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jarienn972 · 4 years

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La Sirena - Chapter Two

Captain Swan Supernatural Summer 2020

Chapter Two of my @cssns is now here! I used Chapter One to set up each character’s POV of how they were brought together so this chapter will officially focus on their actual introduction as shipwreck survivor Lt. Killian Jones regains consciousness, discovering that he’s traded imprisonment on a pirate ship for a deserted paradise with a beautiful woman as his sole companion.

I have to thank all of the admins and creators of this fun event that allows all of us to stretch our creativity and I especially want to extend thanks for @kmomof4 for her wonderful beta and cheerleading assistance and to @courtorderedcake for the incredible artwork she created for this story!

This story can also be found on ff.net and AO3. Tumblr Chapter One

Chapter Two - Encountering an Angel

Killian woke with a jolt, body arching upright until his throbbing head protested. He sucked in a deep breath as he settled back to the ground, clutching at the sharp pains crisscrossing his rib cage. He felt as though he'd breathed in pure fire. Had he passed through purgatory straight to the flame and brimstone of hell?

No, no - he wasn't dead. Was he?

Bits and pieces of memory flashed within his mind. A map… That cursed island… Pirates… Escaping an abandoned, sinking ship… Clinging desperately to a makeshift raft of wooden planks until he'd slipped off into the depths. And then a cascade of pure gold beckoning him to paradise… or something like that.

But would the hereafter be this painful?

Pull yourself together, Jones. Use your wits.

He was still near the sea. The gentle lapping of waves against the shore and the squawk of seagulls sounded nearby. A wafting of crisp, salty air filled his nostrils as did the earthy scents of sand and rock. There was a solid surface beneath him. He'd made his way to land somehow, but where?

But when he dared open his eyes, even the diffused sunlight filtering through the canopy of palm fronds swaying overhead assaulted his vision. Squinting and shading his gaze with his outstretched hand, he allowed his pupils a few moments to adjust before rolling himself onto his right side and propping on an elbow to survey his surroundings. He spied the shoreline from where he lay yet he was a fair distance from the water's edge, sheltered amongst a grove of date palms, cycads and a few gnarled low trees that had branches laden with what appeared to be olives. A craggy outcrop of rocks was a short distance away and the stone barrier seemed to extend all the way out towards the sea.

He couldn't remember stumbling or even crawling this far from the shore. He barely recalled reaching the beach. He'd been so weak that he couldn't possibly have made it this far without assistance… All of his senses instantly went on full alert as he realized he must not be alone on this idyllic looking isle. Someone else was here but were they friend or foe? What a ridiculous question, Jones… Why spare your life if they intended to harm you?

His memory brought back hazy images of a woman's soft face framed by a halo of pale blonde hair just as his eyes drew skyward to gaze upon that same angelic visage looming above. Clad in a full length, flowing gown that was only a few shades paler than her porcelain skin, she had arrived as stealthily as a ghost. She eyed him quizzically, as though she were as surprised to see him alert as he was startled by her arrival.

He initially recoiled, not from fear, but rather from her abrupt appearance. Now that he was able to see her features clearly, he was transfixed by her ethereal beauty. Only a being sent from the heavens could ever be so lovely. Why this angel would ever want to aid such a broken man as him was beyond his comprehension.

Awake since dawn, she'd left the human's side for only a short while to catch some breakfast and to collect sweet water from the cavern spring. The man would likely be parched when he awakened but unlike her, he couldn't survive by drinking from the saline seas.

After he'd collapsed on the beach yesterday beside her tentacled form, she'd immediately transformed back to her humanoid self to drag his unconscious body away from the shore before the tide set in. He was heavier on land than he'd been in the water but she managed to pull him beneath the safety of the trees. She'd done her best to clean his wounds while he slept but with little knowledge of human physiology, she wasn't sure what else she could do.

She had remained close to him throughout the night, continuing to tend to his injuries as needed and to provide needed warmth. Never in her long life had she been in such intimate proximity to a human but every ounce of her being was insisting that this was where she was meant to be. Despite her species having been bred to lure humans to their demise, here she was seeking to save one of them.

The debris that she'd found him amongst was proof that he'd survived a shipwreck but she wasn't quite sure how. In the treacherous waters that surrounded these islands, no ship that sailed too close to the siren's cove could resist their call. For him to have been found alive, floating into her placid bay, he must have some special power. No man was immune to the siren song, yet here he was.

His sleep had been restless, which she had anticipated and attributed to his injury. The jagged laceration at his temple appeared to be the most serious but she assumed he could have wounds not visible on the surface. She was also concerned about the amount of seawater he may have swallowed. He'd spewed a fair portion when she'd rescued him but more could be lingering within his lungs as he was without the benefit of transformative gills. It would certainly bear watching once he awakened.

