DShomshak

Truly, Folly is the God against whom even Gods strive in vain!
 
Dean Shomshak

Rice-wind, devout follower of Timra'Keth ran for his damn life as the horde of barbarian savages chased after him out for his blood. They were stronger than him, bloodthirsty, and ruthless. Worse, they were faster! Even his own martial arts training in the ways of Kung Pow Chicken Style would not save him. No, he realized as he raced towards the edge of the cliff, the mist laden chasm a half mile drop awaiting him, only fear could save him now If he could just find the zone, the the epitome of terror! If the legends were true!
 
A spear whizzed right past his ear, a bit of blood dripped from the lobe. Another inch and the ear would no longer be a part of him!
 
Well, that helped with the zone finding. He began to chant in a high pitched whine, "I must fear. Fear is the body saver! Fear is the the sweet rush that keeps blood in the frame. I will embrace my fear. I will permit it to fill my mind and, if need be, empty my bowels.  And when I escape what I fear, I shall make sure it is long beyond my rear view. Where the threat is gone, only Mother Fear will remain keeping me safe."
 
And suddenly, Rice-Wind, member of the sacred order of  Fleeing Chicken monastery, found his speed becoming faster than a greysnout dird! the savages fell behind, muttering in shock! But that was nothing compared to the moment his foot touched mist, and instead of falling, he raced along it as if it were solid! As long he could stay terrified at this level, as long as he didn't look down , he would make it! 
 
For Fear had power!
 
Interference:  Fear induced personal miracles! Those who hit a certain level of fear , out their mind soil your pants level panic may find themselves surpassing the limits of their species or attributes! Examples include (But are not limited to): Able to leap far buildings, fling a cow across a pasture at a predator that scared you, or scream so loud that walls break! 
 

 
(It should be noted, not everyone knows or believes this happens. Perhaps if we get holy books one can find better instructions in the scriptures of Timra'Keth, likely in a small, thin, flexible holybook encased in a worn fuzzy tribble hide  with the word " Panic!" inscribed on it "... in large friendly letters.)
 
 
* with apologies to Herbert, Pratchett, Adams, and who knows who else!

Heard this on All Things Considered. This article has a bit more information.
 
Rare plutonium from space found in deep-sea crust | Live Science
www.livescience.com/rare-plutonium-heavy-metal... A rare type of plutonium has been found in the crust below the deep sea, offering new clues as to how heavy metals form in star explosions and mergers. ... (1,500 meters) below the Pacific Ocean ...
 
Also: Rare radioactive elements from outer space, created only in the most cataclysmic stellar events, extracted from the ocean floor? That's a superhero scenario that practically writes itself.
 
Dean Shomshak

As for the architecture of the Charr-Loti, the great problem with webs as an architectural paradigm is that they need external stays to support them... or do they?
 
Back in the 1950s and 60s, Buckminster Fuller and artist Kenneth Snelson experimented with structures based on disconnected struts and cables under tension. Fuller, with his usual love of portmanteau coinages, called the principle "tensegrity" (tensional integrity). Here's a view of Snelson's Needle Tower sculpture:

 
Unlike many of Fuller's ideas, tensegrity might actually be useful. Biologists point out that the musculoskeletal system is actualy a tensional structure. There's a tensegrity bridge in Brisbane. NASA is experimenting with a tensegrity robot for exploring other planets. Tensegrity structures can be incredibly strong for their mass. I presume that a well-designed tensegrity structure doesn't collapse if you cut a single cable. See the Wikipedia article for more information.
 
Anyway, it seems very much like something intelligent spiders would invent.
 
Dean Shomshak

As for the architecture of the Charr-Loti, the great problem with webs as an architectural paradigm is that they need external stays to support them... or do they?
 
Back in the 1950s and 60s, Buckminster Fuller and artist Kenneth Snelson experimented with structures based on disconnected struts and cables under tension. Fuller, with his usual love of portmanteau coinages, called the principle "tensegrity" (tensional integrity). Here's a view of Snelson's Needle Tower sculpture:

 
Unlike many of Fuller's ideas, tensegrity might actually be useful. Biologists point out that the musculoskeletal system is actualy a tensional structure. There's a tensegrity bridge in Brisbane. NASA is experimenting with a tensegrity robot for exploring other planets. Tensegrity structures can be incredibly strong for their mass. I presume that a well-designed tensegrity structure doesn't collapse if you cut a single cable. See the Wikipedia article for more information.
 
Anyway, it seems very much like something intelligent spiders would invent.
 
Dean Shomshak

Never consumed though perpetually burning, Lighting the gloom with my comforting flare, Darkness and gloom are no match for my glory, Winter and blizzards alike must despair.     Fauna/Flora: Everburn Trees     The saplings of the Everburn Tree catch fire after two years, and the tree will continue to burn merrily through the rest of its centuries-long lifespan. The flames do not harm the tree at all--in fact they help it outcompete other plants and ward off the effects of frost. Many towns and villages are built around mighty Everburn Trees, as their inextinguishable light and heat are extremely useful.         As waves grow in height Their crests will ignite Great breakers of fire Make traveling dire   Geography: Burning Seas     Some water is flammable. Who knew?     Is it a gift Or a definition? What once was makeshift Has become tradition   Gift to Civilization.  Cooking     Cooking is civilization--raw food is for savages. It is against the tenets of Vaiyarran to eat food that has not been blessed by the touch of fire.

“The priests and sages say…” a load of dird-droppings! Vile and vicious slander!
 
My fellow Gods, I am trying to give mortals what they want, at the level their mortal minds can understand. And my gifts are what they want. Just look how completely they embrace them!
 
But I can’t have the rest of you spoiling my holy mission by telling everyone in the world that they’re wrong, and here’s how things really work, and this is what the gods actually demand of them. I lay down my Interference: The truth of the gods cannot be known. At least not on a really large scale. Now that the world is made, I limit our theophanies to a local scale. Say, one island at a time, or a small group.
 
And when we speak to mortals, they know we are Gods, and our words are true and holy. It’s a god thing. We are always believed, and rightly so. I wouldn’t change that if I could. But when the mortals repeat what we have said, other mortals cannot know that the message is truly divine. Mortals shall have no objective means to tell a prophet from a liar or a madman. They shall believe, or not, according to our eloquence or their wisdom.
 
SO MOTE IT BE.
 
