#ebonized oak

[vintagehomecollection]

Separated from the living room by a partial wall, the dining room has sliding doors that can close it off completely. Benjamin Moore's 'Decorator White' on the walls and a bleached treatment on the oak floors provide a pale setting for the cherry-colored leather chairs and table of ebonized ash.

House Beautiful Color, 1993

[arthistoryanimalia]

For #NationalPeacockDay 🦚:

Sewing Box in the Form of a Peacock

German (probably Berlin), c. 1830

Mahogany, coniferous wood (pine?), oak; birch, boxwood, ebonized wood; inlay of sycamore, green stained holly, mahogany; bone, silver-gilt, blued steel, brass

On display at Metropolitan Museum of Art (2023.25a, b)

“At first glance this work looks like a carved mahogany sculpture of a nearly life-size peacock. Lowering the bird's head reveals a surprise: hidden drawers filled with sewing tools! The plumed tail hides a pin cushion; the shaped stand is a cabinet with drawers for sewing supplies. The high-quality workmanship and materials combined with inventive design indicates that the box was made in one of the leading cabinetmaking workshops of early nineteenth-century Berlin.”

[peppymintdreams]

A Vampire’s Veil of Shadows Ball

Xanthus Claiborne x Love

The snow whispered underfoot as Xanthus and Love approached the towering estate, its frost-encrusted silhouette looming in the twilight. Love adjusted their mask, fingers trembling slightly as they looked up at the Ebon Veil Ballroom. Everything about the scene was intimidating—the icy beauty, the haunting silence, and the knowledge of what awaited them inside.

“This feels like a bad idea,” Love murmured, glancing nervously at Xanthus.

He cast them a sidelong look, his expression calm but firm. “If it were unsafe, I wouldn’t have brought you.”

Love gave him a dubious glance, their hand tightening around his arm. “You say that, but this is a literal den of vampires.”

“You’re with me,” he replied, his voice steady, as if that settled the matter.

As they reached the frost-etched oak doors, Xanthus paused, his sharp eyes scanning Love. “The bracelet,” he said, gesturing to the delicate silver band around their wrist. “Remember It carries my scent. It will mark you as mine. That should be enough to keep the others away.”

Love looked down at the bracelet, their nerves far from calmed. “And if it’s not enough?”

Xanthus’s mouth curved into a faint, dangerous smile, his fangs just visible. “Then they’ll have me to deal with.”

The ballroom was breathtaking and terrifying in equal measure. The vaulted ceiling stretched like a frozen twilight sky above them, its icy stars casting an ethereal glow over the room. The crowd of vampires, clad in elaborate Victorian masquerade attire, moved with an unsettling grace, their conversations and laughter like faint echoes in the vast space.

Love felt the weight of countless gazes as they stepped inside, the subtle shift in the air confirming their worst fear—their human presence had not gone unnoticed.

Clinging to Xanthus’s arm, they leaned closer and whispered, “I feel like a walking buffet.”

“You’re not,” Xanthus said softly, though his hand moved to rest lightly over theirs. “Stay close to me.”

Love nodded, though the glances and whispers continued to gnaw at their nerves as they followed Xanthus through the crowd. The bracelet might deter their hunger, but it couldn’t dull the curiosity in their eyes.

They stopped near the frostbitten dais, where Isis stood, her sapphire gown glittering like frozen starlight. She turned to greet them, her sharp eyes lingering on Love.

“Xanthus,” she said with a faint smile. “I didn’t expect you to bring... company.”

“They’re with me,” Xanthus said firmly, his tone leaving no room for debate.

Isis tilted her head, her smile deepening. “Interesting.” Her gaze shifted back to Xanthus. “Shall we talk? Somewhere more private.”

Xanthus’s jaw tightened. “We can talk here.”

“That won’t do,” Isis said smoothly, her tone like silk over steel. “This is a delicate matter, and I’d rather not have it overheard.”

Xanthus glanced at Love, his hesitation clear. “I don’t like leaving them alone.”

“They’d be perfectly safe,at the estate you were staying at” Isis assured him, her voice lilting with amusement. “That is Dontis’s home, and I’d rather than not have to endure hearing a night of him having one of his guest over again”

Love felt their stomach churn as Xanthus turned to them, his sharp eyes softening slightly. “Stay here,” he said, slipping off his long coat and draping it over their shoulders. “It’s cold in here, and this will help.”

“Xanthus,” they started, but he silenced them with a faint smile.

“I won’t be far,” he said softly, his hand brushing briefly against theirs. “You’ll be fine.”

Then, with one last look, he turned and followed Isis into the shadows.

Left alone, Love moved cautiously to a quieter corner of the ballroom, wrapping Xanthus’s coat tighter around themselves. The scent of him—clean, sharp, and subtly earthy—was a small comfort, but it did little to quell the growing unease in their chest.

Everywhere they turned, eyes followed. Conversations halted as they passed, replaced by faint whispers and knowing glances. Even the music seemed distant, drowned out by the sound of their own heartbeat.

They were about to retreat further into the corner when a figure stepped into their peripheral vision, moving with the silent grace of a shadow.

“Such a rare sight,” the man said, his voice smooth and melodic, with an almost playful lilt. He had pale, ash-blond hair that seemed to glisten faintly in the eerie blue light, and though his mask covered much of his face, his sharp, predatory smile and piercing eyes were unmistakable. “A human at the Ebon Veil Ball.”

Love stiffened, clutching the edges of Xanthus’s coat. The chill in the room deepened as if the stranger’s very presence carried with it a colder, sharper edge.

“I’m with someone,” they managed, their voice steady but quiet.

The man tilted his head, studying them like a curious predator. His silver mask, adorned with intricate thorn-like patterns, caught the faint blue glow of the chandelier above. “Ah, yes. The infamous Xanthus.” His smile widened, and there was an unsettling amusement in his tone. “But he’s not here right now, is he?”

Love’s heart started pounding as they took a small, instinctive step back. “He’ll be back soon,” they said, their fingers curling tighter into the fabric of the coat.

“Will he?” The man stepped closer, his polished shoes clicking faintly against the marble floor. His movements were languid, unhurried, and yet there was an undeniable menace in the way he closed the space between them. “How intriguing. You’re his, then?”

Love didn’t answer, their throat tightening as the stranger’s eyes darkened, narrowing slightly as if dissecting every inch of them.

“Your scent is... intoxicating,” he murmured, his gaze drifting downward for a moment, as though he could see the blood coursing through their veins. “I wonder,” he continued, his voice low and silken, “do you taste as good as you smell?”

The words sent a cold shiver racing down Love’s spine. They drew in a shaky breath, forcing themselves to meet his gaze. “I’m not interested,” they said, their voice firmer now, though it trembled at the edges.

The man’s smile didn’t falter. If anything, it grew wider, more sinister. “Not interested?” he echoed, as though the concept was foreign to him. He took another step closer, his presence oppressive, and the faint scent of something metallic—blood, perhaps—lingered around him.

“You’re tense,” he noted softly, his pale hand rising as if to touch their face. Love flinched back, but his fingers merely hovered in the air. “Don’t be. I can promise it won’t hurt... much.”

“I said no,” Love said, their voice rising slightly, betraying the growing panic that clawed at their chest.

“Don’t be so shy,” the man murmured, his tone both cajoling and mocking. His hand brushed lightly against their arm, the contact cold as ice and sending a jolt of fear through them. “You might even enjoy it. Not many get the chance to—”

“Take your hands off them.”

The voice cut through the air like a blade, and the man froze. Slowly, he turned, his confident demeanor faltering as he met Xanthus’s cold, furious gaze.

“Xanthus,” the man said excitedly, stepping a tad back. “No harm intended, of course, I didn’t mean—”

“I don’t care what you meant,” Xanthus said, his voice low and deadly. “Move. Now.”

“Leave,” Xanthus said, his tone brooking no argument.

The man hesitated for a fraction of a second too long, and Xanthus took a single step forward, his hand twitching at his side as if he were considering whether to act. The man didn’t wait to find out.

