"Second Son of a Second Son" - An Aquerra Story Hour (*finally* Updated 04/19)

[el-remmen]

Session #21– “The Journey Home” (part 2 of 3)

Bleys, Telémahkos and Victoria were still against going in to the mysterious cave, but Victoria deferred to the priest of Ra, and Telémahkos said he would stay behind with Dunlevey and guard the entrance.

“Send Dunlevey back to camp to tell the others we might be a while and to help guard them from what other dangers may be around here,” Victoria said. “I will stay with you and guard the way in. I should not enter for I fear the prohibition against violence may exclude me.”

“You aren’t violent!” Timotheus complained.

“The ethos of my god is all about violence…” Victoria reasoned. ¹

“You don’t have to come Bleys,” Markos said.

But the watch-mage shook his head. “I am obligated to do so…”

“Okay, remember everyone… Don’t attack anyone unless attacked first,” Timotheus warned as they began to march in, Laarus leading the way. “And we won’t be attacked if that voice was telling the truth, so we shouldn’t have anything to worry about.”

“Victoria may be right about the violence,” Laarus said, and he walked back to hand his weapons to Telémahkos. Markos followed suit, but Bleys and Timotheus refused to walk in unarmed.

The passage deep into the black rock narrowed, and the four young nobles could soon feel waves of heat coming up from the direction they headed, curving ever downward as the passage’s shape became that of a perfect isosceles triangle.

They had walked nearly twenty minutes when the increasingly unbearable heat was joined by the red glow at the end of the passage. Beyond they could see it opened into a much larger chamber. As they approached, Laarus saw runes above the portal. “Here Lies the Mind of Oberah,” he read.

“Who is that?” asked Markos.

“I do not know,” Laarus replied. Bleys just shook his head.

Beyond the portal was a great round room, perhaps one hundred and fifty feet across. It was lined with narrow vents in its stone floor from which blasted steam and sulfur. The rounded ceiling was at least thirty feet at its apex. At the far end of the chamber was raised crescent of stone where there were more vents. It was about four feet off the floor of the rest of the cavern, like a stage. Upon it sat a lone figure, but they could not make out much about it from where they were. In the center of the chamber was a round stone set into the floor that glowed dim orange giving off waves of heat. It was perhaps two feet in diameter and rose less than a foot off the ground.

“What the hell are you grinning at?” Markos asked Timotheus as the two of them followed Laarus into the chamber. Bleys waited at the portal, wary.

“This place is great!” Tim’s grin widened.

“You look like the village idiot,” Markos replied with a look of disdain.

As they approached the stone in the middle of the chamber, Markos cast detect magic, but aside from what they brought with them nothing here radiating a dweomer.

“Odd…” Markos said aloud.

“You are the one that calls me? Compels me to come here?” Laarus called to the figure on the raised stone. It was a wiry man with pruned dark skin wearing nothing but a loincloth, his legs crossed, and his eyes closed as if deep in concentration. The man opened his eyes and calmly shook his head no.

“It was not you?” Laarus asked again. The man shook his head again and pointed to the round stone in the middle of the chamber, and then closed his eyes once more, ignoring them.

“The stone…” Markos pointed as well. “Try talking to the stone… Address it as Oberah…”

The priest of Ra looked to the stone and took a deep breath. The hot air, swirling with tiny bits of ash stung his lungs, and fat beads of sweat poured down his shaven head. He kneeled down and began to unlace his boots.

“What are you doing?” Markos asked.

“Taking off my boots…”

“Did it tell you to do that? Should we all?” Timotheus asked, his good humor had dampened some in the extreme heat.

“It did not say,” Laarus replied.

Timotheus and Markos shrugged and began to undo their boots as well to be safe. In the meantime, Laarus made to step on the glowing hot stone.

“Whoa! Wait! What are you doing?” Timotheus hopped toward Laarus awkwardly on one foot, a boot in his right hand. Laarus paid him no mind and stepped on the stone, putting his feet together. He felt the searing pain for a moment as his feet immediately began to sizzle and crack and blacken. He threw his head back as if in agony, his whole body swinging backward, but his knees locked and his feet welded to the hot stone.

“Laarus!” Markos stepped forward and Timotheus did the same. Bleys the Aubergine came running into the chamber. Laarus looked up, but his eyes glowed with the orange of the stone, his head tilted in manner that was so unlike the young priest that chills ran down their spines despite the heat.

