#Borders Books reigned supreme

[catalisst]

No caption needed ... bibliophile: this one speaks for itself ~~

[drdemonprince]

The Dawn of Everything is a book about the history of human inequality, and of the concept of states — that is, governments that reign over an entire body of land and the people upon it, using information, violence, and propagandistic charm in order to so. Though today state governments touch basically every corner of the planet, laws dictate how we must behave, and a sharp divide separates the wealthy and powerful from the poor and humble, there is no reason to believe humans were always going to wind up living this way, or that we should continue to.  It turns out that most gatherings of humans that have existed in history were not ruled by states. States are a recent invention, really, dating back only a couple hundred years at most — and before the entire world became covered in seemingly all-powerful state governments, leaders didn’t possess ultimate control over their subjects. In fact, subjects had a degree of choice over whether to remain subjects at all.  Henry VIII certainly wouldn’t have thought of himself as leading a state called England, for example, though we might talk about him as if he were a state leader now. Even with whatever military might, wealth, and charm he might have possessed, he could never ensure that a representative sent on his behalf would actually follow his orders. It was difficult to punish a treasonous or dishonest courtier once they were out of the king’s immediate physical grasp. Wengrow & Graeber state that in fact, this is true of most monarchs and rulers throughout human history.  To take an example from a completely different realm of the world, the societies of the Incas and Aztecs were also quite permeable; though they engaged in warfare, war games, and ritualistic killings, these and many other Indigenous American peoples couldn’t restrict the movement of all that lived within what we now call their “empire”. In fact, they didn’t really have empires in the way we typically mean that word. Individuals moved in and out of these societies quite freely at all times. There was no citizenship, there were no borders, and there usually was no standing military. Kings and chiefs had very little oversight over what was happening in their kingdoms, and people frequently left of their own accord. 

It’s difficult for modern people to imagine a life of such unbridled liberty and unauthoredness. Today, our names and histories follow us everywhere that we go. Knowledge about who we are, where we’ve lived, the kinds of jobs we’ve labored in, and even the medical issues we’ve endured can follow us everywhere we go. Even if we travel to far-away lands with different languages and cultures, we have to seek approval from multiple governments in order to do so, and we can’t be freed of our old associations if we do.  But in the past, humans could cast off their names and histories, or even have their names changed by a new culture they’d joined. Entire societies of people split off from existing cultures, and then chose to distinguish themselves from those old cultures as much as humanly possible, with hunters & raiders sometimes becoming peaceful foragers and vice versa. 

Throughout most of human history, state rule was not supreme, social rules were not inviolable, and people did have some say over the rules of the societies in which they lived. In their book, Wengrow and Graeber argue that most of humanity enjoyed three fundamental freedoms — and that the loss of these three freedoms is why we now live with deeply entrenched inequality that can’t seem to be moved.  The three freedoms that most of our ancestors enjoyed, but which most modern humans lack are:  The freedom to leave. The freedom to disobey an order. The freedom to create new ways of relating to one another.  In the remainder of this essay, I will break each of these freedoms down, provide some historical and anthropological evidence for their widespread existence in human history, and explain what the loss of them means for us today. Consider this a supercharged Spark Notes of Graeber and Wengrow’s Dawn of Everything, and a reflective review sharing some of the book’s most important take-aways. 

The rest of this essay is free to read or listen to on my substack!

[magicalsniper]

A Vampire Resides in Camelot

4,118 words | Teen | Part 2 of 12 Author's AO3: MagicalSniper Story Link: A Vampire Resides in Camelot Part One

Summary: In the kingdom where the Pendragons reign supreme as ruthless vampire hunters, Arthur Pendragon stands as the most feared and skilled of them all. His loyal servant, Merlin, appears to be a clumsy, scrawny, and goofy young man, but secretly, he is a pureblood vampire—the rarest and most powerful kind. As Arthur travels the land, slaying vampires and declaring them dangerous monsters, Merlin remains by his side, hiding his true nature. Initially, Merlin's need for blood is minimal, allowing him to pass as a human with ease by claiming the vials of blood from Gaius are medicinal. However, as Merlin's strength grows, so does his thirst, and he becomes increasingly desperate to avoid drinking human blood, fearing he will become the very monster Arthur hunts. When the charade unravels, and Arthur discovers Merlin's true identity, their world is thrown into chaos. Faced with losing his friend, Arthur makes the ultimate sacrifice: offering his own blood to keep Merlin alive.

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The One Where Merlin Struggles with Puberty

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Arthur strode into the great hall, his boots echoing against the stone floor, with a determined glint in his steely blue eyes. His father, King Uther Pendragon, sat upon his throne, a figure of imposing authority. His scrutinising gaze fell upon his son like his very presence disappointed him. 

"Father," Arthur began, his voice resonant within the chamber, "the villages at our borders are succumbing to vampire attacks. The people live in constant fear; their lives are being destroyed."

Uther's gaze remained unyielding as he replied curtly, "Those are outlying territories, Arthur. There is no immediate threat to the castle’s safety."

"Then, at what point does their suffering become our concern?" Arthur's tone rose, laced with frustration. "When they are but half a day's walk from our walls? When the terror is upon our doorstep and half our people have already been turned?"

"Exactly," Uther said, his voice cold. "That is when it becomes a matter for the crown."

Arthur's jaw clenched; he knew that waiting was not an option. The problem would only get worse if they allowed it to continue. With a curt nod, more to himself than to his father, he turned on his heel and departed, his mind set on a quest to rid the kingdom of its lurking shadows.

Meanwhile, Merlin paced in Gaius' candlelit chambers, the flickering light casting long shadows on the stone walls. Dusty shelves, crammed with vials, herbs, and ancient texts surrounded him. A large wooden table in the centre held various alchemical instruments and an open book, which Gaius stood before with a deep frown. He turned from the book and watched with weary eyes as Merlin paced back and forth, his dark hair tousled, his usually mischievous blue eyes now clouded with angst.

"Merlin, you must calm yourself," Gaius urged.

"Easy for you to say, Gaius," Merlin replied, a wry smile flickering across his pale features. "You don't have fangs threatening to sprout whenever you smell a fresh pie."

"Indeed, I have other ailments to worry about at my age," Gaius quipped, but his expression soon softened. "What happened?"

“I felt bloodlust,” Merlin stopped pacing, his shoulders slumping. "Stronger than ever. My senses and strength intensified, and I could barely hold back... If this continues, I will lose control."

"In those times, you have to try to remember who you are, Merlin—a young man with a kind heart, no matter what runs in your veins," Gaius assured him, placing a comforting hand on the young vampire's shoulder.

"Kind heart, maybe," Merlin mused, a spark of his usual levity returning. "But if you ever see me eyeing your neck, feel free to whack me with your walking stick."

"Rest assured, I'll do so without hesitation," Gaius replied, his lips twitching in amusement.

He motioned for Merlin to sit at the table before sitting opposite him. “Has your mother told you anything about pureblood puberty?”

Merlin scrunched up his nose. “Another puberty?” He barely just left the last one!

“Pureblood vampires, Merlin, experience puberty quite unlike humans. It's a critical and turbulent time for them. Their abilities and instincts are heightened to extreme levels. Their senses become razor-sharp, and their strength can be overwhelming.”

Merlin leaned forward, his eyebrows drawn low on his face. “That sounds… dangerous.”

“It is. You will have to learn how to control your new powers and urges. Without proper guidance, you could be a threat to yourself or those around you.” Giaus pushed the book between them towards Merlin, pointing to a faded picture on the page. “During this period, your emotions will be intensified. You will be more volatile and more aggressive. This is why many vampire clans have strict rites of passage to help their young navigate this phase.”

Merlin frowned, “But I don’t have a clan… what are these rites of passage?”

“Rites and trials designed to teach control and responsibility. Normally, those going through puberty are often secluded from society until they have mastered their abilities.”

“What!?” Merlin cried, jumping up. “Secluded? I can’t seclude myself. What am I going to do?”

“We could send you to your father’s old clan.”

“Absolutely not,” Merlin growled, slamming down his fist. He winced as the sound of cracking wood met his ears. “What… what happens if one doesn’t master their abilities?”

Gaius sighed, closing the book softly. “If a vampire going through puberty fails to gain control, they risk becoming feral, driven by their primal instincts rather than reason. They become a danger to everyone around them.”

Merlin sighed heavily and sank back into his seat, burying his face in his hands. 'What am I going to do, Gaius?' he whispered, fear lacing his voice.

Gaius stood and reached for a small chest on his cluttered bookshelf behind him. He placed it carefully on the table and flipped the lid open to reveal an assortment of glass vials, each filled with a murky red liquid.

“Listen carefully,” he began, his tone shifting to one of utmost seriousness. “We can try something. I created these for Balinor during the tail end of his puberty.”

Merlin took one of the vials and held it up to the light, studying the contents with a frown. “What’s in it?”

“Each contains a single drop of human blood, diluted with herbs and other...less conventional ingredients.”

Merlin eyed the vials warily. “Blood vials?”

"An interim solution," Gaius explained, meeting Merlin's gaze. "They will sate you temporarily, but they are not a replacement for sustenance. You must seek out alternative sources—animals, perhaps."

"Animals," Merlin repeated, the word leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. "Well, at least the blood from the poor creatures Arthur insists on hunting won’t go to waste… And when these vials no longer suffice?"

"That is a bridge we shall cross when we come to it," Gaius said with a resigned sigh. "For now, they will help keep your secret—and your wits about you."

"Thank you, Gaius," Merlin muttered, pocketing several of the vials as the sound of clanking armor approached.

“Merlin!” Arthur's commanding voice rang through the corridor. The door swung open, revealing the future king, eyes blazing angrily. “We haven't much time. Gather our provisions; we leave by the next candle mark.”

"Right away, sire," Merlin replied, slipping another vial discreetly into his pocket.

As Merlin ran around to gather the necessary supplies, Arthur inspected an array of weapons on the table before him. He reached for an ornate dagger, its blade engraved with his initials and a dragon head, which his father had gifted him when he turned thirteen. Arthur's hand slipped in his haste, and a thin line of red blossomed across his palm.

Arthur cursed under his breath, his blue eyes narrowing at the sight of his blood.

Merlin's head snapped up at the scent, his fangs aching beneath his lips. He squeezed his eyes shut and pulled out a vial from his pocket. With trembling hands, he uncorked it, the concoction's pungent aroma masking the tantalising smell of Arthur's wound.