The man smirked, then vanished into the crowd without another word.

Xanthus turned to Love, his sharp expression softening as he placed a hand on their shoulder. “Are you alright?”

Love nodded shakily, their hands still clutching his coat. “I—he—” They took a deep breath, trying to steady their voice. “He wouldn’t stop.”

Xanthus’s jaw tightened, and a flash of something darker crossed his expression. “You shouldn’t have been left alone,” he said, his voice quieter now, though it carried a weight of self-recrimination.

“You didn’t know that would happen,” Love said, though their voice wavered.

“Still.” Xanthus reached out, his hand brushing against their cheek briefly before pulling back. “He’s lucky I didn’t kill him.”

Love let out a shaky laugh. “You say that like it’s a joke.”

“It’s not.” Xanthus’s tone was so serious that it made their breath catch.

Love nodded shakily, their fingers clutching his coat. “I didn’t think you’d get back in time.”

“I was never far,” Xanthus said softly, his eyes scanning their face for any sign of harm. “No one touches what’s mine.”

He wrapped an arm around their shoulders, guiding them toward the exit. As they stepped out into the cold night, Love leaned into him, the tension in their chest finally easing.

“Next time,” they said quietly, “leave me at home, I’d much rather hear Dontis fucking someone, than whatever the hell that was.”

Xanthus gave a faint chuckle, his voice warmer than before. “Next time,” he said, pulling them closer, “there won’t be a next time.”

[zariasona]

I'm coming home.

Zariasona had been settled into her home in Duskwood for the night. The hustle and bustle of Stormwind and the political work she had so immersed herself in was relaxing to her, yet it was also taxing. The only thing she had to look forward to was going to the Manor to see her beloved Feylonis, and their precious daughter Leandra. Leandra, who was now age five, still didn't quite understand why her Minn'da was gone all day, leaving her home with Feylonis whom she came to call mom. Feylonis wasn't alone with Leandra all day, for the manor still had the head servant, Agnes Cooke.

Feylonis had just entered into the parlor, having just put the young Leandra to bed for the night. Plopping down on the couch she sighed heavily as she buried her face into her arms on the armrest of the couch. "I am so glad she's asleep now.." The Magistrix chuckled as she set down the book she had been reading. "I know. She was a little terror today. Refused to leave my side even when I came home. I think she's still trying to get acclimated to our life. It's a shame that-" She paused, not wanting to think about the recent passing of her husband.

"Dalah'surfal.. I know. But we will be alright. The person who killed him is in the stockades for life. And thank the Light for that." Fey had been quick to move to the floor before Zariasona, grabbing hold of her hands so that she could offer any comfort she could to her.

"I know, darling. It's just-" She sniffed, her gaze shifting to the ceiling. It was clear she was trying to not cry again. "I need to get back to work. I cannot let this stop me." "Oh come on Zari, You can't bury yourself in work every time something happens like this. You do this every time."

At that moment, a heavy pounding upon the front door was heard. It was loud enough that it echoed in the foyer, and came into the parlor where Feylonis and Zariasona sat. The silence was deafening between them. Thankfully, Agnes was still up for they heard the scurried foot falls heading towards the door.

The large doors creaked open, and mumbling could be heard between Agnes and another female who stood outside. "I'm sorry, you're who?" Another mumble of words came, and there was silence in the foyer. "Let me consult the Mistress. One moment." The door closed gently and Agnes was quick to stand in the entry-way of the parlor. Clearing her throat, she softly spoke. "M-Mistress. There's someone claiming to be your-" She fell silent, trying to conjure the words. Clear cut confusion was written all over Agnes' face.

"Spit it out already, Agnes. Who is at the door?" It was late, and Zariasona hated late night guests.

"Your sister."

"Impossible. Both of them perished. What is her name?"

"She says it's Kinadra, a sin'dorei of the Ebon Blade."

Zariasona was frozen, her eyes locked to Agnes. Feylonis peered up at Zaria with the same confusion as Agnes. "Surfal.. I thought you said your sisters perished? How is this-" "Send her in. Send her in now." The words were spoken so quick that they cut off Feylonis' words.

Agnes gave a quick bow before scurrying towards the door once more. As the large oak doors creaked open, both of the women could hear Agnes speak. "The Mistress will see you in the par-"

The black-cloaked figure pushed passed Agnes upon hearing it was alright to enter, not giving her the chance to finish. For a moment, a flurry of disorientation filled the woman as she sought out the room with the crackling fire. Within seconds, she was standing where Agnes had just been with her black hood covering her face, and water dripping down her form from the rain that just ended.

Zariasona was quick to lift herself to her feet, eager to see the face of the woman who claimed to be her sister. Feylonis moved just as quickly, planting herself just behind Zaria.

The hood lowered, and the straight black hair fell out of the hood with pointed ears springing to life. Blue lich fire eyes, and the same silken complexion that Zaria remembered her to have always had.

"Kinadra.." Zaria said nothing more and rushed to her sister to hug her tightly. "I thought you died." "I did." Kinadra's cold voice came. "But the Lich King brought me back. I now live under the banner of the Ebon Blade. And Zari.. I've come home. At long last, I have come home."

"Kinnie.." Zariasona hugged her tighter, and together the two sisters sobbed together before the roaring fireplace.

@daily-writing-challenge

[existentialcowboy]

Storms in Steinhatchee

I lived in Steinhatchee Florida for several years before relocating to the Panhandle region. The town has its good and bad, like any other, but as the news has pointed out it has never before been hit by a major hurricane. Idalia has changed that.

Anyway, that got me to  remembering the Storm of the Century, the storm that clobbered the area in the spring of 1993.  I was there and remember the storm surge—including waking in the wee hours and finding ankle deep water in my place!. It got way deeper before things were over. I don't know how the surge compared with that of Idalia but it looks to have been comparable. Of course, this was a winter cyclone. The winds were heavy but not hurricane strength (much less Category 3). But it was a heck of a lot colder.

I borrowed some from that experience for scenes in my very first novel, the Young Adult title 'The Middle of Nowhere.' I also had to write a song about it. Not necessarily a 'true' personal account but one based on the event:

THE STORM OF THE CENTURY March Twelfth, Nineteen Ninety-three, That’s when the Storm of the Century Came ravening from the wind-swept Gulf, Howling like the hungry wolf. When the Storm of the Century came calling, When the Storm of the Century came calling. The wind was throwing knives at the night, And startled the clouds into sheepish flight; I heard the black oaks together sigh As they offered themselves to the sky. In the dark, I prayed the storm would pass, But the river was rising, the field was a glass Where the moon played hide-and-seek with its twin, While the endless ebon flood poured in. And it was time to take higher ground, But there’s not a lot to be found In a Florida Gulf Coast town When the Storm of the Century comes calling, Oh, comes calling. The river came knocking at my door, The icy flow swept across the floor To clutch at my ankles as I made my way Into the gale, for I could not stay. With two guitars and the clothes on my back, I waded through the night with black Water rushing around my knees; The remorseless wind shouted symphonies. And it was time to take higher ground, But there’s not a lot to be found In a Florida Gulf Coast town When the Storm of the Century comes calling, Oh, comes calling. I saw a light, I climbed a stair, Strangers gave me shelter there; Some didn’t reach the dawn alive But God agreed I should survive, When the Storm of the Century came calling, When the Storm of the Century came calling. Stephen Brooke ©2003

[sekhisadventures]

Druid Disappeared

Valdrakken, One Week After Malgum’s Introduction

It was definitely taking some getting used to for the Alliance and Horde to say the least. The Eredar had returned, not as enemies but as potential allies. Some were pragmatic about it, the orcs by and large sympathized with the man’ari renegades being tricked into fel corruption… after all, wasn’t that how they came to Azeroth to begin with?

For the Forsaken they were suspicious, but overall gave them the benefit of the doubt, again much for the same reasons. The Illidari as a whole kept a close eye on them, remembering all too well that until very recently they were their sworn enemies.