“Sons of Thricia…” A deep voice intoned from within Laarus body. His mouth moved, but the voice was not his, as alien as the twitching of his mannerisms. “Ever cautious are you… When the wave crashes on Thrician soil it shall be those who act with alacrity that will find victory.”

“Are we supposed to say something back?” Timotheus asked Markos, looking back and forth from the possessed figure of Laarus and the scrawny mage. Markos raised a hand and shook his head.

The voice from within Laarus continued. “My people ignored the fertile savagery of the bloody earth and it led to their end. The tide rises again…”

There was a long silence. “How about now?” Tim asked.

“What do you want to say?” Markos hissed, annoyed.

“I don’t know…”

“My voice comes to you from afar… Across space and time,” The voice that was not Laarus said. “Through space and time and the planes… The connection grows tenuous. You may ask me three questions. Ask them now.”

Bleys and Markos fell to arguing over what should be asked of the oracle.

“We should ask where the next ‘pearl of power’ is,” Markos suggested.

“For the last time, they are not ‘pearls of power,’” Bleys said. ² “Since we do not know the actual name of these pearls we cannot ask and be assured of an accurate answer. Also, what do you mean by ‘next’? ‘Next’ in terms of what?”

“Well then, the closest…” Markos said.

“Without the name the question is pointless,” Bleys irritated.

“You know… It really seemed to suggest that we had a limited time to ask it questions,” Timotheus warned. “You had better hurry…”

“The three questions we are very important, we cannot simply rush into this,” Bleys said.

“You have two questions…” The voice from within Laarus said.

Bleys’ head snapped towards the possessed priest and he furrowed his brow.

“I told you so,” Timotheus said.

“We’d better hurry with the remaining questions before we lose them as well,” Markos said.

“This is absurd,” Bleys replied. “Without proper time to craft pertinent questions whatever information we do get in answer may be more harmful than no answers at all…”

“Why don’t we ask, who is our primary enemy in this?” Markos suggested.

“In what?” Bleys asked in reply.

“In this ‘savage tide,’ whatever that is…” Markos clarified. Bleys shrugged his shoulders.

“I will take that as a ‘yes,’” Markos said, and he turned to his cousin, teetering awkwardly on the burning stone, the painful looking charred stains on his feet slowly crawling to his ankles. “Who is our primary enemy in this matter?”

There was a long silence and finally the voice came. “Too many to name, but you may begin with the Cults of the Beasts.”

“A useless answer,” Bleys said. Markos sneered at him.

“Where should…” Timotheus began to ask a question, but Markos stopped him and looked to Bleys for approval. The watch-mage shrugged again, “I have no objections.”

“Where should we go first to investigate this?” Timotheus asked.

“The tower of Stanislaw Torn,” the voice replied, and with that Laarus collapsed, falling off the stone and onto his knees. Bleys immediately had his healer’s kit open and saw to the priest’s feet.

“What…? What happened?” Laarus croaked. His head was ringing, his stomach turned as if he had had one of his visions, though he coughed up no bile.

“You were the vessel for some oracle from beyond,” Timotheus said, helping him to sit up.

“It was some form of extraplanar entity,” Markos hypothesized.

“Oberah?” Laarus asked.

“We didn’t ask its name. We only got three questions… Well, two questions, and that wasn’t one of them,” Timotheus quipped.

“Does this hurt?” Bleys poked at Laarus foot with a pin. Laarus sat up and winced grabbing at his foot. Both feet were blackened and tender, but were not really burned. He could not bear to put his boots back on yet, but he sensed that they would toughen up, though he was less sure about whether or not they’d stay blackened.

“Wise one, may I approach?” Markos was walking over to the meditating man while the other two helped Laarus to his feet. The man said nothing. “I will take you silence as consent.”

The man looked up and pointed to his temple and then to his mouth.

“A vow of silence?” Markos asked. The man closed his eyes and bowed his head again.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes,’ Markos said. Deciding there was nothing more to be gained here, Tim and Bleys helped Laarus back up to the entrance to the cave where Telémahkos and Victoria waited. They were told of the events in the cavern below as they made their way back to the camp, smelling the delicious landshark steaks sizzling on the fire.

“It was an old one, so it’s a little tougher than usual, but still… Damn good!” Kermit said between bites of a strip of the monster meat.

Over dinner, the Signers of the Charter of Schiereiland discussed what they knew of the Beast Gods, supplemented by Bleys and Laarus’ knowledge of the Ancients and Agon’s Realm.