Thus is it written in the Testament of the Prophet Sabron J’hor. There are many testaments, and they do not always agree, but this is true: No one hath heard the voice of a God speak throughout the entire world.
 
Though no one claims to have heard the voice of Folly, even on the scale of a single island. His voice always appears to be that of a fellow mortal, or one’s own mind. Likewise, no one hath seen Folly in the dire magnificence of his divinity: His work is known only after the fact. Which leaves a possibility first enunciated clearly by the Quantim Zingiber Zoon, High Heresiarch of Theer:

 
HEY! Of course I exist, you rotten, lying excuse for a prophet!!! And I theophanize all the tie! Just because I'm not vulgar about it, stomping around tall as a mountain, all "Look at me, I'm smiting everything!" Well, this time I'm going to manifest like you wouldn't believe! Wow, I'm going to be more ineffable than the most ineffable thing ever! And the whole world will know--
 
...Well, crap.
---------------
And now I think I'm done. The testament of Folly is complete.
 
Dean Shomshak

The priests and sages say that Folly does not know he is the God of Stupidity. He indeed believes he can do any god’s work, and likely do it better — but he never understands what the god is actually about. Disaster results. And no gods seem able to Folly-proof their areas of concern.
 
E’il and Vaiyarran perhaps experience the least interference. When fools travel the ocean, they drown. When fools are careless with fire, they get burned. (Possibly along with their entire island, but there are always more islands.) Most gods have it worse.
 
Kuban gave the world beauty. When Folly strove to emulate him, he gave the world gold: beautiful, but blinding mortal fools to anything but its glitter and the hope of gain.
 
The God of Justice gave the world laws. Folly gave the world Bureaucracy: the most cruel of tyrannies, for there is no tyrant to overthrow; just endless clerks saying they don’t have a form for that, and they don’t have the authority to do any different, even as they slit your children’s throats.
 
Timra’keth gave mortals fear to keep them safe; the Justiciar gave karma to bring justice; and Theer gave luck to provide hope. But Folly gave superstition and taboo: false fears that blind mortals to real dangers, false codes that distract from real consequences, and false omens of weal and woe.
 
Theer likewise taught mortals to gamble as a lesson in the play of chance. Folly inspired gamblers to seek systems that would beat the odds. Not a single one has ever worked, though many a gambler lost everything in the search.
 
The God of Life offers Wisdom to mortals who pay attention. Folly replaces the wisdom of life experiences with pedantry and dogma.
 
The Tallywhacker commands that debts be paid. But mortal fools overestimate what they are owed. They may even take a life to avenge an insult or loss. And the slain one’s kin seek vengeance in return, killing the killer or one of his kin; whose relatives take vengeance for the new debt of blood; and so Debt becomes Vendetta, until there is no one left to pay.
 
Mirth’s gift of medicines to ease pain are corrupted, too. Careless folk take them for pleasure, and may become so addicted that the benison destroys them. But death soon takes such fools, so perhaps she has the last laugh after all.
 
Even the Trickster cannot escape Folly’s attention. He encourages mortals to improve themselves, that they may surprise their friends and foes alike. But folk who think themselves cunning devise schemes to extract Attributes from others, improving themselves at great cost to others. It can work… for a while… until Karma catches up to them, possibly in the form of people weary of their depredations. The sages warn that cunning is often but a deeper Folly.
 
But Lhash’ka suffers the deepest corruption. The Goddess of Opposites loves both sides. To her, their struggle is sport by which both are improved. But Folly sees opposition as Negation, a struggle unto annihilation. He turns them into Good and Evil, between whom can be no quarter. In the name of Lhash’ka, mortals declare their wars to be absolute, that can end only in the extermination of their foes… with hosannas of righteous pride that Good is destroying Evil.
 
Secondary Domain: Corrupted concepts. Folly ruins everything.
 
Dean Shomshak
 
 
 

The priests and sages say that Folly does not know he is the God of Stupidity. He indeed believes he can do any god’s work, and likely do it better — but he never understands what the god is actually about. Disaster results. And no gods seem able to Folly-proof their areas of concern.
 
E’il and Vaiyarran perhaps experience the least interference. When fools travel the ocean, they drown. When fools are careless with fire, they get burned. (Possibly along with their entire island, but there are always more islands.) Most gods have it worse.
 
Kuban gave the world beauty. When Folly strove to emulate him, he gave the world gold: beautiful, but blinding mortal fools to anything but its glitter and the hope of gain.
 
The God of Justice gave the world laws. Folly gave the world Bureaucracy: the most cruel of tyrannies, for there is no tyrant to overthrow; just endless clerks saying they don’t have a form for that, and they don’t have the authority to do any different, even as they slit your children’s throats.
 
Timra’keth gave mortals fear to keep them safe; the Justiciar gave karma to bring justice; and Theer gave luck to provide hope. But Folly gave superstition and taboo: false fears that blind mortals to real dangers, false codes that distract from real consequences, and false omens of weal and woe.
 
Theer likewise taught mortals to gamble as a lesson in the play of chance. Folly inspired gamblers to seek systems that would beat the odds. Not a single one has ever worked, though many a gambler lost everything in the search.
 
The God of Life offers Wisdom to mortals who pay attention. Folly replaces the wisdom of life experiences with pedantry and dogma.
 
The Tallywhacker commands that debts be paid. But mortal fools overestimate what they are owed. They may even take a life to avenge an insult or loss. And the slain one’s kin seek vengeance in return, killing the killer or one of his kin; whose relatives take vengeance for the new debt of blood; and so Debt becomes Vendetta, until there is no one left to pay.
 
Mirth’s gift of medicines to ease pain are corrupted, too. Careless folk take them for pleasure, and may become so addicted that the benison destroys them. But death soon takes such fools, so perhaps she has the last laugh after all.
 
Even the Trickster cannot escape Folly’s attention. He encourages mortals to improve themselves, that they may surprise their friends and foes alike. But folk who think themselves cunning devise schemes to extract Attributes from others, improving themselves at great cost to others. It can work… for a while… until Karma catches up to them, possibly in the form of people weary of their depredations. The sages warn that cunning is often but a deeper Folly.
 
But Lhash’ka suffers the deepest corruption. The Goddess of Opposites loves both sides. To her, their struggle is sport by which both are improved. But Folly sees opposition as Negation, a struggle unto annihilation. He turns them into Good and Evil, between whom can be no quarter. In the name of Lhash’ka, mortals declare their wars to be absolute, that can end only in the extermination of their foes… with hosannas of righteous pride that Good is destroying Evil.
 