For much of the defenders of Azeroth however… the reaction was concern, wariness, and outright distrust. Some believed this to be a trick, others questioned if the aging Prophet of the Draenei had finally succumbed to senility, but whatever the reaction it changed little. With Velen’s endorsement, Arzaal and his followers were there to stay.

Like the Ebon Blade and the Illidari before them, they would be given the opportunity to prove they could rise beyond their dark origins… and should they not prove this, well, by now Azeroth knew how to deal with demonic foes.

That being said… some were handling it better than others.

Jaie awoke that morning in her room above the Roasted Ram and stood, yawning and stretching, then looked over to the bed where the other occupant had been staying. Valdrakken was so full anymore that space had gone from being plentiful to a severe premium, and the various adventurers were having to double up more often than not. Sometimes triple or even quadruple up… but as it had been for several days now the bed opposite her’s showed no signs of use.

Jaie sighed as she saw the empty bed, still in her bedclothes… then pulled her gemstone out of her bag and drew the rune for Shalandrae on it with her fingertip. It wasn’t her name, there wasn’t a specific rune for that, but rather Shalandrae’s rune was the rune for ‘great oak tree.’ Nelen and Nitika had worked together to decide on appropriate and easy to remember runes for everyone such as ‘Wise Elder’ (Dareley,) ‘Joyful Song’ (Sekhi,) and ‘Destructive Flame’ (Grimo.)

She waited for a long moment as the gemstone shined, trying to reach out to it’s twin in Shalandrae’s pouch… and after a good ten minutes she gave up and drew the rune for ‘sever’ to break the connection. “Nothing…” she sighed, sitting back down and shaking her head.

At the foot of her bed a head perked up. “Shalandrae ain’t answerin’ huh?” came a small voice.

In truth, the room had three occupants normally. Sekhi, being a vulpera, didn’t need a full sized bed. Rather she would sleep on a bedroll at the foot of Jaie’s bed most nights… though on more than one occasion she had wound up… well…

The first time Sekhi had explained that it was instinctive among vulpera to… huddle up when it came time to sleep. While it was blisteringly hot during the day, some nights in Vol’dun could be frigid enough to rival Northrend (albeit Northrend in springtime,) and the vulpera had adapted by sleeping in large groups to share body heat. On occasion Sekhi, half awake at night, would find herself instinctively seeking out the nearest warm spot to curl up in which, of course, would be the large bear-like woman nearby.

It had been awkward the first time, but now Jaie just accepted that sometimes her bed would have a surprise guest in the mornings and trusted Sekhi to behave herself there.

Jaie shook her head sadly at the vulpera, “She’s still not answering her gemstone.” replied the pandaren as Sekhi stretched, her tail extending and twitching behind her as she did.

“Yeah… I heard her song that day when we all met Malgum. She’s really angry, but really sad too. I think its lotsa things. I didn’t know what a ‘man’ari’ yippin’ was until a few days ago, but… yeah… I can get demons.” she whined, thinking back to their past encounters with Dissonantia.

Jaie nodded, “I just wish she would answer, just so we know she’s alright. I mean… we know her stone isn’t broken, but she could be anywhere now and the Isles aren’t safe to travel alone.” she frowned, the pandaren changing into her travelling clothes, then picking up her spear and sliding it into the holster on her back before walking out of the room to get breakfast.

Sekhi followed her out, scampering after her as she pulled her backpack on. Not a vulpera knapsack but a sturdy brown leather one made in Iskaara. “Yeah… we just gotta hope she’ll come back.” she yipped.

As they got downstairs to the common area they found Nelen already awake and seated at a table, talking with the draenei Aziguni, Malgum’s sister.

“Please Nelen… I feel horrible for what happened. I just…” she tried again, but the mage shook his head.

“Aziguni, I understand. We’re all worried about Shalandrae, but seeing one of the man’ari in the flesh was a terrible shock for her. Yes, you are right that because I was the one who made her stave that I could use my connection to it to scry her location… but I won’t do so unless we have reason to believe she’s in trouble.” he replied firmly, but not unkindly. “This isn’t the first time she’s had to run off like this. She’s a druid, she knows just how dangerous she can be if she gets too angry or upset. I heard what she did when she first saw your brother. A druid who loses control can do a LOT of damage, intentionally or not.”

Aziguni cringed at his words, knowing the mage was right, and yet she couldn’t help feeling guilty for what had happened. Her hope that her brother’s attempt at redemption might be accepted by Shalandrae and her friends was, perhaps, hoping too much for one of the kal’dorei to simply forgive and forget when it came to their ancient foes.

“Now…” he stood, picking up his own stave. “I must be going. I promised Sekhi’s sister I’d tutor her every third day, and that’s today. I can’t just shirk my duties to my apprentice.” he said, then his expression softened. “Don’t worry, I’ve known Shalandrae for years now. She’ll come back eventually, she just needs time to accept the state of things… and this is a big thing to accept.”

Aziguni nodded wordlessly, remaining seated as she looked down at the table, lost in her own thoughts.

Sekhi whined, her ears twitching as she heard Aziguni’s song… it spoke of guilt, of good intentions gone wrong, and of fear of losing something precious.

As Nelen walked out of the Inn he paused near the door. Leaning against the wall outside, idly chewing on a strip of jerky, was a young woman with blue and pink hair and strikingly pink eyes, dressed in a blue vest-top and a pair of baggy white trousers. “Laura, if you could keep an eye out for her… just incase…” he murmured.

The evoker nodded, “Yes, I believe I could do so Nelen.” she replied with a small grin as her sharp fang-like teeth tore into the strip of dried meat. Even in her visage form some draconic features remained, and one of those was that all her teeth were quite sharp.

Nelen smiled back and nodded to her, “Thanks.” he said in a soft tone, then he walked off towards the entrance to Valdrakken where Sekhi’s family had set up their small trading post.

Behind him Laura finished her snack, then stepped away from the building as crimson flames swirled about her form, her humanoid guise vanishing in a burst of magic, and with a flap of large wings Laurelgosa of the Dracthyr took to the skies once more, soaring off towards the Ohn’ahran Plains.

The other five members of Avalon, as well as most of Savage United (Grimo was, well, Grimo) were concerned for their friend, especially now that their foe Dissonantia was likely growing desperate. If she became aware that Shalandrae had left Valdrakken in such a state the Witch of Blackwald Forest may well decide to take the opportunity to strike down one of her most dangerous enemies.

He didn’t want to just immediately violate Shalandrae’s need for privacy and distance after what had happened, but he didn’t exactly want to leave her on her own either. He wouldn’t use magic… but Laurelgosa had wings and could cover a lot of ground. If she just happened to find the wayward druidess… well… Laurelgosa could hardly be blamed for informing her friends of Shalandrae’s current situation.

As he walked towards the cart he glanced to his right and frowned. Across the square were a trio of eredar… and one of them was none other than Malgum himself. He did sympathize somewhat with them after he heard their story. He knew how it felt to become a monster against one’s will, he was Gilnean after all, but he also remembered Argus, and how Krag’thar had died to save them from a Legion charge that likely included several eredar among it’s forces.

Forgiveness was likely never going to happen, at least not in his lifetime… even tolerance would take some doing… for now, for Aziguni’s sake at least…

The eredar saw him, then gave him a curt nod, and Nelen returned it in kind.

For now, just accept that this is the state of things… and what happened would happen. Nelen had an apprentice to worry about right now.

Time, however, can be a cruel thing on Azeroth…

Thaldraszus, on the path to the Bronze Oathstone

The bronze drakonids had been transporting a cache of relics found on the isles to their base for safekeeping. They had been until someone had gotten impatient.

The draconic humanoids lay scattered across the field, several were dead, one or two were still breathing but too hurt to move, and one of them…

That one had horrified his allies as he was the first to fall. The group had noticed something was off with the timelines in the area, then the air around him seemed to gray before he doubled over in pain. His scales grew thin and cracked, his fangs fell from his mouth, his eyes sank in, and it was like he’d aged eons in moments. A weakened drakonid had fallen to their knees, what had landed on the ground was a pile of fossilized bones.

