sometimes it loads fast and sometimes it loads slower than a parked car
sometimes it loads fast and sometimes it loads slower than a parked car
i was reading this week and found this for you oh Santa Sin.
a simple work of art from D.H. Lawrence
Now it is autumn and the falling fruit
and the long journey towards oblivion.
The apples falling like great drops of dew
to bruise themselves an exit from themselves.
And it is time to go, to bid farewell
to one's own self, and find an exit
from the fallen self.
Have you built your ship of death, O have you?
O build your ship of death, for you will need it.
The grim frost is at hand, when the apples will fall
thick, almost thundrous, on the hardened earth.
And death is on the air like a smell of ashes!
Ah! can't you smell it?
And in the bruised body, the frightened soul
finds itself shrinking, wincing from the cold
that blows upon it through the orifices.
And can a man his own quietus make
with a bare bodkin?
With daggers, bodkins, bullets, man can make
a bruise or break of exit for his life;
but is that a quietus, O tell me, is it quietus?
Surely not so! for how could murder, even self-murder
ever a quietus make?
O let us talk of quiet that we know,
that we can know, the deep and lovely quiet
of a strong heart at peace!
How can we this, our own quietus, make?
Build then the ship of death, for you must take
the longest journey, to oblivion.
And die the death, the long and painful death
that lies between the old self and the new.
Already our bodies are fallen, bruised, badly bruised,
already our souls are oozing through the exit
of the cruel bruise.
Already the dark and endless ocean of the end
is washing in through the breaches of our wounds,
Already the flood is upon us.
Oh build your ship of death, your little ark
and furnish it with food, with little cakes, and wine
for the dark flight down oblivion.
Piecemeal the body dies, and the timid soul
has her footing washed away, as the dark flood rises.
We are dying, we are dying, we are all of us dying
and nothing will stay the death-flood rising within us
and soon it will rise on the world, on the outside world.
We are dying, we are dying, piecemeal our bodies are dying
and our strength leaves us,
and our soul cowers naked in the dark rain over the flood,
cowering in the last branches of the tree of our life.
We are dying, we are dying, so all we can do
is now to be willing to die, and to build the ship
of death to carry the soul on the longest journey.
A little ship, with oars and food
and little dishes, and all accoutrements
fitting and ready for the departing soul.
Now launch the small ship, now as the body dies
and life departs, launch out, the fragile soul
in the fragile ship of courage, the ark of faith
with its store of food and little cooking pans
and change of clothes,
upon the flood's black waste
upon the waters of the end
upon the sea of death, where still we sail
darkly, for we cannot steer, and have no port.
There is no port, there is nowhere to go
only the deepening blackness darkening still
blacker upon the soundless, ungurgling flood
darkness at one with darkness, up and down
and sideways utterly dark, so there is no direction any more
and the little ship is there; yet she is gone.
She is not seen, for there is nothing to see her by.
She is gone! gone! and yet
somewhere she is there.
And everything is gone, the body is gone
completely under, gone, entirely gone.
The upper darkness is heavy as the lower,
between them the little ship
It is the end, it is oblivion.
And yet out of eternity a thread
separates itself on the blackness,
a horizontal thread
that fumes a little with pallor upon the dark.
Is it illusion? or does the pallor fume
A little higher?
Ah wait, wait, for there's the dawn
the cruel dawn of coming back to life
out of oblivion
Wait, wait, the little ship
drifting, beneath the deathly ashy grey
of a flood-dawn.
Wait, wait! even so, a flush of yellow
and strangely, O chilled wan soul, a flush of rose.
A flush of rose, and the whole thing starts again.
The flood subsides, and the body, like a worn sea-shell
emerges strange and lovely.
And the little ship wings home, faltering and lapsing
on the pink flood,
and the frail soul steps out, into the house again
filling the heart with peace.
Swings the heart renewed with peace
even of oblivion.
Oh build your ship of death. Oh build it!
for you will need it.
For the voyage of oblivion awaits you.
Oh Santa Sin Oh Santa Sin
How we Painfully Great you
Oh Santa Sin Oh Santa Sin
How we Long to See you
You bring us joy
you bring us pain
You open the way
for Grenths Day
Oh Santa Sin Oh Santa Sin
How we Bribe and Entreet you.
Last effort for this event.
and yes it will work with the Song.
and yes its a very lame attempt as i have spent the last 2 days rebuilding my pc
blank hard drive dead and replaced... still dont have all my office software back
and most of my journals are gone.
blank blank blank.... computers.
Last edited by Rockweaver; 04-01-2009 at 07:18.
Apologies for the delay, I've been distracted by stuff. Okay, I admit to having a sizable farming addiction. It's really hard to get myself off GW to get writing done when there are sweets and booze to be harvested. Also, GWO was a slug yesterday and getting on was annoying. Hopefully this isn't too lame.
