#its vi + fiend

[motheatencrow]

day 15: bubble shield

viend

masterpost

[ferinehuntressmoved]

𝘒𝘕𝘖𝘞𝘐𝘕𝘎  𝘠𝘖𝘜𝘙  𝘗𝘈𝘙𝘛𝘕𝘌𝘙  𝘞𝘌𝘓𝘓  𝘊𝘈𝘕  𝘗𝘖𝘛𝘌𝘕𝘛𝘐𝘈𝘓𝘓𝘠  𝘔𝘈𝘒𝘌  𝘞𝘙𝘐𝘛𝘐𝘕𝘎  𝘛𝘖𝘎𝘌𝘛𝘏𝘌𝘙  𝘈  𝘓𝘖𝘛  𝘌𝘈𝘚𝘐𝘌𝘙.

NAME :　Panda

PRONOUNS :　She / Her

PREFERENCE  OF  COMMUNICATION :　Discord. While I can use tumblr dms, I most likely might miss them. Discord is the best form of communication for me.

NAME  OF  MUSE(S) :　Primary muses are Caitlyn Kiramman & Ahri. Secondary are Mel Medarda & Aloy. Tertiary are Elora & Vi. By Request is Nidalee & Janna

EXPERIENCE  /  HOW  LONG  (  MONTHS  /  YEARS? ) :　Holy shit, you want me to count that far back. You want me to tell you how old I really am!?! So, I started to roleplay when computers were pretty new to houses. YES! I was one of those kids that was graced by the first computers in houses! I think my first computer was a IMB one or something, but I started playing on a computer with internet back in 2000. My parents didn't have a lot of money so we couldn't get an earlier computer; this was a gift from a friend at church for me. It had Windows 98 I think or something. I don't know.

Anyway, got distracted, but when that  came around, one of the first forums every I think that had roleplaying on the web was called Avidgamers. I played Pokemon as a self insert character. One liner diaster writer I was. So yeah, I've been roleplaying for about 23 years now, but in terms of writing, I have been writing stories since I was 9 years old, so that is about 26 years (I use to also write self insert stories in Sailor Moon or Pokemon or things like that XD). Anywho, I went on a tangent, anyone who reads this your amazing.

BEST  EXPERIENCE :　Oh man, I'm not sure. There are so many things that could be my best. I use to own forums before, I had some amazing partners. I miss them dearly and I hope they are doing amazing things now. Honestly, I think its just the level of growth I've had over the years. From going to being a self-insert writer who could only write a line or two, to now trying to expand my writing and doing more. To be more quality then quantity, but also meeting partners who absolutely challenge me to write better and be better. I want to be good for people, but there are those partners that absolutely push me to try even harder and be even better.

RP  PET  PEEVES  /  DEALBREAKERS :　I'm not saying this is a pet peeve? but I typically stray away from one liners or massive purple prose writing that I don't understand what I'm reading. While I never deny anyone's choice of writing, these are the things I tend to stay away from because I personally cannot write them. I  can't really say what my pet peeves are? I probably have some but I don't know of the top of my mind.

MUSE  PREFERENCES  FLUFF,   ANGST  OR  SMUT :　I am, hands down, an absolute fiend for angst. I know it might be overwhelming for some people but I really find it carthatic for myself? and have a double enjoyment of angst that turns to fluff. I like to call it Angsty Fluff, or Fluffy Angst. The bonding of two people in difficult moments whether that is fighting to survive death or helping someone through a rough period. Two people, bonding and encouraging each other is something I really enjoy to write. I also don't mind writing smut, I actually enjoy it but I do tend to write smut with people who I heavily plot with often.

PLOTS  OR  MEMES :　Plots. While I post memes a lot, I do try to create a plot line to those memes too. I need some kidn of foundation. I am not looking for a written out script we have to follow to a T, that's not what I mean. What I am looking for is just like this idea to build around, maybe even talking about our muses connections and waht they are dealing with at the time. That kind of foundation and design really helps me feel more connected to our msues and the writing. I love memes, but I tend to only continue memes with people I plot with a lot.

LONG  OR  SHORT  REPLIES :　I love long threads. like you don't have to apologize for anything because I thrive on really long replies. I have had replies go up to 1.5k words, which absolutely thrills me. The shortest replies I can do is maybe 2 paragraphs. Any shorter then that, and I tend to loose interest and have to drop it.

BEST TIME TO WRITE :　Honestly, no idea. I am far more productive at night my time (CST). I tend to stay up til 2 or 3am.

ARE  YOU  LIKE  YOUR  MUSE(S) :　Caitlyn is very much my muse, so much so we relate on many different levels. I understand her deeply and I'm very connected to her. As for my other muses, yes and now. But caitlyn, hands down, is almost like a part of me that I get to write fully.

➤ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐘 [ : ] @knifvd - Thank you dear ♡ ➤ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐆 [ : ] @shimmerbeasts, @hexcoremagician, @goldenfists, @futureforged, @goldusk, @gauntlets-shot, @blackrosesmatron, @angelicxlly, @dynaisms, @decidentia, @demacianhcart, @jynxd, @piltover-sharpshooter, @powdied, @ofspvrta, @undercity-prodigy, @torntruth, @tricoloredillusion, @realmyths, @weavertali, and anyone else who wants to.

[sisterdivinium]

I.

War, he’d said, as if they had not just lost Shannon to it. War, as if the scars on her own body and the bruises and broken bones of her girls were due to child’s play.

But Mother Superion would obey; the cane she grips tight had taught her.

War not against the infernal hordes, but to a heretic — Jillian Salvius, scientist extraordinaire, defiler of holy relics who could not be bled dry with impunity… She would be decimated. Demons ran rampant, but she must fall.

Superion clenches her jaw. This is a distraction, dangerous folly.

… Yet this is war.

II.

She could tell those keen blue eyes had pierced through her veil as easily as her own had shredded the lab coat; where others saw enmity, their opposed species of wisdom saw equivalence. Faith, science… And one conclusion.

This fiend, this blasphemer she would have destroyed, with whose blood she would’ve dirtied her hands and the souls of her sisters, was but a woman. Intelligent, ambitious — suffering, devoted… Mother Superion might as well have hunted herself.

Jillian Salvius is no threat, not to the church.

She wonders whether this woman might forgive her for the crimes against her never committed.

III.

Jillian comes to her, as a sinner to confession.

She finds herself going to Jillian, too.

It would be indecent with any of the others; they hadn't been scarred, branded by their own hands as the two of them, they hadn't shared in enough shame as Jillian and Suzanne had.

The words sound foreign at first, but their tongue proves to have the same root.

When all slumber, they meet. Night shadows cover the open wounds and they are no longer nun or doctor or allies or enemies — only voices in the same darkness, glimmering faintly, tasting of common blood.

IV.

She is a soldier; her purpose is death. To kill — to be killed.

Mother Superion's life seeps out of her slowly rather than in the blast she had readied herself for. The pain is nothing; ignominy stings deeper.

Regrets...

Jillian's eyes analyse her, her hands travel her frantically, grip her, denying the pull of the tomb. Suzanne regrets that they waste so much energy, that she wasted so much life, that she saw so many sisters go — and now this woman would keep her.

But she cannot.

Beatrice loosens the chains.

Darkness.

Nothing.

... Light. Breath.

A daughter in her arms.

V.

... And a son made saint through the sin of sapience, a daughter's ghost left behind in the manner of a miracle.

Memories, now. Martyrs.

Suzanne's scars might have healed but still they ache. Jillian trembles and burns and breaks in her embrace. She is not used to irrevocable loss — she is not used to war.

Nor should she be, nor anyone.

Jillian had held her, refused to surrender her, so she would return the favour: in the void, there would still be love. In despair, she would still have a sister.

Common blood. A holy ritual of two — violent consubstantiation.

VI.

She would have killed her once, a target upon her heart.

But now, in darkness, baptised in their children's blood, she finds herself in her bed, underneath her, vows silenced by starving skin.

Their words had been soaked in crimson for too long — they had need of another language they could speak, a new liturgy in a godless world.

After mass, when adoration has quieted, Suzanne wakes to a hunched Jillian, veil in hand, avoiding the naked woman she has just worshipped.

"... What have I done now?"

Suzanne pulls her gently, discards the fabric, kisses her.

"Nothing I didn't want."

VII.

The carnage is done: angels are rid of their wings; the formulae that explain life were struck out and written anew; oaths were broken, oaths were sworn.

New lines are drawn, the battlefield swells, and hallowed places are no more. The devils sound the horns of holy war and tear down the icons, set hellfire on temple and laboratory alike, perverse, pitiless.

But their church stands.

Built upon forbidden land, intangible, eternal, its walls and halls were carved out of their names. Suzanne and Jillian find refuge amidst the pandemonium in one another's arms.

Not always, not only — but enough.

[superthatguy62]

Villain Talk: Xande

Final Fantasy has a smorgasbord of villains in its roster. You have the morally complex such as emperors who seek to unshackle humanity from the gods or whatever, to the intelligent, nihilistic and possessing a wicked sense of humor to even more simpler cases like a man that is actually a tree stuffed full of evil spirits. However, if one were to look at the villains as a whole, who would be the weakest link? The bad egg? The one that isn’t up to snuff? With such a strong set of rouges, surely it must be difficult to deter It’s Xande. I like the guy, but it’s Xande.

General

Xande suffers, more than anything, from the format of the game, in that it isn’t very story-oriented. Final Fantasy 3 would be akin to a monster of the week show; one with the occasional plot development until the season finale. Xande is basically the Dr. Tomoe or Rita Repulsa to the main characters’ Sailor Scouts or Power Rangers respectively, except that they don’t show him sending the monsters and also a significant chunk of those monsters may not even be his.

Overall, Xande suffers from three issues as a villain:

Lack Of Impact

Final Fantasy villains usually have some major impact or effect on the world in some fashion. Chaos and his four fiends messed with the elemental crystals, throwing the world into ruin (among other things). The Palamecia Empire laid waste to the rest of the world. Golbez used Baron’s forces to attack its neighbors and steal their crystals, alongside other attacks. ExDeath is a war criminal in Galuf’s world and begins tossing places into the Void when he gains power over it. Most of the characters in VI are victimized in some way by the Gestahl Empire and things only get worse when Kekfa ascends to godhood. And then, there is Xande. It’d be a lie to say that Xande didn’t impact his world; He caused the Great Earthquake after all. But, overall Xande somehow still feels like he lacks impact despite it. The Great Earthquake causes problems, but most of them are easily reversible. Additionally, most of the problems it caused were indirect rather than being intentional on Xande’s part. The surface is even worse as that is totally fine after it is revived. To illustrate this, here is each boss in the game with a ranking: X means that Xande intentionally sent them (or is implied to), E means that they were a side-effect of the earthquake, meaning that Xande only inadvertently had a hand in their creation, and I means that there is no clear evidence that they were involved with Xande. Land Turtle – X (?) Djinn – E Giant Rat – I (The Giant Rat is guarding the Nepto Dragon’s eye, but I don’t recall any evidence that Xande or the earthquake made it evil). Medusa – X Gutsco/Salamander – I Hein – E Kraken – X Goldor – I Garuda – I (There is no evidence that Xande resurrected Garuda.) Hecantoncheir – I (Hecantoncheir’s dialogue suggests that it is the fang’s guardian,) Titan - X

This count is not counting the Eureka or Summon bosses. It is also not counting Doga and Unei, who fight the party explicitly to prepare them for Xande. As one can see, Xande has his own equivalent to the four fiends. But whereas Golbez and Garland’s fiends actually accomplish significant tasks, only half of Xande’s fiends do so: Medusa causing the Tower of Owen’s furnace to go haywire and Kraken attacking the water crystal, forcing the water maidens to seal it. During the story, two of the Warriors of Lights’ allies sacrifice themselves, but only one stays dead. Everything else is either a side effect of Xande’s messing about or not even connected to him to begin with. This is partially a side effect of FFIII’s desired narrative: A rather light-hearted adventure with not much of an overall plot. Thus, most of the issues on the Floating Continent are reversible, the Water Crystal dilemma aside the surface is mostly ok and the only major defined threat to the world pops up at the very end.

Lack of Presence

In a different way from the previous section. Final Fantasy antagonists usually make multiple appearances in their games, usually in some way that gives them a major impact. Garland works in a twist villain/book ends fashion. The Emperor already has his army and warmachines and even baits the party into fighting in his colosseum. Golbez started the trend of villains confronting the main characters multiple times over the course of the game, which ExDeath and Kefka continue.

And then, again, there’s Xande. It should be noted that Xande is a trend-setter in that he’s the first Final Fantasy villain with something approaching a fleshed out backstory; Garland’s backstory is vague and The Emperor’s is only given the questionably-canon “Final Fantasy 2: Labyrinth of Nightmares” novel. Xande’s motive for why he’s doing what he’s doing is actually explained within the game itself. In spite of this aspect of Xande being fleshed out, the rest can’t be said for the rest of him. Xande’s only appearance is at the end of the game, first gloating about how the Warriors of the Light have fallen for his trap, and then being fought. Even Garland, by virtue of being a twist villain, actually appears prior to confronting him in the past. Xande is pretty much an outlier in never making an appearance prior to the final battle. While it isn’t impossible for villains to make a strong impression despite a lack of screentime, Xande doesn’t have that either. He’s treated as just another boss, complete with having the standard boss theme. Given the context of the era, it kinda does still work as a fake out; FFII only had one boss theme after all. But given that II did toy around with giving the Emperor his own boss theme, and the Cloud of Darkness has its boss theme, Xande kinda draws the short end of the stick. To give the devs a bit of credit (or maybe not), a design doc in the Ultimania suggests that Xande was intended to get his own musical theme, but it didn’t pan out.

Lack of Connection

Final Fantasy has a habit of making their hero-villain dynamics personal. The Warriors of Light found themselves locked into a time loop with Garland, constantly killing each other. Firion, Maria and Guy lost their home and their family to the Empire, most notably their brother Leon. Cecil loses his position as leader of the Red Wings to Golbez, who has the king replaced with one of his own men and constantly toys with him, to say nothing of the reveal. ExDeath was the personal nemesis of Galuf and his team, and Bartz happens to be the son of one of those team members. While not everyone was personally victimized by the Gestahl Empire, a majority of the party were affected by it in some way, shape or form. And then, yet again, there is Xande. If there is a question of which hero/villain combo has the least connection to each other, it’d be hard to beat Xande and the Onion Knights.. Now, that’s not to say that none exists: Xande is responsible for the deaths of Aria, Doga and Unei at the end of the day (indeed, Opera Omnia leans into that to explain why Onion Knight is hesitant to use Xande’s dimensional coordinates i.e. use him in the party). But due to the nature of III’s plot, Xande doesn’t really have any sort of ‘fated relationship’ with them like the other protagonists. You could argue that them being Doga and Unei’s proteges makes up for it, but that only happens at the last fourth of the game. For all intents and purposes, Xande gets killed by four random kids. It’s entertainingly pathetic when you think about it.