He chugged it down and corked the vial back up, shoving it in his pocket before turning to Arthur and sidling up to his side. “Here, let me.” He took Arthur’s injured hand in his, his movements deliberately awkward to distract from his trembling. With his free hand, he reached into the bag on the bed and pulled out a bandage roll.

"I guess even future kings aren’t immune to the sting of their own blades," Merlin jested, trying and failing to hold his breath to keep the smell of blood out of his system, already reaching for a second vial as he pulled away from Arthur. It was going to be a long journey.

Twilight reached across the kingdom, casting a pinkish hue over the dew-laden fields. Arthur and Merlin set forth on their steeds with solemn looks on their faces.

"Remember, keep vigilant. We don’t need you falling off your horse because a rabbit scared you." Arthur teased, even as his eyes scanned the horizon as if he could already see the shadows that skulked in the night.

"That was a vampire rabbit, and you know it," Merlin muttered. “Next time a furry little fanged monster comes at you, I’ll just let it happen.” A pang of unease twisted within him, and he scanned the area for anything hiding in the wood.

As they traversed the cobblestone roads towards a small village, villagers emerged from their homes like wary spectres, their eyes hollow with fear. An old woman approached, her hands gnarled as the branches of the ancient oaks lined the village square.

"Milord," she croaked, her voice carrying the tremble of witnessed horrors. "Our kin vanish, and nothing is left but shadows and blood."

Arthur dismounted, his hand resting upon the hilt of his sword. "Tell us what you have seen," he urged, the furrow of his brow deepening.

Merlin followed suit, the frown on his face deepening. Something didn’t feel right, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He sniffed the area subtly but found nothing of interest.

"The creatures... they come with the moon," another villager chimed in, his words tumbling out in a frantic cascade. "Like death itself, they are—silent and swift."

Merlin half-listened to the stories. Between the treacherous whispers that taunted him and the feeling of unease that he felt from the area, he was struggling to concentrate. It was usually the same story—someone, or multiple someones, went missing in the middle of the night, only to turn up several days later with red eyes ready to destroy them all. 

It was late into the evening when Arthur and Merlin were about to find solace beneath the boughs of an ancient grove.

"We need a good strategy," Arthur said, unsheathing his blade and inspecting the edge with a critical eye. "We should seek them out under the cover of night. We'll strike swiftly, using the element of surprise."

"Surprise is good, but caution is better," Merlin countered, the image of Gaius's vials flashing in his mind. "These creatures are cunning. We must not underestimate them or risk becoming prey to overconfidence."

"Afraid, Merlin?" Arthur teased.

"You can’t win everything with stupidity and a sword," Merlin quipped, his humour a thin veil over his gnawing anxiety.

Arthur reached over and cuffed him over the back of the head. “Shut up.”

Several hours later, a sombre view unfolded before Arthur and Merlin as they crested the low hillock. The village below lay in disarray, homes ransacked, timbers charred, and an eerie silence hanging over the desolation like a shroud.

Arthur swore under his breath, his jaw set with a grim determination as he surveyed the wreckage.

Merlin followed close behind, his gaze darting about nervously. The scent of blood hung thick in the air, coppery and sweet, and he was forced to hold his breath. He reached into his cloak and clasped a vial. With a furtive glance at Arthur, he uncorked it and took a swift draught, feeling the potion's immediate, albeit fleeting, relief.

"Stay vigilant, Merlin," Arthur said, oblivious to the inner turmoil of his companion.

"No, I’ll walk about with my eyes closed," Merlin snarked.

They stepped through the crumbling gate, each footfall stirring up the ashes of the once fertile lands. Around them, remnants of life stood still—dolls abandoned mid-play, pots overturned, their contents seeping into the earth.

"Such destruction…" Merlin's words trailed off as he knelt beside a fallen beam, his fingers tracing the scorched wood. He froze as his skin began to tighten and his senses sharpen. Desperately, he consumed another vial, the concoction bitter on his tongue.

"What’s wrong with you?" Arthur eyed him with a hint of concern.

"Headache," Merlin lied smoothly, averting his eyes so Arthur wouldn’t see the change in his eye colour.

"Come, let’s see if any evidence was left behind."

Together, they moved deeper into the devastated village, passing by splintered doors and ripped animal carcasses. Arthur's hand rested on the hilt of his sword as they scanned the area.

"Look," Merlin pointed toward the well, where dark stains marred the stones. He held his breath again, feeling his fangs fall. The scent of fear and blood was too delicious to his senses for his body not to react. He pushed his trembling hands into his pockets to hide them from view. His next vial would need to wait, but for how long, he could not say. As the shadows grew long, so too did the thin line he walked between loyalty and the beast within.

A cold gust of wind signalled their foes' approach. Vampires emerged from the obsidian shadows, silent as death, their eyes gleaming with feral hunger. Arthur's sword was out instantly, its blade reflecting the scant moonlight with deadly promise.

As steel met undead flesh, Merlin wrestled with the tumultuous storm inside him. His blood sang with the call of his kindred, yet his heart belonged to the realm of men. With a silent invocation, he summoned the arcane winds, his hands weaving incantations that sparked with eldritch energy.

Merlin snapped his fingers, and a surge of mystical force burst forth, striking the vampires with stunning light.

Together, they fought—a symphony of blade and magic. Arthur's courage never wavered, and his every strike was a testament to his resolve to protect his kingdom. Merlin's spells danced between the trees, their radiance illuminating the battlefield with flashes of spectral light.

"Your aim improves by the day, Merlin!" Arthur called out amidst the fray, a grin on his face even as he dispatched another foe. “Then again, anything is an improvement from nothing.”

"Learning from the best," Merlin shot back, throwing back his head in a laugh as Arthur tripped over a conveniently placed rock.

Finally, as the last vampire fell to the ground, silence descended upon them once more. Arthur wiped his brow, his chest heaving from exertion, but his eyes shone with the fire of victory.

"Another battle won," he declared, sheathing his sword.

Merlin nodded, exhaustion clawing at his limbs. He took a deep breath, wincing at the taste of acrid blood in the air. "Yes," Merlin agreed, his voice steady despite the weakness he felt.

The ground was cold and unforgiving, swallowed by the creeping tendrils of evening fog. Arthur's armoured boots struck the ground confidently, while Merlin moved with less certainty, his thoughts as scattered as the mist veiling the area.

"Are you sure we're headed in the right direction?" Merlin asked as he glanced over at Arthur, a teasing smile on his lips. "You know, you tend to struggle with reading the stars."

Arthur didn't stop, but a half-smile formed on his lips at Merlin's jest. "No, Merlin, the stars are aligned for us, not against us," he replied, firm yet with a touch of mirth. "Stay sharp. We're close."

Merlin snorted if only Arthur had any idea. 

As they delved deeper into the labyrinthine forest, an unsettling prickle danced along Merlin's neck. His senses whispered of something lurking in the shadows. He strained his ears, trying to catch the soft footfalls of the unseen follower. The air was still, too still, and carried a scent both unfamiliar yet oddly recognisable.

"Arthur," Merlin murmured, drawing closer to the prince. "We're not alone."

Arthur's hand instinctively gripped the hilt of his sword, his heart pounding as his eyes scanned the darkened surroundings. "Reveal yourself!" he commanded, his voice echoing off the stone walls. Only silence answered his call.

"Maybe it's just a stray cat," Merlin chuckled, though his heart hammered in his chest.

“Leave it to you to be frightened by a kitten,” Arthur scoffed. Despite his words, he remained tense and squinted into the darkness.

“They’re coming,” Merlin murmured, his eyes flashing gold. “They’re using something to shield themselves from me. I can only tell that we’ve met them before.”

“Friend or foe?”

“We’re about to find out.” Merlin tensed as her gaze lingered on them from the embrace of darkness— a pair of emerald eyes glaring out from the trees at them.

The figure stepped forward, the moonlight revealing her face. Morgana emerged from her concealment, her long dark hair cascading like a raven's wing and her piercing green eyes fixed on her half-brother with an intensity that could cut through steel. 

"Arthur," she said, her voice melodious.

Startled, Arthur almost dropped his sword at the sight of her disarming him. “Morgana!” Shock and relief battled on his face as he stared at the sister he thought he had lost. “Where have you been?”

"Six months, dear brother, and nary a sign of you," Morgana stated, her tone both accusatory and playful. "And here I thought you'd forgotten me."

Merlin watched her warily but closed the gap and joined Arthur in a heartfelt embrace that enveloped Morgana. "We feared the worst," Merlin confessed, his eyes still taking her in, a frown on his face. He subtly leaned closer and sniffed at her neck. It was Morgana, that much he was certain of, but she definitely had a scent on her he had sensed on her before. The look she gave him as he pulled away did not go unnoticed. 

“Yet here I am,” was her simple reply. “I am afraid I come with dire news.”

"What do you mean?" Arthur urged, his brows knitting together. "Have you heard about what has been happening?"

“You’re chasing the fodder when it is the puppeteer you should seek,” Morgana stated plainly, her eyes flicking to Merlin’s before returning to Arthur’s.

It was just as Merlin had feared then. He cleared his throat, “Armies are being created then? To what end?”

“Is it not obvious?”

Unfortunately.

Merlin scowled, “Just what we needed.”

“Enough of this nonsense,” Arthur commanded. "Six months vanished without a trace," he muttered, more to himself than to the enigma before him. "And now you return with tales of darkness? It ill suits you to play the seer, Morgana."

Merlin snorted and rolled his eyes at the heavens.

"Does it?" Morgana's voice was silk over steel. "Or does it simply displease you that I might know something you do not?"

"You’re making no sense," Arthur retorted. "You speak of vampires as if they’re capable of taking over a kingdom! Their mindless creatures, nothing more."

Morgana’s eyes bored into Arthur’s before turning to Merlin. “Is that what you believe?” Merlin’s heart dropped to his stomach. She knew.

“I—” Merlin was saved from answering by a bloodcurdling scream piercing the night air.

The abruptness of the scream tore through them, and their heads snapped towards the direction of the disturbance. Merlin sniffed the air and froze, “Oh no.” 

"Arthur," Merlin warned his voice barely above a whisper yet carrying an edge of urgency. That scream hadn’t been human— it was primal, guttural, and filled with a rage that sent your blood cold.

As the echoes of the scream died down, a massive shadow lunged from the trees, its form grotesque in the moonlight. A werewolf, its fur matted with blood and filth, bore its fangs— a snarl ripping from its throat as it set its sights on them.

"Merlin, do something!" Arthur shouted, stepping protectively in front of Morgana with his sword extended.