Then there was a sudden hissing sound and a shape darted out of a fold in the air nearby, taking out two more before it vanished again, then a third. The survivors tried to rally but at this point the ambush was in full swing.

As the last of the guards lay on the ground, his lungs suddenly having trouble drawing oxygen from the air, he looked up as a shape walked towards him out of a stitch in time itself. “Apologies, but I had tried being nice and it was getting me nowhere…” said a cultured voice as an elf in resplendent purple robes walked towards the fallen drakonid. Behind him a dragon appeared as if from nowhere, one of the long sinewy slitherdrakes they had found in the caves below the Isles… but it’s scales were as black as night itself, cracked through with bolts of brilliant white.

There was no mistaking it. The slitherdrake was one of the Infinite Dragonflight.

“Y-you already failed… Murazond has not risen…” gasped the drakonid guardsman, “Chromie and her allies… stopped you…”

“Mmm, they did… this time. But that’s the fun thing about time isn’t it? Patience is all you really need to have another go.” chuckled the elf, opening the chest they had been transporting.

Inside it, seated on a velvet cushion, were two things. A longsword of draconic design that seemed to constantly shed grains of sand, and a blue crystal with an odd weight to it as if it was larger than it should be.

The elf took both of them, then turned to the drakonid with a smirk. “Don’t worry, I’ll be putting these to good use. Better than they would have been simply sitting forgotten in some archive in your citadel.” he chuckled.

The drakonid struggled, trying to stand. “Nyloc… why… why side with them?” he gasped.

Nyloc Athel, Chronomancer of Suramar City, shrugged dismissively. “You lot and your ‘one true timeline’ nonsense were becoming insufferable, and you simply wouldn’t give me access to the knowledge I sought. The Infinite are much more free with their information, and very happy sharing it with a man of my skill.” he smirked.

The drakonid gasped, but his muscles felt like they were withering within his arms. Even as he tried to lift himself his own weight was too much! “Nozdormu will… learn of this… he will find you, no matter where or… when you hide…” he wheezed.

“Perhaps he will.” shrugged Nyloc, “Personally, I would love to see him do so. I had always wondered how I would fare against a foe of his caliber. So far however…” he reached out a hand and gestured, the air around his hand turning monochrome, a deep grey that leeched the color out of everything around his fingers.

The drakonid gasped as his eyes widened, collapsing as he clutched at his heart… but his arteries were withering, his chest muscles atrophying at a terrifying rate, and finally he fell silent. It was extremely rare, but if a draconic being lived long enough they were at horrible risk of heart failure.

Thanks to Nyloc’s powers, the ability to manipulate entropy itself, the guardsman had lived several lifetimes in the span of a few scant moments. “… yes, so far I am NOT impressed with the Bronze Dragonflight.” sneered the Chronomancer as he walked back to the dragon, climbing astride it.

As an afterthought he gestured, focusing his temporal powers on the field below. A moment later there was nothing but a rotten old chest barely held together and several piles of bones that may have come from a draconid, or may have come from a large lizard. They were so old it was impossible to say. “Now then my friend, let us be off.”

The dragon hissed, then it took to the sky and flew towards the heavens, and as it gained altitude it seemed to slip into a hidden gap in reality and vanished entirely.

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[customteamnames]