“Didn’t those clues we found in Dalvan’s tomb mention the ram-headed god?” Markos asked. ³

“I believe so,” Bleys confirmed. “And it is said Agon had the head of a ram, at least according to some of the stories…”

“And there was the mention of the frog god of the bullywugs, right?” Markos’ mind was working now. It was during these times that he was too excited to be working at a puzzle to think about insulting anyone.

“And didn’t we see the sign of Hathor in the minotaur maze?” Timotheus asked.

“The Baphoment Stone Maze,” Bleys said. “Yes.” ⁴

. . .to be continued. . .

------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Notes:

(1) Anhur’s portfolio includes war, death in combat, glory and victory.

(2) A proper name for the pearls like the one that allegedly turned at least half the populace of Kraken’s Cove into savage frogmen has been an on-going point of contention in the campaign (both in and out of game).

(3) This is a reference to scraps of paper pasted onto the wall of the treasure chamber of Dalvan’s tomb. You can view them here.

(4) The party entered and then quickly left the Baphomet Stone Maze in Session #14.

 

[handforged]

Yay, crazy oracle that actually makes the party think quickly. Didn't Bleys hear the guy tell them at the beginning that they take too long to do things?

~hf

 

[el-remmen]

Didn't Bleys hear the guy tell them at the beginning that they [shouldn't] take too long to do things?

~hf

I assumed you meant "shouldn't" take too long. . .

Yes, he heard it, but in his defense are two factors:

1) He did not know exactly how long.
2) He figured that a too hastily asked question could prove more misleading or dangerous than asking no question at all.

 

[BlackCat]

Beast Gods

As long as we're clear that Bast had NOTHING to do with this. Nothing whatsoever. Move along. Nothing to see here. One of Her priests did NOT have a companion that freed the Ram Headed God. Nope. Nuh uh. I'll deny it if you ask me.

 

[handforged]

No, I meant it without the shouldn't. But the meaning is basically the same. The oracle told them that, "they take too long to do things." He also warned them that, "they [shouldn't] take too long to do things." Overall the gist is the same. I understand Bleys's reluctance to ask questions quickly, I just thought that he might have been one to follow instructions more carefully.

~hf

 

[Rastfar]

Didn't Bleys hear the guy tell them at the beginning that they take too long to do things?

I understand Bleys's reluctance to ask questions quickly, I just thought that he might have been one to follow instructions more carefully.

Well, I see it like this:

Bleys does not trust that all Oracles (if that's what we wanna call it...) are omnisicent.
Bleys does not trust that all Oracles are benevolent (or at least not malevolent).
Bleys does not trust what is clearly NOT divine or arcane.
Bleys does not trust that Laarus is wholly sane (or at least not being manipulated).

The priest of Ra - King of the Gods - admits that he receives visions from a source that is not derivative of Ra. That disturbs Bleys.

Bleys does not trust a random encounter in the middle of NOWHERE in the Disputed Territories that happens to 'call' Laarus to a random cave to give the rest of them information. (If it sounds to good to be true, it is...)

Bleys does not trust a 'voice' that has been waiting for time innumerable just for this exact moment, and NOW all of a sudden has a tentative grasp on its line of communication that it can not converse or be patient just a while longer...

Bleys does not trust a random naked man who won't talk but lives in the random cave with no food, water, or clothing.....

Being a Diviner, Bleys is wary of the power of information, or its opposite, and considers all these things when engaging in any decision-making process. He is methodical (perhaps to a fault - ) in both his approach to his Fighter class and Wizard class.

Bleys DOES like to follow directions, but must respect those issuing the orders....

 

[el-remmen]

Session #21– “The Journey Home” (part 3 of 3)

Anulem, the 7th of Ese - 566 H.E. (637 M.Y.)

A week later, the Signers of the Charter of Schiereiland were in Wesmearshire. The intervening time had been spent moving steadily northward, sometimes east and sometimes west, seemingly at Kermit’s whim. They spent their meal breaks and time around camp endlessly discussing a party name, but could not even agree on the necessity of a name. Laarus and Victoria were against any sort of name at all.

“If we are to have a name, then let us be named as is the tradition when children are named here in Thricia, rather than be so arrogant as to name ourselves,” Laarus said.

“It does seem like a foolish exercise,” Victoria insisted.