Secondary Domain: Corrupted concepts. Folly ruins everything.
 
Dean Shomshak
 
 
 

Oh, I added one more joke to the last entry for Folly. It doesn't change the Interference.
 
And here is the gesture by which mortals acknowledge Folly's holy presence and intervention in the world:

Dean Shomshak

The priests and sages say that Folly does not know he is the God of Stupidity. He indeed believes he can do any god’s work, and likely do it better — but he never understands what the god is actually about. Disaster results. And no gods seem able to Folly-proof their areas of concern.
 
E’il and Vaiyarran perhaps experience the least interference. When fools travel the ocean, they drown. When fools are careless with fire, they get burned. (Possibly along with their entire island, but there are always more islands.) Most gods have it worse.
 
Kuban gave the world beauty. When Folly strove to emulate him, he gave the world gold: beautiful, but blinding mortal fools to anything but its glitter and the hope of gain.
 
The God of Justice gave the world laws. Folly gave the world Bureaucracy: the most cruel of tyrannies, for there is no tyrant to overthrow; just endless clerks saying they don’t have a form for that, and they don’t have the authority to do any different, even as they slit your children’s throats.
 
Timra’keth gave mortals fear to keep them safe; the Justiciar gave karma to bring justice; and Theer gave luck to provide hope. But Folly gave superstition and taboo: false fears that blind mortals to real dangers, false codes that distract from real consequences, and false omens of weal and woe.
 
Theer likewise taught mortals to gamble as a lesson in the play of chance. Folly inspired gamblers to seek systems that would beat the odds. Not a single one has ever worked, though many a gambler lost everything in the search.
 
The God of Life offers Wisdom to mortals who pay attention. Folly replaces the wisdom of life experiences with pedantry and dogma.
 
The Tallywhacker commands that debts be paid. But mortal fools overestimate what they are owed. They may even take a life to avenge an insult or loss. And the slain one’s kin seek vengeance in return, killing the killer or one of his kin; whose relatives take vengeance for the new debt of blood; and so Debt becomes Vendetta, until there is no one left to pay.
 
Mirth’s gift of medicines to ease pain are corrupted, too. Careless folk take them for pleasure, and may become so addicted that the benison destroys them. But death soon takes such fools, so perhaps she has the last laugh after all.
 
Even the Trickster cannot escape Folly’s attention. He encourages mortals to improve themselves, that they may surprise their friends and foes alike. But folk who think themselves cunning devise schemes to extract Attributes from others, improving themselves at great cost to others. It can work… for a while… until Karma catches up to them, possibly in the form of people weary of their depredations. The sages warn that cunning is often but a deeper Folly.
 
But Lhash’ka suffers the deepest corruption. The Goddess of Opposites loves both sides. To her, their struggle is sport by which both are improved. But Folly sees opposition as Negation, a struggle unto annihilation. He turns them into Good and Evil, between whom can be no quarter. In the name of Lhash’ka, mortals declare their wars to be absolute, that can end only in the extermination of their foes… with hosannas of righteous pride that Good is destroying Evil.
 
Secondary Domain: Corrupted concepts. Folly ruins everything.
 
Dean Shomshak
 
 
 

“The priests and sages say…” a load of dird-droppings! Vile and vicious slander!
 
My fellow Gods, I am trying to give mortals what they want, at the level their mortal minds can understand. And my gifts are what they want. Just look how completely they embrace them!
 
But I can’t have the rest of you spoiling my holy mission by telling everyone in the world that they’re wrong, and here’s how things really work, and this is what the gods actually demand of them. I lay down my Interference: The truth of the gods cannot be known. At least not on a really large scale. Now that the world is made, I limit our theophanies to a local scale. Say, one island at a time, or a small group.
 
And when we speak to mortals, they know we are Gods, and our words are true and holy. It’s a god thing. We are always believed, and rightly so. I wouldn’t change that if I could. But when the mortals repeat what we have said, other mortals cannot know that the message is truly divine. Mortals shall have no objective means to tell a prophet from a liar or a madman. They shall believe, or not, according to our eloquence or their wisdom.
 
SO MOTE IT BE.
 
Thus is it written in the Testament of the Prophet Sabron J’hor. There are many testaments, and they do not always agree, but this is true: No one hath heard the voice of a God speak throughout the entire world.
 
Though no one claims to have heard the voice of Folly, even on the scale of a single island. His voice always appears to be that of a fellow mortal, or one’s own mind. Likewise, no one hath seen Folly in the dire magnificence of his divinity: His work is known only after the fact. Which leaves a possibility first enunciated clearly by the Quantim Zingiber Zoon, High Heresiarch of Theer:

 
HEY! Of course I exist, you rotten, lying excuse for a prophet!!! And I theophanize all the tie! Just because I'm not vulgar about it, stomping around tall as a mountain, all "Look at me, I'm smiting everything!" Well, this time I'm going to manifest like you wouldn't believe! Wow, I'm going to be more ineffable than the most ineffable thing ever! And the whole world will know--
 
...Well, crap.
---------------
And now I think I'm done. The testament of Folly is complete.
 
Dean Shomshak

A Palestinian professor and Israeli political reporter discussed the situation on All Things Considered. They agreed how... remarkable it is that this conflict has saved Netanyahu's political future after four inconclusive elections and failures to form a government, with likely jail for corruption once he's out of office.
 
Though it's been good for Hamas, too. All the Palestinian groups have lined up in shared outrage.
 
A nasty, suspicious person might suspect collusion. Or at least a recognition of reciprocal interests.
 
But I am not sure what the US government *can* do about this, that would be politically possible, meaningful and effective.
 
Dean Shomshak

Are you in a bind?
 
Are you willing to make a deal?
 
Asking for a friend.
 
Yours Truly,
 
The Devil
 
 
 
 
 
-----------/ Line between two totally unrelated posts that shouldn't have been merged /-------------------------------
 
 
 

The Goddess of Death has fixed thine post.

Karma? Knowing that you actually deserve the suffering in your life? That your fortunate neighbor really is better than you? Oh, no, that’ll make people miserable.
 
Karma’s complicated, too. Life would be so much easier if people merely had to follow some simple, definite rule about some simple, definite activity such as what they eat or how they dress. Follow the rule, and you’re a good person. Or at least you think you are, and isn’t that what matters?
 