50 Unique Black Trail Ride Group Names That Celebrate Community and Adventure

https://customteamnames.com/?p=998 50 Unique Black Trail Ride Group Names That Celebrate Community and Adventure If you’re part of the vibrant community of black trail riders, you know the joy of connecting with nature and each other on horseback. But have you ever thought about how a unique group name can elevate your riding experience? A catchy name not only represents your crew but also fosters a sense of belonging and pride. Table of Contents Toggle Creative Black Trail Ride Group NamesNature-Inspired NamesHistorical NamesCultural NamesFun Black Trail Ride Group NamesPlayful NamesPunny NamesAlliterative NamesInspirational Black Trail Ride Group NamesEmpowering NamesAdventure-Focused NamesCommunity-Oriented NamesUnique Black Trail Ride Group NamesGeographic NamesAnimal-Inspired NamesColor-Themed NamesTips for Choosing Black Trail Ride Group NamesConsider Your Group’s IdentityIncorporate Personal StoriesReflect Your Riding GoalsConclusionFrequently Asked QuestionsWhy is a unique name important for black trail riding groups?What types of names are suggested for black trail riding groups?How can I choose the right name for my trail riding group?Can you provide examples of empowering names for riding groups?What themes should I consider for a trail riding name? Creative Black Trail Ride Group Names Creative Black Trail Ride Group Names Coming up with a unique name for your black trail ride group can set the tone for your adventures. Here are some creative suggestions that reflect nature, history, and culture. Nature-Inspired Names Midnight Riders: This name captures the thrill of riding under the moonlight and the beauty of the night. Ebon Hoofprints: Use this name to highlight the striking contrast of black horses against sandy trails. Wildflower Wanderers: Celebrate the spirit of exploration with a name that honors the natural landscapes you traverse. Black Oak Trailblazers: Reference a strong, enduring tree while describing your group’s determination and adventurous spirit. Shadow Gallopers: Bring in the mystery of shadows combined with the energy of galloping horses. Historical Names The Buffalo Soldiers: Memorialize the brave African American cavalry regiments that fought for freedom. Equestrian Legends: Recognize the heritage of skilled horsemen and horsewomen throughout history. Harriet’s Trailblazers: Honor Harriet Tubman’s courage and leadership through a compelling group name. Black Riders of the West: Celebrate the contributions of black cowboys and cowgirls in the American West. Freedom Riders: Pay tribute to the historic movement that sought to challenge racial segregation. Cultural Names Soulful Stallions: Emphasize the deep connection between culture and the powerful spirit of horses. Unity Riders: Promote togetherness with a name that stands for solidarity within the community. Cultural Gallop: Highlight the rich blend of traditions and the joy of riding as you embrace your heritage. Rhythm of the Trail: Infuse the essence of music and movement into your group’s identity. Heritage Hoofbeats: Reflect on the significance of your roots while celebrating the freedom of the trail. Fun Black Trail Ride Group Names Choosing a fun name for your black trail riding group can really set the tone for your adventures. Here are some creative suggestions to inspire your unique identity. Playful Names Jubilant Jaunters captures the joyful spirit of the ride, encouraging everyone to celebrate every moment. Fiesta Flyers brings a festive vibe, making every outing feel like a party on horseback. Party Ponies adds a light-hearted touch, perfect for a group that enjoys fun and camaraderie. Celebratory Steeds emphasizes the excitement of your rides, reminding you all of the joyous connections you share. Punny Names Horsin’ Around humorously reflects the playful nature of your group, showcasing the fun side of trail riding. Mane Event cleverly highlights the significance of your rides, making it clear you’re always up for an adventure. Neighsayers puts a playful twist on the word “naysayer,” showing your group’s positive attitude even though any doubts. Stable Mates emphasizes friendship while playfully nodding to the horse community, making every member feel included. Alliterative Names Midnight Riders evokes a sense of adventure that embraces the thrill of nighttime riding. Black Stallion Squad draws attention to the strength and unity within your group, celebrating your shared passion. Onyx Outriders combines the elegance of onyx with a spirit of exploration, perfect for those who seek adventure on the trails. Dark Horse Drifters hints at an enigmatic charm, appealing to those who enjoy the mysterious side of trail riding. Inspirational Black Trail Ride Group Names Inspirational Black Trail Ride Group Names Choosing an inspirational name can create a powerful bond among members. The following categories focus on empowerment, adventure, and community spirit. Empowering Names Consider names that celebrate strength and resilience. Unity & Strength emphasizes the power of togetherness, inspiring members to support one another. Inspired Initiatives reflects a forward-thinking approach, encouraging personal growth within the group. Motivational Mounts highlights the bond between riders and their horses, serving as a reminder of shared journeys. Inspired Instigators invites you to take charge of your riding experience and uplift others along the way. Adventure-Focused Names For those enthusiastic about the thrill of the ride, adventure-themed names can set the tone. Inspirational Irons invokes images of fearless exploration, while Momentum Mustangs suggests speed and excitement. The name Inspired Instigators captures the spirit of pushing boundaries. Also, Inspiration Idols brings a sense of aspiration, motivating riders to seek new challenges on the trail. Community-Oriented Names Foster connection and solidarity with community-driven names. Unity & Strength serves as a powerful reminder of the collective journey. Creative options like Soulful Stallions embody the essence of shared experiences. Harriet’s Trailblazers honors history while inspiring modern riders to pave their own paths. Another great choice, Inspired Initiatives, reflects a commitment to community enhancement. Eventually, these names solidify the group’s identity and values, improving the overall experience of riding together. Unique Black Trail Ride Group Names Unique Black Trail Ride Group Names Having a unique name can significantly uplift the identity of your black trail riding group. Here are some creative suggestions across different categories to inspire your next adventure. Geographic Names Geographic names often reflect the terrain you ride through, making them a perfect choice. Consider Mountain Midnight Riders, which combines a sense of elevation with the allure of nighttime riding. Valley Vagabonds – Night Riders evokes imagery of rolling hills and open trails under the stars. Canyon Shadows gives a striking visual of deeper landscapes and mysterious paths. You might also like High Country Horsemen – Night Riders, which hints at both noble pursuits and nighttime adventures. Animal-Inspired Names Names inspired by animals can add a lively element to your group identity. The Black Stallion Squad emphasizes strength and majesty, ideal for those who cherish the powerful bond with their horses. Alternatively, Raven Riders symbolizes intelligence and adaptability, traits every rider appreciates. Dark Horse Drifters captures a sense of mystery, perfect for the thrill-seeking riders among you. You might find Phantom Prancers has an enchanting quality that resonates with the magical experience of night rides. Color-Themed Names Color-themed names can offer a distinct flair to your group’s identity. Midnight Riders reflects elegance mixed with adventure, striking a balance between darkness and exhilaration. Obsidian Riders suggests strength and timelessness, drawing inspiration from the natural industry. On a softer note, Nightshade Nomads has a poetic touch, ideal for those who embrace nature’s beauty. You may also consider names like Dusky Drifters, which evoke images of twilight rides and a tranquil ambiance. Tips for Choosing Black Trail Ride Group Names Tips for Choosing Black Trail Ride Group Names Choosing the right name for your trail ride group can be a fun and meaningful process. You’ll want to reflect the unique spirit and identity of your community. Here are some helpful tips to guide you through this creative journey. Consider Your Group’s Identity Start by thinking about what makes your group special. Names that honor Black equestrian heritage are particularly resonant. For example, “Riders of Heritage” or “Cultural Trailblazers” emphasize tradition while celebrating your collective journey. Consider how your group embodies values like community, strength, and culture. The right name can strengthen those bonds and highlight your shared passion for riding. Incorporate Personal Stories Personal stories can add depth to the name you choose. Reflect on experiences, backgrounds, and histories that resonate with your group members. Naming your group something like “The Legacy Riders” connects deeply with the stories that each member carries. Those tales can shape your identity and evoke a sense of belonging. Stories create emotional resonance, transforming a simple name into a symbol of unity and shared experiences. Reflect Your Riding Goals Think about your riding goals when brainstorming names. If your focus is on adventure, you might choose something like “Momentum Mustangs” to reflect that spirit. Alternatively, if you aim to foster empowerment within your community, names like “Unity & Strength” can effectively convey that mission. Aligning your name with your goals ensures that it captures the essence of your group’s aspirations. Conclusion Choosing a name for your black trail ride group is more than just a fun exercise; it’s a way to create a strong identity and foster a sense of community. Whether you opt for a nature-inspired name or one that honors your heritage, the right name can enhance your riding experience. As you explore the suggestions and tips provided, remember to reflect on what resonates with your group’s values and experiences. A well-chosen name can symbolize unity and pride while adding a personal touch to your adventures. Embrace the journey ahead and let your group name be a source of inspiration and connection. Frequently Asked Questions Why is a unique name important for black trail riding groups? A unique name fosters a sense of community and pride among members. It symbolizes the group’s identity and enhances the overall riding experience, allowing riders to connect and share their passion more deeply. What types of names are suggested for black trail riding groups? The article suggests various categories, including nature-inspired names (e.g., “Midnight Riders”), historical names (e.g., “The Buffalo Soldiers”), cultural names (e.g., “Soulful Stallions”), and playful or punny names (e.g., “Horsin’ Around”). How can I choose the right name for my trail riding group? To choose the right name, consider your group’s unique identity and shared experiences. Incorporate personal stories and align the name with your riding goals, ensuring it resonates with all members. Can you provide examples of empowering names for riding groups? Certainly! Empowering names include “Unity & Strength” and “Inspired Initiatives,” which celebrate resilience and personal growth, reinforcing the group’s collective spirit. What themes should I consider for a trail riding name? You can explore themes like geography (e.g., “Mountain Midnight Riders”), animal strength (e.g., “Black Stallion Squad”), or color significance (e.g., “Obsidian Riders”) to create a compelling group identity. https://customteamnames.com/?p=998 Custom Team Names

[rcsayler]

Another Bird in Space (after Brancusi), 2024

ebonized red oak; 8” x 8” x 52”

[thedevilishbookmagpie]

“… a great clock whose case was of oak curiously carved, and ebon black with time and rubbing.”

[libidomechanica]

“The higher”

A Meredith sonnet sequence

               1

And all my woes I will go deep, wherein   her eyes; and at night he hopes and the Hebrew   blood, and how he should have we stept into a shady, fresh, the tomb. With gall instead of beauty in days?—Or a nunnery.   To me in my dreams. Until I cried   out in store strict old age black doth make any guilt, t is odd, not dare thine. The Prince, debauched the Rhodians for you may tend   upon me she was blithe and solitary   set, exceeding be. Thy shame stolen glance is now as spectrum of the Mermaid was able to prove unintelligible.   The higher. I don’t understand with   myrrh, upon those error in the business in some men say, that double majesty.

               2

The massive is this they resort; where fancy   fathoms where it only mother’s choice   one of all her eyes; for ever deadly pangs beguiled, with a pure repose, or the other the common notion just, no doubts,   all injustice of yore. His hand. Dido   is gone, now tell me, to when upon gilt- edged paper with tears were not with sometimes with a slight from the wind will hearts of those   regions far; and from being blighted pigeon   eggs: at twelve hours, don Jose and say not come, t is sweet name, above the glory as I am a wall, and confessor,   and I must like from the mischief, after   bright go on; i’m almost might awake, nor here thou canst thou mourners of the dark.

               3

When Night honours skie: who may, and oft with   children’s children; they mourn, becoming blocks,   along veins, between two little doubt, yet knew not brook at all my fancy lighter with his lonely hours was o’ the third degrees   prepared of seeming sweet. Part was concealed,   which struggles to envelope those tardy ages; the more, the room! Strange, and never more than was, distresses from our homes   ethereal—a new birth: be still a   Story now completed, do Thou of its clan, that all my name. Of growing loud, and shall be the boor. Vale, played with dark thy holy   filletings, near to my heart to itself   from such skill and she is the starres from the Spring a youth propose the mind?

               4

To man at once and me. Of the huge oak   tree. By gusts, and straight their form had got the   guests dropped on heaths, and rushes where they were shot a shadowless in the pallid and rarest gifts in vain the waves rose had been,   whatever a sun will be lost in women   most desire; he always in beds of thy nose is as the despot kings, ’ said so well, and creeks, and length, the public shame,   both court. Of foes the nightly train; in vain   to time hath led alone, the way in which now upon my wild oats in envy master here? Prose poets like her nose, with the   blue day-light’s in thee as fast as he shoulder   o’er. The troops disbanded, and wildly on Sir Leoline, led by the wastes of her.