Merlin extended his hands, murmuring incantations under his breath as his eyes burned gold. These spells should have calmed the beast or turned it away, but the words dissolved into the night, powerless. His magic, usually so potent against creatures of the night, fizzled into nothingness. He stared, mouth agape, unable to comprehend what was happening.

“What is wrong with your magic?”Arthur grunted, dodging the werewolf’s swipe, his blade meeting the creature’s hide with a clang.

"I—I don’t know!" Merlin replied, panic lacing his voice. He racked his brain for any alternative, but his thoughts were chaotic. How could this be happening? Werewolves were susceptible to magic—it was one of the few advantages they had against such monsters.

"Vampire magic doesn't work on them," Arthur said between breaths, dodging another attack. "But yours should!"

“Oh, should it, Arthur. Should it? I had no idea,” Merlin snarked. His gaze darted around, searching for anything that could be used as a weapon or distraction. He grabbed a fallen branch, hardly a match for claws and teeth, but he couldn't stand idle while Arthur fought alone.

"Focus, Merlin!" Arthur commanded, narrowly avoiding a particularly vicious lunge from the werewolf. "We need to drive it back!"

"Right," Merlin said, forcing confidence into his tone. He feinted at the werewolf with the branch, hoping to draw its attention long enough for Arthur to find an opening.

“Behind you!” A strong voice from behind them called.

Arthur spun, his blade glinting in the pale light as he managed to slice across the beast's flank. The werewolf howled, the sound mingling with the clashing of metal and the thundering of their hearts.

A man with dark wavy hair and a strong athletic build got between Arthur and the werewolf. His sword gleaming under the moon’s pale light, he met the creature mid-leap and turned its ferocity aside with a well-placed blow.

"Stay behind me!"  The man shouted, parrying another swipe of the werewolf's deadly claws.

"Behind you? You'll find I'm quite capable of standing at your side," Arthur retorted grimly, joining the fray.

The two men’s movements were synchronised as if they had trained together for years. The man was precise, finding weak spots in the beast's defenses, while Arthur's strength drove the creature back, step by torturous step.

Who is this man? Merlin wondered silently, clutching the useless branch against his chest. He felt a pang of guilt for his inaction, but there wasn’t much left he could do. To engage would mean to reveal, and revelation was a luxury he could ill afford.

"Merlin! A little help here!" Arthur's voice cut through his reverie, tinged with urgency. Arthur's blade sang a metallic song as it cleaved through the air, narrowly missing the werewolf's snapping jaws. The beast was a maelstrom of claws and fury, each blow from its massive paws sending sparks flying from Arthur's armour. The prince's face was set in grim determination, blue eyes tracking every move with predatory precision.

"Right," Merlin muttered to himself. "Help. Without magic." The irony was not lost on him. He was a vampire who couldn't fight a werewolf with strength lest he reveal himself, and a wizard who couldn’t fight the werewolf because of a magic that should have worked but didn't. The absurdity of it all would have been laughable under different circumstances.

He watched the man move, throwing himself into the fray with a ferocity that matched the beast they fought. There was something inherently noble about him, an aura that spoke of chivalry and honour—the very ideals Arthur so cherished in his knights. It was no wonder they fought well together.

"What are you doing, Merlin!?" Arthur grunted, sidestepping a vicious pounce and driving his sword into the werewolf's flank.

With a howl that seemed to shake the very stones beneath their feet, the creature stumbled, its form shimmering as it tried to flee—but in a moment of quick thinking, Merlin shot out his hand, “Fyr!”

A line of fire blocked off the werewolf’s escape. “Fire, they hate fire!”

Arthur and the man seized the opportunity. The man harried the beast, keeping it engaged and enraged, while Arthur readied himself for the killing blow.

"Keep it steady, Merlin.” The man called, “Just a little longer..."

With a mighty roar, Arthur lunged forward, his sword glinting in the torchlight. The werewolf, caught off guard by the sudden assault, had no time to evade. The silver blade, guided by Arthur's unwavering hand, found its mark, plunging deep into the creature's chest. A howl of agony split the night as the werewolf's form shuddered and then stilled, its body reverting to the twisted shape of a man.

"Good thinking with the fire, Merlin," Arthur said, clapping him on the shoulder with a grin that belied the seriousness of their situation.

"Yeah," Merlin replied distractedly, a frown on his face as his mind was elsewhere. Why did his magic not work on werewolves all of a sudden? Did it have to do with his ‘vampire puberty’? And if so, what was he going to tell Arthur? “Hey, Mor— where did Morgana go?”

Morgana's second disappearance left them with more questions than answers, and Merlin knew they were far from unravelling the mysteries that ensnared them.

As they gathered, ready to continue their quest into the night, Merlin cast one last glance at the fallen foe. The battle was won, yet the war was far from over.

[rottenraccoons]

Is there anything you all can tell us about the lunar and solar gods or worship? Are they considered opposites, like a yin-yang situation? What are considered their realms of focus (like house/home, hunting, children, seasons, etc)? Is there a stigma for worshipping one god over another? Is worship a big part of peoples lives or more in the background? Are the churches part of governments or nations?

Things like that. I’m very curious about the religions and how they pertain to the world, especially given Vesper’s situation. (Love the game, btw) 💖

Consider this a semi-canon description of the world OBSCURA takes place in, but long before the events of the game.

Once a scholar spent a decade walking the world, recording each story as they heard it. These are some of them.

"There is only one Great Church in all the world, where all beliefs are the same, in a country where the sun's heat and their many rivers have birthed a paradise. There they believe that the solar god is perfection itself, and they build great temples and sing hymns to capture a fragment of that perfection. The moon is the sun's greatest attendant, feeble and inconsistent to show humanity that the solar god accepts imperfection.

"Once I crossed the border, though, I found a village of heretics thrown out of the country who believe the solar god is the engine of a perfect creation and the moon is envious of the sun's creative power. The moon meddled in creation and the perfect paradise and perfect people the sun made were tainted, creating our world. That is why suffering exists, they say, and they do not show their faces to the moon to show their disdain.

"Both the Great Church and the heretics prayed in temples, but made their offerings in the household hearth, where the fire stood as a messenger to the solar god.

"There is a temple or shrine to the solar god in every city, town, and village in the world where the sun touches. In some the lunar god is an attendant to the solar god, in some an envious observer, and in some an enemy. The stories are passed along through poetry or song or the memories of the saints or even simply recorded as a story.

"Many people saw me writing their stories and assumed I was a pilgrim. Though I left the university as a scholar, maybe I will return a pilgrim, my pilgrimage recorded in these books and letters.

"I met one cult that almost convinced me to stay a while; their stories were so unusual. They looked at the sun and moon and said, 'It's all light.' So they chose to worship a new god, a god of light whose two faces are the sun and moon. My assistant is there, still, collecting every bit of knowledge she can. The cult was welcoming and kind to me despite the scorn they suffered from their neighbours, but I needed to continue my journey.

"I encountered a strange phenomenon as I travelled. Far from the infamous place, I could find sects and cults who worshipped the lunar god who lived in peace with their neighbours. But as I drew nearer to the infamous place there were no followers of the lunar god to speak of, or they had hidden themselves so thoroughly that none of my powers of investigation could uncover them.

"When I visited the infamous place, I understood why that was. The infamous place is where the lunar god reigns supreme. Where once I saw a lunar shrine for every ten solar temples, there it was reversed. When I asked why, I was given the history of the sect that dominated the infamous place.

"They were once a cult in a normal city, but they had conflicts with their neighbours. That conflict became a war, the city against the cult. And so the cult retreated to a place where the sun would not touch them.

"The cult was not unique in its beliefs: that the solar god's perfect creation was a static, dead one. Life is change and transformation, and so the lunar god gave creation the ability to change. The lunar god was the one with the ability to transform the world, the solar god merely the fuel to keep a spark of life burning.

"The cities that saw a cult of the lunar god thriving under in the infamous place pressured their own followers of the lunar god to renounce them. But they would not reject their own kin, and so cities began to purge followers of the lunar god. Sometimes that was simple banishment. But crueller methods were employed.

"The infamous place is teeming with cults and sects with their own beliefs. Some believe the solar god to be unkind; the moon never burned someone's skin. They say it's a sign of the solar god's envy and resentment for the lunar god's powers over life. Some even believe the solar god is not a god at all, but an inanimate source of power that the lunar god can control.

"And even down in the infamous place, there is no room for those believers who claim that the solar god and lunar god work in partnership to cause creation, with the still and wandering stars as their children.

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

The Books of the Bible: Old Testament (1 of 2) The Books of the Bible in order with introductions and summaries for the Old Testament.

The Five Books of the Law: Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, and Deuteronomy

Genesis The Book of Genesis is the first book of the Christian Old Testament. Genesis speaks of beginnings and is foundational to the understanding of the rest of the Bible. It is supremely a book that speaks about relationships, highlighting those between God and his creation, between God and humankind, and between human beings.

Exodus The Book of Exodus is the second book of the Christian Old Testament. Exodus describes the history of the Israelites leaving Egypt after slavery. The book lays a foundational theology in which God reveals his name, his attributes, his redemption, his law and how he is to be worshiped.

Leviticus The Book of Leviticus is the third book of the Christian Old Testament. Leviticus receives its name from the Septuagint (the pre-Christian Greek translation of the Old Testament) and means "concerning the Levites" (the priests of Israel). It serves as a manual of regulations enabling the holy King to set up his earthly throne among the people of his kingdom. It explains how they are to be his holy people and to worship him in a holy manner.

Numbers The Book of Numbers is the fourth book of the Christian Old Testament. Numbers relates the story of Israel's journey from Mount Sinai to the plains of Moab on the border of Canaan. The book tells of the murmuring and rebellion of God's people and of their subsequent judgment.

Deuteronomy The Book of Deuteronomy is the fifth book of the Christian Old Testament. Deuteronomy ("repetition of the Law") serves as a reminder to God's people about His covenant. The book is a "pause" before Joshua's conquest begins and a reminder of what God required.

Historical Books: Joshua, Judges, Ruth, 1 and 2 Samuel, 1 and 2 Kings, and 1 and 2 Chronicles

Joshua Joshua is a story of conquest and fulfillment for the people of God. After many years of slavery in Egypt and 40 years in the desert, the Israelites were finally allowed to enter the land promised to their fathers.

Judges The book of Judges depicts the life of Israel in the Promised Land—from the death of Joshua to the rise of the monarchy. It tells of urgent appeals to God in times of crisis and apostasy, moving the Lord to raise up leaders (judges) through whom He throws off foreign oppressors and restores the land to peace.