The Abrizons of Spim will not eat tribble on Fleenday. They believe Lhash’ka forbade it. (She didn’t.) The Buntins won’t eat dird at all, considering it defiled meat and a mortal sin to consume. The Middiks, on the other hand, believe one must eat dird every day. The fairies of Tropheria will not wear blue. The Quantim of Znitz always wear blue. Among the people of Mur’kl’ti’ga, all names must include at least one apostrophe, and it is death for a woman to show her left elbow to an man but her husband. A visitor to Fnee must wear a fish on his head for a week to prove he is not a demon.
 
And the chaos of luck isn’t any better. Things just happen? That your life is the plaything of chance? That’ll make people miserable, too.
 
I won’t allow it. It’s kinder to let them make up their own explanations. I’m sure they’ll be happier. Especially when their suffering happens because they did something stupid. And fear! Mortals have so much to fear that’s beyond their control. Let them have the illusion that there are reasons for their lives, reasons they might have some power to control.
 
SO MOTE IT BE.
 
Godrig was startled when the golden retreagle barked at him from the tree. It stuck in his mind. A week later, when he left his hearth unattended and his hut burned down, he remembered the golden retreagle. It was an omen! Godrig told everyone in his village to be wary when a golden retreagle barks. It portends disaster! Many people remembered other cases when they saw or heard golden retreagles before something bad happened. Soon, most people were convinced. From then on, the people of the village feared the evil omen of the golden retreagle. But they knew what to do. Catch the dird and burn it! Surely the sacrifice to Vaiyarran would burn away the ill luck!
 
The people of Nng wept and cried to E’il after three storms struck their island in close succession. What sin had they committed? What taboo had they broken? Then someone remembered the Eech on the shore. The huge, talking rock was of E’il. They beseeched it to intercede with its maker, to avert the storms. “How?” it asked. “I have no power over storms. I haven’t seen E’il since the god made me.” The Nngese were angry in their disappointment. One man said, “Perhaps it will not intercede because it called the storms! It does not suffer; it laughs as our boats are wrecked and our homes fall!” And many answered, “Yes, it is the Eech that brought the storms, the Eech is our enemy!” And so they expended great effort building rafts and ropes to drag the Eech off the shore and dump it out at sea. That meant the tribbles bred out of control, leaving the island nearly barren, but the Nngese rejoiced at their triumph.
 
Chewing strumweed cures blue fever. But the people of Jidrilezza refuse this gift of Mirth, no matter how many of them die. They saw their enemies the Orcks using strumweed for this purpose, and so do not believe it will help them. Indeed, some say that chewing strumweed might turn you into an Orck!
 
The people of Obrox believe that Quantim are demons. They festoon their homes with charms to prevent Quantim from entering to work evil upon them. No one on Obrox has seen a Quantim in generations, which they take as proof the charms are working.
 
The people of Pung He, on the other hand, think the Seaborn are witches and kill any of them they can catch. Any curse, they believe, can be lifted by eating the heart of a Seaborn.
 
The Orcks of Krung are determined and mighty hunters of tribbles and other prey. They attribute much of their prowess to the charms they make from the feathers of three rare dirds. Hunters who lose their charms are cast out and cannot return until they manage to slay the requisite dirds and make new ones: They would jinx the hunts otherwise.
 
The people of Kimble Kimble Kimble know how to identify a murderer, a thief or a witch. Each suspect carries a bit of snork meat. The witch-doctor carries a sacred dird from suspect to suspect: The dird snatches the meat from the guilty, who is slain at once before he can utter a curse. If it later turns out the dird was wrong, it means a sorcerer must have cast a spell to deceive it! Set up another lineup and bring out the dird…
 
And so on, across the countless islands. Humans, as Folly’s creatures, are most prone to fear witches and demons of their own imagining, to seek omens of good or bad luck in waves, clouds or the flight of butterflies, to believe they are cursed and must do something ridiculous to remove it, to wear or not wear something, to eat some foods and refuse others. But no one is completely immune — except maybe the Eech, who have very little to fear and very little choice in their stony lives.
 
Secondary Domain: Superstition and Taboo.
 
TABOO2.BMP

 
…And for the people cunning enough to recognize Folly’s work, it makes a great scam. Witch-finders and self-proclaimed sorcerers easily buy up their Attributes from the gullible. At least until someone thinks they are the witch or warlock causing the problem.
 
 

Karma? Knowing that you actually deserve the suffering in your life? That your fortunate neighbor really is better than you? Oh, no, that’ll make people miserable.
 
Karma’s complicated, too. Life would be so much easier if people merely had to follow some simple, definite rule about some simple, definite activity such as what they eat or how they dress. Follow the rule, and you’re a good person. Or at least you think you are, and isn’t that what matters?
 
The Abrizons of Spim will not eat tribble on Fleenday. They believe Lhash’ka forbade it. (She didn’t.) The Buntins won’t eat dird at all, considering it defiled meat and a mortal sin to consume. The Middiks, on the other hand, believe one must eat dird every day. The fairies of Tropheria will not wear blue. The Quantim of Znitz always wear blue. Among the people of Mur’kl’ti’ga, all names must include at least one apostrophe, and it is death for a woman to show her left elbow to an man but her husband. A visitor to Fnee must wear a fish on his head for a week to prove he is not a demon.
 
And the chaos of luck isn’t any better. Things just happen? That your life is the plaything of chance? That’ll make people miserable, too.
 
I won’t allow it. It’s kinder to let them make up their own explanations. I’m sure they’ll be happier. Especially when their suffering happens because they did something stupid. And fear! Mortals have so much to fear that’s beyond their control. Let them have the illusion that there are reasons for their lives, reasons they might have some power to control.
 
SO MOTE IT BE.
 
Godrig was startled when the golden retreagle barked at him from the tree. It stuck in his mind. A week later, when he left his hearth unattended and his hut burned down, he remembered the golden retreagle. It was an omen! Godrig told everyone in his village to be wary when a golden retreagle barks. It portends disaster! Many people remembered other cases when they saw or heard golden retreagles before something bad happened. Soon, most people were convinced. From then on, the people of the village feared the evil omen of the golden retreagle. But they knew what to do. Catch the dird and burn it! Surely the sacrifice to Vaiyarran would burn away the ill luck!
 
