A dark cave. In the middle, a boiling cauldron.
Thunder.
Enter the three Witches
First Witch
Thrice the brinded cat hath mew'd.
Second Witch
Thrice and once the hedge-pig whined.
Third Witch
Harpier cries "'Tis time, 'tis time."
First Witch
Round about the cauldron go;
In the poison'd entrails throw.
Toad, that under cold stone
Days and nights has thirty-one
Swelter'd venom sleeping got,
Boil thou first i' the charmed pot.
All
Double, double, toil and trouble; (10)
Fire burn, and cauldron bubble.
Second Witch
Fillet of a fenny snake,
In the cauldron boil and bake;
Eye of newt and toe of frog,
Wool of bat and tongue of dog,
Adder's fork and blind-worm's sting,
Lizard's leg and howlet's wing,
For a charm of powerful trouble,
Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.
All
Double, double, toil and trouble;
Fire burn and cauldron bubble.
Third Witch
Scale of dragon, tooth of wolf,
Witches' mummy, maw and gulf
Of the ravin'd salt-sea shark,
Root of hemlock digg'd i' the dark,
Liver of blaspheming Jew,
Gall of goat, and slips of yew
Silver'd in the moon's eclipse,
Nose of Turk and Tartar's lips,
Finger of birth-strangled babe (30)
Ditch-deliver'd by a drab,
Make the gruel thick and slab:
Add thereto a tiger's chaudron,
For the ingredients of our cauldron.
All
Double, double, toil and trouble;
Fire burn and cauldron bubble.
Second Witch
Cool it with a baboon's blood,
Then the charm is firm and good.
[Enter Hecate, to the other three Witches]
Hecate
O well done! I commend your pains;
And every one shall share i' the gains;
And now about the cauldron sing,
Live elves and fairies in a ring,
Enchanting all that you put in.
[Music and a song: 'Black spirits,' etc, Hecate retires]
Second Witch
By the pricking of my thumbs,
Something wicked this way comes.
Open, locks,
Whoever knocks!
Monday, October 31, 2016
Wednesday, October 26, 2016
Hashtag Poetry
Hashtag poetry
sits out there in empty space,
waiting to be found.
Like a lonely child,
abandoned at a Wal-Mart,
waiting to be loved.
Hashtag poetry.
Just there. Drifting. Silent. Still.
Waiting just for you.
sits out there in empty space,
waiting to be found.
Like a lonely child,
abandoned at a Wal-Mart,
waiting to be loved.
Hashtag poetry.
Just there. Drifting. Silent. Still.
Waiting just for you.
Saturday, October 22, 2016
Lovetalk
Say that you love me.
Make me believe that it's true,
'cause I don't love you.
'Cause I don't trust you.
Yeah, you talk a real good game,
but I play better.
And I play to win.
So talk your talk, walk your walk.
I ain't buyin' it.
You're just a liar.
A snake with poisoned honey,
concealed in your words.
A cold-hearted snake,
with a body build for sin.
So shut your damn mouth.
Just take me to bed,
with no more sweet promises.
I'll settle for sex.
And save my poor heart,
for someone better than you.
Do you understand?
Keep your damn mouth shut,
'cause I don't care what you say.
'Cause it's all just talk.
Just sweet, nothin' words.
Your lovetalk. Empty and cruel.
Just part of your game.
So bite your damn tongue,
or I'll bit it out your head.
Your lovetalk is dead.
Let it rest in peace,
in pieces with my broke heart.
No more time for talk.
No more time for you,
outside this bed, this minute.
No time for fake words.
Shut up and get up,
walk your ass out my front door.
Take you talk with you.
Walk away with it,
locked away behind white teeth,
so all is silence.
Slink out my front door,
'cause your sad, bad game is done,
and lovetalk no more.
Make me believe that it's true,
'cause I don't love you.
'Cause I don't trust you.
Yeah, you talk a real good game,
but I play better.
And I play to win.
So talk your talk, walk your walk.
I ain't buyin' it.
You're just a liar.
A snake with poisoned honey,
concealed in your words.
A cold-hearted snake,
with a body build for sin.
So shut your damn mouth.
Just take me to bed,
with no more sweet promises.
I'll settle for sex.
And save my poor heart,
for someone better than you.
Do you understand?
Keep your damn mouth shut,
'cause I don't care what you say.
'Cause it's all just talk.
Just sweet, nothin' words.
Your lovetalk. Empty and cruel.
Just part of your game.
So bite your damn tongue,
or I'll bit it out your head.
Your lovetalk is dead.
Let it rest in peace,
in pieces with my broke heart.
No more time for talk.
No more time for you,
outside this bed, this minute.
No time for fake words.
Shut up and get up,
walk your ass out my front door.
Take you talk with you.
Walk away with it,
locked away behind white teeth,
so all is silence.
Slink out my front door,
'cause your sad, bad game is done,
and lovetalk no more.
Monday, October 17, 2016
Port Babbage
Followers of the blog know that I've gotten back in D&D over the last year or so. I have, in fact, become the de facto DM for the group I belong too.
This past Sunday we started a new adventure in a steampunkish/fantasy city called Port Babbage. I thought I'd share some of the details of the city here, since I doubt my players have much of an interest in them.