Ruth The book of Ruth has been called one of the best examples of short narrative ever written. It presents an account of the remnant of true faith and piety in the period of the judges through the fall and restoration of Naomi and her daughter-in-law Ruth (an ancestor of King David and Jesus).

1 Samuel Samuel relates God's establishment of a political system in Israel headed by a human king. Through Samuel's life, we see the rise of the monarchy and the tragedy of its first king, Saul.

2 Samuel After the failure of King Saul, 2 Samuel depicts David as a true (though imperfect) representative of the ideal theocratic king. Under David's rule the Lord caused the nation to prosper, to defeat its enemies, and to realize the fulfillment of His promises.

1 Kings 1 Kings continues the account of the monarchy in Israel and God's involvement through the prophets. After David, his son Solomon ascends the throne of a united kingdom, but this unity only lasts during his reign. The book explores how each subsequent king in Israel and Judah answers God's call—or, as often happens, fails to listen.

2 Kings 2 Kings carries the historical account of Judah and Israel forward. The kings of each nation are judged in light of their obedience to the covenant with God. Ultimately, the people of both nations are exiled for disobedience.

1 Chronicles Just as the author of Kings had organized and interpreted Israel's history to address the needs of the exiled community, so the writer of 1 Chronicles wrote for the restored community another history.

2 Chronicles 2 Chronicles continues the account of Israel's history with an eye for restoration of those who had returned from exile.

Books of Poetry and Songs: Esther, Ezra, and Nehemiah

Ezra The book of Ezra relates how God's covenant people were restored from Babylonian exile to the covenant land as a theocratic (kingdom of God) community even while continuing under foreign rule.

Nehemiah Closely related to the book of Ezra, Nehemiah chronicles the return of this "cupbearer to the king" and the challenges he and the other Israelites face in their restored homeland.

Esther Esther records the institution of the annual festival of Purim through the historical account of Esther, a Jewish girl who becomes queen of Persia and saves her people from destruction.

[quenga-do-nordeste]

Some thoughts about the netherwold (I like to call it the afterlife), Juno, Betelgeuse and her father...

(English translator, follow at your own risk)

**Afterlife Worlds**

**1. The World of the Dead:**

- **Supreme Ruler:** Juno Lilith Shoggoth, Adam's first wife, who holds absolute power over this dark kingdom.

- **Description:** This world is characterized by eternal darkness, where almost no ray of light penetrates. There are no stars or moon, just a deep void. The silence is deafening, and the air is filled with the suffocating smell of mold and dust.

- **Inhabitants:** Lost souls wander here, seeking a purpose, awaiting their final destiny or attempting reincarnation. There are different regions within this world, each with its own peculiarity and challenges.

- **Regional Divisions:** In addition to the universal darkness, the World of the Dead has several regional divisions, each with its own challenge. For example, one region may be a labyrinth of forgotten memories, while another is a swamp of regret, where souls must confront their past choices.

- **Mysterious Portals:** Some souls have discovered ancient portals that can take them to mysterious places within this world, offering opportunities for redemption or unknown dangers.

- **Juno Lilith Shoggoth:** The ruler, Juno, has a book of records of souls that passes from generation to generation. This book contains deep secrets about the destiny of souls, but accessing it is an almost impossible task.

**two. The Burning Desert:**

- **Description:** Located close to the World of the Dead, this desert is an arid and merciless land, punished by the scorching heat of the sun. There is no plant life here, just endless sand.

- **Dangers:** Giant worms live beneath the surface, causing tremors in the sand. They are merciless predators, and if someone is devoured, their spiritual essence is eternally digested and regenerated in the stomachs of these worms, with no hope of salvation or control.

- **Possible Connections:** Souls who faced challenges in the World of the Dead can be tested here before advancing to other regions of the afterlife.

- **The Devouring Sun:** In addition to the scorching heat, it is rumored that the sun in this desert is a living entity that feeds on the souls of the lost, making the place terrifying.

- **Relationship with Hell:** The Burning Desert acts as a border between the World of the Dead and Hell. Souls who face challenges here can be sent straight to hell if they fail their trials.

- **Oasis of Illusion:** A mysterious oasis occasionally appears in the desert, offering tantalizing illusions of relief and peace. However, those who allow themselves to be seduced often face dire consequences.

**3. The hell:**

- **Home of the Worst:** This is a place feared by the living and non-living, where only the most evil and sinful reign.

- **Infernal Prince:** Beelzebub Hesperus Shoggoth, the infernal prince, lord of flies, Pestilence and gluttony, is one of the figures in this kingdom.

- **Hierarchy:** Hell is divided into layers, each with its infernal duke or duchess in command. The deeper you descend into the layers, the greater the evil and torment you encounter.

- **Punishments:** The souls who end up here face terrible punishments and tortures suited to their sins. Suffering is endless and intensified as it moves to deeper layers.

- **Specific Layers:** Each layer of hell is ruled by an infernal duke or duchess, with their own specialties in punishments. For example, one layer might be dedicated to mental torture, while another is focused on physical torment.

- **Rite of Passage:** To enter hell, an entity must go through a painful rite of passage, where their sins are revealed and engraved on their own skin like eternal marks that never stop causing excruciating pain.

- **Infernal Conspiracies:** There are secret factions within hell that plot against each other, seeking to usurp their power and redefine the rules of this dark realm.

[crypto-badger]

Fiona: The Original Hippo Meme Queen Now Has Her Own Memecoin – $FIONA

In a world where animals become viral sensations and memes take on a life of their own, Fiona the hippo has established herself as an icon. Born at the Cincinnati Zoo in 2017, she captured the hearts of millions with her incredible survival story. Now, as the meme economy continues to grow, Fiona has a memecoin, $FIONA, dedicated to her legacy, positioning her as the queen of both the internet and blockchain.

Why $FIONA is Superior to Moo Deng’s Memecoin

While Moo Deng, the baby pygmy hippo from Thailand, has recently launched a competing memecoin, $FIONA stands out as the clear choice for savvy investors and meme lovers alike. Here's why Fiona reigns supreme:

1.Fiona Was the First Hippo Star

Fiona paved the way for hippos as internet celebrities. Born six weeks prematurely, she became a media sensation when the Cincinnati Zoo documented her journey from fragile calf to a robust adult. Her story of survival and her larger-than-life personality endeared her to millions around the world. Moo Deng, while cute, is a recent addition to the scene, and her hype is still building. Fiona, with her long standing fame, has already earned her crown.

2. Larger Social Media Following

With over a million followers on the Cincinnati Zoo’s Instagram account, Fiona’s social media reach far surpasses Moo Deng’s. Posts featuring Fiona regularly generate tens of thousands of interactions. The $FIONA memecoin benefits from this established, dedicated fan base, making it more likely to gain momentum in the ever-competitive world of memecoins.

3. Cultural Impact

Fiona isn’t just an adorable face; she’s a symbol of resilience and hope. She has inspired books, TV features, and even local products like Fiona-themed beer. This deep cultural footprint sets Fiona apart from Moo Deng, whose charm is undeniable but whose impact is still in its infancy. $FIONA is not just a meme—it’s an investment in a global phenomenon.

4. Global Recognition

Fiona’s fame transcends borders. Major international media outlets have covered her story, and her fan base stretches far beyond the U.S. While Moo Deng is gaining traction in Asia, her global presence is still growing. $FIONA has a wider appeal, making it a more attractive option for international investors.

5. A Memecoin Backed by a Legacy

The $FIONA memecoin celebrates Fiona’s well-established legacy, a story of triumph that has been building for years. Investors in $FIONA aren’t just buying into a viral trend—they’re becoming part of a movement centered on one of the internet’s most beloved animal stars. Moo Deng, although a rising star, doesn’t yet carry the same legacy weight.

As Fiona continues to lead the charge as the internet’s favorite hippo, $FIONA offers a fun and meaningful way for fans to be a part of her enduring story. Ready to back the original meme queen? $FIONA is the coin to watch!

For more info :

Website :   https://cincinnatizoo.org/fiona-the-world-famous-hippo/

Twitter :   https://x.com/fionahippo_sol

Telegram :  https://t.me/fionahipposol

[outdoorkeeda3]

Sundarbans National Park: A Thrilling Labyrinth of Mangroves [Sundarbans National Park

 Sundarbans National Park, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, sprawls across the Ganges Delta in West Bengal, India, bordering Bangladesh [Sundarbans National Park, India]. This vast labyrinth of mangrove forests, the world's largest [largest mangrove forest], is a haven for diverse wildlife and a thrilling destination for nature enthusiasts.

The Sundarbans' unique ecosystem thrives where freshwater rivers meet the Bay of Bengal's salty waters. This fosters a rich tapestry of flora and fauna. The park is most famous for the majestic Royal Bengal Tiger [Royal Bengal Tiger], a critically endangered predator that reigns supreme in these dense mangroves. Spotting a tiger in the wild is a rare but unforgettable experience [Sundarbans National Park tiger].

Beyond tigers, the Sundarbans boasts a remarkable array of wildlife. Keep your eyes peeled for spotted deer, wild boar, monkeys, and a dazzling variety of birdlife – over 260 species call this park home [Sundarbans National Park birds].

Exploring the Sundarbans is an adventure in itself. Glide through the silent waterways on a boat safari, a quintessential Sundarbans experience [Sundarbans National Park boat safari]. Experienced guides will navigate the labyrinthine canals, offering insights into the park's delicate ecosystem. Birdwatchers will be captivated by the vibrant avian life, while the possibility of spotting elusive wildlife adds to the thrill.

The ideal time to visit Sundarbans National Park is during the dry season, between November and February, when the weather is pleasant, and the rivers are calmer, making navigation easier [Sundarbans National Park weather].

Planning your Sundarbans National Park trip beforehand is crucial. Secure permits from the forest department, book eco-friendly accommodation within the park, and enlist the help of a certified guide [Sundarbans National Park accommodation]. Responsible tourism is key to preserving this irreplaceable ecosystem for generations to come.

So, embark on a journey to the Sundarbans National Park. Let its labyrinthine waterways, diverse wildlife, and breathtaking beauty leave you awestruck. Remember, responsible tourism is the way to go!