The people of Nng wept and cried to E’il after three storms struck their island in close succession. What sin had they committed? What taboo had they broken? Then someone remembered the Eech on the shore. The huge, talking rock was of E’il. They beseeched it to intercede with its maker, to avert the storms. “How?” it asked. “I have no power over storms. I haven’t seen E’il since the god made me.” The Nngese were angry in their disappointment. One man said, “Perhaps it will not intercede because it called the storms! It does not suffer; it laughs as our boats are wrecked and our homes fall!” And many answered, “Yes, it is the Eech that brought the storms, the Eech is our enemy!” And so they expended great effort building rafts and ropes to drag the Eech off the shore and dump it out at sea. That meant the tribbles bred out of control, leaving the island nearly barren, but the Nngese rejoiced at their triumph.
 
Chewing strumweed cures blue fever. But the people of Jidrilezza refuse this gift of Mirth, no matter how many of them die. They saw their enemies the Orcks using strumweed for this purpose, and so do not believe it will help them. Indeed, some say that chewing strumweed might turn you into an Orck!
 
The people of Obrox believe that Quantim are demons. They festoon their homes with charms to prevent Quantim from entering to work evil upon them. No one on Obrox has seen a Quantim in generations, which they take as proof the charms are working.
 
The people of Pung He, on the other hand, think the Seaborn are witches and kill any of them they can catch. Any curse, they believe, can be lifted by eating the heart of a Seaborn.
 
The Orcks of Krung are determined and mighty hunters of tribbles and other prey. They attribute much of their prowess to the charms they make from the feathers of three rare dirds. Hunters who lose their charms are cast out and cannot return until they manage to slay the requisite dirds and make new ones: They would jinx the hunts otherwise.
 
The people of Kimble Kimble Kimble know how to identify a murderer, a thief or a witch. Each suspect carries a bit of snork meat. The witch-doctor carries a sacred dird from suspect to suspect: The dird snatches the meat from the guilty, who is slain at once before he can utter a curse. If it later turns out the dird was wrong, it means a sorcerer must have cast a spell to deceive it! Set up another lineup and bring out the dird…
 
And so on, across the countless islands. Humans, as Folly’s creatures, are most prone to fear witches and demons of their own imagining, to seek omens of good or bad luck in waves, clouds or the flight of butterflies, to believe they are cursed and must do something ridiculous to remove it, to wear or not wear something, to eat some foods and refuse others. But no one is completely immune — except maybe the Eech, who have very little to fear and very little choice in their stony lives.
 
Secondary Domain: Superstition and Taboo.
 
TABOO2.BMP

 
…And for the people cunning enough to recognize Folly’s work, it makes a great scam. Witch-finders and self-proclaimed sorcerers easily buy up their Attributes from the gullible. At least until someone thinks they are the witch or warlock causing the problem.
 
 

It's showing as a download I'd have to manually save

Karma? Knowing that you actually deserve the suffering in your life? That your fortunate neighbor really is better than you? Oh, no, that’ll make people miserable.
 
Karma’s complicated, too. Life would be so much easier if people merely had to follow some simple, definite rule about some simple, definite activity such as what they eat or how they dress. Follow the rule, and you’re a good person. Or at least you think you are, and isn’t that what matters?
 
The Abrizons of Spim will not eat tribble on Fleenday. They believe Lhash’ka forbade it. (She didn’t.) The Buntins won’t eat dird at all, considering it defiled meat and a mortal sin to consume. The Middiks, on the other hand, believe one must eat dird every day. The fairies of Tropheria will not wear blue. The Quantim of Znitz always wear blue. Among the people of Mur’kl’ti’ga, all names must include at least one apostrophe, and it is death for a woman to show her left elbow to an man but her husband. A visitor to Fnee must wear a fish on his head for a week to prove he is not a demon.
 
And the chaos of luck isn’t any better. Things just happen? That your life is the plaything of chance? That’ll make people miserable, too.
 
I won’t allow it. It’s kinder to let them make up their own explanations. I’m sure they’ll be happier. Especially when their suffering happens because they did something stupid. And fear! Mortals have so much to fear that’s beyond their control. Let them have the illusion that there are reasons for their lives, reasons they might have some power to control.
 
SO MOTE IT BE.
 
Godrig was startled when the golden retreagle barked at him from the tree. It stuck in his mind. A week later, when he left his hearth unattended and his hut burned down, he remembered the golden retreagle. It was an omen! Godrig told everyone in his village to be wary when a golden retreagle barks. It portends disaster! Many people remembered other cases when they saw or heard golden retreagles before something bad happened. Soon, most people were convinced. From then on, the people of the village feared the evil omen of the golden retreagle. But they knew what to do. Catch the dird and burn it! Surely the sacrifice to Vaiyarran would burn away the ill luck!
 
The people of Nng wept and cried to E’il after three storms struck their island in close succession. What sin had they committed? What taboo had they broken? Then someone remembered the Eech on the shore. The huge, talking rock was of E’il. They beseeched it to intercede with its maker, to avert the storms. “How?” it asked. “I have no power over storms. I haven’t seen E’il since the god made me.” The Nngese were angry in their disappointment. One man said, “Perhaps it will not intercede because it called the storms! It does not suffer; it laughs as our boats are wrecked and our homes fall!” And many answered, “Yes, it is the Eech that brought the storms, the Eech is our enemy!” And so they expended great effort building rafts and ropes to drag the Eech off the shore and dump it out at sea. That meant the tribbles bred out of control, leaving the island nearly barren, but the Nngese rejoiced at their triumph.
 
Chewing strumweed cures blue fever. But the people of Jidrilezza refuse this gift of Mirth, no matter how many of them die. They saw their enemies the Orcks using strumweed for this purpose, and so do not believe it will help them. Indeed, some say that chewing strumweed might turn you into an Orck!
 
The people of Obrox believe that Quantim are demons. They festoon their homes with charms to prevent Quantim from entering to work evil upon them. No one on Obrox has seen a Quantim in generations, which they take as proof the charms are working.
 
The people of Pung He, on the other hand, think the Seaborn are witches and kill any of them they can catch. Any curse, they believe, can be lifted by eating the heart of a Seaborn.
 
The Orcks of Krung are determined and mighty hunters of tribbles and other prey. They attribute much of their prowess to the charms they make from the feathers of three rare dirds. Hunters who lose their charms are cast out and cannot return until they manage to slay the requisite dirds and make new ones: They would jinx the hunts otherwise.
 