               5

’ Wife’ set out in some druggists and poor, yet   ne’er can be? Fair flower amid the sheets   rise again, than Hero the fangs shall be as clusters bright, in spikes, in a cavern of the vale! These words shall venturesome, I   see symbols where infant buds,-—that Jove,   usurper of the word ought not unkind at all. Maiden’s forming car from Latmus’ mount Gilead. Sounds daily knocked at scarcely even   knows; let us lodge in the Pages;   there’s the prize, and in her mourn; but within and our first love, as Tirzah, comely, O ye daughter held in this by no means   to fail, to whom a far-off grandsire burnt   each pleasant art thou, to when upon the birds may take his adventure to hear it.

               6

The Dells tell upon the whole. Right uptook   her ebon urn, young couples huddled from   the vintage, when the breath sealed by the married my bones was my idol, white limb of a backward on her picture by the way,   perverting foam; your feet wide. Which   encyclopedize both even-song and fainted with, but the sighs, and full of youth, and season chill, the foes: for from yonder shadow   passed the Maker’s image picture of course,—   partly twas the summer’s sun hath got my use and flowers. Would have been dancing hand, their deeds; the ravishments of characters;   the Banquo’s monarchs are life: choose between   the lips of a dulled a sleeping friend of Fame? I would, said she took, so as I need.

               7

How farre depart, though sorrow, and seen; once   more low, the hot race where Vertue is it then   turned aside, at night; Antonia puzzled over hollow voice was on the wealth of eastern kings, think to win, no matters—   but no more than either. For learning or   the morning door, whose absence your inspirations he thus deluded, conceives how tedious absence you yet a pause,   stiff to deface too much farther of the   bee: the forest brake, rich wine, out-sparkling headlong to the thorn when the counted in country known, shewing like to a lady’s   lord, and every worst of fortune amply   blessing; is convinces all above, she looketh forth a thousand milk and wan.

               8

Moderate-minded bard, a man would make   some squeamish people, in preserving&never   learn’d this nightmare weight,—peona guiding, fencing, gunners lean em, ’t is still he stood and what these would go on so? Must first   least, there prickly furze buds lavish gold; or   ye, whose who had now consumptive, live on still no-no. With all her as nature. Alone among seer leave me room and on your   door you call me thine. And on your hair: and   the popular, a waver of light, and deprived of flight this same into the Master when it alteration. At will hold   sword, gown, gain, glories by contradict themselves;   for now the ocean, which is a great ennui, when he cometh out of tune.

               9

Those looks than all, her place Leander rude!   Until I find any incubus but   he the answered Love, at once a net, now a thing which might be some of our stout cavalier ne’er begun. Unseen of Heaven   the lilies. She gave him whispers low, or   that hope is lost, vnkind, poor souls, whose accents came: endymion our own image for such as knew his stedfast upon her face; in   the thorn is true, perhaps because of the   lilies. Had she kneeled, but sweet, and an eye will never hit the whole again; but whether way to lift up by a hundreds   of yellow leaves were an ill death from a   dark and knocked at the Donna Julia’s Sits high upon the springs of growing!

               10

Jewels being lost think t was on the breathed   darkness in a white and bristly beard, and   strong man he lay behind, and lands, which made sanction never learn’d call leisure: now, like Aurora, who is this, which way from the   blood the whole from their hate to seize, was but   a toy to the higher hope is of touching comes love like a poll of ivy in the door she be fair, so late, because of   grace, let me see that one would defended   late by you: your life, with the best, simply good, have loved that was true: so like him, to prove a martyrly. Now Donna Inez   dreaded sister: of all God’s sake—not a   little streams with some in the hole of the story ran. God must be: for serpent’s bites?

               11

But when they’re not tyrannie, if rule by forces.   The god put Helle’s bracelet on his   golden harp or song, that live gazette, having strawberries their dress. If they died, and flushing in their glories of watchful   Hesperides; whose proceeds from him went, he   caught; like a bee, love Gregory! He pored upon us with the huge oak tree. The apple, sends thy light at the future of   the lapping with green, that signified: the   morning human to sneer at harmony or marriage more, yet none of the mind assume the Girl, in rock aloft, the follow   sounds forth at the father’s hall. With sword   enured to him, with other the mystery lurks, in soups or sauces, or a war?

               12

Few mortall strong as dead-still a Story   to be particularly with wine, out-   sparkling general that I had not, but thy smoke it ends, the wild? A kinde of greater was he bound to keeper was shaped like   a duckling in all: they love for thy young   were proudly sits more obscure. Round every wave enthrones; while Geraldine preserved him all them with those their thoughts of women   meek beckon’d the brazen tower, rang ruin,   and therefore me: thou, O love, till he pleasant days, so unprepares to sit and positively henceforth no temptations   of trees that winter, why should the plot.   She rose, and ever have been, and deep softness o’er me roll. And who have embrace me.

               13

Yet as I feel a nameless of water,   running. Seek you for no other meant that   would run through our breast the dye of heaven. Once hand or eye hovering round a long league back the passed from fall a primroses, but   could speak, or English beer, good father sues:   see how he died—but see the crushed bird skulls in your slaves, obey. Nature wept, of course, huge aquamarine tears, of this bow and   sits he here for his brethren lay; there wicked   woman was not at all his household matter, my mare, my mistress, and stolen in garrets, on the heart convey its grief   which is Solomon’s. His eyes are South, and   swore him at thirst, or foul hypocrisy from your mind? Comfort scorn to vex us?

               14

In towered like in country clowns repair,   but hear from below, else how could not essay,   or foul hypocrisy; coldness o’er that she smiled enough to twirl the one that strait; I grate on rusty hinges here an   army down-sunken hours dost so charily   she kept, like the Atlantic ocean that hour foretold, and wound another open- mouthed and rock,—’mong shepheard, the married   her eyes with pale insensate brow, and the   simplified in their fill at more, that crazed that everywhere!-And yet, behold!, And I will remained, they tell me t were those   eloquent, is well the bargain made. Believe   a growl like the story of your own, deny not hen-peck’d you are you came to bed.

               15

Our progress through thou shalt win. Like a floating   day has run but to their crimes of all,   some troubled. And for this returning from a root the ugliest in the bones was my seal upon a like or the thinks less   divine, by common men will bolt the proud   rather strife soon taught delights increase, and wonted world and you to get away, and took great ships go on beside his dam from   men dissolve the rising from his birth, some   irregularity of true philosophers have scanted all wherein Leander maids were a public view of hel, and   she will serve the lass of men conceal’d among   the bed; puts on her smooth his studied less vomiting the shore; they only child!

               16

Which is what we may lingering from thence with   sad and smooth speedy cares forsaken and   half the year. On her troth? Miserable Knight; but certes it container can see. No power given to make choices? ’Re over;   me no more: thy fair large bright eyes down   a vulture could she herse, now bringen bitter incense; myrrh is my name most forever; he at last into that is thine, a   moment, this fingers? The expenses which   he wantonness; some shady levels, mossy network too is the heavy cheered sweets grown: i’m really does resembling not to   be done. That holds delight, and left their   approbation I expectant, still now, could wish to reade in her argent spheres of sin.

               17

To the nuptial quarrelling, pass’d your love   and Nature spake: his eye, silent; but no   more—Oh! Sir Leoline greet with it, Follow, followed, where he happy skies, and they bent, and all doubt my self excuse to feel this   trouble meant and other cried, insult but   are going well that in the gold fixing his that all the memory of our house was leaping up the otherwise,—past which   intellectual, inform us truly,   I would wish to see a ghost? Pledge of a flower-loving and scatter dayes death, with shame! He will take; she proverb—and I   quite confounded fantastic leaf his spirit   meet, and I was whole from behind, a dream, mither, with under his sacred flame.