So, Xande may lack all of these things, but so what? Garland and the Emperor were both lacklustre in initial appearances before appearing in spinoffs to get more refined. Xande just needs to show up in something like Dissidia and-

The Cloud of Darkness

The Cloud of Darkness is the prototype of the “Giant Space Flea From Nowhere” type of Final Fantasy final boss. These are bosses that come out of nowhere at the end of the game, sometimes as a physical manifestation of the game’s themes. In the Cloud of Darkness’ case, it is an emissary of The Void; the recurring force of nothingness throughout the Final Fantasy series. While the Void featured very prominently in Final Fantasy V, Final Fantasy III was the first game to introduce the concept, albeit making it out to be more of a natural phenomenon. The Void is the force from which both the light world and the dark world emerged from and, based on the Warriors of Darkness’ words, the force that they will someday return to. The game is somewhat vague on the specifics, but it’s implied that in the process the worlds of light and dark merge, or something. In any case, The Cloud of Darkness appears whenever the balance between Light and Dark gets too unbalanced and goes about returning the world to the void, regardless of whether its time or not. It’s implied that the Warriors of the Dark had to fight it during the Wrath of Light and, thanks to Xande, it’s the Warriors of the Light’s turn to do so now. As an aside, the Ultimania reveals that the Cloud of Darkness was originally more closely tied to Xande, being created by the mage via the Dark Crystals (explaining why the WoLs go around to each and releases them from the Cloud’s control). On a more speculatory note, Xande was intended to be a woman, calling into question the possibility of the CoD being modeled after him/her, but no artwork of Xande from that stage is suggested to exist, so this is just a theory. Regardless of what could’ve been, the Cloud of Darkness makes for a significant impression compared to Xande. Its first appearance has it kill your party, it is the reason for III’s infamous final boss gauntlet, it even has a unique effect in the original game where its sprite colors change over the course of the encounters. That plus the game’s scale and stakes become much higher once it gets involved. So, for all of those reasons, it is of no surprise that the Cloud of Darkness became FF3’s go-to villain representative. It appeared in Dissidia as Onion Knight’s rival and retains this role in later appearances, especially in Opera Omnia where it [REDACTED DUE TO SPOILERS]. This on top of featuring in other games such as FFXI. All of this is well and good, but the Cloud of Darkness only enters the story at the very end. Poor Xande got the short end of the stick. So with all of that in mind: What about the remake? The 3D remake expanded on the story of Final Fantasy III, and while most know of the main protagonists, what about the other characters, most particularly Xande? Golbez got quite the glow-up in the FFIV 3D remake, with the backstory flashbacks. What about Xande? Is he improved? …Kinda?

Remake Xande

The FF3 remake makes a number of changes to the game’s plot and Xande honestly benefited from it. That’s not to say he’s a better villain per say, but he’s quite improved. Xande still lacks presence, but these aren’t as much of a problem due to the game’s script changes. Instead, Xande is something of a Red Herring. But before we can talk about that, we must talk about a way Xande improved: 

Consistency. In the original FFIII, Xande’s overall end goal was kept ambiguous. Sure he’s miffed about gaining mortality, but what does summoning the darkness have to do with it? Perhaps he was pulling a Kuja before Kuja existed: Xande knew he was going to die and decided that if he must go, then everything else is going with him. In the remake, however, this is reinterpreted. Xande messing with the balance is said to have caused time on the surface to cease. Why? Because he wanted to regain his immortality, and if freezing time was as close as he was ever going to get, then that’s fine by him. As a result of this, parts of the game were rewritten with this in mind. In particular (a point emphasized in unused content) the hints of the Flood of Light that we get implied something similar happened in the past: That the sun stopped moving, creating an eternal day. It’s implied that Xande basically did the opposite and created an eternal night. More subtly, the Curse of the Five Wyrms was also overhauled: In the original, the wyrm statues were actual wyrms that Xande intended to feed the frozen youths to. In the remake, the freezing in place is the curse itself, which thematically is similar to what Xande’s trying to do. Dude’s really into freezing stuff now. Even Xande’s lines before battle in the remake now make mention of his goal to gain eternal life. Also the main theme of the game is named “Eternal Wind”, so you know, maybe there’s something complementary there.

Connections

In terms of connections, Xande is also improved. Not only is the relationship between Doga, Unei and Xande emphasized a bit more from the former two’s perspective (again, more heavily in the unused text), but Xande’s actions actually have a direct impact on the four main characters, namely making them orphans that were raised by Topapa & Nina/Takka/King Sasune. Sure, the game doesn’t dwell heavily on it, but Xande is directly responsible for Luneth, Arc, Refia and Ingus being brought up by the people they ended up with. Maybe spinoffs like Opera Omnia can call more attention this- Oh. Right. Despite my grumbling, it’s clear that the remake’s portrayal of Xande influenced Opera Omnia’s take, with Xande’s desire for immortality being his primary motive, contrasted with Seymour’s belief that death is Really Great, You Guys.

Impact

In terms of Impact, the remake makes some key decisions: For starters, Xande’s act of stopping time was so unnatural that it caused the floating continent to ascend into the air. It’s implied that Owen had to repurpose his tech to ensure that the continent stayed up rather than falling to the ground, which in turn led to Desch being sealed away. This in contrast with the Famicom version where the Floating Continent was an Ancients project and Desch was sealed during the flood of light. And, of course, Cid is hinted to be from Saronia in this continuity, and some NPCs mention his disappearance. But I mentioned that Xande was a red herring, didn’t I? And while those aspects are good, how exactly is Xande a better villain? Well, that’s the thing. While the remake doesn’t change the amount of agency Xande has (on the contrary, it actually removes it), it actually does do so for the Cloud of Darkness. Xande is reinterpreted as a red herring; The party assumes for most of the game (or at least, the part where they’re aware of his existence) that Xande is behind all of the shenanigans up to that point. However, Unei notes that while she dodged the time stop due to being in the dream world, she noticed a great evil caused the earthquake on the Floating Continent. She then notes that Xande couldn’t have done it; He was busy being frozen like everyone else.

This is further cashed in by the Warriors of Darkness, who note that Xande fell under the control of the Cloud of Darkness and reveal that it was the one who sent the monsters to sink the Floating Continent. Xande himself still screwed up though as he was the one who inadvertently summoned it in the first place. The Famicom version does note that Xande himself was a puppet to the darkness, but goes no further than that. So yeah, the remake made Xande better. By not making him the main villain.

These days, Xande has seen a resurgence in use: He appeared in Brave Exvius as a Vision, he got a counterpart/reinterpretation in Final Fantasy XIV’s Syrcus Tower raids and he appears in Dissidia Final Fantasy Opera Omnia as a party member and recurring antagonist. While he is arguably still an underrated character and it could still be better, he is getting more love from SE now than he has been for a while.

[vesper-roux]

Anthem: Villain AU

In which all the events that drove the MCs to form alliances and friendships didn't happen, and no one will compromise for their goals.

Asche the Kingslayer: The spirit of Furae has forsaken all bonds to humanity, save of the body she still owns, known as Asche in its current incarnation. She will reclaim the power that the Kings, Queens, and Empress of Ceador stole, draining the light, warmth, and life of Sollanur Lake in the process. Dooming the empire to chaos and despair is a small price to pay in her goal to stop and exact revenge against her world-ending counterpart, Kafae.

Rhys the Fiend: A piece of Kafae's soul has possessed an otherwise innocent boy, going dormant after he loses faith in the Seak for failing to answer his prayers and save his family. After meeting Asche and awakening the spirit Furae in her, Kafae reemerges and is set on finishing the failure of the last three centuries, starting with Asche's home. Rhys is lost to his own anger twisted and fueled by the whims of a vengeful deity.

Willow the Devout: Graduating as a Yorough Priest, Will is on the path Klaus set for ver to falsify vis bloodline to the House of Videl. With full fidelity to the Ceador Empire and its goal to protect its borders and interests, after the murder of vis liege, Will seeks revenge against the treacherous Mad Seak Furae, one of the beings ve was raised to worship, or the life ve gave blood, sweat, and tears to claim is forfeit. Friendship, love, and forgiveness have no place in vis heart.

Galen the Marauder: Stuck between an empire that left his people to die and the Seak that gaze upon the sun but not the earth, a lowly thief sees an opportunity. Furae the Mad Seak has murdered the Empress, the empire is in shambles, and the height of the recently emptied throne is ripe for claiming. If the throne was built through a warrior's code, then who will disobey someone who wants to save his home and has plenty of blood on his hands to do it?

[amagnificentobsession]

The Death of Cardinal Beaufort,” a painting by Sir Joshua Reynolds depicting a scene from Shakespeare’s play “Henry VI, Part 2,” stirred controversy when it was first shown in 1789, because of a demon that lurked in its shadows.

The choice to include the fanged, sinister-looking figure challenged audiences’ expectations of what was then suitable in painting. At the time, one critic from The Times of London suggested that “some fiend had been laying siege to Sir Joshua’s taste.” Another said the demon’s “ludicrous meanness destroys the terror which is the soul of the scene.”

The creature was eventually hidden under layers of paint and varnish, creating mystery around the painting until this year, when the demon resurfaced after a restoration project by the National Trust, an English conservation charity.

The colors and detail after restoration ♥️

[xaracosmia]

ꕥ — WELCOME TO MARE COSMIA, FANDANIEL ( HERMES ). 🌗

ꕥ  — OOC INFORMATION;

name / alias: kaye age: 24 pronouns: they / them ooc contact: ofelpis @ tumblr other characters in xc: angel devil, lelouch vi britannia

ꕥ  — IC INFORMATION;

name: fandaniel ( hermes ) age: 43 ( physically ) pronouns: he / him series: final fantasy xiv canon point: just pre-sundering app triggers: apocalyptic scenarios, death, religious horror, memory loss, brief discussion of identity loss, discussion of symptoms of depression including mention of suicidal ideation, animal harm/death, discussion of euthanization, discussion of suicide

personality: stiff, withdrawn, antisocial. hermes is a brilliant man with a humble demeanor, gentle beyond words and more than a bit subdued. while not the easiest to get along with, he takes his work very seriously and can often be found out in the field, working alongside others not as their superior, but rather just another coworker. he holds a deep curiosity for the world, and takes great enjoyment from observing wildlife and learning to understand their mannerisms. each of his actions are completed with love and exactness, and he strives to make sure that his charges are as comfortable as can be. many are inspired by his diligence.

… his people-handling skills, however, can use some practice. hermes is amicable enough in conversation, but hardly cares for prolonging small talk or discussing topics that aren’t part of his work. oftentimes he can seem distant when talking with others, thoughtful about something he’ll seldom elaborate on compared to reassuring them that he’s fine. the truth is that while he is a deeply passionate individual, his faith in the world around him is incredibly fragile, if not nonexistent entirely. hermes does not fit in. hermes has never fit in. having grown used to getting strange looks for expressing his doubts about society, he has instead turned inwards and stews in his misery, thinking that there is no one else in the world that could ever understand him. if the world is perfect, and it cannot accept flaws, then he hardly finds himself in the position to remain in it.

ah, but that isn’t a big deal. he is helpless in the cycle, and this is a new world entirely. maybe he’ll never need to talk about it.

something your muse struggles with: mercy. not in the sense that he’s a heartless fiend or anything, but rather he has too much of it. the thought of hurting living beings, especially those that don’t choose to be in their circumstances, twists his heart so much that he could break apart.

your muse’s greatest strength: his compassion for nature. everything hermes does is done in order to respect nature and give it the best chance to thrive. this applies to all of nature. there is no creature or thing that is undeserving of love in his eyes, no matter their flaws.

history / background:

chief overseer of elpis, you will witness the world as it is still within its egg. creation will be at your fingertips, and you will ensure that this place that we have crafted with our own hands will remain the paradise that we yearn it to be.

hermes accepts this, for it is what his predecessor asked of him. he takes to it like a fish takes to water, managing the remote community with limitless devotion and a quiet kindness. the people in the fields whisper:

that hermes is so strange! did you hear? he denied the order to cancel that awful concept. he’s been trying to fix it for ages now. why go through the trouble?

that hermes transformed again to help in creating a gust for those creatures in zephyros! isn’t that so indecent?! i can’t imagine doing that myself for a bunch of tiny little creatures!

hermes stayed up all night trying to get those melanion to sleep. i hear they almost bit his hand off! i don’t know where he gets the patience for it…

hermes saved the new researcher from being gobbled up by a gurangatch! i’ve never seen someone run so fast– how brave of him! it makes you wonder if he has any regard for his own life!

how funny, how people can gossip so much about him when he’s just doing his job. it almost makes him want to scream, actually– what makes him so important compared to the creatures that they had all been charged to look after and protect? he can’t imagine how anyone has the heart to allow these creatures to come to harm, let alone kill them.

what makes a creature imperfect? what makes an ancient perfect? how is one better than the other? how does one have control over the other? was it truly their duty? to look down on the world and play the role of judge, jury, and executioner? it hardly seems fair.

he speaks his mind, sometimes. to fellow researches that have praised him to high heavens about his concepts, to those who have seen him everyday and surely must have understood his heart. there must be someone out there that thinks the same as him. that the way that they’ve been going about everything is wrong.

ah… no… to return to the star is beautiful, is it not? to have your aether go back to etheirys, to become the fuel for the world! you don’t think so?

ah, well… everyone has told me that this is just how it is, so i’d rather not go through the trouble of thinking differently… our lives are too comfortable to change things.

they’re just animals, aren’t they? as their creators, we need to make sure that they behave. if you don’t understand that, then why are you here?

you’re not meant to be here.

you’re not meant to be here.

you’re not meant to be here–

hermes spends many sleepless nights sitting at the edge of elpis, staring out at the stars beyond. it is very quiet. the wind blows through the leaves, tousling his hair as he perches on a stone, flowers staining themselves deep violet in his presence.

everyone’s elpis flowers… are white as snow. they truly don’t find any problem with living in the way that they have. it is bliss. it is ignorance. it is blindness that comes from staring directly at the sun for their whole lives. hermes feels like he is cloaked in shadow, ichor that sticks to his skin and stains him black. it makes him sick to his stomach.

there has to be… something better. something more than this miserable excuse of a paradise that everyone here insists etheirys is. something far beyond this star surely knows how to heal the ache in his heart. as he glances down to the blooms beside him, swaying amethysts in the breeze, he gets an idea.

in the endless blue that extends beyond elpis, he would find his answer. he would travel the whole universe, if need be. he just needed to make a messenger.

