Eight Arms and the Mask

It is the honor of this weblog to present the first translation into the English language of any part of the justly-celebrated sacred text of the Lunar Immortal Saint Multilexia, An Appeal to Those Who Suffer Seinschmerz. This text has long been available in limited form, with bound editions in Carmanian, Hirenmadi, and Modern Lunar available from the right bookstores and libraries of Babel, along with the Hristo Andreyev Krastevich translation into Etruscan, but for the casual reader or interdisciplined inquirer, only brief excerpts have been translated, mostly ad hoc. This is the second section of the book, the “First Sojourn”, which has been translated first due to the subtleties of the opening “Benediction” providing surprising difficulties. The final text is being taken from the Jillaran recension, and has been prepared with the full consent of all Lunar Immortals involved.  The original text was written in the Rinliddi vernacular, using the standard letters of Peloria prior...

  Or maybe it goes like this.

  Is this how it goes? In a time before time, before the Dark welled up to meet the scribings of the grand grimoire of being- before the Silence- beyond the zero- there was/was not. Of those who were/n't, there were infinitely none and beyond all description in their sameness. And so on in that manner for a nullity stretching on for eternity. Much later and only a shortest fraction of a breath after, there was the Grandparent. The Primal Being. Monadoentité, darhudane, ymiric, product of the freewheeling gulps taken of the void and extended out into existence by the protector arachnid world spirit. All was being placed into order, but Grandparent was not yet fitted in. Offers had been made and extended and declined. Beneath, the power waited and its guardian had accepted the first offer made never looking upon the thing they guarded, can-we-fuck-the-flag/buddy-they-don't-even-let-me-fuck-it, paced back and forth. In the middle, the hare bounded along the ground. You know the re...

 The Man of Quality A man dressed in white robes with two golden stripes stepped into the GHQ pavilion one day in the Zeroth. He spake, saying, "As you are antinomians, tell me. My brother's uke disrespected our family, by eating at the same table as his wife. Shall I then transgress the old laws, and kill him?"   Deneskerva began, "That's not what-"  The Living Goddess rose from her chair. "I've got this, honey," she said. "You can keep working on the grain dole with sweetcheeks here." And she did lightly smack Etyries upon her ziggurat of repose. Teelo Estara faced the man of quality, and plucked some cherries from a bowl. "You can do whatever you feel like in life," she said, eating them. She smiled, teeth stained red with their juices. "Such have I said, but it is a simple truth. I suppose a man of quality like you understands the necessity of one speech for the lowly and another for the mediocre orders and still a...

ARGRATH DRAGONSPEAR AND THE EROTICIZED BREAKDOWN OF THE BICAMERAL MIND Numerous studies have been performed on residents of the Mindblast recovery wards, Madness critical cases, washouts from the Cult of the Bat, etc, placing trained Argrath impersonators in a position to whisper as if making a suggestion from across the rickety corpus callosum, simulating a variety of scenarios, e.g. intrusive vandalization urges, children’s rhymes, obscene variations on stereotypical divine messages, repetitions of monomythological mythemes, prolonged snickering and chuckling (fantasies of brutalizing the Prince of Sartar emerged almost instantaneously from this initial stimulus, subjects spontaneously conceptualizing lockers, flush toilets, wallets, lunch money, etc. and fixating on them). Powerful erotic fantasies of a green-on-green type interpenetrated all response curves to Argrath.  Subjects were required to construct a representational vision of Argrath’s social positioning, placing a litt...

 "Prince Argrath is the kindest, bravest, warmest, most wonderful human being I've ever met in my life."  -Harmast Fumblefingers, reformed Lunar, ten seconds after someone mentioned Argrath's name.  "They're putting phytoesrolians in the water that're turning the frickin' frogs gay!" -Iskandar Jonesius, of the Prince's household, commenting on Newtling marriage. "Don't you worry, Prince Argrath, these Seven Mothers hippie pinkos, faggots, and girldykes are incapable of knocking over a food cart, and we've got five thousand of the stormiest bullyboys ready to pound 'em into the gravel if they so much as think about a drum circle." -Iason Edgarios Hooveron, Director of Sartar Internal Security  "To all our wayward daughters: The day is arriving when we shall rise up and LIBERATE Dragon Pass from this Argrath Dragontooth! Remember Kallyr! Remember Aldachur! Gather, my daughters, outside of Dunstop. Assemble and await ...