#boogun
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#WhiteRock – #SpringMountain Conservation Estate is of high cultural significance to the #Ugarapul people 🍃it is a large sandstone rock formation referred to as #Nugum or #Boogun (meaning dog) and was an important area for women’s business. Currently members of the Ugarapul people are setting up a program for pregnant Aboriginal women to come out to the area and partake in #womensbusiness with the elders. It has been continuously expressed that climbing the rock formation is off limits to men and non indigenous members of the community - please respect this custom 🌿 ℹThe area was taken over as a rifle range in 1912 and used for military training in World War I, World War II and Vietnam, with remains of gun pits and bunkers still present today. I cannot imagine how Ugarapul women felt having their special place being used for war practice by thousands of men. https://www.instagram.com/p/B02jd8dnfo0/?igshid=1mnt87gdwahkz
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Adventures in house-hunting - Episode 2
In the years I’ve searched for a home Cold and I could call our own, I’ve learned some hard truths. One of these is that there are two main kinds of owners in retail listings:
The kind who exhausts themselves with cleaning, staging, and photographing every single little detail. They’re probably over-pricing the building but because it looks great, they’ll likely sell it.
The kind who doesn’t even bother painting over the gang symbols, upside down crosses, and “Satan” chip-carved into the surface of the front door before taking pictures for the listing. Lists it at a steal because the buyer probably won’t be the only resident. The house will probably end up vacant for years then “burn down without warning.”
...seriously. I’m looking right at a listing for a 2 bed/1 bath with upside down crosses and the word “Satan” gouged into the paint on the front door, and a giant - and I mean GIANT - pile of dog crap on the front porch. We’re talking ‘someone overfed an Irish Wolfhound and collected the dung for a week then piled it all in one place’ giant. The house is over 1K square feet, comes with some appliances and several mature trees, and it’s listed for $26.5K. I’d ask how many people died in the house but I really don’t wanna know. Living with one ghost/poltergeist/malevolent booguns was enough for a lifetime, thankyouverymuch.
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SLRP | Storyteller Lore: Lickyface
I was a storyteller in a number of roleplay sims. One of the documents I am proud of is the concept I wrote up for my cosmic deity/entity (aka lovecraft inspired boogun). Due to some rl strangeness, I couldn’t complete my plan. SO instead, I saved it!
The picture below depicts one of the many looks I made for Lickyface in Second Life using a bunch of parts.
The following document was written ic and ooc by Doc Boots (jingy.blinker). For any further questions, please do not be afraid to IM or leave a notecard for the freaky flower. He will do his damnedest to get back to you post haste.
The parchment itself, made of an unidentified leather, holds his usual formal and delicate script. The more he jots down, however, the more tense and unsettled he seems to become, his lines becoming jagged and uneasy. As if his hand had been shaking.
Name: Given the creature's multiple mouths, as well cosmic heritage, the names written always seem illegible. I have since realized that the spelling and handwriting is correct, it is simply impossible for me to say it. I do not know how to read these runes nor how to fabricate the vocal noises the creature is said to make.
Designation: The Beast Once Imprisoned Beneath the Tree, Lickyface, The Malevolent Maw
Age: Impossible to calculate given the current information. There is a possibility it is older than the planet itself. Especially as it must have taken it quite a while to drift onto the planet.
*~*~*Preface*~*~*
Many people are under the assumption that the path of the light is the one true path. The one where karma will reward you and the masses will appreciate you. I am sorry to be the one to inform you that the nature of the universe is far less clear than that. If it is any consolation, it isn’t entirely black either. Just mostly. A dark gray, really.
For matter to be able to spread through the universe, mingle, and even become far more complex types of matter there needs to be a most catastrophic explosion. One that starts in the heart of a powerful star, before tearing its solar system apart. Considered one of the most terrifying events in the universe, there is an upside. This explosion can leave another, if not the most, terrifying object in the universe, a Black Hole. While often attributed to merely consuming all around it, that is only true up to a point. Reaching far beyond its mouth but still within its reach, a black hole swirls all the remnants of its own explosions and others, be it from those too small to create a black hole, creating multiple, or creating enough close to one enough that they fuse into a much larger black hole.
As the obliterated star systems coalesce, stirred by the vortex surrounding the black hole, stars gain a higher likelihood to be born. Even better, more unique planets are created, and more unique forms of life can be created. We can see this cycle in our own realm, on our own planet, too. My usual example being that a deer will eat grass, causing the grass to release an odor that can alert a nearby predator, that will kill the deer. The remains of the deer, be it merely blood splattered or the devoured carcass, will help the grass regrow the damage the herbivore caused. Allowing another to much on its juicy leaves, repeating the process. Of course, races follow this same aspect. Angels and demons, Humans and Orcs.