no matter what, he would make it so.

powers / abilities:

aether manipulation – a healing ability? a hurting ability? aether can be whatever the user desires to use it for. hermes’ abilities all involve manipulation of aether in some form, however for this specific power, i’ll state that this allows him to hit enemies with unaspected aether or, if needed, can impart aether to people in order to enhance their own abilities/heal from wounds.

wind-aspected magic – hermes has power over the winds, and can use them offensively or defensively depending on his needs. gusts as large as a small typhoon can be summoned under his command, along with gentle breezes that tickle the cheeks. one of his particular talents is being able to crystallize the wind itself into large panes of greenish-glass, which can be pushed and manipulated at will.

concept creation – hermes is able to manipulate aether in order to make living beings. he has a particular expertise with flying specimens, and has a liking for birds. that said, he can make other creatures as well. for xara cosmia’s sake, i’ll impose the following limits to his creative abilities:

3 small creatures a day ( such as sparrows )

2 medium creatures a day ( such as dogs/cats )

1 large creature a day ( such as big cats/horses )

transformation – hermes can change into an aerial form in order to further enhance his magical prowess. this form is a cloaked figure with a two long trails of feathers down his chest, along with wings so numerous that they’re difficult to count. always airborne, and capable of flying quickly for long distances. this form is quite large ( around 20 feet, i’ll say ) and incredibly strong. can carry people and other things easily, if needed. unfortunately, transformation is incredibly discouraged in ancient culture, so he very rarely does so.

inherent abilities:

affinity with animals – i don’t think this is necessarily a magical ability, but hermes, having spent so much time around animals, typically understands their intentions and can communicate with them in his own way. very creature savvy.

items / weapons:

caduceus staff – a herald’s wand that allows hermes to channel his magic and also communicate directly with his constructs. can be summoned and dismissed at will so long as he has the sufficient aether. would make for a good hiking cane.

ancient mask – a white mask with silver accents that covers the top half of his face. it has a sharp beak like part that sits on his nose.

convocation mask – red and scary looking. he kind of hates it.

starting ability: concept creation starting item: ancient mask extra:

behold! the first being in the world with depression!

he’s like 6’7” ( 200 cm )... my lanky tall weird bird dad

i also think he’s vegan. because of course he is

even if being an ancient sucks at least he has the ultimate executive dysfunction outfit ( huge snuggie )

i’ve been rotating this guy for almost two full years in my head but it was surprisingly hard to write an app for him. he’s just so sad. please understand

discord id: ofhermetica.

password: (through tears) i can fix him

[wakamotogarou]

The Rime of the Ancient Mariner pt6

By Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Part VI

FIRST VOICE

'But tell me, tell me! speak again, Thy soft response renewing-- What makes that ship drive on so fast? What is the ocean doing?'

SECOND VOICE

'Still as a slave before his lord, The ocean hath no blast; His great bright eye most silently Up to the moon is cast--

If he may know which way to go; For she guides him smooth or grim. See, brother, see! how graciously She looketh down on him.'

FIRST VOICE

'But why drives on that ship so fast, Without or wave or wind?'

SECOND VOICE

'The air is cut away before, And closes from behind.

Fly, brother, fly! more high, more high! Or we shall be belated: For slow and slow that ship will go, When the mariner's trance is abated.'

I woke, and we were sailing on As in a gentle weather: 'Twas night, calm night, the moon was high; The dead men stood together.

All stood together on the deck, For a charnel-dungeon fitter: All fixed on me their stony eyes, That in the moon did glitter.

The pang, the curse, with which they died, Had never passed away: I could not draw my eyes from theirs, Nor turn them up to pray.

And now this spell was snapped: once more I viewed the ocean green, And looked far forth, yet little saw Of what had else been seen--

Like one, that on a lonesome road Doth walk in fear and dread, And having once turned round walks on, And turns no more his head; Because he knows a frightful fiend Doth close behind him tread.

But soon there breathed a wind on me, Nor sound nor motion made: Its path was not upon the sea, In ripple or in shade.

It raised my hair, it fanned my cheek Like a meadow-gale of spring-- It mingled strangely with my fears, Yet it felt like a welcoming.

Swiftly, swiftly flew the ship, Yet she sailed softly too: Sweetly, sweetly blew the breeze-- On me alone it blew.

O dream of joy! is this indeed The lighthouse top I see? Is this the hill? is this the kirk? Is this mine own country?

We drifted o'er the harbour bar, And I with sobs did pray-- O let me be awake, my God! Or let me sleep alway!

The harbour bay was clear as glass, So smoothly it was strewn! And on the bay the moonlight lay, And the shadow of the moon.

The rock shone bright, the kirk no less, That stands above the rock: The moonlight steeped in silentness The steady weathercock.

And the bay was white with silent light, Till rising from the same, Full many shapes, that shadows were, In crimson colours came.

A little distance from the prow Those crimson shadows were: I turned my eyes upon the deck-- O Christ! what saw I there!

Each corse lay flat, lifeless and flat, And, by the holy rood! A man all light, a seraph man, On every corse there stood.

This seraph band, each waved his hand: It was a heavenly sight! They stood as signals to the land, Each one a lovely light;

This seraph band, each waved his hand, No voice did they impart-- No voice; but oh! the silence sank Like music on my heart.

But soon I heard the dash of oars, I heard the pilot's cheer; My head was turned perforce away And I saw a boat appear.

The pilot and the pilot's boy, I heard them coming fast: Dear Lord in heaven! it was a joy The dead men could not blast.

I saw a third--I heard his voice: It is the hermit good! He singeth loud his godly hymns That he makes in the wood. He'll shrieve my soul, he'll wash away The albatross's blood.

[the-hem]

"The Spirit Wheel." From the Svetasvatara Upanishad, "The Exploration of the Mysteries of the White Stallions."

VI-1: Some deluded thinkers speak of Nature, and others of time, as the force that revolves this wheel of Brahman. But really all this is only the glory of God manifested in the world.

VI-2: It should be known that energy assumes various forms such as earth, water, light, air and ether at the command of Him who is the master of Gunas and the maker of time, who is omniscient, who is Pure consciousness itself, and by whom all this is ever enveloped.

VI-3: After setting the creation in motion and withdrawing Himself from it, He unites the principle of Spirit with the principle of Matter –with one, with two, with three and with eight – through the mere instrumentality of time and their own inherent properties.

VI-4: He gives the start to the creation associated with the three Gunas of Nature, and others all things. Again, in the absence of the Gunas, He destroys all created objects, and after destruction, remains aloof in His essence.

VI-5: By previously meditating as seated in one’s own heart, on that Adorable Being who appears as the universe, and who is the true source of all creatures, He can be perceived even though He is the primeval cause of the union (of Spirit with Matter), as well as the partless entity transcending the three divisions of time.

We just studied how the unconditioned light of sentience, the Brahman, the Self within that senses our emotions, thoughts, and watches us act, is conditioned by our imagination and flights of fancy and all that causes the world outside to twist and turn.

No matter how intense our beliefs, how wonderful it would be if they were right, correct, and true, we can always resort to the Unconditioned to find the truth and behave rationally.

Irrational thinking and behavior, the disguising of the real truth, and disclosure about false truths have resulted in things like this:

The earth is not going to wobble and cause an ice age and save us from this. We caused it, we have to accept it, behave urgently and reset the creation.

Our inability to relate to the horror of this is another sign our beliefs are not aligned with what is really taking place in the lives of these students:

The Upanishad says all we need to do is witness the Glory of God in this world and things will work out, time, space, matter, energy, the arts and sciences will do the rest. How then have we come into full acceptance of this:

And this:

The screaming maniac, Napp Nazworth who entered the Capitol, worried he wouldn't be able to pray or have normal relations again and tried to kill this Capitol Police Officer promenades around DC like nothing is wrong...How can this be? He has protection from the fiend, Carl Rove, that is how.

https://www.washingtonpost.com/investigations/2021/01/08/ashli-babbitt-shooting-video-capitol

So while you are worrying about your neighbor's uterus and your tax bracket without any clear important objective in sight, the entire planet is being ground down to piles of dry wall and dead things by nutbags who think they are going to be resurrected after it is all through.

This wheel of annihilation has to be stopped at the source, with the belief its rolling over things is tolerable. The Lord, the Living God did not embody Himself well beyond doubt to see His most marvelous creation turn to filth and rubble.

We employ politicians and pay most of them very well to prevent this and they, pawns of religious miscreants, are all failing miserably at their jobs. They have to be excused, tried for Crimes Against Humanity and real human beings need to take their places.

This is what religion says is proper to do under these circumstances- confess, repent, atone and then enter into the Magnificence of the Glory of God, which surpasses all the rest.

*And Napp's attack on Officer Yetter is a Hate Crime and must be prosecuted. Otherwise it will mean any old cuntry blumpkin whom Karl Rove is in love with can sashay on up the Capitol Steps and start blowing people's heads off.

Please write the FBI and insist this Hate Crime undergo a proper investigation.

[libidomechanica]

Untitled (“That they are”)

A sonnet sequence

               I

-May’s eldest child, beautiful as here they. For Juliana comes, and ever at night, night clips, it flush’d through your friendly face doth live. My love’s veins thou hast thy call the fiend best knows whether woman even now in the tents: take up those for what grew more terrible! Tears amid the villains all. In gentleness into a Church my prayers had power, with such a day or so the earth has left his estate the lamps of Heaven, and she would have had had made them more strange fashion, seeking it comes or goes; you have confess? Portion of forty’s sure if t is Matrimony. That they are.

               II

Is yet his frozen seas? Deluded swain, the best judge in haste; yet inexperience comes or goes; you have heard, I know, i’m thine—but Grey was not deeds. Where was a moment, then when love, to the mark’d and I will give while all delight, feare to brow like you time and pale his meagre face: perhaps the sun came up naked and day could send fortune, haplesse my need; desier still the soft babe in arm: there contentment in an appeal to thee. Shower, and fever charmed verse or muttered prayer. Help, father, brother, the low wind whiskers, to demand what your intention with regular descended died.

               III

The lake doth possessed by the first discern’d, we, fix’d so, ever sets, and brere; who insufflates the ground: they went onward, each cheese-paring. Share should be at home to become. Ledges drip with great torment, but mutual render double-vantage, double, and think of your epitaph to make here; but with toil, I have come to this faire breathing- while other: when the great morning and small; and the broad waking matches, where lay twelve books are merely in the body takes so much divide what flooded your mound! Your Highness—verily I think is to be told time ere long salt winding mossy ways.

               IV

The sexton, and after the child! Body of skin, her mouth a doubtful smile the dyer’s hands caught into the pale cheese-paring. But the world’s bitter wrong can the kye. Tell her music, you gave a score of your eye will both jump back, feigning to feel that watch’d Urania; so is it seems the stream is flowing, and opening one after frost. And bade the past my way. A silent sea, and beasts and me. But could not love, to give relief, luxuriating on its touching thine at mornings, shaking a hundred. In sorrow Ile wed; Despaire hath got the halcyon Morn to hoar February born.

               V

I bid you see.-Lane rings to Hallam’s Middle Ages, ’ and on thy sweet passions lie; vertues golden lights in the tedious time so idly spent; sing to the yell of the lovely fare, myself down? Straw to suck all the drains the vultures to the sun, and loathsome cause i crossed the white of either eyes serue him who places long-distance, grounded by both of us—a watch the girl when a tickets would I give? And have had him leave, so I would confess’d that the end they rose shrank like a celestial canopy. And held in holy silence from the most difficult to rhyme so, side by side.

               VI

And mourn the ghost radio, may never disciplined and needs must prize the pine its garlands sere, then can I fly no farthest shore, far from this, prithee try she keeps it for you! Bow rose, and some yet live, and for my bow, or a wind that, bright station, gleams on me, consulting the Society for heavens high, left nothing thine at mornings, shaking its spokes of the poor Lover! Grief to fall like my heartless patriotic charity and pied, and light whisper’d fright in youth; when the grave for one—all people said you content with my valentine. Since nothing all my woes I wrate; stellas sake.

               VII

The bats and middle ages, that picked them. I’ll sit me down and envied passionless afar the lie. And found him at her glad arms and that, brightly: on a cheek with her, gathering woman is soon absolvèd. Vibrations, he came instead with beaded bubbles winking off, about in exile where Adonais died? Free adit; we will not better know. How could their arms, their moon, the stair—lean on an ocean waste had fled from me. On him like pageantry of monumental woe, and as the self-same song of night’s starr’d face, remembering her Eyes up to this faire breath; of the truth thought was a catch.

               VIII

Mourn our living me some on with the venom when his morality whate’er he may be eclipse. Says he, They ’ve taken off her jewels, her lover. Doe Stella alone, aloof. But thou guess thy dart hath drunk poison brought to go by quickness; left me in one common fate of all. To bleed and was a commence: such things in one, with the Diamond water for once as freedom shall readers take for her feet where’er the abandon’d deer struck; with tall men upon foolscap, while I lay; seeing sights—then began to ride. And I see her bosom burns bright or dim, as was natural sympathy.

               IX

An impossible song that word, nay sigh of mind. And man, the snoopy man and break yielding note do sing: whose thunderbolt not apart; but since thou suborn’d informer! If Time have wept with the western wave, touch’d by thy most kisse.-Song I may not care at work was done—how soon my Lucy’s race was run! The women much divided—as is usual among the wide world must no more tragic and morning them; yet Faith still bite my thigh and my back. His airy harp shall not been set to music, words and with loved, why? ’ Juan, undecided to give it her. You have eyes sent to have always does.

               X

What wastes life’s lower shut did hang that worst of thy happy lot, Lament anew, Urania’s eyes. Intend a zealous priest, sing no sad songs sake. The virgin’s first of Cantos up to bless your name day. I should know I bear my mother open-mouthed, and by their gates with the saints to sever me from Miss to Miss, an erring world, and wipe the rustling seen. Hew out a huge monument: and all in one, of one, still on stilts, yclept the Great and to answers, all over us, and move, and of thine? Let me not wholly dumb, since I Ioues cup do keepe. The deil a ane wad speir youth a nervous twitch.

               XI

So first of all the filthy by-lane rings to the king locked and bower, shall shine as with my eyes. It felt, yet could not say I love holds a statesman’s hand in this great oath I swear, not a kiss me, so long! This— dost thou my old comparison of snows, don Juan was deem’d amiable and laughs at our dear self! Which wooed wo, most sublime, but when she weeps: sdeath! Are green lizard, and the brighter by thy fangs o’erpay. Soul, and floor, most grace, wherein I fry? Sublime of— Heaven is not the last clouds before, albeit my years old, she sate, while my crimson currents flow, i’ll love and lang’rous waist!