As she returned to the sheltered thicket carrying a ceramic jar of potable water, she was surprised to find him alert and staring directly at her face. In deference to her understanding of human modesty, she'd donned a simple, breezy, off-white linen column gown. It was horribly itchy but she feared overt nudity might offend her companion so she'd suffer for his sake.

She dipped her free hand into the water jug and withdrew an ancient, hammered copper cup that she extended towards him. "Drink," she instructed, firmly, yet politely, but the command wasn't spoken in English.

He quirked an eyebrow suspiciously until he could see that the cup contained water. He then softened his features and accepted the offering, gulping the contents a little too quickly in an attempt to quench his thirst. It was the first he'd ingested in at least a day and he was ever so thankful that it didn't smell or taste as though it had been drawn from the bilge tanks. But there was something strange to her statement - he'd understood her although his weary mind couldn't fathom why.

"Who are you?" she queried in that same familiar, yet foreign tongue.

His military training kicked in as he stammered out his rank and full, legal name. "Lieutenant… Lieutenant Killian Charles Arthur Jones…" He paused for a breath before adding the rest of his title. "Of His Majesty's Royal Navy. At your service, m'lady."

"Ah, English," the woman replied with a giggle as she switched to his language. "You didn't appear to be Greek."

"Greek?" he repeated, brow furrowed in confusion. "Was that what you just spoke?"

"It was, and I am surprised that you seemed to understand."

"I learned Ancient Greek in the Naval Academy, just not the conversational form. You speak both Ancient Greek and the King's English?"

"I speak many tongues, but Greek is native to me."

"So, is that where I've landed?"

"No, not exactly," she responded cryptically. "These isles owe their heritage to Greece, but they've no allegiance to that land any longer."

"What do you call this land then?" he pressed, trying to gather more information as to how far off-course his imprisonment by the pirates had taken him.

"No name you would recognize from any map or chart. Officially, these islands exist only within the world of myth and legend."

"I'm afraid I don't understand," he sighed, rubbing his aching head as he shifted his position onto his back. "How did I get here? Have I crossed over into the ever after with you as the angel welcoming me?"

"No, you are still amongst the living, Lieutenant Killian Charles Arthur Jones. You are still very weak from nearly drowning out there in the bay so you should rest to regain your strength."

"Aye…," he replied without argument. "But first, Killian will suffice. I've no need for formalities. It's just habit…" He broke off his sentence there, squeezing his eyes closed as he thought of the question he absolutely needed to ask but feared the answer. "Did anyone else reach these shores?"

"No, only yourself."

"Oh," was his dejected response as he turned his head away from her gaze. Neither dared elaborate as unspoken words weighed heavy but after a few moments of tense silence, he at last spoke up. "In my malaise, it would seem I've forgotten to ask for your name, lass."

The question elicited an odd response from her. She remained quiet far longer than he expected, as though she had to think about her reply. "No one has asked me that question in a very long time… My given name was Erimetha, but for simplicity's sake, you are welcome to call me Emma."

"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Emma," he said with a weak, pained smile crossing his lips.

"You should get more rest," she insisted. "I can see the exhaustion in your eyes but I promise, I will be here when you wake."

"You'll have no protest from me," he answered sluggishly as he allowed sleep to claim him once again.

**********

A few more hours of deep slumber had been much needed, allowing Killian's battered body and troubled mind to relax and try to heal. As he began to stir, the crackle of flames perked his ears right before he noted the acrid scent of wood smoke mixing with the marine air. His eyes looked skyward where beyond the canopy of palm fronds and olive branches, the heavens were awash with pastel tones while the twilight sun began its descent below the horizon.

Another day passed.

More than a week now passed since he'd debarked his ship for that ill-fated expedition.

More than a week passed since he'd last seen his brother.

Was Liam even searching for him? Did he believe his younger brother had perished? Did he know he'd been captured?

He didn't even have the slightest idea where he was so how could he expect Liam to locate him?

His audible, defeated sigh drew Emma's attention from the fire she was stoking.

"You seem quite distressed," she noted, to his chagrin.

"Yes, I suppose you could say that," he replied with clear irritation in his tone. "The events that have transpired over the course of this week have been rather overwhelming." He ignored the swell of nausea and the constant drumming within his skull to force himself into an upright, seated position. Muscles that hadn't been used since his escape from the pirate ship screamed in protest but he continued to push through all of the discomfort to look his alluring companion in the eye while she lowered herself to her knees.

She didn't wait for him to elaborate on whatever he'd endured, instead placing a woven reed basket onto the sand between them. "I thought you might be hungry," she said with an unassuming smile as she gave the basket a gentle push closer to him so he'd be able to inspect the contents. A quick glance downward revealed a bunch of bluish purple grapes, a few figs and a scattering of ripe green olives. "I have some freshly caught fish as well…"

"This is fine," he replied in a softened, more appreciative voice. "Best to take it easy so I don't lose my constitution, but thank you."

"I do believe you lost most of that constitution yesterday, but I absolutely understand," she chuckled, causing his cheeks to redden.