I preface my explanation of this beast explaining this so you might understand its drive. It is not motive, it is an instinct that gives this creature an urge to destroy. For it is not from our realm. Not even from our solar system. It is possibly from far beyond our very galaxy. Regardless of where it came from, it crashed onto our planet relatively early in the development of intelligent life. Just as humanity began to wonder and grow curious, this beast appeared like a plague. It is theorized this is what catches its attention.
*~*~*LEGEND*~*~*
What happens on other worlds is mere speculation. Attempts for a superstitious and war-torn world to explain the beast that tormented them, that seemed to watch them from the deepest darkness and whisper from the corners of their mind.
For, just like the entropy of the natural world, it seems sentient life needs a little darkness and madness to stir the pot of innovation. As the shamans proposed, the growth of envy and hatred lit a fire in the hearts and souls of humanity like no other. The bitter words the Malevolent peppered the population with, at first, was at it seemed interested in.
It wasn’t pleased with just this. Whether as the Chessmaster or merely another rusted gear in a machine being busted by another party, Lickyface would make certain it stayed amuse. It played smart at first, pushing events from the sidelines content to watch the factions it pitted against each other tear each other limb from limb. Depression and greed fueled it. Souls that became too entranced by the beast’s growing charisma soon found their being beings twisted by darkness, and when they finally fall to pay for their crimes they’d find themselves consumed and added to the growing collection of the broken, the twisted, and the psychotic that fueled its power.
Then, just as the rest of humanity learned of it, Lickyface tasted madness. A sensation it held as naturally as a human holds oxygen. It leapt on the chance to experiment with the broken minds it had already begun to cultivate. From here, the journals I gather my information from becomes a horrid, garbled mess. Blood, various substances, and what I can only hope is dirt coat most of the pages at this stage of the story. This period of the creature’s reign leftmost who encountered it into shells of their former selves. The journals never indicate they are ever returned to a state of sanity.
Its attempt to be kept in the dark, those who saw it far too gone into madness for any to believe the pictures were drawn or details given. Luckily, there were a few who would listen to such crazy back then. The details, of course, are quite muddy around this time. It was decided that it had to be contained and it is made very clear that the toll on the army facing is was high. As the body count rose it became clear killing the beast was not an option. So an idea was finally formed, and with only the hundred greatest left in the faction brave enough to take on the job, they were able to pool their resources, skills, and magic together to incapacitate the creature long enough for it to be imprisoned in endless, unforgiving light. This was not without its cost, the creature claiming countless chivalrous characters in its rampage to stay free.
As their numbers began to draw closer to the single digits, the remaining magic users thought quickly and gathered their energy to call towards the Astral body of the Tree of Life. A massive trunk rooted the beast into place as it finished off the last of the warriors left to keep its focus. The roots entangled around it, and the pure mixture of arcane, divine, and natural energy was cultivated by the roots to make certain the best could never escape. Trapped with the countless souls it had captured, it was left to rot in the core of the Earth.
So confident in this plan, even if it cost all but a few of the island’s remaining veterans, was the island that as the millennia passed, the tale of the Malevolent Maw was lost to time. For Lickyface had long since left its mark. The darker side of humanity had been cultivated by it, after all. Confidence warped into confusion, which warped into doubt at its very existence. Soon, the memory of the Hundred Martyrs was devoured by rage and lost to the ramblings of a few dozen madmen’s books.
*~*~*WHERE THIS LEAVES US*~*~*
For those of you who have not heard my thoughts on the matter, I apologize for what you are about to learn. It will prove to you how far humanity has fallen, and how deep the creature has dug its tongue into our minds. War after war left the races itching. A war was fought, and the Orcs won. Their prize? The Tree of Life, it seems. They chopped it down, and with every chop, The Malevolent Maw stirred. Dust and ash kicked up by the weakened and tormented beast.
To add insult to injury, and fuel the beast as the blasphemous act was made all the more horrid, the tree was fashioned into planks and turned into cabins. The physical embodiment of the penultimate nature god, depending on your beliefs and if Gaia is particularly chatty, to at least de trees. Couldn’t even keep their houses protected, because the cabins of life burned down. I am sure all this just made it easier for the beast to gather power and find a way out of the rotting roots.
There was time then. The Eldritch and I..Most I tried to warn this city. I did everything in my power, even rushed through these damned journals. I am afraid, to those of you who have gotten this far, that is maybe far too late for Vrek’mar. I hear tales of people working to regrow the Tree. That’s marvelous. It still won’t change anything. The roots are withered by now, months have passed since that fateful day. When the ash covered the sky, it was testing the waters. Fighting at the weakening roots.
