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On Gifts and Giving...There is a chest in my possession that contains my finest gold gold divided, but whole, into numerous little coins. Some of these coins I have given away but the vast majority I have not.
It is not, however, for the lack of people that are worthy, in my eyes, to receive one from me. Perhaps it is nothing but a fear I have conjured for myself, in regards to the gifting of one small precious token to another, but I feel all too strongly the weight of numerous consequences that would be indeed unfortunate. To give a gift, one might imagine, ought to be a simple thing; an event that is gone as quickly as it had come. And yet I fear to find my little coin drawn up into a whirlwind of debt and favors and responsibilities and duties and any number of things that have managed to lose sight of the origin of it all: the exchange of a gift from my hands to those of another.
I realize, too, that this gift might be spent, might be forgotten, might be tucked in some dusty corner, might
Tales of a FootmanShe strode off to meet him, spear held high.
She went off to meet him, her armor gleaming in the fading sunlight, polished sword at her side.
But that...that was not how it started. It started with a speech, with words about our home, or family, our futures words to inspire hope and valor and all things good. It came from the lips of our esteemed leader-general, Lady Valerie, known as Apollonia after one of the old legends. She'd earned her title and rank through years of service, holding her cool and remaining strong even while the greatest knights of the kingdom lined up to test her. She, truly, stood as a model for all that courage, conviction, and determination would lead to greatness...should one be able to but take that first step forwards. And so, she showed us all that we, one of the smallest kingdoms, could be more than the last and with her at our lead, we reconquered territory that hadn't been ours since the fathers of our grandfathers, and brought glory
Last Words"Our enemies come. You know this as well as I. They have the numbers, but yet they follow us, biting at our heels, keeping us on the run but no longer!
Unsheathe your swords. Feel the steel, taste the blood on the edge. Here, we will fight. Here, we will die. Here, in blood, will we write our names into history. For the sons of our sons, and their sons after them they will remember us. Our names will be known for generations to come and as for them? Time will see them trampled and destroyed, nothing more than men. But as for us? We will be GODS.
For honor! For glory! Arret'te!"
Proflies: A Deli-man.-=Name=-
Five-eleven. And a half.
"I'm close enough to six feet, alright?! Really! I am!"
One hundred and fifty eight. Pounds.
Russet. ( Red-Brown )
Heir to the Stain-Glass Deli. ( Read: Part-time butcher )
Pops: George Brandt, 59. "Or is he sixty now? Huh."
Formally the owner of the Stain-Glass Deli.
Mom: Josephine Rossen Brandt, 57.
"Eh? The cheese? Oh - yeah, that's all mom's doin'."
Carries, almost at all times, a knife-sheath buckled to his belt, containing the butcher's knife he uses while working. It's always cleaned after use, but he's absentminded enough to forget he's wearing it when he leaves the shop.
-=The (Rather Unexciting) History=-
Ernest had the wonderful opportunity to be born to, and raised by, George and Josephine Brandt, a pair of caring parents. Neither suffer from any debilitating ailments or disabili
Veni, Vidi, AbincediI went looking exploring, once,
And found myself
confronted with a sight
I hadn't expected to see -
A large Lion, housed in a chamber
Far too small for his spirit.
Poor thing, I thought, to be thus held
And trapped inside, unable to roam free.
Then came a whisper, unbidden, to my mind
Deep and ferocious, as I imagined the Lion to be:
"Do you have pity? As well you should-
But I am not the worst off here."
How could he not be, this great predator,
This maned king, far from home,
Surrounded by walls
Constructed of concrete and stone.
I watch him prowl, encaged still,
See his teeth flash as he snarls and snaps;
But in it all, there's no malice, no rage -
Just a beast with sharp claws, biding his time.
Why do you not despair, I asked.
Why do you not fight back in earnest?
Why do you not lash out at your keepers,
Those that restrain you, those that contain you?
But as the Beast turns away,
I catch a twitch of whiskers
as if he's smirking, glo
Cubed, a Rubik's.One day, I shall be asked, "Where did you hide that which held most worth to you?", and I shall answer, "Before your unseeing eyes."
