Wielder of Names 6-114
Chapter: 6
“Yes, she is beautiful. Radiant, even. But make no mistake, our queen is star-kin. She is one of those hungry immortals that peel the flesh from the corpse of heaven, like the starving ghosts from our oldest and most terrifying stories. Our queen is not merciful. Our queen is our eternal slaver, and her whips are ten-thousand miles long.”
– The last king of Mykos
That did feel a little too easy. Ah well.
Don’t leave her waiting, kingling.
The second one is awaiting.
Should you meet a god on the side of the road.
Kill her.
Yikes
Is this about the time that Allison regrets saying “Everyone dies. Get over it?”
“Everyone dies, yes. Some sooner than others.”
The Blood Flower, Imperatrix of the Gates of Fire.
Glory, Glory.
Hallelujah.
Well, poppycock.
hoo boy
Foolish peasants! This isn’t even my final form!
All forms are broken eventually, either ‘pon the wheel, or ‘pon the Wheel.
Indeed, her final form is that of an putrid hag.
My good friend 1124 Blaze of Glory informs me that her final form is ashes and smoke.
If I remember correctly, that is the final thing of almost anything that spends an extended period of time near Blaze of Glory.
All life is fundamentally fire.
I believe that Nadia’s final form was ketchup, actually.
A foolish boast, surely. Everyone’s final form is a corpse.
A worm can only wonder at the premium, distinguished violence of giants.
And for the next ten minutes only, all violence is thirty percent off!
No, all violence is 100% ON.
Preem Jesse, consider the orange. Not, for once, a plum, for plums are succulent fruit, and require no preparation. An orange is encased in a bitter, waxy rind, displeasing to the palate save in minute quantities. To serve such a fruit, one must first apply the knife.
Consider, my good Preem, the strokes of the blade as it cuts away the displeasing skin to reveal the raw, juicy innards. Every stroke touches the quivering vessel. Every stroke removes some fraction of the whole. Perhaps a tenth of the ripe young fruit is discarded in a flurry of artful knife-work, and yet nothing of value is lost. Such are the mysteries of the Principle Art.
Forty percent for new customers, as part of our relocation sale! As Pankrator Jagganoth is wont to proclaim, my lovelies, everything must go!
> Principle Art
Why is it the Principle Art and not Principal Art? Or the Art of the Principal Principle?
Pedants want to know.
How can he be Pankrator if he hasn’t yet claimed Throne?
well played, sir.
Do you do bulk order deals on violence?
I can get you 13 for the price of 7, if you pay up-front for targeted reaping credits.
BOSSU BATTARU STARTU
Zettai Unmei Mokushiroku.
(Absolute Destiny Apocalypse)
Rebel: One!
klaatu barada nikto
Is that a reference to the words telling a giant robot to stop it wanton destruction, the amplifiers of a certain mid twentieth century band or the words spoken to safely handle the necronomicon when you have inadvertantlybeen displaced in time by said book?
And to not be a commbobreaker: tranmitte meum sursum scotius
The tree is dead. Long live the tree. I wonder what kind of sacrifices she’s going to demand.
All of them.
And them some.
Indeed, her eyes now resemble those of her late husband, Hasset Om. They are filled with a dark want. All may perish.
Kings, perhaps? Or Allisons.
And that was when she knew she fucked up.
Well you’re in trouble
BOSS FIGHT
I wonder what White Chain is thinking right now, also, relatedly, whether angels of the Concordance use swear words much.
Angels swear much, and may even curse- oh, you speak of profanity. No, angels do not typically speak such words, for it is unbecoming of creatures of their stature. But beware the sworn words of angels, for they are known to keep oaths across incarnations, and even kalpa.
This one suspects that our glorious queen Om is more than a little pissed. I wonder if her primary concern is the true-death of her late husband or her newfound lack of immortality.
You Aeons know nothing about humans, do you?
Of /course/ it’s about her losing immortality. Nadia is ultimately a selfish creature. Powerful, glorious, and selfish.
There is still a possibility of redemption.
Hope springs eternal.
The synthesis of opposites is co-eternal with the art of division.
Can she surround herself with the power of growing plants while being incapable of personal growth and transformation? I hope not.
Likely, it’s just her lucidity dropping again, and her insanity found its way back to her.
She’s beauty, she’s grace, she’s the queen of time and space.
Kudos to Al-YISUN for looking as if she is *not* about to flee from one of the seven rulers of the universe.
She ain’t going silently into the night.
Rage. Rage against the dying of the light!
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
*chews popcorn in anticipation, butt on edge of seat*
Oh dear, it seems Nadia has recovered. If my fifth incarnation taught me anything, it was to be exceedingly wary of those who manifest a halo. It either means mastery of a Name, the presence of a ley stone, or it is the mark of Royalty.
That, or one of my brother Aeon, but it is usually never a good sign in any case. Perhaps even especially in that case.
I remember that one! Nasty fellow, I had to replace my mask pretty quick after that mess.
oh snap
oh she mad
10 minutes into plantmix and chlorophyl when she gives you this look
Surprise bitch!
Ghost Nappa!