The people of Kimble Kimble Kimble know how to identify a murderer, a thief or a witch. Each suspect carries a bit of snork meat. The witch-doctor carries a sacred dird from suspect to suspect: The dird snatches the meat from the guilty, who is slain at once before he can utter a curse. If it later turns out the dird was wrong, it means a sorcerer must have cast a spell to deceive it! Set up another lineup and bring out the dird…
 
And so on, across the countless islands. Humans, as Folly’s creatures, are most prone to fear witches and demons of their own imagining, to seek omens of good or bad luck in waves, clouds or the flight of butterflies, to believe they are cursed and must do something ridiculous to remove it, to wear or not wear something, to eat some foods and refuse others. But no one is completely immune — except maybe the Eech, who have very little to fear and very little choice in their stony lives.
 
Secondary Domain: Superstition and Taboo.
 
TABOO2.BMP

 
…And for the people cunning enough to recognize Folly’s work, it makes a great scam. Witch-finders and self-proclaimed sorcerers easily buy up their Attributes from the gullible. At least until someone thinks they are the witch or warlock causing the problem.
 
 

Karma? Knowing that you actually deserve the suffering in your life? That your fortunate neighbor really is better than you? Oh, no, that’ll make people miserable.
 
Karma’s complicated, too. Life would be so much easier if people merely had to follow some simple, definite rule about some simple, definite activity such as what they eat or how they dress. Follow the rule, and you’re a good person. Or at least you think you are, and isn’t that what matters?
 
The Abrizons of Spim will not eat tribble on Fleenday. They believe Lhash’ka forbade it. (She didn’t.) The Buntins won’t eat dird at all, considering it defiled meat and a mortal sin to consume. The Middiks, on the other hand, believe one must eat dird every day. The fairies of Tropheria will not wear blue. The Quantim of Znitz always wear blue. Among the people of Mur’kl’ti’ga, all names must include at least one apostrophe, and it is death for a woman to show her left elbow to an man but her husband. A visitor to Fnee must wear a fish on his head for a week to prove he is not a demon.
 
And the chaos of luck isn’t any better. Things just happen? That your life is the plaything of chance? That’ll make people miserable, too.
 
I won’t allow it. It’s kinder to let them make up their own explanations. I’m sure they’ll be happier. Especially when their suffering happens because they did something stupid. And fear! Mortals have so much to fear that’s beyond their control. Let them have the illusion that there are reasons for their lives, reasons they might have some power to control.
 
SO MOTE IT BE.
 
Godrig was startled when the golden retreagle barked at him from the tree. It stuck in his mind. A week later, when he left his hearth unattended and his hut burned down, he remembered the golden retreagle. It was an omen! Godrig told everyone in his village to be wary when a golden retreagle barks. It portends disaster! Many people remembered other cases when they saw or heard golden retreagles before something bad happened. Soon, most people were convinced. From then on, the people of the village feared the evil omen of the golden retreagle. But they knew what to do. Catch the dird and burn it! Surely the sacrifice to Vaiyarran would burn away the ill luck!
 
The people of Nng wept and cried to E’il after three storms struck their island in close succession. What sin had they committed? What taboo had they broken? Then someone remembered the Eech on the shore. The huge, talking rock was of E’il. They beseeched it to intercede with its maker, to avert the storms. “How?” it asked. “I have no power over storms. I haven’t seen E’il since the god made me.” The Nngese were angry in their disappointment. One man said, “Perhaps it will not intercede because it called the storms! It does not suffer; it laughs as our boats are wrecked and our homes fall!” And many answered, “Yes, it is the Eech that brought the storms, the Eech is our enemy!” And so they expended great effort building rafts and ropes to drag the Eech off the shore and dump it out at sea. That meant the tribbles bred out of control, leaving the island nearly barren, but the Nngese rejoiced at their triumph.
 
Chewing strumweed cures blue fever. But the people of Jidrilezza refuse this gift of Mirth, no matter how many of them die. They saw their enemies the Orcks using strumweed for this purpose, and so do not believe it will help them. Indeed, some say that chewing strumweed might turn you into an Orck!
 
The people of Obrox believe that Quantim are demons. They festoon their homes with charms to prevent Quantim from entering to work evil upon them. No one on Obrox has seen a Quantim in generations, which they take as proof the charms are working.
 
The people of Pung He, on the other hand, think the Seaborn are witches and kill any of them they can catch. Any curse, they believe, can be lifted by eating the heart of a Seaborn.
 
The Orcks of Krung are determined and mighty hunters of tribbles and other prey. They attribute much of their prowess to the charms they make from the feathers of three rare dirds. Hunters who lose their charms are cast out and cannot return until they manage to slay the requisite dirds and make new ones: They would jinx the hunts otherwise.
 
The people of Kimble Kimble Kimble know how to identify a murderer, a thief or a witch. Each suspect carries a bit of snork meat. The witch-doctor carries a sacred dird from suspect to suspect: The dird snatches the meat from the guilty, who is slain at once before he can utter a curse. If it later turns out the dird was wrong, it means a sorcerer must have cast a spell to deceive it! Set up another lineup and bring out the dird…
 
And so on, across the countless islands. Humans, as Folly’s creatures, are most prone to fear witches and demons of their own imagining, to seek omens of good or bad luck in waves, clouds or the flight of butterflies, to believe they are cursed and must do something ridiculous to remove it, to wear or not wear something, to eat some foods and refuse others. But no one is completely immune — except maybe the Eech, who have very little to fear and very little choice in their stony lives.
 
Secondary Domain: Superstition and Taboo.
 
TABOO2.BMP

 
…And for the people cunning enough to recognize Folly’s work, it makes a great scam. Witch-finders and self-proclaimed sorcerers easily buy up their Attributes from the gullible. At least until someone thinks they are the witch or warlock causing the problem.
 
 

Karma? Knowing that you actually deserve the suffering in your life? That your fortunate neighbor really is better than you? Oh, no, that’ll make people miserable.
 
Karma’s complicated, too. Life would be so much easier if people merely had to follow some simple, definite rule about some simple, definite activity such as what they eat or how they dress. Follow the rule, and you’re a good person. Or at least you think you are, and isn’t that what matters?
 