Darkest of nights, when the sun dips lowest
Night of nights on a starry field I ride
The cold entangles, chokes and kills
Death rides among us now, masked and grinning
There is a jewel in the night, gleaming bright upon a woman’s bosom, sparkling each time she breathes. The rhythm intoxicates Santa Sin for a moment, for he is a lover of small bright things, of rubies, drops of blood and ill-gotten diamonds. His gaze settles darkly on the woman in the blue dress as she sits among the revelers, and dressed all in black he approaches like a shadow.
“Gwen, you are so beautiful tonight.” A young man declared, “Do you like the jewel?”
Her hands reach up to touch the pendant and at that moment, because he likes a show of stealth and theft, Santa Sin’s silk-clad hand undid the clasp and the jewel whisked away and disappeared. Gwen’s hand touched nothing and she gave a little gasp.
“It was there a moment ago!” The young man gazed around the bustling party. Maybe he saw a wisp of shadow lean over another table and nab a flagon of spiked eggnog before it left the mead hall. Once outside, Santa Sin giggled at the thought of the two people looking for the jewel. His feet crunched through the snow and he saw a grench galloping along on its large awkward feet.
“Come here!” He called, and the beastly creature ambled towards him, its leathery ears twitching nervously. The beast recognized him as Santa Sin and sat down, whereupon he clipped the jewel around its neck. “Alright, run along, enjoy your bling!”
With a jolly chuckle, Gos watched it leave to destroy more presents with a warm, cruel feeling in his heart. In the distance, Grenth’s carolers struck up a distinctly anti Kurzick song and he frowned before upending the flagon and draining it. Time to move along….
Somewhere in the world, there is always a party. This is a universal fact, and Gos is an expert at finding them, for murderous mayhem can be mistaken for merriment. He had enjoyed Teppic’s past celebration and soon took to the air, seeking the marvels of Vabbi. Perhaps some warmed palm wine, maybe some rum awaited him.
He had woken late and the sun was still up. Mid afternoon and no kills yet. He landed lightly upon the roof of the wealthy guild, watched with a critical eye as Koss ambled across the square. Hmmph, figured he’d been rezzed. Then, to his increasing amusement, he watched as Koss circled a table, bringing wine, turkey and other food to a little old lady at a long feast table. No one else sat at the table, even though the woman was obviously conversing with each empty seat. Meanwhile, Koss sipped from each cup at the setting and became increasingly drunk, flailing foolishly as each course of the meal arrived. The show amused him so much that he hardly noticed the sound of sleigh bells at his back.
Santa Claus’ team of trained reindeer came in at a raking angle, their antlers lowered, nostrils puffing vapor in the cool air. Aboard the sleigh, Santa Claus’ team of Luxon toughs chuckled uproariously as Santa Sin became unwillingly airborne, the imprints of several antlers in his butt.
“Santa Sin! For you…I have…A BAG OF COAL!” Santa Claus hooted from the sleigh.
“AND SOME ARROWS!” One of the Luxon toughs shouted, and sure enough, a salvo of arrows coursed through the heavens. Gos shadow stepped away, but one skewered his back. He cursed his inattention, for over the years Santa Claus had become his sworn enemy after various thefts, elf assassinations and venison feasts. It only made sense that the jolly gift giver had hired a bodyguard and taught his reindeer team a few things about ramming speed.
He plucked the arrow out and was about to flee when a sack of coal struck him across the head, knocking him senseless. Gos spiraled to the earth like a wounded bird. Away the sleigh flew like the down of a thistle. Santa Sin heard him exclaim, 'ere he drove out of sight. "Happy Wintersday to all, and to all a good night!"
"I hope your gifts explode! I hope the grenches get every last single one of them!” Gos cursed after spitting out a few teeth. “Ugh, I need a drink…or five.”
He slumped back to Lion’s Arch after deciding it was too dangerous to remain in Elona. Heavens only knew when Santa Claus might strike again. When he arrived, the celebration of Wintersday itself had begun. Fireworks rippled in the heavens, children ran joyously through the streets and the adventurers, merchants and incorrigibles of the city laughed and drank as if death itself would vanish.
“Death is dour, death comes to all.” Gos grumbled as a laughing pair of women ran past. He snarled and then grinned when he saw Konig among the crowd clutching a tall twisted staff. The object filled him with an ancient awe, for he recognized power when he saw it, and like glittery things, they attracted his envy and compulsion to steal.
The people of Lion’s Arch went to the rings to play the sacred game of Dwayna against Grenth. Predictably, the humans went to Dwayna’s rings for the most part, with a few necromancers and assassins on Grenth’s side attempting to look cool by assembling a band. It did not help that they all looked thin, pale and a tad blood thirsty. If they were a recruiting poster for Grenth, they were failing miserably.
The fatal hour came and the avatars of Grenth and Dwayna came to Lion’s Arch. Santa Sin watched Konig and the staff, and how the man remained firmly on Grenth’s side, as if approaching Dwayna were painful to him. What use was such an item of power if the man would not use it? Gos shifted into the shadows and moved like a breath of wind towards the lone figure. As Grenth and Dwayna began to argue and the man seemed distracted, Gos grabbed the staff and wrested it from their grip. He sprang away, vanishing from whence he came. He heard the man cursing, but already Santa Sin moved among the throngs of Dwayna lovers and forcing his shadowy energies into the staff, a great stinking billow of corpse scented smoke burst from one end. The people scattered with a gasp, many covering their faces with their guild cloaks. He chased them with it, trying to herd them towards Grenth’s rings.