[williamkergroach55]

The bus finally came to a halt, marking the end of the journey. Passengers began to disembark into the starry Nogales night. The town, which until the 20th century had been bustling with the incessant comings and goings of people and commercial activities along the border, had suffered from the wall built at the beginning of the 21st century. Little by little, trade between the two countries dried up. Nogales no longer had a wall, but now seemed frozen in time, deserted by its population. The narrow streets were still lined with faded Hispanic buildings, bearing witness to a rich past that had disappeared with the inhabitants. Wrought-iron signs, tarnished by years of neglect, still retained a certain elegance. But the cobbled alleyways were overgrown, offering sleepy settings where mosaic fountains dried under the starry sky. A handful of stores were still open, offering steaming beers and tamales to the hungry, filling the air with the delicious scents of Mexican cuisine. Everywhere else, darkness had enveloped the city, home to nothing but ghosts. Mexicans, like Liang, waited patiently on the sidewalk, chatting quietly amongst themselves, overcome by the ghostly atmosphere of the city. The city, despite its abandonment, retained a certain aura, a testimony to the richness of its past and the perseverance of those who had remained. As Liang scanned the horizon in search of a hypothetical means of transport to the north, he joined the few travelers continuing northwards, cautiously observing their surroundings. The starry sky offered a mystical glow to this abandoned city. The others told Liang that there might be a means of transport coming in the morning. The others thought it would take a day or two. As the hours passed, Liang's patience was tested, but he was used to it. His whole life had been a story of patience, of waiting for trains, of customers disappearing into thin air. Finally, just as the first rays of sunlight were beginning to peek over the horizon, a filthy truck arrived. Its rear platform was devoid of safety barriers. It was the only vehicle available for transport to the northern lands. Liang didn't hesitate and climbed aboard, among the other passengers eager to leave Nogales behind. The road that took them to Tucson and on to Phoenix was a journey through the desolate, silent landscape of a world in ruins. The military bases that once dotted this strategic route were now obliterated. Davis-Monthan Air Force Base, Navy FST, Goldwater Air National Guard, JFHQ AZNG, Papago Park, Luke Air Force, Camp Navajo, all these military installations had been reduced to rubble and ashes. The territory was a vast field of ashes that flew under the truck's tires. The road was cluttered with abandoned vehicles, or the last homes of people surprised by the nuclear fire. Liang could make out the skeletons in the cars. No one had ever taken them out. The United States of America was no more. A pestilential stench invaded the nostrils of travelers. Liang tied a scarf around his face to protect himself a little from the cloud of ash flying around him. Even as day broke, the landscape was plunged into the semi-darkness of nuclear winter. There had been no electricity in the United States since World War III devastated the country. The ruined buildings were abandoned. Only the shadows of a bygone past seemed to haunt the place. Liang knew that the area was overrun with grieving souls, minds baffled by the violence of their deaths. Silence reigned supreme over this ravaged land, but Liang silently prayed that the souls haunting the place would not torment him.

[khansoniya4447]

Top-Ranked Medical Colleges in Rohilkhand Bareilly Zone: A Comprehensive Guide

Rohilkhand Bareilly Zone stands as a beacon of educational excellence, particularly in the field of medicine. Aspiring young minds seeking to embark on a journey of healing and discovery are drawn to the top-ranked medical colleges in this region.Best college for BAMS in UP In this comprehensive guide, we explore the unique features and strengths that distinguish these institutions and make them the preferred choice for medical education.

Pinnacle of Academia: Unveiling the Top Medical College Delve into the flagship medical college that reigns supreme in academic prowess, consistently setting the bar high for medical education standards.

Innovative Curriculum: Beyond the Books Explore how these institutions go beyond traditional teaching methods, incorporating innovative and dynamic curriculum approaches to prepare students for the ever-evolving field of medicine.

State-of-the-Art Facilities: Where Learning Meets Technology Take a virtual tour through the cutting-edge facilities that provide students with hands-on experiences, ensuring they are well-equipped with the latest advancements in medical technology.

Research Hub: Fostering a Culture of Discovery Uncover the research initiatives and projects that these colleges spearhead, contributing to medical breakthroughs and innovations that impact global healthcare.

Clinical Exposure: Bridging Classroom Knowledge with Real-world Practice Understand how these colleges prioritize clinical exposure, offering students opportunities to apply theoretical knowledge in real healthcare settings from the early stages of their education.

Global Collaborations: Broadening Horizons Explore the international collaborations that enrich the educational experience, providing students with a global perspective and opening doors to opportunities beyond borders.

Holistic Development: Nurturing Future Healthcare Leaders Delight in stories of holistic development, showcasing how these institutions not only shape medical professionals but also instill qualities of empathy, leadership, and social responsibility.

Alumni Impact: Trailblazing in the World of Medicine Discover the success stories of alumni who have emerged as leaders and pioneers in various medical fields, reflecting the caliber and impact of education provided by these colleges.

Student Support Systems: A Network of Care Examine the robust support systems in place, including mentorship programs, counseling services, and student organizations that foster a supportive community within these medical colleges.

Beyond Graduation: Career Placement and Entrepreneurial Ventures Investigate the post-graduation landscape, highlighting how these institutions prepare students for successful careers, whether through placements in renowned healthcare institutions or by nurturing their entrepreneurial spirit.

Conclusion: In the heart of Rohilkhand Bareilly Zone,Best Ayurvedic Medical College in UP these top-ranked medical colleges stand tall as pillars of educational excellence, shaping the future of healthcare. As students embark on this transformative journey, they not only gain a medical education but also become part of a community dedicated to healing minds, bodies, and souls.

[vinceviralfreak]

Title: The Forgotten Masculine

Chapter 1: The Matriarchal World

In a world far, far away, a planet known as Elysium, women reigned supreme. For centuries, they had thrived without the presence of men, building a society based on their own strengths and abilities. The planet was a utopia, with advanced technology, harmonious communities, and a deep sense of sisterhood.

On Elysium, men were nothing more than a distant memory, a myth passed down through generations. The women had evolved to reproduce without them, their bodies adapting to ensure the survival of their species. However, despite their independence and self-sufficiency, a longing lingered within the hearts of these women.

Chapter 2: The Forbidden Desires

In the quiet moments of the night, as the women of Elysium lay in their beds, they dreamt of a world they had never known. Their dreams were filled with images of strong arms enveloping them, gentle caresses, and passionate embraces. They yearned for the touch of a man, the feeling of being desired and loved in a way only a man could provide.

These dreams were forbidden, a secret desire that they dared not share with one another. They feared judgment, rejection, and the potential disruption it could cause to their harmonious society. Yet, the dreams persisted, growing stronger with each passing night.

Chapter 3: The Discovery

One day, a young woman named Lyra stumbled upon an ancient artifact buried deep within the archives of Elysium's historical records. It was a book, filled with stories of a time when men and women coexisted. As she delved into the pages, Lyra discovered tales of love, passion, and desire that ignited a fire within her.

Unable to contain her curiosity, Lyra shared her discovery with a small group of trusted friends. Together, they formed a secret society, dedicated to exploring the forbidden desires that plagued their dreams. They called themselves the Dreamweavers, and their mission was to uncover the truth about men and their place in Elysium's history.

Chapter 4: The Journey

The Dreamweavers embarked on a perilous journey, venturing beyond the borders of their utopian society. They sought answers from the remnants of a world long forgotten, a world where men once roamed freely. As they traveled through desolate landscapes and encountered remnants of a bygone era, they discovered the truth about their own existence.

Chapter 5: The Awakening

Through their journey, the Dreamweavers uncovered a hidden truth. The absence of men was not a natural occurrence but a result of a catastrophic event that wiped them out. The women of Elysium had been shielded from this knowledge, their memories altered to protect them from the pain of loss.

Armed with this newfound understanding, the Dreamweavers returned to Elysium, ready to share their discoveries with their fellow women. They hoped to bridge the gap between the past and the present, to heal the longing that had plagued their dreams for generations.

Chapter 6: The Reunion

As the Dreamweavers revealed the truth, the women of Elysium were filled with a mix of emotions. Some were angry, feeling betrayed by the secrets that had been kept from them. Others were curious, eager to explore the possibilities of a world that included men.

In the end, the women of Elysium decided to embrace their newfound knowledge and open their society to the possibility of reintegrating men. They understood that the dreams they had were not a sign of weakness but a testament to their humanity.

Epilogue: A New Beginning

Elysium transformed into a world where men and women coexisted once again. The women's dreams were no longer filled with longing but with the joy of shared love and desire. The planet thrived, as the strengths of both genders were celebrated and utilized to build a brighter future.

The forgotten masculine had returned, not as a threat or a conqueror, but as an equal partner in the journey of life. And in this new world, the women of Elysium found fulfillment, not only in their dreams but in the reality they had created.

Note: The novel explores themes of desire, longing, and the importance of embracing one's true self. It aims to challenge traditional gender roles and highlight the power of unity and acceptance.

[infiniteglitterfall]

I was trying to follow up with something about how Gaddafi created the terrorist zone right across the middle of the African continent (the Sahel) that he was hoping would create a pan-Arab Islamist empire for him to run.

And which has been involved in coups in Chad and Mali, plus the genocide in Darfur, and the current one across Sudan, and I don't think I even checked Congo yet.

It's basically his attempt (and now ISIL's attempt) to make the history books say, "And then there was a short gap after the Ottoman Empire fell in World War One, before [INSERT_NAME_HERE] renewed the Arab Empire and reigned supreme across [XX%] of the former MENA region."

Note for anyone not in the loop: "Islamist" does not mean "Islamic" or "Muslim." It's the equivalent of Christian Nationalism: an ultra-far-right fascist crap-pile that just weaponizes and twists religion in the hopes of eventual dictatorship.

Anyway. I was TRYING to draw the line connecting that shit and this shit and the Nazi-funded al-Husseini shit.

But that led me to this 2015 article, and it had so much in it that I'd never heard about that my brain just entirely shut down.

Tag yourself, I'm....

well, apparently I'm the fucking inability to stop googling shit, because NOW I've found AN ENTIRE 706-PAGE BOOK ABOUT HAMAS, IN WHICH ISMAIL HANIYEH APPARENTLY WROTE A CHAPTER THAT INCLUDES "Hamas’s Position on Jews," which takes up less than a page lmao, and then "The Position on Recognizing the “Zionist Entity,” the Peace Project, and the Bare Minimum That Hamas Can Agree On."

WHY.

IT'S A FREE DOWNLOAD OMFGMGFFFF

anyway don't fucking TAG YOURSELF, that's a TERRIBLE idea. But I do want people to reblog with the bits of that 2015 piece that shocked, surprised, or jumped out at them in a shadowy corner.

all I wanted was to know if gaddafi had been in the army al-husseini started just over the Libyan border ffs

yeah cool you’re an american jew that doesn’t think antisemitism is a thing anymore. anyway did you know that david gerbi has been trying restore synagogues and cemeteries in libya to try to facilitate the return of libyan jews but non jewish libyans keep trying to lynch him every time he comes to libya.