But the others did not want to get stuck with a name someone else came up with, and so several possibilities were bandied about. Finally, ‘the Sons of Thricia’ became the name least objectionable to the group, though no actual vote was held. ¹

Three days after the battle with the landshark, they caught sight of two of large wagons full of coal, pulled by immense oxen, and led by a group of dwarves, halflings, gnomes and two humans. They were fording the River Takken, heading east, while the Signers and their hirelings were skirting the western shore of it. The coal wagons were headed towards a route that would be easy for their wagons to get past the Border Rift, but were worried about assaults by bandits. They were called ‘The Coal Black Riders’.

“We have to get through Throat Leech Pass in order to get to New Harbinger from here,” the dwarf named Werkal told Markos and Tim, who were chosen to ride ahead and parley with the merchants. Werkal had a brown beard stained black by coal dust and bright blue eyes behind his blackened face. He wore studded leather and carried a battle-axe over his shoulder. “We know there is an old ambush point that overlooks the pass, so if your group wanted… You could keep whatever loot you found there if you accompany us and then go ahead and take out the bandits before we arrive at the pass, taking them by surprise. We cannot afford to do so ourselves and leave the wagons unprotected.”

Markos and Timotheus brought this offer back to the others, but only Telémahkos and Timotheus were immediately eager to do it.

“I have a letter to deliver to Jacoba from Ethan,” Bleys explained. ² The route these dwarves intended to take would avoid the Border Shires completely. Kermit refused to go with them if they decided to go, saying he did not sign on to go there, but to guide them to and from the Border Shires.

After a brief discussion it was agreed that if not for the message they would have accompanied the Coal Black Riders, but as it was they could not. Timotheus rode back to give them the news.

“Eh, that okay… We weren’t really expecting you to help anyway, but figured we’d ask…” the dwarf grew gruff.

“Well, next time you are in Sluetelot make sure you all swing by Death & Taxes,” Timotheus said, smiling apologetically. “We’ll make sure to leave you a standing round of drinks there.”

“Yeah, sure… So what do you call yourselves?” Werkal asked. “You know, so we can say…”

“Timotheus Smith and his Mystery Men,” Tim replied with a big smile.

Three days later as they spotted the western end of the Border Rift on the gray horizon the young nobles were clobbered with a torrential rain. It was the first time it had rained since they left for the Disputed Territories, and whatever relief it brought to them was soon forgotten in the relentless of the downpour over the next few days.

The crude sledge the statue was being dragged on had to be refastened with ropes every few miles, as it increasingly fell apart. It also held the weight of the landshark’s head, preserved for later display as a trophy, but currently under a spare dirty woolen blanket.

Crossing the River Takken on the ferry, they collapsed in Kermit’s cottage in Tunbury, some sleeping out in the small hay-covered barn that served as Duck-hunter’s den. The next day Kermit was paid an estimate of what his share would be with an agreement that if it turned out that the actual amount once everything was appraised and sold would mean he had underpaid by more than twenty-five silver pieces ³ then he wanted the rest sent to him, but that if it turned out he was overpaid at all, or underpaid by less than that amount, he would be satisfied. Bleys trusted his rough arithmetic and agreed to this on behalf of the group.

By afternoon they were being led into Thistlewoodshire by a stout halfling riding a donkey. Pigeons had been sent back and forth and Jacoba the Brown was alerted of their coming. Tambur was to guide them to Ficklebrook Well.

Jacoba the Brown was zaftig. She had a pleasing round face and apple cheeks and hair cut short at her chin She showed deep dimples when she smiled. She looked almost pink in her pallor. She was not much taller than the tallfellow halflings of the local shire. She had a low cottage built amid a cluster of burrows along a thin lazy river. Halflings of all ages began to gather to see the landshark head as it was pulled up to her house, and there were coos of admiration for the prowess in defeating such a monster.

Jacoba greeted them effusively, and recognized Markos and Laarus from functions associated with House Curen, as she was a noble from House Brill who also pledged fealty to that great house. Once they were inside and could admit that Ethan the Pearl sent them her demeanor changed a bit.

“I am happy that Ethan has worthy priests and warriors to aid in his noble cause, but I must warn you as I am sure he did…” The teapot in the kitchen began to squeal and she stood to attend to it, but stopped and looked at each of them. “You can risk no indiscretion on this matter… Your own safety, that of your loved ones and the hope of victory over such evil forces counts on it.”

“What can you tell us about Delorius Nathanlus?” Bleys asked when Jacoba returned with the tray of tea and biscuits.