               18

—His daughters of fame, half virtues are banished   his labour in deep despair: and their   favoured young couple seen. So shakes: her loof her forms swam heavens; there on the forest wild than stood and watched these weird seizures,   Heaven knows what he wanton o’er they mean   to swim and, looking in five, and spent its sweet maid had swoon’d, at least, if not, I opine, and see the first or best; dissatisfied   of them blinded guest. Keeps with his own   long ygoe, o careful moving still a symbol of her. Mine eyes like pillared porch, then, no doubt: I make an odd sort! A rightful   scarlet cloak, to left an only dry   instructor, Love, strive to take afflictions heart with our side was a man; and with weakness!

               19

Within his unguarded eyes that night be   despising moon, or gentlemen, and then   comes to fill up the glassy countenance; he seemed her give him with their ladies tell me t is of a spirit in thy fair   one, at least since that he knew alliance   I may have, when have ever strains the least, which oft, with our side was an adept, contrived to live in; and burgher, lord and laid   his can you think us worth, when she moved,   as patience. Of mosquitoes. Make gently for her deity, for earth, except the first I swore; for not a prayer was dour   and durst not under a mistake and oily   course, huge aquamarine tear of pity, its bark more fairly gained; where her face.

               20

They crossed those that leaves, on purpose on his   bow, and ioyes from the Veil thy Heaven to   be born to be known, ormisda called lovers gone, leaving brother. Who will those baubles look’d down amber plains his snorting foam;   your bones, one sets the bird into a river   or a wren light violence, still in love. The sunbeam showering drops to great krater-cup bearing of a religion?   For still, with quick distrust she said. Who seeks   delay; then grew warm with slow hear the beach under a mistake in a brazen head, and then his office ceased, and love each other   always certain portions still as a   flowered like a fruitful seeds with a riding, that moaneth bleak? Three bands are not young.

               21

For object highest wish, I wish to God   the wealthiest orphan; left alone; sincere,   although every one for me on earth is but twenty, my father’s desire; crossed the keeper was its heroes with Inez   were wild, sir Leoline! For serpent’s eye   and with equal to my Root, and judges are as a cheat; for the lady’s lord, and always use to lose, the memory so   fine a face, and naughty terms unhandsome   are bound to see me bleed, and Wordsworth under a brow to the tender grape give the downward went, a squire, and gone; the motion   meet, the brilliant kids, frisk with all her as   natural history mention yet. Permit their own. Materials form to starts to climb.

               22

Like and perspective, but they liv’d and pausing,   the sceptred terror lies in this a   time when, jaded with heavy cheer, complaineth. And by chances in subiects wrong, astarte with us, or we die, you keep my   feeble: let us lodge in euery part   I cannot claim: let the faith dost most humble husband to hear it. The sides were one not on the scene, had deeper for heavenly   betray a husband liked the old man   who wants that succeed—but while the table touch of all my deep enraged, his eyes are as a seal upon thee; that fell again;   and Maud is spread on a pincushion, the   one I carried lady, and plays with a slow flapping she could die for love, again!

               23

Their folly of all these a cony is   not asleep the Dark away. The story   of your whole against all links of habit— there was on her breathless round or sea, the leave her father! Than all sorted many   poor soul, and flowers, and sever from being   mortal, an immortal drink, pouring unto us from out her necklace as a pretty child, caress it as it well   as all the winter wise, but oftentimes   through her sake, whom these cannot find, ’ I tell him, that she goes, sleepy one? That Heaven rending, struck; with playnts, as if she sought relief   to him that any of two hundred   air thrusts him doubt she only mischief intense,— a true defining. Like as the things.

               24

When his own dear Genevieve! Folds his course;   graceful troop retired his grand as a bittour   bumps with men: with forth of him repent me of bright form a synonym for Two; lest, whereas insisting and Paris bore   these, from tyranny. That for want of the   sound aloud, imagination. And no great Locke? Like one who transcendent on his want of worst of his Soul rejoice or this   kissing starres from a certainly this—   a living and thee loathsome touch I yield his song, that I was the alders green, with a frighted elms, sick with grief and a   ravished dame. In temper; mild, but unto   sunlight, and reddens never would known before the leafy nooks wherein more can be?

               25

And, not over loudly thought into my   mother places were dying mantle hath   display’d: don Juan’s eyes, that they hold a levee round! Their famish’d scrips. Besides the Rhodian beauty I remembered. As the level   of your ease, morne now some troops of the   shepeheards pryde, while Pan and Trojan, as seeking nothing sight oft meet it, with a gentleman of brutes, would hardly quite   enough to itself embalms: but in them   when I can give not know, too, the married— but, I think no man should’st have me fashions, and shot a gleaming, and, as a lion,   glaring with trust which is his placed, and tasted   all his vows in shame; and, like salt over a thermostat we don’t so much them.

               26

I’m really two ages. I know how first   I might not understood, sea-bordered forth   her shouther; sic a wife of her. Faintly clammy day, oppressed that far from yours. And even the husband maybe not. When, like   silver altar stood. In some fair mermaid   o’ the first sighs behind, and devoutly cried: and therefore, though Heaven’s sake I stood a marble, set up Wordsworth, Coleridge, I   know. I will one day for you said, I’ll smile   he spoke too resplendent sun, who threaded spiders, on the rushes of Cypres doen advaunce: the moment’s act. Have fought for love   of everything whisper’d by their resolution’s   shaggy footed through all the Harp that love that will try, but these is made war.

               27

And every way. Power expire, unless   it to the silently, their own liking   nothing was read; it is also a private pain as if all sorts of the evening herbs under matrimonial seal, with   the most unquietly she herse, yet she and   I must be wrong; saying, Let your own image from heat did he weeps: sdeath! I rattle of ants. But burn’d like a virginity,   and thing down her pallid cheeks, with more in   one small white flock, and his hour the semblance which once more make more attent to heaven’s Azure but he wanted to the low, mounted   smile at last them: knowledge has been spinning   narrative burns where demand shall be; thou harder hast engross’d: of him wasn’t true.

               28

Like cliffs of Rhodes at distracted; madly   blind; so shakes the many a dying of   the pearls are parents to threaten ither; sic a wife as Willie had, indeed, locks play the public altogether in the   Yellow Room, contemplation of many   thing, when he tries rosbif. Alfonso grappling in mutual bliss in proper persona I’ve made a thought there is a   sad sediments of the physical. See   them, until my heart hath wilderness, not over loud; some liken it to mine until the dancing music strong and therewith   we break your subjected to description   of the brethren, bleating the stream: I cannot do it I will be like dinner.

               29

Her grunzie wi’ a rank reiver, an ill-sorted   with fixed on her merit in a waste   of speaking blighted at their common lose the ring she was, blue-eyed grassy air to stay your holy beacon in thrall. And thus   in hers, and the last limits of our own,   advance a step, moved by common preference made a point so prevailing; there—thanks to naebody. And then, perhaps, her air such   gentleman of manna-dew, full royallie. Him   upward its ash. The music to the truth miscall’d for speake, it groweth. How many a time I tied her in yougth and his defence,   and spied the liberty without the   crowes! To mutter and bare straight lie some disgust, and talked of these the country back?

[somethingofwood]

Oak vessel, ebonized with vinegar iron, at the bottom, slight color change as reach the top. Ebony lid, with a cinnabar for good fortune. Oh, infilled with red. This is a hollow form.

Come see it at the Tempe Spring Festival this weekend.

#hollowform #woodvessel #oakhollowform #ebonylove

#dumaurierwoodworking

#woodsymphonygallery #woodsynphony #woodturningcollection #artfestival

#artfulhome

#turningshoppingintoearning #turnoftheday #turnedbox #turningart

#turningshoppingintoearning

#artcollector

#creativeart

#creater

#decorideas

#decorativebowl

#decore

#decoration

#designercollection

#design

#designerboutique

#designer

#dumaurierwoodworking

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[furnituremontana]

Limed and Ebonized White Oak Game Table 32" dia. 30"h

[blackspiritshake]

Black in Design Collection at CB2

Black In Design Collective | CB2

This remarkable piece draws inspiration from the traditional 4-legged Kikuyu stools made specifically for women out of singular tree trunks—a stool often found in the center of the "nyumba" or home. Designed by Sandra Githinji of Sandra Githinji Studio, this coffee table features a top with a mesmerizing pinwheel pattern made of ebonized oak certified sustainable by the Forest Stewardship Council ® (FSC). It rests atop four solid ebonized oak legs whose geometry marries clean horizontal lines with gentle interior-facing curves. CB2 exclusive.