[maxwell-grant]

Jumping off from my previous question/suggestion, might I please ask if there are any superheroes you think would make fine Pulp Villains and any Supervillains you think would make convincing Pulp Heroes?

I'm gonna go ahead and remark that I'd personally suggest to anyone who's trying to create pulp characters inspired by superheroes (which would be probably about 90% of you who may want to do that sort of thing) to flip the script around a little. As in, don't try to create pulp analogues to the Justice League/Avengers upfront, but play around with some of the lesser-known icons and filter those through your idea of what “pulp” means (which is gonna be quite different than my own or anyone else’s). 

I’m not gonna really mention characters I’ve already talked about before like Vandal Savage or Namor, instead I’ll pick new ones and see what can be highlighted about them.

Regarding “Superheroes who could make fine/convincing Pulp Villains”, even though he’s a character I've read basically nothing on, Martian Manhunter definitely leaped out to me as an obvious option. He’s a Sci-Fi Superman who takes the first half of the name to an extreme that borders on comical, except he’s not a square-jawed white man, he’s a 1.000 year old green alien from Mars with shapeshifting powers who can look as monstrous as the artist desires. He’s the product of an advanced civilization and genetic modification, and on top of the Flying Brick powerset and shapeshifting, he also has incredibly powerful and extensive telepathic abilities, he can become invisible, phaze through matter, use telekinesis and other weird abilities. A lot of pulp stories closer to sci-fi were based around the idea of taking one of these abilities and extrapolating horrific consequences for them, and J’onn has those by the dozens. He also has an extremely mundane weakness that would allow him to be beaten by Macready with a blowtorch if that’s where the story ended.

He was also a law enforcement officer from Mars who became a police detective and it’s even right there in his name, and again, I have never read anything he’s in (I should probably pick the Orlando mini), I know he’s for all intents and purposes a generally nice man who tends to job a lot in crossovers and cartoons, but the idea of taking all those great vast and horrifying alien powers, combining all of them into a single character who also happens to be the last survivor of a doomed planet (and one who actually lived through it’s collapse), and then making that character a former cop trying to resume his work on Earth? 

That is a Pulp Supervillain begging to happen, and a particularly horrifying one at that. And hey, speaking of The Thing-

Now, Plastic Man’s potential for horror has already been explored quite a bit in some of the darker DC continuities like Injustice and DCeased, and it’s quite funny seeing a lot of these turn Plastic Man into The Thing because there were quite a handful of Wold Newton pages that ran with the idea that Macready from the original story was Doc Savage, and that the secret chemicals that Eel O’Brian was hit by that gave him his powers were actually samples of The Thing contained in one of Savage’s labs. Regardless, the idea of a former street crook suddenly gaining bizarre shapeshifting abilities that allow him to reign terror on his gangster associates could make for a great premise as a pulp crime story that veers into horror as the gangsters gradually figure out what is Eel O’Brian’s deal, and then the story can take a more tragic turn.

The thing about Jack Cole’s Plastic Man that modern takes on the character neglect is that, while Plas was a lively roguish anti-hero (arguably the first of it’s kind in comics), he’s still for intents and purposes “the straight man” (HA, right, Plastic Man being “straight”). He’s the relatively sane hero who plays off Woozy’s wackier misadventures and the imaginative madness that Jack Cole paints his adventures with, and it makes for an interesting contrast considering Plastic Man is already a weird character, having to ramp up the strangeness of the world around him so that he still remains the sane man. There are ways to twist this into something quite horrifying, even tragic for Plastic Man as he either struggles to maintain coherency, or embraces the shifting chaos the world’s spiraling into for better or worse (and definitely for the worse towards those on the receiving end of his vengeance, or even his humor).

Now, onto the flipside, regarding Supervillains that could become Pulp Heroes -

Normally I’d not mention the Batman villains here, because I already have a lot to talk about in regards to them as is, they comprise some of my favorite comic characters, but I pretty much have to make an exception for Two-Face in this topic, as not only a pretty obvious option but one with even case studies to prove it, as not only do we have The Black Bat, a 1930s costumed pulp hero with an identical origin story and several other conceptual overlaps with Batman, as well as The Whisperer, a young hotshot police commissioner who dresses up as a disfigured vigilante to kill criminals without consequence (and who’s somehow less of a maniacal asshole in his secret identity than in his regular one), but it turns out that there actually was a 1910s pulp hero called The Two-Faced Man:

Crewe was created by “Varick Vanardy,” the pseudonym of Frederic van Rensselaer Dey (Nick Carter, Doctor Quartz), and appeared in three short stories and two novels and short story collections from 1914 to 1919, beginning with “That Man Crew” (The Cavalier, Jan. 24, 1914). 

Crewe is “The Two-Faced Man.” 

He is in his forties and has gray hair and a “sharply cut and handsome profile—until one caught a view of the other side of his face and saw the almost hideous blemish that nearly covered it, and which graduated in corrugated irregularity from a delicate pink to repulsive purple.” 

Crewe is two-faced in another way. Crewe is a saloon owner in below Washington Square. But he has another identity: Birge Moreau, portraitist and socialite hanger-on. Crewe uses both his identities to solve crimes as an amateur detective.

The only person to know about both of Crewe’s identities is a police inspector who is also Crewe’s friend and who Crewe helps in pressing cases - The Encyclopedia of Pulp Heores by Jess Nevins

And speaking of obvious picks for Supervillains turned Pulp Heroes,

Assuming I even need to make a case for Kraven the Hunter other than just presenting this cropped panel from Squirrel Girl and in particular the art painted on the Kra-Van, or even just telling you to read Squirrel Girl and it’s take on “The Unhuntable Sergei” (I had no idea most of the people saying “Kraven’s arc in Squirrel Girl is as good if not better than Kraven’s Last Hunt” weren’t actually joking in the slightest and I speak as someone who has Kraven among their absolute favorite Marvel characters, it had no right being that good), I’m going to quote the brilliant Rogue’s Review from The Mindless Ones that lays down in painstaking detail why Kraven could make a killer protagonist in that horrifically over-the-top pulp fashion

One thing that strikes me writing this, is how well Kraven could hold his own comic. There’s always room for a book spotlighting a ruthless, hardcore, gentleman bastard, and Kraven’s raison d’etre makes him supremely versatile, so well suited to any genre, any environment. It’s odd that more writers haven’t jumped on the fact that in a universe where off-world travel is possible – indeed, common – a hunter like Kraven would have a field day. 

I can just imagine the opening scene – herds of weird cthuloid bat creatures grazing in the gloomy green nitrogen fields, bathed in lethal, bone splintering fog, when, suddenly, LIGHT! from above and an unholy bellowing: “CTHGRGN fthgrgnARAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHGN!”

They look up in fear and then they start to run – ploughing into and over each other, tentacles flailing, as from the space-ship’s docking bay Kraven silently plummets, barely dressed for the cold, a glowing knife smothered in elder signs jammed between his teeth. 

You should have seen him one night previous, sipping alien tokay around the Captain’s table with the other guests, discussing the morning’s hunt; and the way he insulted the Skrull dignitary by forgetting himself and accidentally sporting his favourite piece of formal wear: his boiling unstable dinner-jacket of many colours, fashioned from the hide of one of the Ambassador’s super kinsmen.

Whoops!

Midway through Kraven explaining how the best way to irreparably damage a symbiote is to wait until its bonded with you and then seriously maim yourself, the Skrull decided it might be a good idea to simmer down, while his beautiful Inhuman lover hung on every word.

The deeper I get into this the more convinced I am that the MU’s hunter-killer extraordinaire wouldn’t limit himself to bloody planet Earth. And neither would he limit himself to this dimension, or universe or timeline. The guy’d be just as at home leaping, sword raised, onto the back of a T-Rex in the Savage Land, as he would be ploughing through werewolves in the graveyards of Arkham or tracking a howling Demon across Mephistopheles’ realm. 

He’d work perfectly in all these environments because he has a damn good reason to be casting a bloody swathe through them: wherever there’s big game, you’ll find Kraven.

The next choice I guess is an oddball, but not that much of an oddball if you know already what is my main frame of reference towards Marvel

I don’t think people appreciate enough that the main reason Shuma-Gorath has anything resembling a fanbase has nothing whatsoever to do with the comics he was in, but entirely because, when Capcom designers had a list of Marvel characters to pick from to work on Marvel Super Heroes, they took a look at the diet Cthulhu and went “gimme THAT one”, and then went all-in in giving the alien squid monster a funky personality along with a great stage and music and animations and all that great fighting game character stuff, and now he’s maybe the most popular Dr Strange villain along with Dormammu and Mordo, despite having ZERO film appearences or major showings in comic sagas.

Capcom's designers redefined Shuma-Gorath from a nebulous cosmic evil into a comically smug cartoon bastard who can rant about devouring all dimensions and souls horrifically while also cracking poses and zingers like “How do you expect to win a fight with only two arms?” and having dinners with Dhalsim or hosting Japanese game shows in his endings, and it kills me that none of this ever made it’s way into any depictions of the character outside of MvC. 

So that’s kinda what I’d go with. I’d take Capcom’s Shuma-Gorath, depower him a bit obviously from his canonical power, and run with the premise of his MvC3 ending where he decides that, well, if he's the unlikely savior of this pathetic planet and these wretched human dogs like him so much, and he’s clearly having a much better time here among them than he ever had drifting among the stars cealessly consuming life, then maybe he can take a break from all that eldritch business and keep up hosting the Super Monster Awesome Hour and maybe fight whatever PITIFUL villains think can take HIS planet. I mean, he’ll probably still end up destroying the planet by the end, but why not give this hero business a try?

Just until he gets his full powers back of course. 

I mean you can’t deny he DOES look pretty good in that bowtie, surely The Great Shuma-Gorath wouldn’t be so unmerciful as to deny these vile wastes of flesh something good to look at in their brief and miserable lives.

[songweretson]

Yesterday I made a Twitter thread about how Robert E Howard and H P Lovecraft considered Howard's Conan the Barbarian to be part of Lovecraft's Cthulhu mythos.

(Note: if you've only seen the Conan movies... That's not Conan. The Jason Momoa movie did at least incorporate some lines from the stories, and at least got his "I eat, I slay, I love, I am content" philosophy right. But please don't go into this post thinking of Schwarzenegger's Conan. It doesn't work.)