“Last I heard she was in Neergaard, raising coin from disaffected nobles there… Or at least trying… in order to fund her schemes,” Jacoba replied. “She is no longer associated with… her former associates, and if she were to return to Thricia she would likely be arrested.”

“Do you know the name Stanislaw Torn?” Bleys asked.

“Hmm… Yes, it does sound familiar…” Jacoba said. “Does he not have some association with the Vandermoks? I think I heard that he fathered some Vandermok child… a daughter. That family always has some kind of dispute and controversy going on…”

“It is Maeve? Is Maeve his daughter?” Timotheus asked, happy that he was putting clues together.

“Maeve the Mauve? No…” Jacoba shook her head with a smile. “Everyone knows who her parents are… The rumor is regarding someone unknown… Or less known child of that house… It is hard for me to stay on top of the noble gossip being out here in the Border Shires…” She sighed. “Sometimes I miss the comforts of home and the noble life, but then I remember…”

She stopped and looked around. “Well… I have no pleasant way to put it…”

“Then put it unpleasantly, we don’t mind,” Timotheus replied.

“Oh, I just am not enamored of the superficial obligations of the noble life,” Jacoba said with a weak smile.

“I know exactly what you mean,” Markos said. “Is there other news you can share with us?”

“Yes, what news on the Dwarf Wall?” Bleys asked.

Jacoba the Brown explained that recent news coming out of the east was that the Kingdom of Herman Land was now enforcing tougher laws and restrictions upon indentured servants. “It is a kind of de facto slavery, according to the outcry of followers of Nephthys,” she said.

“And this is due to the war effort?” Victoria of Anhur asked.

“Yes… Ostensibly…” Jacoba said.

“Then the Black Islands have already won,” the militant replied.

“Anything more local?” Bleys asked.

There was word of some kind of riot in the harbor district of Sluetelot, a huge brawl involving or amid the dockworkers there, but Jacoba had no details.

As it was Remembrance Day, the Signers of the Charter of Schiereiland spent the rest of the afternoon in mournful remembrance of friends and family who have fallen in battle, led in prayer by Victoria. In the evening they broke open a bottle of wine and Jacoba arranged for a small cask of ale to be brought to them, as the shared more joyful memories of those brothers-in-arms.

During a quiet moment, Bleys the Aubergine passed on Ethan the Pearl’s letter to Jacoba the Brown and she was very grateful for his effort in delivering it.

The next day Brennis the Outrider arrived on his warpony to take them eastward through what remained of the Border Shires and towards the main road north to Sluetelot. ⁴

“Look!” Telémahkos uncovered the landshark head to gloat to the halfling guardian.

“What a fearsome beast!’ Brennis declared. “You killed this?”

“We did,” Timotheus answered stepping over, putting is fists to his hips.

“Amazing…You must truly be fearless to have slain it,” Brennis said with a smile. ⁵

Along the way he told them news of House Roose recruiting a band of halfling archers with the blessing of House Kilcullen. They would be joining the fight being taken to the hobgoblins gathering in the Schrabs. Afterwards, Timotheus could not stop jabbering about how they should ride up there and join the fight themselves.


Balem, the 12th of Ese - 566 H.E. (637 M.Y.)

Four days later the young noble Signers of the Charter of Schiereiland arrived at South Wall, the great barricade that protected the Sluetelot Canal and the town beyond. The days were overcast and the weather was growing cooler, as autumn was arriving. They had ridden past Bog End without stopping, and their travel up the Beach Road was without incident, causing them to jokingly doubt the rumors they had heard of the dangers common to it. ⁶

As usual, they were allowed to ride past the line of farmers and tradesman waiting to cross Old Town Bridge.

“Names? Business?” The guard at the bridge gate asked, barely paying attention because he noted their noble mean.

“Call us ‘the Sons of Thricia’,” Telémahkos replied. “Signers of the Charter of Schiereiland, and defeaters of a monstrous landshark!” He whipped the blanket off the monster’s head with a dramatic flourish.

“Wow!” Others gathered to have a look and a murmur went through crowd and guards alike.

As they rode over the metal bridge and down into Sluetelot they noticed something strange about the town. There were three stylized pillars painted in a light blue color on various buildings and structures. Some were tall and easily seen, such as those on the brick wall of the bridge support, and others were small and scrawled in various places.

