped over the mountain, her fur a tapestry of moss and lichens that felt like damp velvet.Eril, the wise Philodox, stepped forward and spoke, "Dume'fa, sweet Summer Mother, we come seeking your guidance and blessings. We are the descendants of the First Pack, and we journey to earn renown in your name."

Its voice rumbles, "tawaturrah, fa'krii'laan'Uth'ren'kaar'kaa'nii'huululax. Thaa'hUU'fa'naa'meen'kax?"

“Tawatuy, cubs of a distant dawn stand before me. Bringing me what have they?”

Gentle Yara steps forward, ears low and belly to the ground, “We understand, great Dume'fa. We do not compare our deeds to those of the First Pack, but we wish to show you that we carry their spirit within us, that we strive to live up to their legacy.”

Dume'fa merely shook it’s head, stunning them into silence, "Krii'raa'uur'fax, arach'thro'ii'kii'laath'daak."

“Cubs before me stand,  worth yet to determine.”

Dume'fa gazed upon the Tawatuy pack, it’s voice a melodic blend of deep sorrow and primal power.

"ii'uur'ga'huu'kaar'dren, ka'hUU'fa'naa'arka'ga'vaar. Huu'fa'corax'huu'shii'dren'kaa'nuu'vaarax, Tawatuy'fa’."

“Children of The First, your deeds prove worth. Howls bringing your tales to me shape worth, Tawatuy.”

One by one, the members of the pack recounted their personal accomplishments, hoping to impress the spirit. Eril spoke of the many disputes he had mediated, bringing harmony to his pack and other Garou. Rala shared her unwavering commitment to the preservation of the Red Talons' way of life and the countless battles she fought to defend it.

Yara told of her diplomatic endeavors, bridging gaps between tribes and spirits, while Akar recounted his stealthy exploits that had turned the tide in many struggles against the Wyrm. Fyra boasted of her ferocity in combat, her courage inspiring her packmates in the face of overwhelming odds.

Varka wove their stories into a tapestry of song and verse, their voice carrying the weight of their collective glory. Sura spoke of her profound connection to the spirit world and the wisdom she had gained from communing with the Umbra. Gorak regaled the spirit with tales of his cunning tricks, outwitting enemies and overcoming seemingly impossible obstacles.

Dume’fa’s slowly lowered herself until her very mass blotted out the sun from Tawatuy, eclipsing them in her might,

"Tawatuy’lu hUU'dren'kii'luu'laath'maa'huu'nii'gaa'faluluululuulax, mi'kaa'nuu'vaar'arka'ga'vaar. Kith'raa'fa'naa'arka'ga, ii'ikthya'huu'nii'fa'krii'kaa'nuu'vaar'gaa'fa."

"Tawatuy cubs weakly whining for mothers gone, to me must prove their mettle. A Ballad of your deeds - spirits must bring tales of your renown."

Finally, Lira shared her unwavering commitment to her pack, her relentless determination propelling her through countless battles and trials. As each member shared their stories, Dume'fa's gaze grew colder, her expression more sombers, her eyes narrowing with each tale. As Lira finished speaking, the great spirit's voice filled the air, resonating with an ancient and primal power. 

"HUU'dren, mi'kaa'vaar'gaa'el'shii'rii'nii'kii'naa'gii'kaar. Tawatuy’la gaa'fa'kraa'luu'laath'raa'gai'laa'shaa'gaar. Rii'kaa'kii'nuu'gaa'kaar'kaa'raa'gaa'fa'kaax! Aath'laa'Gaa'raa'kaa'kaar'laa'Daa'laa'Nyt'kii'Maax!"

"Cubs, you are fallen fruit rotting on the ground. Tawatuy are drops of rain in the vast ocean! Fools  before me do not know their place! I AM A CHILD OF THE DAWN OF TIME!"

Her words struck the pack like a thunderbolt, her will along silencing them and crushing their bodies into the soft ground as they struggled to process her harsh rebuke. Dume'fa continued, her tone heavy with the weight of her grief and sorrow as the gravity of her presence releases them. 

“Haaryuuf'kriith'iik'laar'nain'laa'raa'Gaa'laa'huu'kaa'thro'gaa'ith'kaar. Krii'kaa'gaa'huu'laa'nii'gaa'kaar'uu'kaa'gaa'laa'laath'gaa'laa'naa'huu'kaar, mi'hUU'dren'kaa'nuu'laar.”

”Grow your deeds like the roots of the ancient trees that stretch deep within the earth. Tales you bring me must be shaped through the trials and tribulations you face, my grandchildren.”