I do not know where it is now. If it is still far beneath us, regaining its power so it might rise again. I do know that it is angry. Not for its prison being destroyed, it will be delighted about that. The Orcs might even get a pass. It’d just figure, wouldn’t it? It was weakened at this time. Such a long period would have left its body in a fragile state. We could have done something then. You fucks could have listened to me then.
There was time then. We could have bolstered the roots, pumped enough energy to hold it. I am no god. I did not have the ability to do it on my own. Not even a small group. This required a small amount of political grace and everyone getting along, but of course, the meat bodies only want to fight.
It has been allowed time to escape. It is surely angry. I can not even imagine the maddening boredom being locked in such a cramped, assumedly, spot for millennia. It is not that which causes my vines to with and my host-body to shake. That creature is surely bored, and when it escapes, its rage will fuel its search for 'entertainment'. Whatever it has been plotting for millennia, playing with its own little set of heroes and psychotics alike repeatedly... That is what terrifies me. From what my journals indicate, it might even seek to claim itself king. Not for any democratic purposes, but because it finds crowns amusing, especially when it is worn on the head of a tyrant.
So that leaves us here. The beast practically inches below our feet, and we are naked in the breeze. I write this... Mostly to bitch, really. So, to whoever reads this, should you be feeling distraught, broken, and on the brink of madness like your peers, and the world split like a gaping maw... Don’t blame me.
Not that such blatant disrespect for common sense deserved such, but I tried countless times. You dug this grave, humanity, I am just sorry I had to go down with you.
Bitterly,
Doc Boots
*~*~*Known Tricks(Events/Storyline Plots)*~*~*
Punishing Prosopopeia -
The Malevolent Maw has a delight in spreading despair. It has found the typical routes in doing so are a bit boring. I suppose centuries locked in a prison with the same toys would make the abnormal the only option not milked dry.
When it picks its target, be it a lone soul or an entire building, it will go one of two routes. Should it pick the form, it will begin to enchant items surrounding the person. These items will grow the same twisted maw as their master, with the countless eye of its stolen souls staring out in hopes they might be freed, but their only use is to fuel the horrid creatures with eyes peeking from every shadow they cast or house. Its tongue would drip oil and lash about. Each item will take a different route in their goal, but they will pick apart the mind of their target, searching for every little nerve that might push them into a fit. Through my best attempts to translate the horrific chicken scratch that I pulled these accounts from, I gathered countless mentions of different items speaking venom. A pepper shaker supposed using their failed career to loosen them up, while the cauldron berated them for the quality of their cooking, while the door took advantage of their recently deceased parents to drill in the fact they hadn’t spent enough love and care with them.
More distressingly, the accounts state that until Lickyface lost interest, this effect would follow them no matter where they went. Should it target a specific building, every item will take on this effect and bully whoever they set their sights on. While Lickyface has been noted to use this same ability in offensive moves, this seems merely to be a last resort should it be attacked while using this talent.
Chuckling Chasm -
The creature’s presence often is heralded by the ground splitting open in a large chasm. Rocks form themselves into mock teeth while oil bubbles up to fill the newly formed gash. A tongue made from the oil erupted from this maw, beginning to lash about, presumably to attempt to drag and drown any foolish enough to get within striking distance.
There are even accounts of it forcing the Earth to move, making the fissures ‘talk’. While some of these journals question the motives behind this, I believe it is merely for its own amusement. Though surely anything drowned in that oil will not be met with a merciful fate. There are no accounts of what happens, though accounts of creatures and minions leaking this oil lead me to assume assimilation.
Oil of Condensed Souls -
Its ‘blood’ and the liquids that drip off of it seems to be a corrupted form of crude oil. At first, I believed this to be due to it being contained in the core. I have since, upon reading this is a recent development, come to believe that instead, this is the effect of having countless souls trapped within a twisted and wretched body that was then plunged into the pressure of the center of the Earth. It has lead to, least how we perceive it, a substance created from organic matter and souls being endlessly compressed in an already confined area, in the bubbling pit the beast had become while in the depths.
This liquid hold a number of strange properties, all dependant on what Lickyface itself wants to do with it. I have yet to fully understand whether this is something Lickyface has since ‘evolved’ to convert a creature into itself, or if, like the souls themselves, Lickyface is just as much this substance was the darkness he consumed.
