up, up, & away! i havn't had much time for vegetation (plenty of animalling & mineralizing though!) lately. ranai was staying with me to apartment search & job hunt, plus i've been kind of sick, & work has gotten to the mean seasons. most of my free time otherwise has been spent trying to keep my head above water in regards to my dnd game, since i sort of bit off more than i can chew & offered to dm two weeks in a row. now that that is all swept under the rug, i'm unspooling & letting the chips fall where they may, today. having danielle around was fun for me, though i can't imagine how much use i was. even when i've gone out i've been a bit of a mess. when will jenny come back? when o when.
it was while taking the poll here that i became cognizant of the fact that i really, really like blibdoolpoolp. first off, how cool would an aspect of blibdoolpoolp be? sure, it would have to be draped in sea weeds & fishing nets, but that very same pg-13ness is part of the allure. i mean, how creepy is an idol of a naked woman with a lobster head & claws? ew, am i right? secondly, what is up with her clergy having more flavor than literally any other church in dnd? i mean, with the priests being called "whips" & there being a martial arm to the church comprised of monks called "moniters," there is just the slightest peppering of detail; just enough to give you material to run with without being a straight jacket. her primary worshippers, the kuo-toans are kind of lack-luster as deep one pastiches, but i think a nice derro cultist could really bring some horror-at-the-point-of-a-knife to a party of classic adventurers.
crush their bones to make the flour for your pie crust all you want! i know that i will. sing a song of the sparse elephant graveyard located in the appian hills, written of in the mute book. o don't you begin to rise up in me, tongue. i will keep you on a steady course! with these withered limbs. shh. lest i speak of the White Tree, whose roots reach up & not down. whose mind is the mind of all the unthinking dead. let there be no fruit as anathema to us as the toadstool! heck, sally, while we're at it, lets say down with peas & lima beans. i'm sure we can dig up some demonic potentate for them while we're at it, can't we? shee-it. they could dig up one for us, after all. you with your soft knees & elbows swaddled in grey. will you drown us in wool? will you cut at us with shears? or i'll cut at you if you know what for. i know what for, between spoonfuls of cough syrup. hawk from a handsaw in ten seconds flat; twenty, tops. sour as the sweetest carmelized lemon rind when she kisses, but she ain't here with her bossom full of safe. all i've got is a pistol, chambers gummed up with cobwebs. its the way i like it. if you knew the first damn thing about spiders n' me, & you had a price on the old man's head? it's how you'd like 'em too. hell, i'm a prince on the old man's head. we'll show you a thing or two 'bout revolving. so you read the fine print on the back of your snake-oil bottle all you want. its a few chimes to late to stop me anyhow, even if i wanted to. plucked all the rose petals off 'long time ago, she loves me, she loves me not. no more time for the khaibits of ascians. soft-soled shoes on hard-wood floors. grandmother kali yuga in her chicken legg'ed gingerbread'ed house with a pocket full of 'em. rosies, i mean. heck how'm i still standing you may ask? may i refer you to the wallachia engine built by monsigneur camazotz in the lucky 16th. patent pending. & see also frater tzitzimme's amazing sigul, the rood of the zmei. we are dissolving & it is the face stamped on our last will & testament.