“Excuse me, sir…” Bleys stopped a farmer drawing an ox that they were drawing up with,

“I ain’t no knight,” the old man winked.

“What are these pillars drawn throughout the town?” the watch-mage asked ignoring or not noticing the man’s levity.

“Well, young master… Ain’t ya heard? ‘The Day of the Pillars’ they’re calling it,” the old man said, his watery eyes growing wide. “Everyone woke up early last month and these things were all over town… On the harbor fortress, the bridges, the homes of nobles and from what I hear even some temples… And… If people are to be believed… This happened all over Thricia… At the same time on the same day… But ain’t no one’s been caught… No one knows what it means or who did it or why… At least no one is saying…”

“No rumors? Stories?” Telémahkos asked.

“Well, some folk thing it had something to do with the dockworker’s strike and the brawl that erupted soon after, but I don’t think so…” the man said.

Bleys the Aubergine looked to Laarus of Ra gravely. They made their way to Death & Taxes near the center of Old Town, and noticed more of the stylized pillars drawn here and there, some washed away, but leaving a faint ghost of an outline behind.

Victoria, Timotheus and Tymon agreed to bring the horses out to the stables in New Sluetelot while the others carried the gear up to the suites. Bleys noted a set of pillars painted on the side of Barakis’ house as they did this. ⁷

Barton Digits greeted them effusively, and in no time he and Telémahkos were making arrangements for the landshark head to be mounted in the common room. It would be a gift to the inn if Barton agreed to put a plaque explaining their bravery below it.

Exhausted, the young nobles collapsed in their beds to catch some rest, over dinner they would meet with Euleria to begin the process of liquidating their loot and determine their next course of action.

End of Session #21

-------------------------------------------------------
Notes:

(1) The issue of a name for the group has been an on-going debate both in and out of game, and just before this session there had been a series of emails discussing the issue and later a thread on our messageboards that spilled back and forth between in and out of character reasoning. While no one protested against the adoption of the name ‘the Sons of Thricia’ (not even Victoria), it was more because the topic had grown tiresome and most wanted to drop it, at least temporarily. This would not be last time the issue arose.

(2) Bleys the Aubergine offered to carry the letter in InterSession #18.1 and received it in Session #20.

(3) Remember, Aquerra has a silver standard so twenty-five silver pieces is a significant amount.

(4) Brennis the Outrider led the party through the Border Shires to meet Kermit back in Session #9.

(5) During these naming discussions, it became common for ‘the Fearless Manticore Killers’ to be brought up as an example of a name the players hated that they were stuck with for a time (those who read ‘Out of the Frying Pan’ story hour know the story behind the name and how the party later changed it to a name they came up with themselves, ‘The Keepers of the Gate’). The table burst out laughing when I had Brennis say this, knowing however much of a Rat Bastard DM™ I might be I would not saddle them with the name ‘the Fearless Landshark Slayers’.

(6) The party heard of the dangers of the Beach Road back in Session #2.

(7) Remember, Barakis the Brown’s house is right across the wide street from Death & Taxes.

 

[Ciaran]

(5) During these naming discussions, it became common for ‘the Fearless Manticore Killers’ to be brought up as an example of a name the players hated that they were stuck with for a time (those who read ‘Out of the Frying Pan’ story hour know the story behind the name and how the party later changed it to a name they came up with themselves, ‘The Keepers of the Gate’). The table burst out laughing when I had Brennis say this, knowing however much of a Rat Bastard DM™ I might be I would not saddle them with the name ‘the Fearless Landshark Slayers’.

Tim would kill to be part of a group with an awesome name like "the Fearless Manticore Killers".

 

[handforged]

Timotheus Smith and his Mystery Men, I love it! Now if only you were a RBDM enough to make that come back to bite them in the butt.

..rubbing hands in anticipation..

~hf

 

[el-remmen]

Dearest Readers:

I have an InterSession to post before going on to Session #22, so expect another update by the end of the weekend, however, grad school crunch-time has arrived which means after this next update there will likely not be another one until the end of May or perhaps not even until the beginning of June. My apologies as I have 20 page paper on the political implications of Aelred of Reivaulx's Spiritual Friendship and a 8 to 10 page paper on rap music as contemporary example of 'discursive lyric' to write, and also take my comps on the 3rd. I am even canceling our regularly scheduled session for the week of 9th of May, so tomorrow's session will be the last for a month.

In the meantime, as always, feel free to talk among yourselves.

-- El-Remmenem