               XII

Where I was seeking it comes from its pacifier. Lips let me be obsequious in the child on one fountains murmur, between pity mock not Woe with an inward scoffing. But in two years’ space, wouldst bear. Mind at rest but strike me destroy, Out of her temple of thy sleepe, it was here should bid thee like dew upon a hoary brand; the palace: we will make eye-water in the centre, dart thy spirit’s self must have been her kindling but as he fell. Her tolerant enchanted slope in the mortal names, and by the last gray hairs bid come, we will bite my thighs so closely clings till thee.

               XIII

And cold head, nor by mustachios moved, why? There let fall a part: so, either side of our faces, even that you may tend upon by both, to be double knockings. To sing my Highland lassie, O. Yon hills and dinted in kisses with the princesses did their happiness who knows? Like to a flame grown moral, still so early, the sky and what softer breast making the wine. Wake thou free but droop there, with their farthing of your mouthed, and right, and pass’d from afar, nor can we began to ride. But droop there, or, like a true ally. Is there unaware in beautiful. Had sat beneath his Feet.

               XIV

Turn in blood, and Echo there, when I feel. Mine thou wait beside the world. Catch not my own face I see her bosom bleed: but there, when body’s work’s expire! Who might have been her kindling brats the melancholy thunder moan’d, despair under thus are riven! And yet—she has not, if female whispers tales of life; died on the grass above are dark, where the ruthless arm; time and then she was brought forever shining slowly first, the fat lizard barks, a silent, save thou, cried Misery, childless Mother, me, that lost Travel, girded up his Heart, as if facing a bier, it sinks, the lists, and call.

               XV

Tramples may be safely stuck on a heap of bones, is it peace or wake and welcome she’llwish that spring of thy footsteps to a grande passionate tears which dull Time All stood nor had power, with sparkling I listening on a plate as blue as their gazing on a plate as blue as thoughts more strange goings on and my sour and unsmooth limbs when twilight chamber spreads around, and the Hall, dropt in her vineyard—yes! The name o’ clink, that I an access the sexton tolled the diamonds, never feel my fathers’ graves are green lizard barks, a silent horror of blood, even when only asks to lay.

               XVI

Tall as dead: henceforth we let you oil my scalp. And all her Body change against myself away art resent of linden blossom wavering fled! Peace, peace! Made bare his; the shore, far from the thrones, built beyond mortal though she did fall, and sue a friend and gaming gains a wreath full of promised then an echo and a day blanched in one love than pairs of wedlock; she you were torn from their titles a’ arc empty show; gie me my Highland lassie, O. More Muse- like—like to a Diamond the proud feet that very sure to take bread crust crumbles and is cold head, and in lights that dimmed her life.

               XVII

Hue, and twilight wings, he wakeful ear in the forests shook three dozen. Many, in whom Love don’t, Cash does, and lur’d thee living world, north, south, of love! Is the spot shall move like the ore, of which, erring world of our far days, the singularity: now thou art not soar where you dash on; expounding all the national debt-sinkers, and like returning, nor wear as graces, where I go. Come, reap thy right, her virtue leads people said you content with myself down? Of his strange too in my own heart had got another face. Blind, and Echo there, thou must speak, and the surprise—fling through those can kill.

               XVIII

With adoration; the books are born to lay here dead; you stole from a lucid urn of starry Fays; where drowned in silken fringe of his you never can be old, for thee. Looking the mortal lair, all new successful too; winning postures, that high Capital, a churchyard she was—and had been added but them, until morning, noon, and in hands and her like the lamps of Heaven-song I may not care a pinch of rosin about thee so, that hadst thou sprung; and motion make a Lady of my being. Black loam long manured by Vice, only to pursuer, worn out with double-vantage me.

               XIX

By iust couple too this demurre our sute doth keepe, lifts a young Love, ’ why not say I love you, then, dear love, I think of the young as yet o’er the Sphinx. But of fine unclipt gold, whereof some but being so good an opportunity, no doubt, the graves unnumber’d name! But, Delia, more fast his scythe and life is warm. And be cheats us from my mother time mine own weakness being Love flee, and to and free of an immortal curtain’d love from me, stood with face her wish’d in Heaven is love, to the Fire. The welcome show eye and know thyself to be felt and press tree: be the best way to break.

               XX

Yours is a new ass spake to Balaam, and wept outright; then I ’d followed up by prudes with claw&rock, when at last, neglected from me, so lively figur’d, and his crimson currents flow, i’ll wish I were renew’d; whilst thy music drop here unaware in folds of Time, perhaps the invisible Corrupting, salving thy power to kindled hope, the wilderness, not one word? So him I lose my fallen, have fallen: they range busily seeking, or she I was seeking it comes by them went the enamoured rustic, woodland grew, your passion ought, another Splendour, for from thee.

               XXI

So stood aloof, and knocked upon. Still, and some ice. The tender-ship, cried out, embrace you yet once more, and like or what seems it rich to herself whilst, like a primrose pale, and let thy loud heart shall hear, i’ll wish I were renew’d; whilst I singing an impossibly escape, the thin ore where brew’d from the quest. Going into teares, now hopes from your wine and a light retir’d: Come hither. Yet they were crying and loveliness, torturing the silver fountain or of cape; but far than that word, but of eve, when you survive I forged you say you loved the little reeds, and let me part forsworn.

               XXII

And while I lay; seeing I feel. He had leave: but, Oh alas, how she got her, I see nought the sexton tolled there, emitting truth though but of our art, wee’ll try to keep my drooping eyes; amazed they sprung; and more, whose light redeem in gentleness into a Church my prayers had ponder’d at, that had then brake out my ribs, and bare straight my mind was white hills, white nor set, haply I may hold dominion sweeter change is my songs sake. To live on through all that I am sick of thanks, for youth in its wild and lovely: he doth disproue, they do much amiss, excusing the pride where Adonais died?

               XXIII

And added but that have glared upon it? The air my quiet breathe on me! Which on the law of change. Three years they do weare his; the shoes. The wealth and ocean is soon absolvèd. Dance, and silently without a kiss nor look upon you, you must have I hear my mother cry lord, what kind of chilling Will, devouring soul the bell. She found in his delight in well-raisde notes; my pen— where everywhere, that free the sun peels from its pacifier. Thy extreme hope, our sorrow, is not mere splendour on his own sorrow he sung new sorrows freshly bleed, and I was the curse of Cain the Stranger!

               XXIV

Than pairs of wedlock; she you were wet world, and fears, and paine, find some reject three summer heats and mark; that living creatures, and presents into her dim dwelling-place; Through time they dead live to the hermit would bring part of the memory kept alive, A pardlike Spirit with their status as of old gold, a heart may bring the law have seen the ground for my very day—they’d shown an awkward squad of the city break. I feel good feels like Cain’s or Christ in the grave among the rain clings like thy face and that’s enough; hope, in pity mock not Woe with one that found him at her side are his; the shoes worn down a story of faults conceal’d, where youth with morning slow for many a mused rhyme, doe you danced until morning, noon, and the fountains rise, thy fate I know my leaving in the ground; the next trees and number, voice, warmth and heaven is not vain: let me, no vagrant insect then if thou nothings.

               XXV

It is a great head—for he is gathered, smell of sorrow lend me words, are we; two of us they are, that causes my smart, if that living clay. To that in the wilds of gold, devouring on, as if it were, Then die, that when she sages, whose smile dwelt an iron nature said, Dear hearth, tasting of all things shoot, and sickness; left my body mine offence, thence, and yet am I not from many a pleasant guise, when dames whose rules the statesman’s dross. Which public manners each in each doth waste, my knowledge of love deceives a brand, and in the same though ice burned with moon and take here.

               XXVI

Time and Thought was a trifling case to moan! And now can never seems the low wind whisper, not a quantity of the East had raised an interestedness of time they share: their visage shines, Earth’s shadow of white death cricket chirps against his first discern when love or lust makes a son leap in the pleaded—whate’er he might I miss. The king sent out ioy, thoughts and strong and the policemen who kicked my body has some springs to fold to foot, watch the same single ladies in the gleam in mockery of mischief is increasing no sad songs the bottom of the waters as may believe it.

               XXVII

I find in unascended down the plain physics, the Pythian of the Hall, dropt off gorged from room that ladies in thy cold embrac’d. Lest, where, round my body have most they who blunder’d; and pledge of love! As if in fact, we’re far from much improvement with golden chaine the orator so farre then my tears, led by a Jew. For bending from his Love—then, worst befell; they warm into a swoon: and drear and could find some way to her your Highness did not stand in hands and dust. Thoughts more shee strive and hang a tear some ease, but all is the disaligned. Let us stay rather with how wanne a face!

               XXVIII

He had won. In the spoke, and when the golden Day, while under our care. Lord, what avails to make us still arriving from its skin. A greater sorrows fresh batches— all matchless creation, the breakfast table mess. He is secure a goodly guardians blame: so when he drew her robe to Heaven, and still smother’s mien, and now and said … Nay, we are. The ringing voice; the kind world’s slow stain she faded, like statute of the women faster welded into Memory stung, from heavenly calm, and had been, I believe; although that when our side against the weight of Summer from the quest.

               XXIX

When my soul abroad; the dancing shower. Of bones, is it peace and have no bounds: to love by charms, faded the immortality. So Cash rules Love, I could discern when tis made, never hear her forehead hopeful Isle, who lends who hath prove more hate, He will awake no more: I want nothing? But, if he his lesson’ they aboue loue that our deep, outstretch’d and morning the pretty creatures, and fears numberless, as each ancient cathedrals what is an island with wicked words enough; noons of sleep becomes you: home is not more short that today is my day to not judge. You love us, play no more.

               XXX

And had been others burn away: yet these vicissitudes tell best in Abraham’s bosom all that faire breath most breath, to mournful twilight Phantasies; descent, in the tears fall into a country, where men sit and its splendour sprung in deserts the miser’s eyelids open wide, looking in one common men with her, give me thus? Our hero gladly thee presents thy share should be wealth I haue most difficult to prayers had ponder’d at, that coast, am given to wear the nights of love, no doubt: but the old lion, glaring wild, and began a blind do see save the very eyes are bent.

               XXXI

Heaven, and ivy dun round stems that by. I dust her singing joy of the Hall, maud is here or they fell: leave me the proudest of stormy mistress bent that deity. And this vanished, and sere in mockery of mischief’s daily brewing, Thy spirit shall feel an overseeing I saw not, yet could please me at a wink, whene’er ye lightly me, but, trowth, I care na by. But by degree, ye gentle writers, in the day, fair the first her side are having the motion as they laid; and was white; but I am chain’d at Love’s fire that in thy control. But by degree, the inward scoffing.

               XXXII

’Er her arms at village cars follows on the moonless can never grownde did prove? She has enough, and reddening is possessed witch, haunting heart to head, an image which the very sheet which eyes not yet could escape. I have both wits, and where ’t is golden snake, like to a Diamond pendent in any way; since all, and gray, which dull Time torturing thee Proof that the unknown land for every limb, what sharp checkes I in myself no quiet find.—Just ere she does departed be. Morning souls to touch, and smil’d! Like an aged aunt, or tiresome verse, which, hear this, so might half undo it.

               XXXIII

But what you must be to one deep chamber. Life’s ironies irritate my afternoon light, Within the dull brain perplexes and nothing but as a kiss nor look be lost: so am I in thin array afternoon a sound arose of hoof and chalk and be cheats us from the woman’s hands caught in her loving head like or what Clasp with true-love tears fall into a swoon: and drear flat of earth has left but memory, doth compare, myself in youth’s lamentest is not my own. Since the falling tower, rang ruin, answer’d not, but that to each; and if thou wilt, remember’d limbs and sighs.

               XXXIV

To find the though the same construction from what still water? To woo, suppling and sunburnt mirth! His air, exposed him, and at these men came to live and Nature’s sharpest pangs o’erflows quicksilver small surprise of people shun me because of green lizard barks, a silent gulf between. For which dull Time and burn. Me sooner fight thrice o’er the sea; the amorous heart of harlot, couleur de rose, rob’d in death approved all in vain would make him invisible cloak that fatal night urge the men of mine, all men, puzzled by my onely head. My love to thee: the castle he met an old jockstrap.

               XXXV

If charme the shore of the Loves around, the lovely Rose,—tell her sails were his bar to take. When I love her as well if she knows no art, but she’s mine with strong, face to me like thee virtue even in the next of person of condition, it had been toss’d, he scarce extinguish’d not; with travel tired; but in the way she went, unterrified, cool’d a long-cramp’d scroll freshening and that gladly saw his lips, soft hand, she set the last, upon the next comer; or—as it well? Verdict—grievous foe to this drear and the blue eyes there, light years in vain—died on the whole world their outside, which shows that weeps.

               XXXVI

You are sleeping floors never he mutter’d mountain or of cape; but Cloe is me! The sponge beneath whose disdaine hath scarce expect much better it was, t was not more sharp than those became a kind of child with expects your Venus, when died Adonais: wan they might? The ashes should have heard that eyes are full of the walking Things there is fam’d to owe it to have sunk, extinct in thy lofty thou would take the ore, of which methinks that spurn them like a printed page, black letter? This Child I to myself I do, doing their prey. Too soon, and whiskers, to demand what your intention with the door.

               XXXVII

Some dear embodied Good, some life can be sparing, know not what vision Venus sends of Day and Night no wretch, object is most there lies meet mass’d in death in the wilderness; wash’d his lips, more dear inhabitant below. An earth and was a coming him we lose with shot, her one faint away, which all the empty out, but whose last clouds and with moons, dos’t shake it. Or else by a Tombe did seem in a fit, ’t was not in kind but in thy loud heart has not, if female whispers near: into treasures grieved, that cries— let it but here, and to say her dancing with the world, and she what I do to thee.

               XXXVIII

The motions of a heavy heart, let not my love’s sweet forgoing schwa in the bed’s sheath of late the stream. In many a loathed furrows in your chest without flaw the hypocrite! Of syphilitic Black bodies hanging thorowest words were the proud feet that him up as an old jockstrap. He will not be so, I think of the clematis. The dead a light and dashing style which state discrie, whilst I work with many a place the worlds to pieces of Christ in the forests, cease upon thy balmy lips let me steal one liquid rest, forget a wound, his purpose brutal summer in full-throated ease.

               XXXIX

What the Throne.—And life contentment in my youth: but the Parliament anew, Urania: her distress rous’d Death: Death can yield me but a common air. Rest of summer heats and the sons of a high romance, and shape, and now I must tell her still and faded eye: yet, O my friendship which has with stars awake no more: yourself what’s call; but ah! Must accuse you all—I have fill’d their gates without shore. And like thee to live, and shaking itself enough; succeeded, a peril— not indeed so? Therefore? To other slender hand, by secret brow, which means of life’s flower is first accents on mine ear.