The City of Port Babbage
Port Babbage is a large city established on the northeast coast of the country of Parnival. It has a population of over 32,000 souls. The majority of the city's residents are human, but it has large populations of gnomes and elves as well.
The city was established 310 years ago as a trade port, but its reputation as a trading post was quickly eclipsed with the establishment of the Patrium Ingeniium. Originally conceived as a Temple to the Crafting Gods (Gond, Reorx, etc), the Patrium Ingeniium had soon expanded to include the University of St. Arnus.
The Patrium Ingeniium attracted inventors, engineers, mad scientists and eccentric geniuses. Soon, Port Babbage had acquired a reputation as a tinkerer's paradise.
Several notable inventions and inventors are connected to the city. The first firearms were conceived and constructed in Fort Babbage by the Weith family. The Bluenoses, the gnome clan responsible for the otto-mobile, hail from the city. The Victrola was invented there, as were the first diving suits and, more recently, hot air balloons and zeppelins.
Indeed, the city itself is a model of modern architecture and engineering. Its streets follow a precise grid pattern, and those streets are illuminated by gas lamps and, more recently, electric lights. Port Babbage's sewer system is one of the finest in Parnival.
Many public buildings in the city have been equipped with coal-fueled furnaces and gas jets. However, candles and oil lamps remain popular in residences.
The city is divided into ten districts: Parriger, Kestfield, Zorville, Kells, Naylock, Sterling, Veter, Sibson, Regis and the Docklands. These are known as the Inner Wards. The Patrium Ingeniium is located in Sibson, which is generally considered the nicest residential neighborhood in the Inner Wards. Just south of Sibson, Regis has become the heart of Port Babbage's commercial and industrial interests.
Kells is the worst neighborhood in the city. It is, essentially, a huge slum housing sweat-shops and tenements. Crime is rampant in Kells.
Just west of Kells is Parriger. Parriger is the site of the Port Babbage Hospital for the Mentally Challenged. This insane asylum houses the poor and the mad. It is less interested in healing the sick than containing the city's homeless riffraff. The public can tour the facility for a few coppers and the orderlies are known to offer other services for a few coppers more. Occasionally, an inmate will vanish. Officially, these souls escape. Unofficially, they were freed by paying the Warden a large sum.
The neighborhoods outside of Port Babbage's walls (Annelle, Happ, Jolaire, Hunterson, Nutch, Silman, Cullen and Opal) are collectively referred to as the Outer Wards. They are primarily residential neighborhoods with a smattering of commercial and light industrial business concerns that cater to their needs.
Also outside of the city walls is the area known as the Pledgewoods. This is a large section of forest, sacred to the local druids, and left untouched by a royal decree from Parnival's monarch. The Pledgewoods are the home to various woodland creatures, as well as small fey, such as pixies and sprites. A druid named Barimor protects the Pledgewood from those with evil intent.
Port Babbage occupies an unusual space, politically, within Parnival. For centuries, the city existed as an independent political entity within the larger Duchy of Seahawk. It was governed by the Vicount Babbage, a title held by the Persis family.
When the Insurrection against King Leopold II began, the Viscount Babbage declared the city neutral. He swore not to give martial aid to either side, but to provide humanitarian assistance to all. The vicount kept his word, but when the Insurrection was put down, King Leopold could not ignore the fact that Port Babbage did not rally to his banner. He had to punish the city.
As a result, the title of Viscount Babbage was abolished and a Royal Governor was appointed to oversee the city. The king chose Baron William Hinderstone for this position. Also, the political and legal authority of Port Babbage was curtailed, restricted to the wards inside the city's wall. The Outer Wards now fell under the authority of the Duchess of Seahawk.
Since the end of the war, a curious series of incidents have occurred in Port Babbage. Priests of the Crafting God, Arx, have fallen into divine trances and begun assembling clockwork men. These clockwork men are empowered with life and sentience by Arx and then sent out into the world. Their purpose is unclear, even to the priests of the Patrium Ingeniium, but they seem to be interested in exploring the world. The 'birth' of these automata are heralded by the ringing of bells and the shriek of steam-whistles across the city.
Swords overhead
Good afternoon, gentle readers!
So, October has been a lazy month for me, at least as far as blogging goes. After last month's blog-o-thon, it feels quite decadent to post an entry when I feel like it, and not because I HAVE to.
Sadly, while my blogging life has become sedate and lazy, my personal life has not. I've had all sorts of things happening this month that have kept me on the go.
I swear, some days I've felt like that baby from the bible story. Y'all know the one? Two women go before Solomon, both claiming a baby belongs to them. Solomon resolves the situation by ordering his guard to cut the baby in half. Immediately one of the women gives up the child. Solomon, of course, gives the child to this women, as he reasons only the mother would give up the child to save it.
I feel like that child. Pulled in multiple directions, with the threat of a great, bloody sword hanging over my head.
I shall not go into the details here, but suffice to say, I'm under a little stress.
Just a smidge.
A chocolate bar's worth of stress, instead of a bottle of vodka level of stress.
But it's consistent.
Still, I persevere. Or try to.
On that note, I'd like to thank everyone who's bought one of my stories in the last month or so. I appreciate your patronage and hope you've enjoyed the stories.
That's about it for now.
Hope everyone out there is having a fine October!
- xoxo George
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