There are demons in all of us Some linger and hide In the shadows In the dark And others Hide in plane sight In the light There are demons in all of us Everywhen and everywhere And whether they hide in the dark Or in the light It is on us to face them And give them Eternal night
Tell me human Look inside yourself and tell me What do you see? Do you see fear? Grief? Wrath? Do you see Happyness? Joy? Love? Or do you see all and more? Tell me human What do you see when you look inside? Do you see a devil? Do you see an angel? Do you see both? Come on now Look inside and tell me What can you see? Crawl through the darkness Move through it, fight through it! Walk to the deepest pit of your very self And tell me What. Do you. See? German version: Sag mir, Mensch Schau in dein Inneres und sage mir Was siehst du? Siehst du Angst? Schmerz? Zorn? Siehst du Glück? Freude? Liebe? Oder siehst du all das und mehr? Sag mir, Mensch Was siehst du, wenn du in dein Inneres blickst? Siehst du einen Teufel? Siehst du einen Engel? Siehst du beide? Komm schon Blicke hinein und sage mir Was kannst du sehen? Kriech durch die Dunkelheit Lauf hindurch Kämpfe dich hindurch Geh zur tiefsten Stelle deines Selbst Und sage mir Was. Siehst du?
Zorn des Himmels Die Ruhe liegt im Lande, liegt über ihm, still und stumm, kündet leise von dem, was kommen wird Der Himmel färbt sich schwarz, der Wind beginnt zu singen, ein Lied von Tod und Leid, wird zum Boten der Zerstörung Die Wolken ziehen sich zusammen, vertreiben das wunderschöne Blau, das Lied erhebt die Stimme, vertreibt die unheimliche Stille Der Regen peitscht herab, ruft den Wind zum stürmen, zu entfalten seinen Zorn, zu entfalten seinen Hass, zu zerstören dieses Land Der Wind erhört den Ruf, entfaltet seinen Zorn, entfaltet seinen Hass, lässt das Lied des Sturms erklingen Der Himmel folgt dem Lied, entfaltet seine ries’ge Macht, violett und blau fängt er zu brennen an, schickt das Feuer gierig lodernd hinab gleißend hell und doch so dunkel zu bringen diesem Land den Feuertod Das Auge ist geöffnet, der Sturm ist entfacht, gekommen ist das Ende dieser Welt The sky’s wrath Silence in the lands It lies there, quietly, silently Declaring What will come The sky is
[…] So up stood Hrragni, Ffrehkk’s own bard, rattled drum-skin, silenced troops; recounted well heroic lays of valour-deeds, all glory-spun, by the hall-shaker, wave-traverser, Krekki, breaker of helms, a folk’s defender: “...And Krekki – so grim and strong, he slashed the foe to blood and bone; a tree of blades, he spun with might, his cries cut harder than enemy swords: Ulwarf was in him, our lord’s champion. He took life from his fiercest foes, they who cursed, swore oaths against the sacred bird most blessed by Ulwarf; the king of birds, the druid’s own spirit, the cave-dweller, the nester in the dark, the holy wren, who shuns the sun-flame who, hunted by the enemy, speared on sticks, sacrificed by heathen hands – soon saw vengeance, when slaughter-spears of wrath slung forth to gore those who had likewise stuck the night-flyer...” “Who, may I ask, were his fiercest foes?” asked Sigfri when the song was done. The gleeman said: “The Ylfish hordes of Wealdond land. We harrowed
Hence to the Silver Fields of Ealdenward by InformedDissent, literature
Literature
Hence to the Silver Fields of Ealdenward
[…] And through that night, the wise ones gathered, long-travelled Sigfri, Ulfish druids, Gifli too, to speak of Dofran and its glorious folk, so long hidden from human eyes and fates foretold, and omens grim such that Ka-hrahrr gave dread voice: “Thus speak the seers from ancient days, the eyeless ones of Ash-staff’s roots, whose words have passed from mouth to ear, the end of things, the crash of doom, when time is ended, worlds broken: gods devour gods, men devour men, and beasts devour the cold remains; when entrails swollen encircle the worlds and seas spill over deep with blood; burgs of bones cast shade on mountains. Total war, a lifetime long, will rage upon the reddened earth – til none remain. The skies held still. No wind, nor hail, nor tempest blown – the air itself choked of its breath, and darkness, ever-strangled night, eternal, endless, evermore – a gallows for all that ever was. The wolves of waste shall be well-fed.” She bowed her head, and silence sunk. “It need not
The Gyldlandsaga: Book I, Ch. I by InformedDissent, literature
Literature
The Gyldlandsaga: Book I, Ch. I
The Gyldlandsaga In the lands of Northern wastes, where ice lies eternal, came the great tribe of Hrefni, the black-feathered one; long trails they made from East to West, with their beasts and oxen. Until one day, when he, Hrefni, though still young in years, was summoned by spirits to a sacred place, and willingly went. There they slew him, those givers of knowledge, the lords of land, the earth-guardians; cut deep his throat, pulled forth his eyes from skull-pits and hacked him limb from limb; his feet, his hands, his head and all. His lady, golden Gydena, found his bloody slaughtered members and bore them to the foot of the great tree, Ashentorr, the watchman of the worlds. And there, he, Hrefni, became a living man once more, his severed parts made whole. Now born anew, he climbed that tree, the great ashen tower to its topmost boughs, the sky-lattice of the heavens and he looked out, and he looked down, upon all that could be seen. And then by seeing everything, he knew
Red trench, blood drenched Heart wrench, fist clenched They swore I should become a hero next A fighter standing strong above the rest Discover strength in allies, keep in check Uncover tales untold, reshuffle the deck But every ally left alive is gone Because surviving isn’t worth the dawn And should I try to keep on staying strong If only lies refuse to die, though wrong? And yet recalling nothing left to lose Though left remaining, not a thing to choose With fear from fiery souls, I shoot the dark With one more shot, I have to leave my mark For sure I cannot ever run again The nervous nightmare allowing none to wake Will put my very sense of self at stake But constant pleas for freedom touched my heart From fallen comrades long before this part Though mornings lengthen each uncaring day The burning sand will never drive us away Unceasing marches force us onward fast And storms that hope to cloud our sight won’t last Ahead I see the monster drawing nigh Beyond the sea of
She stands damn near seven feet and
Stiletto heels that crack the street
Add inches and she doesn't see
Needs to be any more discreet
She's strong...
Yes, so very strong
And your worthwhile opinions are mistaken.
You're wrong...
Oh, so very wrong,
Strong men turn weak when their faith is shaken...
Mavroschira Istos, as a young girl, would listen to her mother sing at the kitchen sink as she practiced lessons on their oak table. She was a decent enough student despite her impetuous nature. While not a genius by any imagination, Mavroschira was clever enough to stay able. She excelled at physical
The Book of Dzan: part 2 by JohnnyCurcio, literature
Literature
The Book of Dzan: part 2
DzanThe Red Book
Whilst studying with Trios, Dzan had an epiphany,
one that involved the health and theory of finite beings.
To mortals, spirits like Dzan must seem like a deity
who then might reveal existence's secrets and meanings.
Although Dzan had written the Book of Souls for traveling,
he had not intended to share it with another plane.
He pondered the potential in scrawling his babbling
into another book, to encompass knowledge arcane.
Trios suggested compartmentalizing his lessons,
so that Dzan might widen the net of wisdom he could use.
Trios made new over-complicated inventions,
of an academic nature, but they proved too