It looked promising, the people were definitely trying to get away from him and the stench. Except that he had forgotten about Konig in the glee of herding people. He did not see the darkness fall over him, nor the graceful form of the necromancer as he drew an icy blade. Santa Sin forged on, not hearing the subtle curse, seeing the vile blood that slaked Konig’s magical working. A ghastly green aura settled around him and the sword swept in an arc of corrupted brilliance. Blackness came, he hardly felt anything other than a brief awareness of cauterized flesh and unraveled disease.
Konig caught the staff before it could hit the earth. He gazed callously upon the pile of Santa Sin’s ashes and decided to be content in this slaying. The sheep of Lion’s Arch had returned to Dwayna’s side. The battle had been lost to another springtime, but he had time, he always had time and at least the troublesome Santa Sin was dead until next year.
He woke among the bright columns of the Underworld’s icy realm. Through blurred, blood choked vision, Gos looked up at a great statue of Grenth and trembled. An avatar drifted from the icy fountain at its base and came towards him, its talons extended in anger.
“You! You couldn’t even live through the ceremony!”
“I’m sorry, oh frigid one.”
“This is worse than three years ago when Santa Claus buried you on the beach up to your neck at low tide.”
“For this, your punishment shall be a year as a mortal. You shall form pug groups in Hero’s Ascent for a full year. No one you know and no one with any reputation or rank. I want daily reports on your suffering.”
“No! Master! I beg of you! Anything but that!”
“I have spoken. Now go to The Temple of Balthazar. Just say lfg HA, no experience or equipment needed. Amuse me or join the river of souls.”
“I’ll gladly clean up after the aataxes. I’ll groom the smites…I can pet the dryders….”
“GO! GET OUT OF MY SIGHT!” The avatar thundered.
“You bastard.” Gos whispered.
“I HEARD THAT.”
Grenth’s realm slowly faded and he drifted awhile, trying to cling to the comfort of death’s cold, knowing the horrors that awaited him on the Battle Isles. Why not a year of guild vs guild…alliance battles even…why HA? His mind curdled at the thought as he finally woke to a tropical sun warming his skin, the distant hiss of the ocean on a sandy shore. Around him, the trophies of the mighty rose on plinths. It was the pit of the morning and the precincts of the Temple of Balthazar were still. Yet, as he listened, he could hear a voice dry as leaves reciting an ancient poem about death's grim domain. He climbed the stairs towards the Zaishen’s training grounds and saw a man sitting there, a lute upon his knee.
“Hello.” Gos said, aware that he no longer looked the part of Santa Sin, just another itinerant assassin looking for a quick kill in Balthazar’s arenas. The man looked up at him with a crooked grin.
“Hey Santa Sin.”
“You have been into my home. I always know a visitor.”
“I am just a man again, Wintersday is over and Dwayna won.”
“But you shall return next year.”
“Well, let me sing a song for you, one I just scribbled out.”
Oh Santa Sin Oh Santa Sin
How we Painfully Great you...
Karn +10 better descriptions and characterization this time
Teppic +15 for the opportunity to be humiliated by Santa Claus and his Luxon bodyguard
Konig -15 - Hope you don't mind that I gave you a staff that makes stinky death-smoke (well it does for Gos...I am sure it does something proper for Konig)
Rockweaver +12 - I have always liked the Ship of Death and I completely understand compy problems! Glad you made it back with minutes to spare!
is Konig getting negitive points on purpose? lol
- I'll think of a entry and post one when i get back tonight, its friggin cold and I cant think straight -
Still installing software must be missing something as it is taking this site a very long time to open any page???
current score board.
Rockweaver + 70
Teppic + 69
Karn, + 11 [and i thought you were going for 0]
Not so positive points
ok here goes:
Karn recently being promoted in the Zaishen elite, sets up a lottery system witht he prizes being eternal tonics, summoning stones, Votaic spears and other rare items.
He watches as Santa Sin approaches him to buy a lottery ticket. Lottery ticket machine whirrs into action as people line up to buy tickets.
"Why for Dwayna's sake why are you so slow handing out those tickets??' Hayda asked
"Well excuse me for not being able to move at the freakin' speed of light." Karn replied tking a swig of firewater.
Last edited by Karn the Betrayer; 04-01-2009 at 18:18.
I'm wielding the Scepter of Smelliness!Originally Posted by Kalidri
I thought this was the last entry. Especially since "I am no longer Santa Sin."Originally Posted by Karn
I am sad, my deadite army did not make it. None the less, I win the negatives! :D:D:D:
Yep it's over.
There's a slight +5 pt adjustment to be made for late joiners into the party. I need to check that this doesn't change the leader board. I just got onto the 'nets though and need to take care of a few things, so I'll be back.