The Abrizons of Spim will not eat tribble on Fleenday. They believe Lhash’ka forbade it. (She didn’t.) The Buntins won’t eat dird at all, considering it defiled meat and a mortal sin to consume. The Middiks, on the other hand, believe one must eat dird every day. The fairies of Tropheria will not wear blue. The Quantim of Znitz always wear blue. Among the people of Mur’kl’ti’ga, all names must include at least one apostrophe, and it is death for a woman to show her left elbow to an man but her husband. A visitor to Fnee must wear a fish on his head for a week to prove he is not a demon.
 
And the chaos of luck isn’t any better. Things just happen? That your life is the plaything of chance? That’ll make people miserable, too.
 
I won’t allow it. It’s kinder to let them make up their own explanations. I’m sure they’ll be happier. Especially when their suffering happens because they did something stupid. And fear! Mortals have so much to fear that’s beyond their control. Let them have the illusion that there are reasons for their lives, reasons they might have some power to control.
 
SO MOTE IT BE.
 
Godrig was startled when the golden retreagle barked at him from the tree. It stuck in his mind. A week later, when he left his hearth unattended and his hut burned down, he remembered the golden retreagle. It was an omen! Godrig told everyone in his village to be wary when a golden retreagle barks. It portends disaster! Many people remembered other cases when they saw or heard golden retreagles before something bad happened. Soon, most people were convinced. From then on, the people of the village feared the evil omen of the golden retreagle. But they knew what to do. Catch the dird and burn it! Surely the sacrifice to Vaiyarran would burn away the ill luck!
 
The people of Nng wept and cried to E’il after three storms struck their island in close succession. What sin had they committed? What taboo had they broken? Then someone remembered the Eech on the shore. The huge, talking rock was of E’il. They beseeched it to intercede with its maker, to avert the storms. “How?” it asked. “I have no power over storms. I haven’t seen E’il since the god made me.” The Nngese were angry in their disappointment. One man said, “Perhaps it will not intercede because it called the storms! It does not suffer; it laughs as our boats are wrecked and our homes fall!” And many answered, “Yes, it is the Eech that brought the storms, the Eech is our enemy!” And so they expended great effort building rafts and ropes to drag the Eech off the shore and dump it out at sea. That meant the tribbles bred out of control, leaving the island nearly barren, but the Nngese rejoiced at their triumph.
 
Chewing strumweed cures blue fever. But the people of Jidrilezza refuse this gift of Mirth, no matter how many of them die. They saw their enemies the Orcks using strumweed for this purpose, and so do not believe it will help them. Indeed, some say that chewing strumweed might turn you into an Orck!
 
The people of Obrox believe that Quantim are demons. They festoon their homes with charms to prevent Quantim from entering to work evil upon them. No one on Obrox has seen a Quantim in generations, which they take as proof the charms are working.
 
The people of Pung He, on the other hand, think the Seaborn are witches and kill any of them they can catch. Any curse, they believe, can be lifted by eating the heart of a Seaborn.
 
The Orcks of Krung are determined and mighty hunters of tribbles and other prey. They attribute much of their prowess to the charms they make from the feathers of three rare dirds. Hunters who lose their charms are cast out and cannot return until they manage to slay the requisite dirds and make new ones: They would jinx the hunts otherwise.
 
The people of Kimble Kimble Kimble know how to identify a murderer, a thief or a witch. Each suspect carries a bit of snork meat. The witch-doctor carries a sacred dird from suspect to suspect: The dird snatches the meat from the guilty, who is slain at once before he can utter a curse. If it later turns out the dird was wrong, it means a sorcerer must have cast a spell to deceive it! Set up another lineup and bring out the dird…
 
And so on, across the countless islands. Humans, as Folly’s creatures, are most prone to fear witches and demons of their own imagining, to seek omens of good or bad luck in waves, clouds or the flight of butterflies, to believe they are cursed and must do something ridiculous to remove it, to wear or not wear something, to eat some foods and refuse others. But no one is completely immune — except maybe the Eech, who have very little to fear and very little choice in their stony lives.
 
Secondary Domain: Superstition and Taboo.
 
TABOO2.BMP

 
…And for the people cunning enough to recognize Folly’s work, it makes a great scam. Witch-finders and self-proclaimed sorcerers easily buy up their Attributes from the gullible. At least until someone thinks they are the witch or warlock causing the problem.
 
 

The god of fear is out of control...
 

I was thinking of their warehouses, and where their ships dock: "Medici Wharf" or "East India Docks" - that kind of thing.
 
More generally, a neighbourhood can take on the name of the most prominent feature - "down by the Arsenal" can become "the Arsenal".
 

Tether
Coil
Drift
Driftwood
flounder
float
buoy
 
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Category:Sailing_ship_components
 
types of ships:
balinger
bark
barkentine
barge
bireme
brigantine
buss
caique
skiff
caracore
caravel
carrack
clipper
cog
corvette
cutter
dinghy
dhow
dogger
dory
dromon
frigate
galleon
gig
hulk
junk
ketch
longship
lugger
privateer
punt
schooner
scow
sloop
smack
tartan
tender
trireme
windjammer
yawl
 
Sailor's use a lot of knots https://www.101knots.com/category/sailing-knots
 
Some of the knots that sound interesting
 
Clove Hitch
Rolling Hitch
Thief Knot
Monkey's Fist

"At last we found it, the Lair of Heroes!" Shayd smiled triumphantly, the human woman grinned merrily, causing the old scar near her otherwise lovely lips to stretch a bit further still. She was game for anything, a swordswoman and an adventurer who had faced many challenged.
 
"Lair of Heroes? Hhmm, we of the Orck call it the Halls of the Brave," Drega, Daughter of Bu-ba, great tribble hunter, prepared her own curved weapon, "But yes, at last we found it! It will be glorious to find the treasures within!"
 
"I think our guide found it,' the  Raakastah mystic Growf pointed out with amusement.
 
"You are not going in?" the Charr-Lotti guide chitered, "I was told to show it to you, I did not think you would be so foolish. It is said to be sacred to the mother of night herself. Only the bravest are supposed to enter.. much danger."
 
