Eight Arms and the Mask

  The following letter was presumably written in the early Fifth Wane, judging from the words used to describe the people of southeastern Dragon Pass. The society it describes may seem shockingly unfamiliar by comparison to the relatively urbane and cosmopolitan modern world, and perhaps it may be easiest to imagine it was a satire or a "mirror" held up, but as it is a private letter between two citizens of moderate means and little apparent literary pretensions, this seems dubious. Perhaps it is simply best to give praise to the Turner for having already achieved so much liberation from the stultifying past of feigned timelessness.  “Łenōrë, You have asked for my observations on the hillfolk of Dragon Pass and beyond, especially as it concerns the acts of sexual intercourse. I must correct your question somewhat- I only went a slight ways beyond the southern reach of the pass, and so cannot speak as to the customs further away. Furthermore, I am somewhat loath to speak on th...

For those who wish to commit themselves to the work that faces us all, the work that the girl in the funny tee shirt began, this recipe might be of use.  You will need: 1 novice, who may wear whatever they like. 1 celebrant, who shall wear an appropriately personal mask and red robes. At least 2 witnesses, who must wear a red article of clothing to signify that they are witnesses.  [The celebrant speaks:] Fool who bears the name Freedom, Under the light of liberty, Your wrongs shall be forgiven.  I am [celebrant gives their sacred name] I have come from the far reaches of eternity.  It is my duty to bestow freedom!  Ask, and you shall be set free.  Fool who bears the name Freedom, Because of your name,  You will live a life of betrayal, rejection, and defeat.  Do you fear the deceit and the torment?  [Novice is free to answer how they wish.] Fool who bears the name Freedom,  Because of your name,  You will carry the burden of plague...

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...