For, truly, I will have crafted a magnificent masterpiece, more inherently intricate than any I have intended to create. I will place that which I prize most within it, secure within the walls I have wrapped around it. Years of toil and strain it has taken, for this piece of work to come into being and for years more will it continue, until the mystery which it holds is beheld and completed. The maze that surrounds it grows continuously, adding layer upon layer of complexity and will continue to grow, without a doubt, until this puzzle has been solved.
Or, of course, until I should meet my end but that ending should be a most unfitting conclusion to such a wonderful construct, I imagine.
And that, my dear friends, is all I may reveal for this labyrinth-of-a-sort would be so shattered if I were to dare to reveal the premi
Dream a DreamToday, I dreamed a dream.
I dreamed of myself, in a city I didn't know.
I dreamed of a hotel in that city, hosting an event I've never heard of.
I dreamed of a convention, named Poke-con, whose logo consisted of blue, red and yellow gajinkas.
I dreamed of myself, walking the halls of a long corridor, which led to an atrium I have never been in which in turn led to a number of rooms with architecture I've never seen.
I dreamed of phoning home, to say that I was fine, that I was safe, that I was doing all the things I ought.
I dreamed of showering with my clothes on in a shower that encompassed the entire bathroom, and opening the door to find maids outside.
I dreamed of questioning the maids as to why I was there, and I dreamed of their confusion.
I dreamed of casting my own mind back, to search my memory, for the history of this invitation I'd been given.
I dreamed of a game I'd played, and of a man I'd played with one who'd invited me to join his personal team, and given
Profile for a Drow, take 4.Things of Note
Given Name: Au'vic
Last Name: ( Withheld ) Iym'Ryne
Age: ( Withheld ) Not young, even by Elven standards
Notable affiliations: ?
Visible attire: [Picture]
Note: Yes, he does wear his mask almost all the time.
Weapon of Choice: Spellcraft
Profile for a Priest"I follow the path of one Anji, who walked this road long before I did..."
What do you see?</i>
A man, in his twenties, unremarkable in many ways - he carries no crown, wears no insignia upon his clothing, nor does he bears much that might distinguish himself from any other men, present in the crowd - save for the inner glow that seems to emanate from him from time to time. Hardly visible, it's nothing more than the slightest tinge of light around his figure at its very strongest - otherwise, one might not notice it at all.
What do you hear?
In this, too, this man is little different from any other human, strolling down the street - he speaks softly, when he speaks; his feet are reasonably loud, especially when all else is quiet; but from his figure comes no jingling of jewlery, no jangle of unseen keys or pouches.
What do you feel?</i>
There is no reason to explain it, the temporary uplifting of spirits when in his presence, the fleeting
Haikai no RengaThe Tools of Poetry #1: Haikai no Renga
Written by Dick Whyte, Phylis Johnson and Reginald Webber
Summary: This text details the mechanics and philosophy of the Japanese poetic form known as Haikai no Renga. A group of people comprised of both professional poets and so-called 'non-poets' (preferably) gather. One of them comprises a starting line, a dyad consisting of a paradox, or contradictory statement. One might be I am blue, but I am not blue, while another might be I am sad, and yet I am happy. In Western terms this might be considered a piece of philosophical nonsense, an absurdity. Each starting line reiterates 'I am being and yet I am not being'. This phrase is an impossibility surely? Classical Western philosophy often asserts this view. As Aristotle writes after Parmenides, That which is not could [not] in any way exist [or
15 Translations of Classical Haiku..
from cloud to cloud
for me, who leaves
for you, who remains
many many things
come to mind-
wings are better than...said the bird to the
fly, "the world is as transpar-
ent as your fucked wings."
said the fly to the
bird, "your heart is as hollow
as your brittle bones."
White powdered face
willows bend in wind--
foot forward, then back.
Paper fans twirl
through graceful hands.
laced with green--
Her Noh smile
a frozen river.
block the sun.
White powdered face
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^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More