Wink appeared,   the Quantim's grin manifesting first , "Oh but we are, don't worry, I'll take over the scouting once inside," Curiosity burned inside the fellow.
Their eight legged guide said "Go, if you be heroes, and claim what courage brings. I will wait here for those of you that do not meet the mark of hero."
Drega snarled, "Are you saying we are NOT brave enough?"
 
the little arachnid trembled, eliciting her disgust. With a spit to the side, she turned to enter in. 
Wink appeared before her, "Hold it, I'm the scout and finder of traps, I go first." And in the party went. They were adventurers, they were heroes.
And the guide who led them there gave a breath of a sigh and let them go.
It was dark within, but they'd prepared for that. With lights both natural and magical. It was magnificent.. tapestries of the finest weave, statues of the most iconic style, reliefs in the very walls; all of them of the same thing, of heroes! In dramatic poses , almost melodramatic really. Flexing their mighty sinews, showing a fearlessness.

Except in the eyes.
 
There were traps, of course, and odd creatures in the shadows. Terrifying actually. They were wounded, and cut...Drega fought seeking glory! Shayd had her back and laughed as if Mirth's death would be welcome. Growf's magic flames could be used for more than illumination, and Wink vanished, returned, and struck at their foes. But it was Shayd who felt was the bravest of all.
 
The heroes were victorious in this first great chamber, and Shayd admitted "Okay that was KIND of scary but I'm ready to on if you..." And she vanished!
"Shayd?" Drega gasped, then snarled "How did she just vanish?"
 
There, near a statue of a great Orck warrior of the past, was a tapestry that had not been there before. It was a work of art depicting a courageous warrior woman with a smile, a sword, and a scar - Shayd! She was as they last saw her, but unwounded, larger than life!
 
Doors behind them had vanished. 
 
"I think," Growf observed senses a tingle, "This is her, actually her. Oooo neat trick."
"Is it wrong to say yipes?" Wink swallowed.

Drega snarled at them both "We will not be afraid, we will find who has done this and MAKE them undo it. Some evil wizard has to be behind this. Well, wizards bleed!"

"Clearly," Growf said looking at the wound he himself had picked up in the fight before this, "But our passage back just closed."
Wink had opened up a door to a hallway that was not there before, and looked,  as choppers and swinging blades whirled back and  forth, "Well, I'll be fine, pretty sure you two are screwed."
 
"DISARM IT!" Drega bellowed.
 
Even this hallway with its traps seemed to have it's treasures. Gemstones of great worth spaced out like tile.
 
Wink vanished, appearinng in the hall and moved forward, and vanished again.. dodging blades, looking for the mechanism until he found it, "I can mess with the odd workings here, but I'll have to time my blinks perfectly to avoid the blades." His eyes lit up with concern.

"Well? What do we have you around for?" Drega snapped.

"Witty banter?" Wink joked, but to work he went. One second there, the next back again, each time another wire moved, another gear exposed, until- CLICK! WWhirr.. 
 
"You did it, Wink!" Growf yelled, "Wow! That was close!"

"I almost chickened out," Wink admitted, then held a thumb up ..and once more, vanished, but this wasn't with the usual dazzle and flash. he was just...gone.
Drega howled and raced down the now safe hall, Growf on her tail.
 
The painting was of Wink, jaunty rogue with thumb upraised with one hand, loose wires in the other, the very image of a guile hero having his moment!
"Oh" Growf whispered as he stared, "I think I understand now...Oh, that's funny.. and scary. ... but "  A breath "We best grab the tapestry and this painting. I'm not leaving without my friends."
 
"Leaving? We can't LEAVE? GLORY, HONOR!" Drega declared.
 
But Growf was gone!

There on a wall, was Growf, or rather, a mural showing the Rakasta looking stead fast and serene. Below him, words painted forever preserving his last phrase
"I'm not leaving without my friends."

And Drega screamed, backpeddling, swinging her weapon at empty shadows, "Come out, whoever you are, evil wizard, dark priest, come OUT! And fight me!"
 
And a voice echoed in the Lair of heroes, the Halls of the Brave, the place with so many names. Not to her ears, but inside her mind
No. 
"What? how are you in my head?" She saw nothing, nothing but the halls and its treasures which now included her allies.
 
Because you are in me. But I do not want you here. I only collect the bravest. Some gather too much courage in this world. They become a terrible danger to themselves , and others. It was, I suspect, meant as way to dishonor mother. But she loves people even when they don't deserve it, wants to protect them. That's why she made me. To take the fearless and keep them save for all time. To gather the courageous who would lead others astray and remove them from corrupting the impressionable.  
 
"Who, what ARE you?" She looked around, the term 'in me' causing realization.
 
You already have a name for me, every people, every nation, has a name for me. I am a person, a place, and a thing, though I can move I do so rarely. Stories of me go, and like bees to honey, the heroes come so I can save them from themselves and let them rest in honor. But if you wish to keep it informal, Call me, Dungeon! 
Passages opened up, a clear path, up and out an obvious exit.
Go, Dungeon said, it was not a request.
 
"I'm not afraid of you!" She snarled, but she could feel what courage she had literally leeching out of her.
 
I never said you were. But you are here BECAUSE you're scared! Scared not of death, not of me, but of being seen AS a coward. You are afraid of being afraid! And unwilling to face it! Do not worry... I will make you honest, but you have no place here.
 
Drega's hands began to shake, she could no longer hold onto her weapon.. Suddenly the darkness was looming in. Were there more monsters? She.. it was not that her fear of being seen as a coward was less. It was that other fears she had not had before were worming into her .Her courage was gone entirely.
 
RUN! Dungeon boomed in her coward heart, in her craven soul, RUN and live! YOU HAVE NO PLACE AMONG HEROES!
And Drega ran..
the old guide took her back to a town, white haired and shaking. Many decades later, if you went to the right tavern, you might ask an old orck named Drega timidly serving drinks while others tell tales of a hall of the brave, or Lair of heroes. Unlike those story tellers, she knows the truth about Dungeon. But you won't get the story out of her. She's too afraid to tell it.
 
*****
Monster Guardian Pick: The Dungeon, A living labyrinth which calls to the bravest heroes.. and keeps them safe, forever.
 
 
 

 
Dungeon keeps those with the highest courage scores 'safe' by transforming them into objects d' art and holding onto them. Those who don't cut the muster, well, they find themselves paying the entry and exit fee in the form of their courage.
 
Of course, if one had access to wishes, one might free a hero or two but where you gonna find those? It is said tribute might be paid to the goddess of fear to ask her to have her monster release a hero. Surely that would work. But most heroes in Dungeon? they're safe.. for eternity.
 
A hero's reward

Forum is being tetchy. Deleted until I can get the picture attachment to show.
 
Dean Shomshak