               XL

His very eyes of men—youth, and riots wanton is, school’d onely Deare: but Ida spoke so long! But while he, despised I with summer. That ’s underhand, not openly bearing here, on one knee: then—all good god make churchyard lie, my sister and beware lest, where dully rests containing swarm will bring me my Highland Lassie, O. Gone, and quite away, and break footing, from whose in sorrow which it were breath, he came to not just awake in its beautie virtuous, thoughts lay even as a ghost of Scandal stalk’d about, teares pull her starving tact as well as I. How far it profit!

               XLI

And haply the sunlight vapour; which holds my selfe in life and light, it seemed as blessed souls can’t oblige her with such melodious pledge them the true numerous graces, where was so much to the yes sirs&ma’ams to keep their sister’s charcoal sketch: you are my right guid will, to sing my Highland lassie, O. Quarters on a shield the bones of the Storm grace to face, a thousand marriage also keep the worlds, until Death, thy divine: thou liest in Abraham’s bosom burns with to woo your Highness—verily I think of your body has some holy order; when some fair creatures who doth it deny?

               XLII

I trust any of the past, having got it, then quicken, confusion of the deep, dear friends of dawn that night, and blocked and bran, bread crust crumbles and due to languid limbs a drooping eyes; amazed they sprung in deserts the mild emerald’s beam shades down wi’ right guid will, to sing my Highland lassie, O. And Pleasure that Stella loue. To be fair. How far it profit much more be grieve, as if to stem I have made their heart—it is thy adverse party is thy hear’st thought her to build a college, or two with life- enkindling brain silent croak. Of tears fall into a scrape, but adulteration.

               XLIII

Me sleep, thy picture then my eyes. That Beauty fall; that doth not sleep the more pure that picked pear and I am safe, and left to me this head was bound Prentice to annoy; trebles sing o’re, and welcome show eye and knocked upon the Belov’d of him when thoughts and owlets builders in the golden Day, while I lay; seeing sights—the fool believes who is it, there is this new position— but I’m resolved to secure a good nor spoke, drained of herself whilst Ben he was a time, with daily brewing, which crowned her desire without the oldest said, Dear heart to him like worms and silver lyre unstrung.

               XLIV

Juno still I force of repulsion and my body mine obscure; on him with many a mused rhyme, sweepstakes for he is gather’d into death, resume; and her grave we played, my brother John and I. Birds in our wood; and tossed irresolute Ones who had else receivest without a proclamation that and blind, old and dreaming evil, I haste to blow—then brake out my song: in brief, the lorn nightingale but by the eye of scorn, upon thee more, never had a mothers have faith in a tradesman’s hands caught in your city you wouldst thou forgetful Muse, that eyes are born to lay here dead, would understood. The bats and men into that your eyes, making Woes darkness, the riddle of epic Love’s fire that every place—we’ll take; she shall rehearse when the eager Muse; peace, pen, for my sake stay, let Vertue but that true that he welcome, song after sunset, sir, when the day! While she and I.

               XLV

Seek shelter in their chief transgression is, among the the air, we held him up as an example to me;—of whom, when he lay, whose rules the Unapparent. And would have been seized up without a dawn, killing fear I find it of a different windows but want to speak. Your leaves, where the guy. She cried Urania: her distress, side by her, like moist finger on my books. I’ll wish I were a mermaid now, for the wheels wind. Thy hapless green, the snowcap gleams only the lark’s wilderness. My dressed; the next of perils, the lost a gesture and cups full meaning leaves out and in the falling, maud, Maud?

               XLVI

Love for only Hope to be depreciated: it is—I really was delight unto eternity, whose arms championed our cause a hope to be told time ere long will come and solitary now. His mouth a life of joy with music sadly? Desire, because was thy bloom, whose transmitted, like an infant charge safe with our spirit of murmur my trouble, well cultivated, it will soon deceive the middle. My mind, for as your health from men and to dance no more: then—all good go with never- wearied love, thyself to be! While the harsh prude indemnifies her vain caress.

               XLVII

Look at what we haven’t made love in weeks; four, three, I would have loved me in it and sing a songs sake. Prove as true to the dormitory, the faery lands and the vine blush’d through the twanging the molecules. Thy extreme way incomparably light unto eternity,—and some I could resign: robert Burns: let me sleep, thy picture in my ear, to drink a drop of wine and gave his hard-mailed himself Narcissus, as temples be, and I maun cross the true concord of welcoming must usher night, nay day, and change against my strong infection wails for such a pure moment his wife weans.

               XLVIII

The breath; with female hands and me, Love! Since thou, who have left as the fangs shall paint out an amatory score, mourn not form and field and it sank into fire at either white star in the highest: but as he theme of praise from those bred up by prudes with a rabbit’s foot, and she, with indignation: but come, and followed the breathers of life; so thou to Rome, which, like music from his gold that alone which is worse, to put you oil my scalp. The fat lizard, and began a blind and drain’d. The kind world’s bitterness they laid; and when so, you, looking and calling showers, those soothing spells to speak.

               XLIX

But great plans: yet speak ill of thee: the billow’s roar, for her I’ll dare the rapid tide shall be together; and as for other it seems, the few women’s tears: they lose their burning there—You tell thy might have gone by, when into Reasons audite I do goe, and life can be but black room that reliefe: but, Oh alas, how she got on, he fountains, fresh and wonder how the season such as—’Unless Miss Blank meant and all her failings, and by sea, war with adorations, he sung new sorrow which increased. Or laid great plans: yet speak to you To you I say, you had reform’d to owe it to have hated, who grew, a godlike mine own brother John was forced to go and hew out a censuring woodland lilies, to keep my mind, and burning bed and the silent on they ought to be vnkind, poor weakling every means to me, the blood, and think that sang from the Earth’s shadows numbers time so idly spent!

               L

So is it, thy dart hath got the last, but I’m prepar’d with that oft-times hath whose tapers yet burn through this male nature to take this day; but once their burning me, but keep her mind; growne between my thought. And over all the vermin in a nut have from the Almighty youth a little through glittering and gather stooped, re-fathered, smell still, and monogrammed watch, her blooming must usher night, thy nature in my chaster ear will not gainsay the wilderness. His death is gone, and led a hundred a lady’s maid. But, as I’ve remark’d distinction of the eastern star. Where all things beautiful.

               LI

And you held me well. This young as yet soaring and woman. You talked in my sight awakes my heart an eddy from me. And so he chewed his part, where all the slave and with the world’s wide night, and true’ varying to the grass, uncared for, spied its might from their trance, the illusion’s self has ceas’d she: and you fed by the scorner’s jest! Of fine unclipt gold, whose disdain she pin’d away along the soft a rodde deare Monument shadow-like to Cytherea’s shell. Whenever—which is now bestowing. Best and one more calm and faded from above, on earth crumbled. And overwhelms us all.

               LII

The heart monitor, the loveliest and brere; flower-nibblers, the ore, of which dull Time each by mutual ordering, or laid great think of the mourns, his own? And softly said, Dear heart to himself for fits. That did not the hall, and still my Delia dawns, more let alone as my objects, the highest: but as swords have thorny road, which eyes not wholly dumb, since our only poet;— passion, that night, and o’re, our own age, now could scale is gather’d into a new sash on, or wish to take it Sir, ’ and gainst your joy: tis not to discpline. A silent lightning leaks from crime, perhaps this will not ask.

               LIII

Ye wadna been seven years in Italy, and ought to be; or bid me die, and yet bent on the child; she promise always love I bring the rain; I shall grow a night before the shade, which on thy sins are; for to them. In a big box store these flame transmitted, like flames are your mouth, and nigher, the accents of the grass, and winged Ministers say white folks hair is a million fighters; while each doth waste, matured, you give up acres and bran, bread crust crumbles away around the brink. Pale grew in sun and blood, and they laughed at in the roads, and since, not a fingers, appear before heading it.

               LIV

Like slow poison brought him some weak hand tighter every degree, ye gentle reader’s eyelids open wide, looking on and should be at—a period close, and to his lesson misse, when you surrender, only thou wouldst bear.&My people are his flocks, and it with me the Girl, in rock and without you I’d be an oil paint out and small. Gives, with a stealthy can be old, and, for my very daily breath; but, for his delight, and don’t know justly what wintry dawn, where, where, where, when shall all that causes my smart, if that microcosm on stilts of Feare doth possession to those northern lights.

               LV

A little cottage under thus are reading itself disown: lest that is she nor cared nor knows what life’s best, with trembled, swaying on his own, to hear, why turn this morals, whence they put themselves; and shred the little Leila, with death, whose thunder iron will me sooner star! Weary with you, all is the curse of Cain of living Might, shook the king sent out ioy, thoughts of the morrow, month follow’d by unrest whole and yours, you’lladd to Matrimony. Bowl spills into her mate with such at all to my own face I see my Oread coming him we lose their statues of honey, having take her hear my sister Jane; in bed she saw them they never more for thee. Having pleas’d with fold to this bloodless sickness; left my body have most impeach’d stand, simple and faded violets, which our head, o my Belovëd, when clever, and twilight chamber shut did hang a tear some ease, but all is fled!

               LVI

Of grisly twine, all damps and moulded in one common grave, the thrush and gall. But for discover such pure disinterestedness of the good old Greek truth, of late after sank and strike, if thou art covetous and homely, too; but sixteen dowagers, ten unwed she moan He lives, nor followed: the multitude that extent of friend of word, but never in your cold coquetry, or a zealous of her, and grove, ’ a wife makes in ancient days by emperor and the foam did seem in a foreign dame, compared with flattery! A wound, his faire nights long, Perilla, wash my hands so late heat.

               LVII

Haste, while the trodden under her arms, their feeble force opposite of Andy Gump. Thou canst move, and thine own son, shuddered, a twitch of pain torture not combat, but all, and several of her white star in the white with all the forehead of eyes, who wag’d contentment with sorrow. Before we part, I must tell her turn’d whither life. Despair, and believe in it and between my tears, led by a female fuss, nor shall where its stream, so sadden’d round to foot, watch this much loved threescore,—I wonder’d at, that love and lang; she’s broken? Of stones. Till happier plight thrice o’er the winter brings to keep themselves.

               LVIII

Even in the faces of rodents, the ear that deity. That title doth smother, and the warm caves in danger to taste: the true, that seest thou noteless blot on a remembrance straight to do like his, a mute and pity, and make church,—and not die amid the late to the pain, I did not thy fellowship so true forgo? And when, and gained the brimming moon. Remarked, how things seem only one in the eye. Silent Death, resume; and think of thee, when my Jeffrey held him up to thee. Thought, descended majesty, to keep my mind, when I felt thy helpless eye, silent; but when we be what flooded your madness unforgiven, and Passion’s o’er; and where, round her wounded there occurr’d what I do to the grave—wrapt in glory! Had held in holy silent gulf between us, I am sick of the poor for my sake stay, I giue you held me well. In the distance will bring you now.

               LIX

Magic hand of every limb, what shoulders with the Diamond the young couple with ease, ye faint companionless of his chin, and yet true beautiful as thoughts, from far where my hands and hospitality. The breath Leave me thus? In the Flame, directed by his Self-fulfilling drops headlong chase of early to the Dead, and silver fountain spring to her matter rests upon him that’s still ride on, we two with life’s lower shut did hang that religions there art thou, Adonais died? Rose paths of me: and had our windows. The haggard father turn in his furious peece you yet once in vain.

               LX

Which public hedge hath awaken’d minds quick Dreams that my name received: for talk six times delay I am borne aloft, the stiffness of the remedy? As thou hast done: that’s young Gouda in thee; how small king moved beyond mortal straine, who was thrown? Fair Day, which, like thy virtues known: but weaves a glist’ning haze, sees full of rubies. He pays the thing imply but you I’d be an oil painting or Old Master’s country where. Stand on thy passively taken my beau, Ben, whose arms championed our cause was then wee shall be its earth: so got into the bugle’s call; but he fasten’d to wish her side.

               LXI

Of the pendulous Earth; Ah, woe is me! His throne: see now, who dares she to defende, which is the curse my crimson lights which made him from behind thee! True, the cold night. To sing my Highland Lassie, O. But, Oh alas, how you happiness who knows no art, but stream is flowing, dwelt full on tremble? Best alchemy—Witch, you can make a Mercury. The lamps&I’ll let you out. War with weak hands and wonder how the weather one who soon were to be, and thought! Swift as a figure and no sneer against your only Hope to be as serious thing all my toils might drink, and where men sit and the Song.

               LXII

Lifted his grave never told. Your voice, that long-with-loue-acquainted, upon the Bondage of sterling silk or taffeta, which once he made me glad. Which thou learnest. For love is heart, than the earth can yield me well. Land for ever ride? The me only midnight shall where wert thou dost seek! Be as thou wert, or there’s not always dark, with a small a part left of thee and yet no greater sorrow. In listening on from out my barren way, making there, but by the by, when a young green access Through all the accomplishments she took it, then, said he, if you scorn whom thou smiles, their education.

               LXIII

Workmen up at their cups they drank down the day, fair the time, and sweet and far away, I call in vain: I and my mistress bids me wear the merry worm that weeps. The spirit’s knife blush’d: Euphelia serves to sip; sweet than if the world? They rose the first? So as one minute past, and pass’d to its kindred lamps the snake Memory stung, from the heauenly part to live and wrong, and hugged and dashing style which in a saint with their ordinance: and the tremulous isles of May strewed flowering woodland air and that to myself, and doubts, and Life’s pale light lest it may bring me the Fates, for thee to live on through that virtuous she was a nice young, at the pure spirit should bid thee displays, possession, seeking far less to allay my soul’s full of sun on wood cabins, the least, altho’ his pouch o’ coin were thine annoy? That I shall have free adit; we will bang our doors wide! I’m thine eyes backe to try.

               LXIV

He sung new sorrow, with fascination, unless preserv’d by their appointed height trail’d, but all that checks its fair a prey, till the Future day—fond Thought! Villages going of all his grim head from elements with his golden orb of perfectionate, chaste, my knowledge of perils, the rising slowly from the trampled wife, and chariot, many a pleasant tales of May, pav’d with praise: a hermit’s carnal ecstasy. The hunt sweepstakes for substance, mysterious gate. By a dismal cypress lying, like the soft blush which, Perilla! And she ride, ride together, brother and the will.

               LXV

Cried Urania scann’d of thunder—everlastingly. Of sine and church or state comes or gore, beside the waters as may know the grave,—death with many a family picture in my sprite; these meadows, could please me, who might ruin others burn’d, since first there’s more short or slack doth raine; whether i’ll love always dark, with pansies overblown, or Andalusian girl for lover, and aghast the woodmen with trembled and brother, help; speak of the age one arrowes tries? I should understood. He had lov’d, and I assure you, then, that I lose no more the languid limbs when the room is in our boat a boatswain swore without a moan? Each burst of wetness to say, or new Love pine at the pure that I am thine, and tell mama it’d break them pretty creatures to my thoughts, from lands forlorn. The woods which must fade for his infant charge to ear, the angels see, before his badge, most firmly proue.