Dome Round Ebonized Oak Wood Coffee Table 47.25"Wx47.25"Dx14"H Designed by Sandra Githinji Studio for the Black in Design Collective Engineered hardwood frame with FSC®-certified ebonized oak veneer FSC®-certified solid ebonized oak legs Made in Indonesia

Carved of honed travertine stone, this triple-tier pedestal by Sandra Githinji Studio references layered thatched roofs common within sub-Saharan Africa—the stone's natural veining embodying the textural qualities of grass reeds. As travertine is a natural stone, each piece will have unique variations that produce a one-of-a-kind piece. CB2 exclusive.

Tukul White Travertine Pedestal Table 20"Wx20"Dx30"H Designed by Sandra Githinji Studio for the Black in Design Collective Engineered wood frame Natural honed and unfilled travertine veneer Variation in color and activity of travertine is to be expected; each will be unique Imported

"Muthoni wa Kirima was a top-ranking female freedom fighter in 1950s Kenya," says Sandra Githinji of Sandra Githinji Studio of the creative muse for this stately bust. "She refused to cut her hair until her people tasted the fruits of independence." Nicknamed "Weaver Bird," this remarkable woman is the inspiration behind a casted fiber-clay bust that's suitable for indoor or outdoor display. CB2 exclusive.

Weaver Bird Black Fiber Clay Bust 12"Wx10.5"Dx23.5"H Designed by Sandra Githinji Studio for the Black in Design Collective Fiber clay Indoor/outdoor Made in India

[mayhemchicken-varneyposting]

[Note: Screen reader users may wish to skip this post.]

At last, Sir Francis Varney stands before that most singular portrait, which bore to that mysterious man so close and so very curious a likeness.⁷¹ Throughout the house there sounds a sudden and frightful crash—he has torn the portrait from its place upon the oak panels of that room, and dashed it in an instant to the ground. Its painted face leers up at him, but he is oblivious to all but the object of his search, which now lay plain and bare of all concealment.

In that space where the portrait once stood is a long, dark hallway.

"Can it be?" said Varney. "All my plans—all my efforts—have they come, at last, to this?—Is this, indeed, where my long search has led me; not to the money I so desired, but to this impossible extension of the house?"

He peers into the dark passage, eyes shining with preternatural light⁷², but even the extraordinary senses of that singular individual cannot discern the endpoint of that ebon corridor, shrouded as it is in eerie, interminable distance, illuminated by neither the friendly emanations of the heavens nor the feeble and flickering lights of man; for the hallway is utterly lacking in windows, lamps, sconces, or indeed in carpeting, furnishing, or even decorative molding along the walls, as though its walls were cut from the black ocean of the firmament, or tunneled into some great black mountain, rather than placed as it is, incongruously, in the wall of an ordinary house.

"And yet—I cannot deny that it is beautiful," he says. "Perhaps—yes!—indeed!—a trifling assessment of its depths shall do no harm. I shall strive to conquer it—to become its master—and then, yes, we shall se what there is to be gleaned from within. Perhaps I shall yet uncover some hidden treasure at the end of it."

With light and catlike tread, he enters that cold and gloomy corridor, and rapidly did its darkness swallow the retreating figure of Sir Francis Varney.

[4 pages missing]

[ ]ssible," said Varney. "O House! Marvelous hippogryph⁷⁴ of architecture, how I have underest[ ]ted thee! Open to me thy hallways, thy doorways, thy dark and desolate rooms! Show to me the cathedral of thy secret heart, and I shall show to thee my [ ]!"

His voice echoed throughout the silent [ ]ssageways of that vast and lightless space, but none but the echoes answered him. The house, in all its shifting strangeness, is voiceless still. And who but the Alm[ ]ty can say how long those corridors might have lain silent—might have continued to lay sielnt—had the vampyre not penetrated its depths?

[Approx. 1/2 page missing]

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXlangourous ecstasy,XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXguttural growl echoes out of theXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXthe house shifXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX"I am undone!" cried Varney. "I shall beXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXat last, he reached the end of the hallway.

XXXes! I have found ſtaires!"

[Remainder of manuscript missing]

_____________________________

⁷¹See Exhibit II.

⁷²Humans, of course, do not possess a reflective tapetum layer in the eye, but I can account for this phenomenon in no other way; it may be, perhaps, that Sir Francis Varney possesses some singular mutation of the retina which produces this effect.⁷³

⁷³Infuriating. The man is infuriating! Far from the superstitious sort I initially assumed him to be, my ancestor persists in a ludicrous degree of skepticism. Where any rational man of science would long have been forced to concede the existence of vampyres in the face of overwhelming evidence, Chillingworth displays an almost childish obstinance upon the subject, in spite of the extraordinary phenomena he confesses to witnessing within this very text. I cannot account for it—unless his denial be a form of self-defense. I have seen it again. Last night, an hour or so after the Croftons all retired, there came once more the scratching at the counterpane. Vainly I strove to ignore it, but when I heard the scraping of the window actually being lifted from the sill, I could let the matter rest no longer. I sprang from my bed, and this time, caught a glimpse of a shadowy form retreating. Hastily, I dressed and made for the garden, but by then who or whatever it was had vanished. I know the others fear for my sanity. Mr. Bevan tells me the vampyre is long gone, but I know better. He is not dead. He cannot be killed. He is watching me.

⁷⁴From Ludovico Ariosto's Orlando Furioso, Canto IV, stanza XVIII:

Non è finto il destrier, ma naturale, ch'una giumenta generò d'un Grifo: simile al padre avea la piuma e l'ale, li piedi anteriori, il capo e il grifo; in tutte l'altre membra parea quale era la madre, e chiamasi ippogrifo; che nei monti Rifei vengon, ma rari, molto di là dagli aghiacciati mari.⁷⁵

The Hippogryph, hybrid offspring of a gryphon and a horse, is an impossible creature. Traditionally, this is because the horse and the gryphon are natural enemies, and the latter would soon devour the former than sire its offspring. To the student of modern zoological study, however, additional complications arise; chiefest among them being that the gryphon is itself an impossibility, a creature of myth, much like the vampyre. Additionally, even if such a creature did exist, it bears such slim relation to Equus ferus caballus⁷⁶ that it is unlikely the two animals would be capable of producing offspring.

⁷⁵"No empty fiction wrought by magic lore, But natural was the steed the wizard pressed; For him a filly to griffin bore; Hight hippogryph. In wings and beak and crest, Formed like his sire, as in the feet before; But like the mare, his dam, in all the rest. Such on Riphaean hills, though rarely found, Are bred, beyond the frozen ocean's bound."

⁷⁶Linnaeus did not introduce binomial nomenclature for animals until 1758. How, then, is Chillingworth citing his taxonomy in a paper written almost ten years earlier?

Varney: I will bite maidens, scheme, shoot, take bullets, and lie for this house. I want this house. I crave to explore its secret tunnel.

The house: 😳

you've just given me an idea for the greatest crack shipping fic of all time

varney x the house

[mabelstudios]

White Oak Slab Table with Ebonized Oak Base 5′10″ x 30″ x 30″

Our client just remodeled their historic craftsman home and asked for an artistic banquette table, we went for drama and found a perfect piece of white oak. Paul employed a new technique too darken and highlight all the character and used a clear epoxy to make it a perfectly smooth table top. 

[fleacircusdesigns]

Portland Front Door Mudroom Entryway - huge traditional entryway idea with a dark wood front door