In the thread I made the passing comment (hot take) that Howard's development reminded me a bit of Tolkien. Kind of.

Tolkien's whole purpose for the Silmarilion was to create a mythology for Britain. He loved Norse mythology in particular, and felt Britain's culture was lacking something by not having it's own. (Look, I dunno. I guess the Anglo and Celtic myths didn't count for him? I only know what I've read.) So he spent his life (and his son's life) building a mythology from start to finish. Mythology, folk heroes, history, languages. The whole thing.

As a writer, I'm in absolute awe of the work he put in, and what he accomplished. But to be honest... I respect Tolkien a lot more than I actually enjoy him. I enjoyed the movies, I can't get through the books, but I enjoy hearing about what he created. So there's my bias, for the record.

You know who I do like? Robert E Howard. The man was a genius. He's a gold standard in pulp writing, his stuff has gravitas, but is still a little scandalous and fun. (I like scantily clad damsels in distress. And sexual tension. With a strong dose of philosophy. Don't kink shame me!)

And, in some ways, I feel like his Hyborian Age essay works better than the Silmarilion. At least for me.

Howard's world involves a cycle of humanity rising from barbarism to civilization, before it's all swept away by a cataclysm. His character Kull of Atlantis is pre-cataclysm, at a time when civilization is starting to crumble. The destruction of Atlantis is the cataclysm that takes humanity back to barbarism.

Conan comes in the growing pains of the evolution between the two. A northern barbarian who comes and takes the throne of the civilized Aquilonia. But he sees how civilization breeds a different kind of savagery.

As he says in "The Tower of the Elephant": "Civilized men are more discourteous than savages because they know they can be impolite without having their skulls split."

Anyway. This is supposed to be about world building, not gushing about Conan.

*clears throat*

The first story, "The Phoenix on the Sword", begins with the oft quoted:

"Know, oh prince, that between the years when the oceans drank Atlantis and the gleaming cities, and the years of the rise of the Sons of Aryas, there was an Age undreamed of, when shining kingdoms lay spread across the world like blue mantles beneath the stars - Nemedia, Ophir, Brythunia, Hyperborea, Zamora with its dark-haired women and towers of spider-haunted mystery, Zingara with its chivalry, Koth that bordered on the pastoral lands of Shem, Stygia with its shadow-guarded tombs, Hyrkania whose riders wore steel and silk and gold. But the proudest kingdom of the world was Aquilonia, reigning supreme in the dreaming west."

As he began publishing the Conan stories, Lovecraft criticized that some of his kingdoms had names very similar to countries in our world. Specifically the land of Corinthia.

I'm at work, so I can't get the exact quote right now, but the gist is "doesn't he realize that names like Corinthia remind people of real world countries, and it will take people out of the experience?"

But he did it on purpose. After a few stories, when he realized Conan stories sold, and it was worth it to put the effort in, Howard wrote "The Hyborian Age Essay".

He opens it with:

"Nothing in this article is to be considered as an attempt to advance any theory in opposition to accepted history. It is simply a fictional background for a series of fiction-stories. When I began writing the Conan stories a few years ago, I prepared this 'history' of his age and the peoples of that age, in order to lend him and his sagas a greater aspect of realness. And I found that by adhering to the 'facts' and spirit of that history, in writing the stories, it was easier to visualize (and therefore to present) him as a real flesh- and-blood character rather than a ready-made product. In writing about him and his adventures in the various kingdoms of his Age, I have never violated the 'facts' or spirit of the 'history' here set down, but have followed the lines of that history as closely as the writer of actual historical-fiction follows the lines of actual history. I have used this 'history' as a guide in all the stories in this series that I have written."

In it, he describes all the tribes, from the Cataclysm, and the forming of tribes, to the rise of civilization, until eventually bringing it all into the world we know today.

"The ancient Sumerians had no connection with the western race. They were a mixed people, of Hyrkanian and Shemitish bloods, who were not taken with the conquerors in their retreat. Many tribes of Shem escaped that captivity, and from pure-blooded Shemites, or Shemites mixed with Hyborian or Nordic blood, were descended the Arabs, Israelites, and other straighter-featured Semites. The Canaanites, or Alpine Semites, traced their descent from Shemitish ancestors nuxed with the Kushites settled among them by their Hyrkanian masters; the Elamites were a typical race of this type. The short, thick-limbed Etruscans, base of the Roman race, were descendants of a people of mixed Stygian, Hyrkanian and Pictish strains, and originally lived in the ancient kingdom of Koth. The Hyrkanians, retreating to the eastern shores of the continent, evolved into the tribes later known as Tatars, Huns, Mongols and Turks.

"The origins of other races of the modern world may be similarly traced; in almost every case, older far than they realize, their history stretches back into the mists of the forgotten Hyborian age..."

Before anyone says anything about racism, or stereotyping... In was written in the early 30's. Howard lived in Texas, and was considered very liberal for his time. (He's actually credited with convincing Lovecraft that his prejudice against other races were wrong. And Lovecraft was a lot more accepting in his later life, once no longer influenced by his very toxic family.)

And just like that... Bam. He's done (in a rather lengthy essay), what Tolkien never managed to do for me. He's created a fictional history, and I totally buy it.

So I have no trouble accepting that his characters like Bran Mak Morn (third century AD) and Solomon Kane (late 16-early17th century AD) are a part of the same world.

It's confirmed in the fact Kull appears in the Bran Mak Morn story "Kings of the Night", where Bran is also revealed to be a direct descendent of Kull's best friend, so no dimension hopping here. Kane is a bit less direct, but some of his stories are decidedly cosmic horror, and he meets a survivor of Atlantis. Same timeline. And Bran Mak Morn is mentioned by name in Lovecraft's "The Whisperer in the Dark".

I'm going somewhere with this, I swear!

Now, Howard's universe being a part of the Cthulhu mythos works. (Howard contributed six "official" stories to the mythos, but he and Lovecraft said in letters that they considered Conan a part of the mythos.) They both feature elder gods, lost tombs, dark arts, and eldritch abominations. So it's easy to see how these worlds can mesh together.

But today, my friend and I were playing with the idea of... What if Tolkien's Middle Earth was a part of Howard's timeline? He liked the idea of the Hobbits meeting Conan in the Prancing Pony, instead of Aragon. Which is definitely a fun idea. But it just doesn't work.

I tried putting Middle Earth back pre-cataclysm, in the time of Kull. The sinking of Numeanor was a rough equivalent to the sinking of Atlantis, so Kull might have been around to meet Elrond and Isildur... But it still doesn't mesh.

And that's a credit to both Howard and Tolkien.

Good world building is so tightly woven that combining one world with another just doesn't work. Especially with a fantasy setting, it's so important to have a pantheon (if applicable), to understand at least some of the history of your countries, and how they came to be.

As a side note, this is also so, so important to diversity in fantasy. Human melanin levels developed based on how close our ancestors were to the sun - hence why skin colors get darker the closer people were to the equator. So it doesn't make sense for a dark skinned race to develop in a cold climate of the north. Consider how they got there. Migration is a huge part of history, and totally valid if you don't want to deal with conquest. And consider how climate and resources effect how the culture develops.

(I come from a very old school of world building, where the more thanks make sense, the more you can get away with in other aspects.)

All this to say that world building is hard, and there are right and wrong ways to do it... But there is more than one way.

...and I just wanted to talk about Robert E Howard.

[troybeecham]

Today the Church remembers St. Bernard of Clairvaux, Monk.

Ora pro nobis.

St. Bernard de Clairvaux, (born 1090 AD, probably Fontaine-les-Dijon, near Dijon, Burgundy [France]—died August 20, 1153 AD, Clairvaux, Champagne; canonized January 18, 1174; feast day August 20), was a Cistercian monk and mystic, the founder and abbot of the abbey of Clairvaux, and one of the most influential churchmen of his time.

Born of Burgundian landowning aristocracy, Bernard grew up in a family of five brothers and one sister. The familial atmosphere engendered in him a deep respect for mercy, justice, and loyal affection for others. Faith and morals were taken seriously, but without priggishness. Both his parents were exceptional models of virtue. It is said that his mother, Aleth, exerted a virtuous influence upon Bernard only second to what Monica had done for Augustine of Hippo in the 5th century. Her death, in 1107, so affected Bernard that he claimed that this is when his “long path to complete conversion” began.

He turned away from his literary education, begun at the school at Châtillon-sur-Seine, and from ecclesiastical advancement, toward a life of renunciation and solitude. Bernard sought the counsel of the abbot of Cîteaux, Stephen Harding, and decided to enter this struggling, small, new community that had been established by Robert of Molesmes in 1098 as an effort to restore Benedictinism to a more primitive and austere pattern of life. Bernard took his time in terminating his domestic affairs and in persuading his brothers and some 25 companions to join him. He entered the Cîteaux community in 1112, and from then until 1115 he cultivated his spiritual and theological studies.

Bernard’s struggles with the flesh during this period may account for his early and rather consistent penchant for physical austerities. He was plagued most of his life by impaired health, which took the form of anemia, migraine, gastritis, hypertension, and an atrophied sense of taste.

Founder And Abbot Of Clairvaux

In 1115 Stephen Harding appointed him to lead a small group of monks to establish a monastery at Clairvaux, on the borders of Burgundy and Champagne. Four brothers, an uncle, two cousins, an architect, and two seasoned monks under the leadership of Bernard endured extreme deprivations for well over a decade before Clairvaux was self-sufficient. Meanwhile, as Bernard’s health worsened, his spirituality deepened. Under pressure from his ecclesiastical superiors and his friends, notably the bishop and scholar William of Champeaux, he retired to a hut near the monastery and to the discipline of a quack physician. It was here that his first writings evolved. They are characterized by repetition of references to the Church Fathers and by the use of analogues, etymologies, alliterations, and biblical symbols, and they are imbued with resonance and poetic genius. It was here, also, that he produced a small but complete treatise on Mariology (study of doctrines and dogmas concerning the Virgin Mary), “Praises of the Virgin Mother.” Bernard was to become a major champion of a moderate cult of the Virgin, though he did not support the notion of Mary’s immaculate conception.

By 1119 the Cistercians had a charter approved by Pope Calixtus II for nine abbeys under the primacy of the abbot of Cîteaux. Bernard struggled and learned to live with the inevitable tension created by his desire to serve others in charity through obedience and his desire to cultivate his inner life by remaining in his monastic enclosure. His more than 300 letters and sermons manifest his quest to combine a mystical life of absorption in God with his friendship for those in misery and his concern for the faithful execution of responsibilities as a guardian of the life of the church.