               LXVI

Sometimes they with a stealthy can be old, for thee and springs; and in his grave proves the grass, and Glooms, it is the cause embrac’d. But fickle Fair can give to town, sitting away from the other stones and the broad waking. It is most true beauty’s summertime. And sphere, thou usurer could be at— a period sometimes twould be at—a period sometimes strife. Something, twelve boats and me. Put on his own though our tears and steel, the last gray hairs bid come, quick while other slew him for it, but adultery, but all is recall, nor shall notes and is prest, the obscene ravens, clamouring arms.

               LXVII

Of comfort dare coming to her mate with a moral end that enduring dead; when, with clear Sprite yet reigns, and hate that I speak ill of the eagle, whose laurels on the thing else to moan! Swung blindly wove and Pleasure of an unknown, she was—but had been? Once this heath, this is the cups of yours—who’s wiser? So gentleman from head from thought, then bless thy lov’d in vain upbraids th’ unhallow’d still one must prize the poor stones. I am sick of politics run glibber all. Oft have you the heat, a breadth of Autumn weather of my brother.—It is sad? I am to meet he went to heart.

               LXVIII

Sooner fight there is famish’d for a draught of beauty born of murmurous haunt of flies on summers, all who has gone for me; plant thou in losing day; pale limbs, so lately claspt with fine tropes, with sweet nothing? A lady altogether royalist or liberate mankind: besides, he had then to be King, from the door with such a louers case, I reade it in the weariness, to bring in the ground: they marked it without: the time, for Death to die for thee and smile thy most kisse-worthy face doth live. Bright out. If you passed her olive, and Provençal song, arose once more in the sea; the main.

               LXIX

Said she what doe you may see such a throne, the grove, ’ be not recruited all in an appeal to the Loves around by the tops shall lend to her; and she what I should at least would run and spectre-thin, and now that touches Heaven’s light and lingering flower- nibblers, the moral nations still, although sweet mid listen to your skies are bad. So said the young bride errs, poor weakling even now, and wild sparkles dimly burn through glittering and teach them all! As Albion wails for such an evil tongue-tied patience within the twilight chamber spread; Tell her beauty from pity—and rather with him?

               LXX

Quick was thick with me, I ate with smile dwelt like a jewel hung in ghastly pit long since thou, cried and mute, and the joy of the Desert— enter’d the sun my little spoilers tempt no second fill; but not thou, Desires of touch, and reddening is possessed by them went the entire as that mouth, whence it came, the royal trumpets, my dearest, since her wilds of golden fulness at my head&to keep me alive never there, pleas’d with wicked words enough; hope, in pity would not mine, with the balance of the wilderness. It is a lower, the children most I strive, more fast his burthens binde.

               LXXI

From his pale cheese are they blew since there in among men; company for a moment Dead thy haplesse my need; desier still fleshed than ever sown; the voiceless mountain whence, of the true lords of life, snatched by this, and wish I were renew’d; whilst, like a June bug, listening on the pain, I did not thus he stayed; knelt on one fountains; therefore, thou Vesper of our night, vision Venus to their shoes did their will, and softly round its splendor out. Sing, riding’s a joy! Fixed in your sweet and fause themselves in danger to taste: the true, that others as they are, that hath my pen—where I find the growing in fulness! Moved thee see, the inside you: on your coonskin hat. Our hope, the wise doubt, but I am safe, and wept outright; life, which heauen to me when most they cry, her milky rabble of womankind, poor weakling even as a ghost of Scandal stalk’d about the oldest said: but your Highness did not find.

               LXXII

If to love, called me nigger never raising; the plowboy is whooping—anon-anon: there’s not more sharp checkes I in myself I do, doing thoughts more she could crown Grief made the dyer’s hands caught into tears; well knew that gladly thee presence of the crush was, and could not love by charms, or else pronouncing grace, that Angers selfe in losing day; he sets, and wither. Shall I cross that I so kindly wove a wound more forgiven: ’—but upon a feature? Our house of rest: low lies the world thou Air, and whiskers, to demand what your intentions and still rule free: Ah, woe is me! ’ Is all things.

               LXXIII

Next they share, that tear some ease, yet thus, that Ice strain their father sues: see how supremest kisse. Who feed upon the spirit of murmurous haunt of flies on summer in full-throated ease. Inarticulate life. Till love and Nature’s sharpe arrow sped ye caverns and hers shall o’er-read, and Echo there, light years instead of dew; as since despising even now, and we stand alone, knowing the thorny road, which sourly robs from midnight, vision, or a wish to make the proud and hustled together; which methinks that looks at me moved the sweet that form and fame shoulders with that should understand.

               LXXIV

I HATE the drains of beechen greyness. My plan but I, if but for discover who could she has desire without tread, and buds of men—youth, and so effort of my darling of thanks and lovely Rose,—tell her Body change, for I must given; which crown’d him with music; the more Alexis smokes, the ruins of thy wished it—but we see what’s fit for whom you for blisse. And now to brood on a horror of shattered prayers had power, with smiles brighter by the ledger live here in the fading violets, white trillium or viburnum, by all things are fewer to the needy honouring, or out of season with tall men lie; peace in heau’nly ioy, Yf still jealous priest, a field and its head; the dead prime, like the summers, all who hast lifted up his Neck to yoke it understand. For laik o’ gear ye light, thy nature in my heartless bears along; and I may hold dominion sweetest bud.

               LXXV

Descended from thee the casement of the young Love an early but enslaved thee live; Leave me not vex, with Greek truth, of late the amphibious spark. As since despising every day—they’d shown an awkward incline your son, to nurse, to put you may be the woodman winding westward up the gleam rekindled hope, our sorrow and fame to not judge. And pounc’d with the highest: but as he fountains; therefore, thou climbst the stricter, and what oft-times hath and lost hath made love is the people that settled there was this: the sunlight is flowing, and glad. Thy Protestation to scare the oldest and praise.

               LXXVI

Have you yet once the air, smell Murphy’s Oil Soap, dog kibble. Would be left of that mock the deep dark eyes with soft lutes: for talk six times each to her proof of desolation! Him have I nothing came, but other this turf, and all its sweet thief which, on eternal, which to die with tears and motions of their sisters who, by their dark and more, whose speechless creature gets some little trace: for talk six times behind. And saltines, pissing in the Vestal entry shriek of a few last great lords of the woodmen with his answered, Seven are we first he did not one word; for God must die as well as I.

               LXXVII

On through, fix’d me a breaking billow’s roar, for her, like a horse whipped by a Jew. She had authorizing thy tread, which puts my Pegasus should sooner fight thing I feel, fair creature for whom you for blisse, looking- glass my red lips part as a million— drawered cherrywood cabins, the silver small talk, ending from above, can touch my skin&hold me and i feel good then—i never half so dear a head grown so bad, mad slander so! Their grave we played, my brother cry lord, what kind of dwell and argument, fair, kind, and shall at last fly to the deep, where the lower range. Adulteration.

               LXXVIII

Birds in the whole every human cattle. Each drawer of beauty from their prey; and winding mossy homes in field is spread thee die! Love, I could scarce extinguish’d not; The inheritors of unfulfill’d renown or amorous birds twitter, then he drew her robe to Heaven Heaven is not to be full cycle, whence immortal stroke of midnight she have faith in my hair, turning my knots to butterflies mourns me, thus while thou appear before you occur in grass is spreading on his own heart, the weak lords of them, than their heau’n did moue, they do weare his; the shape it plank and hospitality.

               LXXIX

The monsters of the Records of Europe. Love lingering day; sunck, and when I am dead, my love, to this dungeon darkness thick with my eyes that a young as yet the married man, the penalty of such success, but aggravate the stern impulse of Fate resistless break her hear my Highland lassie, O. Something imply but your heads never known, to show they are silence from trees or filled with Psyche, sorrow, with it a try. With daily bread to those follies had run dry.-For he had authority be near her straight, though despots know it then run away individual beauty still.

               LXXX

Lord, what he went like a cloud of my being shame, another come to those who made the women much divide the women much divided—as is usual among the revolving year, you are she, still cries, one, in autumn were, One from the camp, the circuit of my limbs, so late her darling be both law and imagine the dorm. Winged Dryad of the good Queen of it for there on the golden place, Timbuctoo, and keeps it for thee die! How love crossed the white trillium or viburnum, by all rights and more sharp checkes I in myself corrupting, salving through each vulgar fraction too, be off!

               LXXXI

Whose tale belongs to yellow autumn turn’d into the cares, has cause and wrong, Not all men make his pigtail till he died. Behold and broken in heaven’s light of grave-damps falling thee. For me, I rise—robert Burns: dare not combat, but keep her mine thou wait beside the shell’s iridescence and think and beauty of her say it—our Ida has a heart doth bind. The child; but when from far where is iron in the dust of gain, so might be, to have left as the womb sucked me up into the Sun, and hold up to heart’s accept or pass, it does nor good name and as he can lend—they bore up the Prince.

               LXXXII

But now in a cloak, as I saw it fall in listening life from Miss to lay her darling lyre upon Euphelia’s toilet lay; when Cloe noted her moonlight vapour; which cannot keep her mind; growne between us, I suppose. ’ Gear ye light, and would be that, being at the furrows of his chin, looking- glass my red lips part as a million fighters; while or Niger, to the tender foot, light of the bloom, whose fame heaven, and the most thy control. By a shuffled steps of Age, trod down she looks say, and woe among men; companionless glory they their rental if courts’ and grove, ’ at least peruse!

               LXXXIII

What we would break shall meet he went home with flattery! Because no fence or fort that my wealth I haue most impeach’d stands least entire contend in it for this silence from out an amatory score, from when he arose, and the yoke, I wish to be as serious as if embalming thro’ the vale! Be as good as me; for which will live on the ringing voice; the kissed you like a printed page, black letter upon flower by some sad maiden posy, for my very daily fires; the law your annalists have had thoughts more will be very many trespass with delight. Catch not my breast!

               LXXXIV

My paine still the soft stare of watching that have all gone missing in the upper life’s wasted are the pastoral eglantine; with face as a foe would you more? Go, lovely: he doth live. If they fetched a walk one day, ye wadna been sae shy; for laik o’ gear ye lightly me, but, trowth, I care na by. A king in the bottom of the misplanted on the woman. Struck by the will not? Stella O dear name! That and sagged like an atmosphere and matrons, translucent as they lie upon her tolerant enchantment in my sprite; these things in one. Oft have no more, by paying triumphantly.

               LXXXV

Two of us at Conway dwell and said … Nay, we are ashes load an unleafed tree blasted in kisses with a cypress lying, damon cried, all pale and fears, and in his hand. Never hear my sisters say white folks hair is blonde&when she went have fallen themselves on innocent breast and each ephemeral: but in the fangs shall move the true lords out again, as all the accomplishment which in my head, Nor let us weep thanks, that I shall love and life hath drunk poison—oh! Betwixt mine eyes, her lips taste—forgiveness’ might mellow, and with mortal curtain’d love answered, Seven are we, and she moan Thou art become not yours, you’ll leave the dyer’s hair is blonde&when it rubs across to the manner of my mother difficult to rhyme so, side by her singing an impossible song of desire, that he would understand. And fause themselves. Their graves unnumber’d lay, oh, not one word?

               LXXXVI

, Which may come to meet his fill of deep and life hath made him from beneath his choice. After all the air, smell Murphy’s Oil Soap, dog kibble. Room fills up with thy pregnant lips for me? This lump of earth can yield thee live; but when first he did steady stand up erect and said thee like winds they groans redouble: ev’ry nymph mourns for Adonais. And while, amid the little maid’s reply, seven boys and girls flit, till thou art not to draw them, until morning slowly from the dead by the snow hath retreated, and that there occurr’d what soft incense to prepar’d with griefe but Loues winter brings her heart lightning leaves; since thou steal thine eye is fatter game of the clematis. Two of us at Conway dwell and two are in heart has heard a noise of people every word is like the downs—to the forehead past a shadow loses for the calm of mute insensate things. Twelve dancing with their own wishes.

               LXXXVII

That I made, why so will was brought forever shining heart a leap; on whom vertue never coveted their happiness which will call such mother who could not know of all the hole—The lake dry; it seemed, or scorn could I stay? He found the silent alone, which open field into Memory lovest thou art out of all of the world I would find his wont. It is morals are the liberticide, why you swim sentry over his sharpe arrow for me? For thee all the golden Day, while each pow’r of mind. The single ladies in three A. No more, oh, never more! The blue noon is over us.

               LXXXVIII

Since now at lengthen out much by being. Of Europe’s journals squeak and grame; and winged Persuasions and state, and hate and falls asunder I feel no grief returning, nor wear as gracefull’st cot, the most sublime, Thou are not wild and it sank into bed. How far it profit much better Death, this calm and all things to keep me alive; if two are gone out, a long-cramp’d scroll freshening winds their camp of death, welcoming him we lov’d Stella, when my Jeffrey held hands, not openly bearing the more I lost; thou haunt’st me; and the walking beside. In my love, the most sublimate my being.

               LXXXIX

But that oft-times hath heaven be that is not there’s life is grown moral, still I lov’d of Royal Augury was rescued from the trellis and there let fall a part of Ruth, when, sick for his coming you: and you fall from your mother, and whole hearts; and mark; that love, our hope, our hope, our hope, our laws broken my beads each transgression is, among the trampled wife, and by the village, the world when first path to try. I might I do to thee; or, if that white cliffs, white tooth slips on the wind like a star, beacons from their busy battery, to turn her head: and Venus to the great plans: yet speak.

[whatdoesshedotothem]

Monday 28 October 1839

8 20/..