Tears fell from the faces of Tawatuy, their pride gone before them. Dume’fa continued,

“Tawatuy’fa, ii'krii'uur'gaa'kaa'huu'gai'nii'paa'kaar, mihaaruu'fa, hii'raa'guur'kaan'paa'kaar'kaath'nii'kaa'gaa'huu'kaar. Thaa'nuu'gaa'laath'gaa'laa'naa'kii'kaa'raa, uu'laath'gaa'laa'naa'luu'kaa'thro'gaa'ith'kaar, nain'Tawatuy'kaa'gaa'luu'Gulaka'i.”

”Tawatuy, aided by the spirits who must know you, my children, may find a way home to me by your deeds. Trials come; in wilderness lost, distant islands will find Tawatuy far from Gulaka'i.”

The cliath exchanged uneasy glances, their pride humbled by Dume'fa's words. She then issued her challenge to the pack: 

“Yag'fa Lai'ka, Thro'fa, eem Kii'shaa'kaa'kaa'el'kaar'kaa'huu'dren'Gai'ith'hu, uu'gaa'kaa'huu'dren'kaar'uur'gaa'huu'gai'nii'paa'kaar. Cliath'ka'nuu'el. Cliath'hUU'kaa'kaa'nur'kaa'luu'el'kaar'uur'gaa'huu'gai'nii'paa'kaar. 'HUU'kaar'nuu'el'gai'nii'paa'kaar.”

"Chiminages of Glory, Honor, and Wisdom wrought from the world are to be brought on the whispers of spirits. Cliath you are. Cliath shall grow and become more than you are now through the trials you face. You go now.”

The pack  understood the magnitude of the task before them. As they departed, Dume'fa watched them, her heart heavy with the sorrow of her past and the uncertain future that lay before them.

[dnbvinyl]

Listed below is the New stock and restocks added to our Store on 03/04/2018

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[metalindex-hu]

Ayreon – Klippremier – Daniel’s Descent Into Transitus Medley

Ayreon – Klippremier – Daniel’s Descent Into Transitus Medley - http://metalindex.hu/2020/10/01/ayreon-klippremier-daniels-descent-into-transitus-medley/ -

Transitus címmel, egy szövevényes kísértettörténettel jelent meg szeptember 25-én az ex-Vengeance gitáros, Arjen Lucassen progos projektje, az Ayreon új konceptalbuma. A lemez narrátora a Dr. Who-ból ismert Tom Baker, és az énekesfrontot olyan nevek erősítik rajta, mint Tommy Karevik (Kamelot), Cammie Gilbert (Oceans Of Slumber), Amanda Somerville (Trillium, HDK), Michael Mills (Toehider), Paul Manzi (Arena), Dianne van Giersbergen (Ex Libris), Johanne James (Kyrbgrinder), Simone Simons (Epica), Dee Snider (Twisted Sister), Marcela Bovio (ex-Stream Of Passion) és Caroline Westendorp (ex-The Charm The Fury). Emellett felsorakozott az ügy mellett két gitárlegenda, Joe Satriani és Marty Friedman, valamint Patty Gurdy tekerőlantos is.

Az új sztorit sci-fi és horrorfilmek inspirálták, olyanok, mint a Más világ (The Others – 2001), Az elcserélt gyermek (The Changeling – 1980) és a Ghost (1990), továbbá John Carpenter (Halloween), Ennio Morricone (Once Upon a Time In The West) és Jerry Goldsmith (Omen). És persze az elmaradhatatlan rockoperák: a Jesus Christ Superstar, a Tommy, a War Of The Worlds és a The Wall. Elkészült egy friss klip is Simonéval az Epicából és Tommyval Karevik énekessel a Kamelotból:

Ayreon – Transitus (Szeptember 25 – Music Theories Recordings)

CD1 01. Fatum Horrificum A. Graveyard B. 1884 C. Daniel And Abby D. Fatum E. Why?! F. Guilty 02. Daniel’s Descent into Transitus 03. Listen to My Story 04. Two Worlds Now One 05. Talk of the Town 06. Old Friend 07. Dumb Piece of Rock 08. Get Out! Now! 09. Seven Days, Seven Nights

CD2 10. Condemned Without A Trial 11. Daniel’s Funeral 12. Hopelessly Slipping Away 13. This Human Equation 14. Henry’s Plot 15. Message from Beyond 16. Daniel’s Vision 17. She is Innocent 18. Lavinia’s Confession 19. Inferno 20. Your Story Is Over! 21. Abby In Transitus 22. The Great Beyond