It was a time when Bernard was experiencing what he apprehended as the divine in a mystical and intuitive manner. He could claim a form of higher knowledge that is the complement and fruition of faith and that reaches completion in prayer and contemplation. He could also commune with nature and say:

Believe me, for I know, you will find something far greater in the woods than in books. Stones and trees will teach you that which you cannot learn from the masters.

After writing a eulogy for the new military order of the Knights Templar he would write about the fundamentals of the Christian’s spiritual life, namely, the contemplation and imitation of Christ, which he expressed in his sermons “The Steps of Humility” and “The Love of God.”

Pillar Of The Church

The mature and most active phase of Bernard’s career occurred between 1130 and 1145. In these years both Clairvaux and Rome, the centre of gravity of medieval Christendom, focussed upon Bernard. Mediator and counsellor for several civil and ecclesiastical councils and for theological debates during seven years of papal disunity, he nevertheless found time to produce an extensive number of sermons on the Song of Solomon. As the confidant of five popes, he considered it his role to assist in healing the church of wounds inflicted by the antipopes (those elected pope contrary to prevailing clerical procedures), to oppose the rationalistic influence of the greatest and most popular dialectician of the age, Peter Abelard, and to cultivate the friendship of the greatest churchmen of the time. He could also rebuke a pope, as he did in his letter to Innocent II:

There is but one opinion among all the faithful shepherds among us, namely, that justice is vanishing in the Church, that the power of the keys is gone, that episcopal authority is altogether turning rotten while not a bishop is able to avenge the wrongs done to God, nor is allowed to punish any misdeeds whatever, not even in his own diocese (parochia). And the cause of this they put down to you and the Roman Court.

Bernard’s confrontations with Abelard ended in inevitable opposition because of their significant differences of temperament and attitudes. In contrast with the tradition of “silent opposition” by those of the school of monastic spirituality, Bernard vigorously denounced dialectical Scholasticism as degrading God’s mysteries, as one technique among others, though tending to exalt itself above the alleged limits of faith. One seeks God by learning to live in a school of charity and not through “scandalous curiosity,” he held. “We search in a worthier manner, we discover with greater facility through prayer than through disputation.” Possession of love is the first condition of the knowledge of God. However, Bernard finally claimed a victory over Abelard, not because of skill or cogency in argument but because of his homiletical denunciation and his favoured position with the bishops and the papacy.

Pope Eugenius III and King Louis VII of France induced Bernard to promote the cause of a Second Crusade (1147–49) to quell the prospect of a great Muslim surge engulfing both Latin and Greek Orthodox Christians. The Crusade ended in failure because of Bernard’s inability to account for the quarrelsome nature of politics, peoples, dynasties, and adventurers. He was an idealist with the ascetic ideals of Cîteaux grafted upon those of his father’s knightly tradition and his mother’s piety, who read into the hearts of the Crusaders—many of whom were bloodthirsty fanatics—his own integrity of motive.

In his remaining years he participated in the condemnation of Gilbert de La Porrée—a scholarly dialectician and bishop of Poitiers who held that Christ’s divine nature was only a human concept. He exhorted Pope Eugenius to stress his role as spiritual leader of the church over his role as leader of a great temporal power, and he was a major figure in church councils. His greatest literary endeavour, “Sermons on the Canticle of Canticles,” was written during this active time. It revealed his teaching, often described as “sweet as honey,” as in his later title doctor mellifluus. It was a love song supreme: “The Father is never fully known if He is not loved perfectly.” Add to this one of Bernard’s favourite prayers, “Whence arises the love of God? From God. And what is the measure of this love? To love without measure,” and one has a key to his doctrine.

St. Bernard was declared a doctor of the church in 1830 and was extolled in 1953 as doctor mellifluus in an encyclical of Pius XII.

O God, by whose grace your servant Bernard, kindled with the flame of your love, became a burning and a shining light in your Church: Grant that we also may be aflame with the spirit of love and discipline, and walk before you as children of light; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

[walaw717]

To the Most Saintly Father in Christ the Lord, the Lord John, by divine Providence, Supreme Pontiff of the Holy Roman Catholic Church, from his humble and devoted sons,

 Duncan - Earl of Fife, 

Thomas Ranulph - Earl of Moray, 

Lord of Man and Annandale, 

Patrick Dunbar - Earl of March, 

Malise - Earl of Strathearn, 

Malcolm - Earl of Leven, 

William - Earl of Ross, 

Magnus - Earl of Caithness and Orkney, and 

William - Earl of Sutherland; 

Walter - Seneschal of Scotland, 

William Soules - Butler of Scotland, 

James - Lord of Douglas, 

Roger Mowbray, 

David - Lord of Brechin, 

David Graham,

 Ingram Umfraville, 

John Menteith - Guardian of the Earldom of Menteith,

 Alexander Fraser, 

Gibert Hay - Constable of Scotland, 

Robert Keith - Marischal of Scotland, 

Henry Sinclair, John Graham, 

David Lindsay, 

William Olifaunt, 

Patrick Graham, 

John Fentoun, 

William Abernethy, 

David Wemys, 

William Montefix, 

Fergus Ardrossan, 

Eustace Maxwell, 

William Ramsay, 

William Montealt, 

Alan Moray, 

Donald Campbell, 

John Cameron, 

Reginald leChien, 

Alexander Setoun, 

Andrew Leslie, and 

Alexander Stratoun, 

along with the other Barons, Freeholders and all the common people of the kingdom of Scotland, 

we send every filial reverence with devoted kisses of your blessed feet.

Most Holy Father and Lord, we know from the deeds of the ancients and we read from books -- because among the other great nations of course, our nation of Scots has been described in many publications -- that crossing from Greater Scythia, via the Tyrhennian Sea and the Pillars of Hercules, and living in Spain among the fiercest tribes for many years, it could be conquered by no one anywhere, no matter how barbarous the tribes. Afterwards, coming from there, one thousand two hundred years from the Israelite people's crossing of the Red Sea, to its home in the west, which it now holds, having first thrown out the Britons and completely destroyed the Picts, and even though it was often attacked by the Norse, the Danes and the English, it fought back with many victories and countless labours and it has held itself ever since, free from all slavery, as the historians of old testify. In their own kingdom, one hundred and thirteen kings have reigned of their own Blood Royal, without interruption by foreigners.

The merits and nobility of these people, even if they were not obvious from the other signs, shine out openly enough from this, that even though they lived at the furthermost ends of the Earth, the King of kings and the Lord of lords, Jesus Christ after His Passion and His Resurrection, called them nearly the first to his most Holy Faith. Nor did He want to confirm them in the said Faith by anyone but the first to be an Apostle, despite being second or third in rank, the brother of the Blessed Peter, gentle Saint Andrew, whom ever since, He has asked to protect them as their Patron.

However, the Holy Fathers, your predecessors, considering these thoughts with a careful mind, bestowed on this very kingdom and people many favours and countless privileges since it was the special charge of Blessed Peter's brother. Thus, obviously, the result was that until now our people lived free and untroubled under their protection until that mighty prince, Edward, King of the English, the father of he who now reigns, came with the appearance of a friend and ally to harass like an enemy, our leaderless kingdom and our people who were accustomed neither to evil or treachery nor to battles or ambushes. He committed injustices, killings, attacks, robberies, arson, the imprisonment of priests, the burning of monasteries, the looting of churches, and countless other enormous outrages, on the said people sparing no one on account of age or sex, saintliness or rank, to an extent that no one could describe nor fully believe unless they had experienced it.

From these countless evils, with His help who afterwards soothes and heals wounds, we are freed by our tireless leader, king, and master, Lord Robert, who like another Maccabaeus or Joshua, underwent toil and tiredness, hunger and danger with a light spirit in order to free the people and his inheritance from the hands of his enemies. And now, the divine Will, our just laws and customs, which we will defend to the death, the right of succession and the due consent and assent of all of us have made him our leader and our king. To this man, inasmuch as he saved our people, and for upholding our freedom, we are bound by right as much as by his merits, and choose to follow him in all that he does.

But if he should cease from these beginnings, wishing to give us or our kingdom to the English or the king of the English, we would immediately take steps to drive him out as the enemy and the subverter of his own rights and ours, and install another King who would make good our defence. Because, while a hundred of us remain alive, we will not submit in the slightest measure, to the domination of the English. We do not fight for honour, riches, or glory, but solely for freedom which no true man gives up but with his life.

It is for these reasons, Reverend Father and Lord, that we beg your holiness with humble hearts and every urgent prayer, knowing that you will review everything with a true heart and a saintly mind since before Him in Whose name you reign on Earth there is neither bias nor difference between Jew or Greek, Scot or Angle, and considering the trouble and anguish brought on us by the English, that you will warn the king of the English, that he ought to be satisfied with what he owns because once it used to be enough for seven kings, and that you will think it right to encourage him to leave us Scots in peace, living in poor Scotland beyond which there is nothing habitable and nothing we desire. For this, we will effectively do whatever we can to gain peace, bearing in mind our situation.

For this concerns you, Holy Father, since you see the raging ferocity of the pagans against Christians, which the sins of the Christians deserve, and the borders of Christendom being pushed back every day and you must see how much it will hurt your saintly reputation, if (which let it not) any part of the church is overcome or induced to sin during your time. Therefore let Him rouse those Christian leaders who say that they cannot go in support of the Holy Land for no reason although they pretend that the reason is wars with their neighbours. The reason for their difficulties is actually because they expect better rewards and weaker resistance in warring with their smaller neighbours. But the omniscient One knows well enough with how light a heart we and our aforesaid lord and king would go there, if the king of the English would leave us in peace.

If your Holiness, trusting too much in the English version of these events, does not truly believe us, or does not stop supporting them to our disadvantage, then, we believe that the slaughter of bodies, the loss of souls, and all the other things that will follow, the injuries that they will do to us and we to them, will be blamed by the Most High on you.

Thus, as if your sons, we are and always will be ready to do for you, His vicar, whatever you require insofar as it is our duty; and so, we commit the upholding of our cause to the Supreme King and Judge, entrusting our worries to Him and completely confident that He will fill us with courage and reduce our enemies to nothing

May God grant you holiness and health in His holy church for a long time.

Sent from the Monastery of Arbroath in Scotland, on the 6th day of the month April, in the year of Grace 1320, the fifteenth year of our abovementioned king's reign.