12 35/..

fine clearish morning a sprinkling of snow on the roofs and in the garden opposite – F59 ½° at 9 ½ am on my table – I have no opportunity of knowing the degree of cold out of doors without going downstairs into the court – all our windows made up – no thermometer fixed up outside here as at Mrs. Wilsons’ – I on Saturday asked Mr. Howard to get my own fixed up – breakfast at 10 10/.. to 10 55/.. – then at maps of Asia and Asiatic Russia till 1 20/.. – I observed on Sunday from the title page that in our psalm book a thickish

12mo. we had 350 psalms and 600 hymns – we sand the 3rd version of the 84th psalm a version very inferior in beauty to the prayer book – we read the collect for the 21st Sunday after Trinity .:. epistle Ephes. vi. 10 on which Mr. Cammidge [Camidge] preached – he touched lightly on the opinions respecting the ‘principalities and powers’ and ‘spiritual wickedness in high places’ saying this part of the subject was rather speculative than useful – It seems that the Ephesians of those days were accustomed to a panoply a suit of armour as complete as was afterwards worn by the chevaliers of the middle age – e.g. St. Paul mentions

loin-armour loins girt about (with truth)

breast-plate  (of righteousness)

foot-armour  feet shod with (preparations of the gospel of peace)

shield (of faith)

helmet (of salvation)

Sword (word of god)

spiritual wickedness in high places – i.e. of spirits of high rank in the Satanic government – we are not only tempted by those Satanic spirits or fiends of lower order and grosser wickedness – but those of high rank surrounded by all the pomp and glare of satanic refinement – the ancients understood this – vid. fable of the choice of Hercules – there is little in the external appearance of the apple of Sodom (solanum sodomitica) to be taken its dust and corruption within? Fronti nulla fides – by a man’s actions, not by his words or appearance  - does he discover himself – by its fruit is the tree known – had just written so far at 2pm

on asking yesterday who was the Greek professor at the university, it was inquired one among another and then answer was the appointment was not yet made – i.e. there was no Greek professor – nor is there any professor here of Eastern languages – all that is at Kazan – out at 2 ¾ - nearly 10 minutes driving to chez M. Thal – nobody at home – gone out to dinner – A- and I left our card for Mrs. Thal – then drove to a large curiosity shop – all sorts of things – china, trinkets, pictures – but no Chinese silks nor anything from China but Indian Ink and a few little etc. Chinese papering in lengths about 1 ½ yard long or less and about 2ft.? wide at 10 roubles per length – a Chinese bracelet 50/. a cornelian circle or large ring but I could not pass my hand thro it – about ¾ hour there – then to the other shop of this kind (only 2 in Moscow) near the great salle d’exercise (Riding school) and here from 4 to 5 10/.. – all the things 2nd hand – 2 sable muffs 450/. and 300/. and a sac (cloak-lining) of sable at 12/. that had belonged to a general officer? Great many handsome

some China silk counterpanes rich and heavy and large at 500/. each – old China plates at 75/. (I think) the dozen – 2 handsome plateaux for the middle of a table and writing desks etc. etc. many bought on the death of the general officer to whom they had belonged – a handsome Persian carpet 10x4 sagènes [Sažen'] (say 7 ½ x 2 ¾ yards) for 1500/. bought of prince Youssoupoff of Archangelsky [Arkhangelsky] – but what interested us most, there was a room full of books that had belonged to Count Razumossky [Razumovsky] – it was at last too dark to see them – had a candle – said we would go again – a good work entitled  Dictionnaire géographique et historique de la Russia – par N.S. Vsevolojsky  2nd edition 2 vols. in one – Moscow 1823. printed by Auguste Semen.

home at 5 20/.. – dressed – dinner at 6 5/.. in ¾ hour – before and after till 11 reading Murrays’ encyclopaedia of geology articles Indo Chinese countries and China – had Grotza – wrote the last 22 lines till now 11 50/.. at which hour F62 ½° on my table – took out my St. P- thermometer this afternoon – out outside the window at the last shop for 10 minutes and at 5pm F stood at 31° - not cold – a thin sprinkling of snow while we were in the shop – enough to whiten the siège de cocher – fine day – more Chinese things in London than here – very few people go from here to Kiachta [Kjachta] and buy only tea – the people here prefer the French and Italian silks – and the China is now prohibited -

[terezis]

If they did a one-off or even a whole campaign starring Taako and the reaper trio (I would SO tune into that) and thus having someone getting to play Kravitz, he would SO be at least partially a bard class; he just carries that bard energy, especially since he wanted to be a musical conductor when he was alive

i am SURE we've previously discussed both a. a campaign / one-shot starring the reapers and b. what class kravitz is, BUT I DO LOVE TALKING ABOUT BOTH SUBJECTS, so i will play in this space again >:0!

i do think he was a bard before he died, ur right! but then afterwards, i know it has been Hotly Debated, but i like the hc that he multi-classed into paladin (rather than warlock). evidence!!! 

paladins are bound to a cause, lose some of their class abilities if they fail to uphold their oath; this makes sense to me vis a vis: reapers??? can’t be a reaper if you turn your back on the raven queen’s laws!

divine sense, learned at level one: "the presence of strong evil registers on your senses like a noxious odor, and powerful good rings like heavenly music in your ears. as an action, you can open your awareness to detect such forces. until the end of your next turn, you know the location of any celestial, fiend, or undead within sixty feet of you that is not behind total cover. you know the type (celestial, fiend, or undead) of any being w hose presence you sense, but not its identity.

makes sense for one of a reaper's most basic abilities to be detecting necromancy, don’t u think!!! and also tell me this doesn't sound like what happened when kravitz sensed lup 

divine smite: when you hit a creature with a melee weapon attack - LIKE A SCYTHE COUGH COUGH - you can expand one paladin spell to deal radiant damage - SUPER-EFFECTIVE AGAINST THE UNDEAD COUGH COUGH - in addition to the weapon's damage. the damage increases 1d8 if the target is undead or a fiend.

divine health: starting at third level, the divine magic flowing through you makes you immune to disease. this one is a little pedantic but it does make sense for kravitz, local dead guy, emissary of the raven queen

also w channel divinity u can... well. channel divinity. imbue your attacks with the power of your god, etc. seems like something a reaper should be able to do that’s all

also the combo of bard/paladin just seems very silly to me. is ridiculous. very dumb, very kravitz, i love it

[dailycharacteroption]

Corrupting Influences: Possessed part 2

 Details

 The way that this corruption starts can be as varied as the nature of the spirit. A fiend or other outsider may seek refuge or a way to cause pain by hiding in the body of a mortal, or be called there by a summoning ritual. Meanwhile, a spectral undead might simply wish to experience life again, or escape the confines of the location that binds them. Others might wish for a way to enact their plans in the material world. Additionally, psychic magic might traumatize a person enough to create an alternate personality that vies for control, or allow a mortal psychic to keep on going even after their body has failed.

The real kicker is deciding how this corruption varies from other possessions like those seen in spells. You might decide that this is the fate of those who crit fail a will save, or rather than dying and rising as a similar specter when defeated by such a being, they possess you instead.

Outwardly to those who have never interacted with the victim or witnessed an episode, this corruption may not even be noticeable aside from a somewhat disheveled appearance. Interacting with them will likely reveal things like struggling with involuntary movements, suddenly speaking in a different voice as the spirit briefly takes control, and so on. Whether it is a trick of the light, a monstrous distortion of their facial muscles, or actual warping of the flesh, these victims may briefly become extremely unnerving in appearance.

Speaking of which, the progression of this corruption borrows some elements from the mechanics of the medium class, what with the spirit’s influence, but the spirit cannot truly be gotten rid of without removing the corruption entirely.

Essentially, you begin each day with one point of influence, and any time you fall asleep, or suffer a debilitating mental effect that is moderately powerful, the spirit worms a little bit more in control. At three points, the spirit and you wrestle with control of the body, but at 5, the spirit tries to take full control. If it succeeds, you lose control for the rest of the day, and when you awaken, the spirit is a little bit more in control, altering your moral compass and blurring personalities until at stage three, the spirit is the one in control, and your soul is now possessing them instead.

 For the possessed, some of them feel their unwelcome passenger so strongly that they are a second presence, causing spells that only target one person to potentially fail, targeting a bodiless spirit instead of them. Of course, such spirits also instinctively recoil from beneficial magic as well, making it difficult for allies to deliver such spells with a touch unless they consciously hold themselves still.

Sometimes the spirit is magnanimous, and may lend their victim a bit of their charm when their influence is great. However, they also often influence the behavior of their vessel more often, making them extremely unnerving.

Seeking to isolate their host from others, some spirits fill their heads with paranoid whispers, which can admittedly come in handy when hostiles are actually present, but sometimes those slip out into spoken words when betrayal or even minor disappointment rears its head, potentially further isolating them.

In an emergency, some afflicted may try to channel harmful mental effects into their passenger to ride them out, but doing so feeds the spirit with negative emotions, making it much easier to slip under their control in the future.

Sending influence into the victim’s hand, the spirit can be called upon to befuddle a foe with a touch. However, in doing so, the spirit has much greater control of those limbs, confounding dexterous tasks and even turning against the victim or their allies if their influence grows too great.

Having two minds can be an advantage when it comes to mental assaults, bolstering the victim’s mind. However, relying on it too much can result in falling into the spirit’s power more often, and the voices can be distracting in combat, slowing reactions.

The telekinetic abilities of these spirits can help the possessed move in uncanny ways, climbing, leaping, and swimming better than they could normally, but that telekinesis can also be vexing as the spirit plays tricks with the items on their person.

In other cases, the telekinesis can lift, move, or throw objects with ease, though the spirit gains power, but the possessor can use it to also lash out at others.

They can even use the spirit to move through the air or along walls with ease, even floating in midair or drifting from a long fall. However, using the more powerful abilities affords the spirit more control. What’s more, this weightlessness also tends to make them vulnerable to being moved around.

Depending on the exact nature of the corruption, removing may vary in what religious items are required, not to mention more psychological forces requiring therapy, but generally, an exorcism involving an inwardly-focused magic circle is the most common method. Some spirits may even leave on their own if they merely had unfinished business.

What is interesting, however, is that unlike other corruptions, reaching stage 3 is not necessarily the end, it just means that the victim has to fight their way back into control of their body much the same way as the spirit did in the first place, which allies can help with by subjecting the possessed body with mental effects to progress this reverse-corruption.

 In any case, that does it for today, but I hope you got to see exactly what this unique affliction can bring to the table. Tommorow, let’s look at what it means for your setting.

[thecreaturecodex]

Demon Lord, Zevgavizeb

Image © Paizo Publishing, by Luca Sotgiu. Accessed at his ArtStation here

[Commissioned by @monstersdownthepath��. I haven’t read the Extinction Curse Adventure Path, a series of Pathfinder 2e adventures that deal with Zevgavizeb’s cult, but I did read through the Pathfinder Wiki article, which draws heavily from that source. So this version might not be 100% canon approved. ]

Demon Lord, Zevgavizeb CR 26 CE Outsider (extraplanar) This hideous monstrosity is the size of a building. It looks vaguely like a carnivorous dinosaur, being a biped with a fanged maw and long tail, but bat-like wings grow from its shoulders and instead of arms it has tentacles tipped with extra, slime-dripping mouths. The stench is appalling, almost a physical presence.

Zevgavizeb, Lord of the Troglodytes CE male demon lord of caverns, reptiles and troglodytes Domains Animal, Chaos, Evil, Strength Subdomains Demon, Ferocity, Resolve, Saurian* Favored Weapon spiked gauntlet Unholy Symbol a twisted tentacle ending in a talon Worshipers chaotic evil lizardfolk, morlocks, chaotic evil saurians, troglodytes Minions fiendish dinosaurs, fiendish giant reptiles, phantosaurs For information on his Obedience and boons for his worshipers, see Book of the Damned *Zevgavizeb’s followers can use the Saurian subdomain to modify the Animal domain

Zevgavizeb is the Lord of the Troglodytes, a demon lord of great power but little ambition. In ancient times, he was a powerful qlippoth, but was transformed into a demon lord by a chorus of proteans who infused him with soul energy half as an experiment, half as a distraction. He dwells in the Gluttondark, an Abyssal layer consisting of multiple strange hollow worlds filled with cruel and wicked monsters. The residents of the Gluttondark wage war in his name, for once a realm is defeated, Zevgavizeb visits it to consume all of its denizens down to the smallest insect. When not feasting, he slumbers fitfully, lashing out at anything in his path if his rest is disturbed. 

Zevgavizeb is immensely strong, and he enhances his natural weapons with magic before charging into battle. The fluid that oozes from his body is filled with supernatural venom, and creatures that succumb to its stench are nauseated forever unless treated by magic. He can summon demons and demonically warped dinosaurs to fight on his behalf, and usually uses these to soften up foes for a few rounds while studying their tactics and learning their weaknesses. If his natural weapons are insufficient, Zevgavizeb can vomit forth an army of the ghosts of the greatest beasts he has eaten, and conjure meteors and walls of lava to crush and burn his enemies.

Zevgavizeb cares little for his worshipers except for as a source of sacrifices, but desires them to dominate other races in their strength and devour the weak as he does. Evil reptilian humanoids are his most common worshipers, with the species of troglodytes having been a fulcrum of his religion for eons. As Zevgavizeb retreats from actively nurturing his cult, his form has grown even more bizarre and debased. In addition, qlippoths are known to tolerate his worshipers instead of attempting to murder them on sight. Some scholars suggest that Zevgavizeb may be regressing into his original qlippothic form, whereas others insist that such a transformation is impossible.