Even when separated from the body, the reflection will leave an unsettling sight. Like looking into a lake, the depths beyond would seem endless with countless eyes of different colors staring back. Some in pain, agony, and suffering while others seemed angry or even delighted. The longer the blood sets, it will eventually begin to grow eyes, with no clear limit on how many will grow beside the surface area. Should the blood spread across a large enough surface, a mouth will form, with the blood-forming into a tendril-like tongue to lash about.
*~*~* Possible Oil Effects *~*~*
Winking Warts -
The creature or its minions can be quite effective at spreading this near limitless source of potential. One of its favorite ways is to expel a large portion of it at someone. Normally in the form of expelling it from the mouth along its stomach. As the oil spreads along the skin, bubbles will quickly form and burst along the skin from which an eye will grow. These can appear anywhere the oil spreads a sizable portion to, and more disturbingly these blinking blemishes seem to be connected to the victim’s system. The victim sees through them and feels any pain to come to them as if they were real eyes. They are also easily infected if ruptured. Strangely, the victims that tracked them all report a number of the eyes seem not to relay signals to the victim. That doesn’t seem to keep from looking around.
Practically a Museum of Memories - ( Why I named it this, I will forever wonder)
I do not know how, or why, anyone would ingest it, but my sources have said that doing so will sometimes cause an intensely vivid memory. They say that their nights became sleepless, as when they close their eyes it is as if they open them in a new body. Until they experience the memory the condensed souls desire of them, they repeat the memory until able to fully experience it. This is no easy task. As vivid as these dreams are said to be, many . Especially once the pattern of these dreams being the final moments of the souls that Lickyface had long since consumed. Some retaining their ‘purity’, for lack of a better word, while others had long since become corrupted by madness as the soul finally relented to the beast’s will.
Some have found ways to cure themselves of the affliction, while others merely power through the dreams. They say they even feel the emotions of the departed. The soul’s mind imposed upon you in the dream, forcing you to sit as a passenger as their final moments play out. As the Malicious Maw disassembles their life before their eyes, pushing them as far into the pits of despair or bitterness as it can before fully consuming them. Some take casualties with them. Regardless, they are given a brief glimpse at the torment the consumed were subject to, before finally being free of the ancient affliction.
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Dreams are weird. Recurring dreams are even weirder, and mine are no exception.
There’s the “Darwin is shaking his head” - in which something big, bad, and scary is chasing me but for some reason I’m only able to run on my knees. Yep. My knees. Because apparently it is entirely possible to run upright on your knees with your feet curled up behind your butt and still outrun a booguns.
Then there’s the “As if it wasn’t bad enough the first time” - in which I inexplicably decide that my grades in high school weren’t good enough and I go back to take all four grades over as an adult...only to miss half my classes because fuck getting up before ten, and bomb everything spectacularly. I end up with much worse grades than before and decide “fuck it, I’m a grownup, I’m allowed to have shitty grades.”
Sometimes I have the “I’m so fired” - in which I’m living my life without a care only to suddenly remember OH YEAH! I got hired at a new job a couple months ago! Then I realize oh shit, I haven’t been working that job the past month, and I go ape-nuts trying to figure out how I got from “most valuable new employee” to sitting on the sidewalk wondering where I am, how I got there, and how on earth I’ll explain to my boss that I forgot I worked for them.
Overall, most of my recurring dreams are strangely amusing when I wake up. There’s only one that really bothers me - “It’s happening all over again.” That’s the dream where some horrible disaster happens - a tornado or earthquake, a mass shooting or disease outbreak, or even the friggin’ zombie apocalypse - and I survive...only to hold my husband in my arms as he slowly and painfully dies. I’m no stranger to night terrors, but that’s the only dream that ever leaves me shaking, crying, and clinging to Cold when I wake up. I’ve dreamt of him shot full of arrows and bleeding from zombie bites, and cut in half after an explosion; I’ve dreamt of finding him pinned under a fallen building, and riddled with bullets, hooked up to life support.
These nightmares are what made me realize that my worst fear is losing those I love and being helpless to help them. Now I know, and I’m quite ready to not be reminded. I’d rather dream that the zombie apocalypse was thwarted because zombies are afraid of cheesecake. (Actual dream.) I’d rather dream that possums rose as a new sentient lifeform and attempted to overthrow humanity Planet of the Apes style. (They also drove zambonis instead of cars, for some strange reason.) Heck, I’d even rather dream I risked my life to retrieve a bar of chocolate from a haunted building, only for the murderous entity to chuck the chocolate out the door and yell “Even I know better than to keep chocolate away from menstruating women! Just stay out!” (I woke up laughing so hard I was choking.)
That, folks, is the stuff my dreams are made of. It’s a madhouse in here.
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