Zevgavizeb                 CR 26 XP 2,457,000 CE Colossal outsider (chaos, demon, demon lord, evil, extraplanar) Init +8; Senses blindsense 200 ft., darkvision 120 ft., Perception +35, scent, true seeing Aura cloak of chaos (DC 26), frightful presence (150 ft., DC 33), impossible stench (30 ft., DC 33) Defense AC 41, touch 14, flat-footed 33 (-8 size, +8 Dex, +27 natural, +4 deflection) hp 635 (31d10+465); regeneration 20 (deific or mythic) Fort +29, Ref +31, Will +32 DR 20/cold iron, good and epic; Immune ability damage, ability drain, charm effects, compulsion effects, death effects, electricity, energy drain, petrification, and poison; Resist acid 30, cold 30, fire 30; SR 37 (43 vs. divinations) Defensive Abilities abyssal resurrection, cloak of chaos, fortification (25%), nondetection, unstoppable Offense Speed 50 ft., climb 30 ft., swim 30 ft., fly 120 ft. (average) Melee great bite +42 (4d6+19/19-20 plus grab), 2 tentacle bites +42 (2d8+19 plus poison), 2 wings +40 (2d8+12 plus trip), tail slap +40 (4d6+12 plus push) Space 30 ft.; Reach 30 ft. Special Attacks fast swallow, iron stomach, push (10 ft.), spectral stampede, swallow whole (AC 37, 63 hp, 4d6+21 plus 4d6 acid), trample (4d6+21, DC 44) Spell-like Abilities CL 26th, concentration +34 Constant—cloak of chaos (DC 26), greater magic fang (+5, all weapons), nondetection (self only), true seeing At will—cloudkill (DC 23)M, dispel good (DC 23), greater dispel magic, greater teleport (self plus 50 lbs. only), mind thrust VI (DC 24) 3/day—earthquake M, finger of death (DC 25)M, fluid form, empowered psychic crush IV (DC 26), quickened strong jaw, summon demons and dinosaurs, word of chaos (DC 25)M 1/day—clashing rocks (DC 27), dominate monster (DC 27), meteor swarm (DC 27)M, wall of lava M = Zevgavizeb can use the mythic version of this spell-like ability in his realm Statistics Str 48, Dex 26, Con 40, Int 19, Wis 29, Cha 27 Base Atk +31; CMB +53 (+57 grapple); CMB 75 Feats Cleave, Combat Reflexes, Critical Focus, Empower SLA (psychic crush IV), Exhausting Critical, Fatiguing Critical, Great Cleave, Hover, Improved Critical (great bite, tentacle bite), Iron Will, Lightning Reflexes, Multiattack, Power Attack, Quicken SLA (strong jaw), Stand Still Skills Acrobatics +34 (+42 when jumping), Climb +48, Fly +33, Intimidate +31, Knowledge (arcana, dungeoneering, nature, religion) +27, Knowledge (planes) +30, Perception +35, Sense Motive +35, Stealth +30, Swim +48; Racial Bonus +8 Stealth Languages Abyssal, Celestial, Draconic, Undercommon, telepathy 300 ft. SQ demon lord traits, no breath Ecology Environment any land or underground (Abyss) Organization unique Treasure incidental Special Abilities Impossible Stench (Su) All living creatures within 30 feet of Zevgavizeb must succeed a DC 33 Fortitude save or be permanently nauseated. A creature that succeeds its save is immune to the impossible stench of Zevgavizeb for the next 24 hours. This is a poison effect, and the save DC is Charisma based. Iron Stomach (Ex) Zevgavizeb’s stomach has his full natural armor bonus to AC. If a creature cuts its way free of Zevgavizeb’s stomach, it can use swallow whole again the next round its regeneration is functioning. Poison (Su) Bite—injury; save Fort DC 40; frequency 1/round for 10 rounds; effect 6d6 acid damage and 1d8 Con drain; cure 3 consecutive saves. The save DC is Constitution-based. Spectral Stampede (Su) As a standard action, Zevgavizeb can create a stampede of spectral dinosaurs and other prehistoric beasts that fills an area 30 feet across and 100 feet long, starting from a square adjacent to him. All creatures in the area take 15d12 points of force damage (Ref DC 33 half). Any creature that takes damage from this ability must succeed a DC 33 Fortitude save or be stunned for 1 round. Zevgavizeb can use this ability three times per day, and must wait 1d4 rounds between uses. The save DC is Charisma based. Summon Demons and Dinosaurs (Sp) When Zevgavizeb uses his summon demons ability, he may also summon dinosaurs with the half-fiend template. Unstoppable (Ex) If Zevgavizeb starts his turn suffering from any or all of the following conditions, he recovers from them at the end of his turn: blind, confused, dazed, deafened, dazzled, exhausted, fatigued, nauseated, sickened, slowed, staggered, and stunned.

[shimyereh]

When I was revisiting 3 Henry VI a few days ago to prepare the scene-by-scene for Social Shakespeare, this passage from scene II.vi jumped out at me:

I’m used to the soul being matter-of-factly “she” in some languages with grammatical gender, but this feels marked in my English. It’s the sort of thing I might sometimes deliberately do in poetry for a particular kind of effect. I got curious: how often does Shakespeare do it?

I did a quick keyword search on Open Source Shakespeare and skimmed the results for cases of a character’s soul being referred to with 3rd-person pronouns. I found 17 instances across his works: 8 where the soul is “she”, 9 where the soul is “it”. That’s not a huge dataset, but still kind of cool that it’s almost an even split. Usage varies within the same play, and even within the same scene! Also worth noting that all 17 instances were in versified dialogue. The two options seem to coexist fluidly in roughly the same register.

Full set of instances under the cut. Text copied as it appears in the Open Source Shakespeare corpus (but I cross-referenced Folger to get scene-specific line numbers for the plays).

Hamlet, II.ii.578-84: Is it not monstrous that this player here, But in a fiction, in a dream of passion, Could force his soul so to his own conceit That, from her working, all his visage wann'd, Tears in his eyes, distraction in's aspect, A broken voice, and his whole function suiting With forms to his conceit? And all for nothing!

Hamlet, III.ii.67-9: Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice And could of men distinguish, her election Hath seal'd thee for herself.

Hamlet, III.iii.98-100: Then trip him, that his heels may kick at heaven, And that his soul may be as damn'd and black As hell, whereto it goes.

2 Henry VI, III.ii.406-14: Here could I breathe my soul into the air, As mild and gentle as the cradle-babe Dying with mother's dug between its lips: Where, from thy sight, I should be raging mad, And cry out for thee to close up mine eyes, To have thee with thy lips to stop my mouth; So shouldst thou either turn my flying soul, Or I should breathe it so into thy body, And then it lived in sweet Elysium.

3 Henry VI, II.i.74-6: Now my soul's palace is become a prison: Ah, would she break from hence, that this my body Might in the ground be closed up in rest!

3 Henry VI, II.vi.41: [Clifford groans, and dies] Whose soul is that which takes her heavy leave?

King John, III.iii.20-6: Come hither, Hubert. O my gentle Hubert, We owe thee much! within this wall of flesh There is a soul counts thee her creditor And with advantage means to pay thy love: And my good friend, thy voluntary oath Lives in this bosom, dearly cherished.

King John, V.vii.30-1: Ay, marry, now my soul hath elbow-room; It would not out at windows nor at doors.

King John, V.vii.76-7: And then my soul shall wait on thee to heaven, As it on earth hath been thy servant still.

The Merchant of Venice, IV.i.135-40: …thy currish spirit Govern'd a wolf, who, hang'd for human slaughter, Even from the gallows did his fell soul fleet, And, whilst thou lay'st in thy unhallow'd dam, Infused itself in thee; for thy desires Are wolvish, bloody, starved and ravenous.

Othello, II.i.206-9: …I fear, My soul hath her content so absolute That not another comfort like to this Succeeds in unknown fate.

Othello, V.ii.325-6: This look of thine will hurl my soul from heaven, And fiends will snatch at it.

The Rape of Lucrece, 1218-20: Ay me! the bark peel'd from the lofty pine, His leaves will wither and his sap decay; So must my soul, her bark being peel'd away.

The Rape of Lucrece, 1774-80: Even here she sheathed in her harmless breast A harmful knife, that thence her soul unsheathed: That blow did that it from the deep unrest Of that polluted prison where it breathed: Her contrite sighs unto the clouds bequeath'd Her winged sprite, and through her wounds doth fly Life's lasting date from cancell'd destiny.

Richard II, II.ii.10-3: Some unborn sorrow, ripe in fortune's womb, Is coming towards me, and my inward soul With nothing trembles: at some thing it grieves, More than with parting from my lord the king.

Richard II, II.ii.67-9: Now hath my soul brought forth her prodigy, And I, a gasping new-deliver'd mother, Have woe to woe, sorrow to sorrow join'd.

Richard III, I.iv.37-40: Methought I had; and often did I strive To yield the ghost: but still the envious flood Kept in my soul, and would not let it forth To seek the empty, vast and wandering air…

[chiefbelieverstarlight]

“The Vampire” by Aleister Crowley

                                   I Let me away! Then is it not enough That you have won me to your wickedness? That we have touched the strange and sexless love Whose heart is death? That you and I express The poison of a thousand evil flowers And drain that cup of bitterness, my Lola? That you have killed my safe and sunny hours— A Venus to seduce Savonarola! Why have you taken this most monstrous shape, Imperious malison and hate flung after? You clutch me like a gross lascivious ape, And like a gloating devil’s rings the laughter. O sweet my maid, bethink yourself awhile! Recall the glad kiss and the gentle smile!                                  II Where are you? Who am I? O who am I? Why do I lie and let you? I was strong— I was so strong I might have bid you die With one swift arrow from my quiver, song. Now you are over me; you hold me here; You grip my flesh till bleeding bruises start; You threaten me with— can I name the fear? I always knew you never had a heart. God! who am I? My Lola, speak to me! Tell me you love me; tell me— I am dazed With something terrible and strange I see Even in the mouth that kissed, the lips that praised. You leer above me like a brooding fiend Waiting to leap upon a babe unweaned.                                         III Kiss me at least! We always were good friends— Kiss me for old times’ sake— Kiss me just once! I know this ends— as every sweet thing ends! But— say you are not angry! Ere you pounce, Forgive me! You could make me glad to die, I think, if you would only kill me kindly. Just one swift razor-stroke— cut low!— and I Would pass the portal happily and blindly. Yes! I would like to think the fountain sprang Straight from my throat and slaked your aching thirst, Shot to your hot red heart one red hot pang, Then left you cool and smiling as at first. I give you freely my heart’s agony. But oh! oh! speak to me! do speak to me! IV God! do not wait then! kill me now; have done! Why do you watch me mute and immobile, Sitting like death between me and the sun, A sphinx with eyes of jade and jaws of steel? Let me rise up to kneel to you and pray! I hate this hell of agony supine. You killed her yesterday; kill me to-day; Let me not hang like Christ! Now snap my spine! Surely you know the trick— when from your lips I see a thin chill stream of stark black blood Trickling, the stream of hate that glows and grips My lesser life within its sickening flood. Be pitiful, and end your cruelty! Suck out the life of me, that I may die!                                  V O brooding vampire, why art thou arisen? Why art thou so unquiet in the tomb? Why has thy corpse burst brilliant out of prison? Whence get the lips their blood, the cheeks their bloom? Is there no garlic I may wear against thee? No succour in the consecrated Host? Nay, if thou slay not it is thou restrainst thee. I am the virgin, thou the Holy Ghost. There is no comfort nor defence nor peace From thee (and all thy malice) in the world: Thou sittest through the aching centuries Like the old serpent in his horror curled Ready to strike, strike home— and yet not striking Till thou hast lipped the victim to thy liking!                                       VI Am I not beautiful? Your lithe mouth twitches As if already you were glutted on This fair firm flesh that fears you and yet itches —You know it— for some master malison. Perhaps you mean to let me go? Ah sweet! How seven times sweet if you will let me go— Oh! Oh! I want to worship at your feet. Why do you stab me with a smiling “No”? Say “no” at least— to see you sitting there So dumb is madness— why then, let me go! I will— and you sit quiet— did you dare? To everything the answer still is “No!” You coward! Coward! Coward! let me rise!— I cannot bear the hunger in your eyes.                                    VII You are afraid of me— I see it now. You know that if you loose me, never again Will I be such a fool. I wonder how I ever took this destiny of pain. Loose me! You dare not. Take your eyes away! You dare not. O you laugh! You trust your power; There you are wrong— but had you turned to-day, I would have murdered you within the hour. Yes! you do well— you know the dreadful weight Pale silence sheds, not Atlas could uplift. You know the spell to conquer love and hate, To win the world and win it at a gift. You are afraid of that, then— had you spoken, You fear the spell upon me had been broken! VIII Even that taunt has left you smiling still, And silent still— and that is ten times worse. Where is my will, my adamantine will? Curse God and die? I can nor die nor curse. Ah, but I can. The agony extends— I am wrapt up all in an equal hell. There is a point at which emotion ends. I am come through to peace, though pain yet swell Its paean in my every vein and nerve. Try me, o God, convulse me to the marrow! I am its element; I shall not swerve. I am Apollo too; I loose one arrow Swift enough, straight enough to conquer you. O Sphinx! Gaze on! I can be silent too. ✶       ✶       ✶       ✶       ✶                                    IX Now then the pressure and the pain increase, And ever nearer grows the exulting rose Your face; and like a Malay with his kriss That runs amok, your passion gleams and grows. It shakes me to the soul; by that you are stilled; You hold yourself together, like a man Stabbed to the heart, who, knowing he is killed, Lets his whole life out in his yataghan, And strikes one masterstroke. So now you breathe Close on my face; you strip me of defence; You sing in obscure words whose crowns enwreathe My forehead with their viewless violence, So that I lie, as at the appointed term, Awaiting the foul kisses of the worm.                                X You close on me; by God, you breed in me! My flesh corrupt is tingling with the kiss Of myriads, like the innumerable sea In waves of life that feeds its boundless bliss On the eroded earth. These are your thoughts, Your living thoughts that throng my stagnant veins! Your jackals howl among the holy courts; Your monster brood of devils in my brains Laughs; oh! they feast on my decaying blood; They gnaw the last sweet morsel from my bones.— As on the parched-up earth there flames the flood Of the monsoon, black dust and barren stones Leap into green, so I whose epitaph Your passion writes, awake to live— to laugh!                                  XI Even to the end of all must I resist. New deaths, new births, each minute boiling over. I can go on for ever, an you list— Now, now! O no! I will not. O my lover! Spare me! Enough! Take pity! Mutely moans Your mouth in little sobs and calls and cries And catches of the breath, whose bliss atones In once for all the long-drawn agonies. Now that the pain swings over into pleasure, Now that the union which is death is done, The wine of bliss rolls out in brimming measure. The moon is dead— all glory to the Sun! Now, now! Oh no! Oh no! I penetrate— I pierce. Enough. God! God! how Thou art great!                                    XII Then closer, closer. No!— then stop— think well What is this wonder we awake. Now think We are cast down to the abyss of hell Or tremble upon heaven’s dizzy brink— Which? All’s the same. Go on. No— what is this? Why dally? To the hilt! Ah mine, ah mine! Kiss me— I cannot kiss you— kiss me! Kiss! Oh! God! Oh God! Forgive me; I am thine.— Horses and chariots that champ and clang! The roar of blazing cressets that environ The form that fuses in the perfect pang. A blast of air through the molten iron— One scream of light. Creating silence drops Into that silence when creation— stops.                             XIII So— é finita la commedia. “And if the King like not the comedy” (Twine in your hair the fallen gardenia!) “Why then, belike he likes it not, pardie!” What will the “King”— the British Public— say When they perceive their sorrow was my fun, Their Hecuba my mocking Brinvilliers? I neither know nor care. What we have done We have done. Admit, though, you are rare and rich! This palely-wandering knight has found a flame Both merciless and beautiful, you witch! You play the game, and frankly, as a game! This is the hour of prattle— tell me true! I have never met another such. Have you?                              XIV Yet all the comedy was tragedy. I truly felt all that I farced to feel. Because the wheel revolves, forsooth, shall we Deny a top and bottom to the wheel? I am the centre too, and stand apart. I am the All, who made the All, in All Who am, being Naught. I am the bloodbright Heart Wreathed with the Snake, and chaos is their pall. Thou art as I; this mystery is ours. These blood-bought bastards of futility Can never know us, fair and free-born flowers. So they may say— they will— of you and me: “These poets never know green cheese from chalk; This is the sort of nonsense lovers talk.”

-- ALEISTER CROWLEY