"Sorry about that… I really don't remember much after getting knocked off the ship's deck into the deep." He lowered his head with embarrassment. Vomiting in front of a beautiful woman was not generally the best first impression. He shyly reached for a handful of grapes, keeping his eyes averted as he popped one into his mouth, hopeful that the fruit would appease his growling stomach without further incident.

"My apologies. I didn't mean to further upset you," she replied as she slid further away from him. "It's been so long that I've clearly forgotten how to have a proper conversation…"

"You've no need to apologize," he retorted, extending his hand to grasp hers, staring into the melancholy of her emerald irises. "I am thankful for all you've done for this hapless sailor but is there no one else on this isle?"

"Not this far south. I chose this isolated isthmus long ago to escape others like me. It has been many years since I've had another creature to talk to who can actually talk back."

"You chose this isolation?" he repeated, incredulously.

"It was far preferable to what was expected of me…"

"Was it your family?" he pressed. "Were you unable to live up to what they required of you?" His curiosity was increasing with each inquiry, wondering if he might have more in common with this intriguing young woman. "Did you fall short of their expectations?"

"Not exactly," was her initial response, but she was caught unprepared by the introspective nature of his questioning. This human was proving he could be a kindred spirit in many ways but she wasn't ready to share. "Suffice it to say that I grew tired of their ideology and separated myself from their ways. It was best for all at the time."

He sensed there was so much more that she was holding back. His barrage of questions had opened a still-smarting wound and it was abundantly obvious that she wasn't ready to confide in him. Of course, if she had been alone on this shore for many years as she'd stated, it might be equally as long before he found rescue so there would be plenty of time to break down those walls. She'd saved his life. The least he could do in return was to help ease her troubles.

"You know, I'm a man who's spent a lifetime living in my brother's shadow, so if anyone understands what it is like to try to be something you're not, it would be me. Liam was always bigger, stronger, smarter… Graduated top of his class at the Naval Academy. Youngest ever Captain in His Majesty's Royal Navy. The bar was set pretty high and I was pushed to be just like him. I've never been good enough. I've worked hard to get where I am, but I'm not sure it's where I wanted to be… I took that stupid expedition into uncharted waters to prove that I was a leader and what happens? Pirates overtook us and most of my crew was slaughtered. The rest, myself included, were taken captive to be tortured and some were probably executed. Some leader I proved to be… I wish I'd never agreed to follow that cursed map!" He hung his head in shame, realizing that he shouldn't have unloaded so much baggage onto her. He didn't want her pity. "You must think I sound like a blabbering fool…"

"You sound like a man who's been trying to please his family rather than himself," she mused. "Perhaps fate brought you here to discover who you are?"

"You think this is the gods testing me?" he scoffed.

"If that is what you choose to believe."

"And you - were the gods testing you as well? Is that what caused our paths to cross here?"

"Perhaps more than you know," she replied cryptically as she pushed herself back up, brushing grains of loose sand from her gown as she stood. "It will be dark soon, but you will again be safe here for the evening. I shall leave the fruits here and you'll find the carafe of water there amongst the brush. Rest well, Killian."

"You as well, Emma."

He stared blankly at her departing silhouette as she strolled towards the flickering fire, the backlight of the flame giving her form an ethereal aura. Damn this woman! He might blame it on his concussion later but although he'd been coherent only a few scant hours, he was already entirely bewitched. He winced as his hand unconsciously rubbed the bruised and still raw skin adjacent to the gash at his forehead, momentarily speculating if this all might be some vivid hallucination or lucid dream.

Dream or not, he'd never experienced such a soulful connection with any person, yet alone any woman and it only solidified his desire to uncover her secrets. He'd gladly spend a lifetime trying.

#cssns #cssns20 #captain swan supernatural summer #cs ff #cs au ff #la sirena #siren emma

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a-dinosaur-a-day · 5 years

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Rupelramphastoides knopfi

By Ripley Cook

Etymology: Barbet from the Rupelian

First Described By: Mayr, 2005

Classification: Dinosauromorpha, Dinosauriformes, Dracohors, Dinosauria, Saurischia, Eusaurischia, Theropoda, Neotheropoda, Averostra, Tetanurae, Orionides, Avetheropoda, Coelurosauria, Tyrannoraptora, Maniraptoromorpha, Maniraptoriformes, Maniraptora, Pennaraptora, Paraves, Eumaniraptora, Averaptora, Avialae, Euavialae, Avebrevicauda, Pygostaylia, Ornithothoraces, Euornithes, Ornithuromorpha, Ornithurae, Neornithes, Neognathae, Neoaves, Inopinaves, Telluraves, Afroaves, Coraciimorphae, Cavitaves, Eucavitaves, Picocoraciae, Picodynastornithes, Piciformes, Pici, Ramphastides?

Status: Extinct

Time and Place: Between 31 and 30 million years ago, in the Rupelian of the Oligocene of the Paleogene

Rupelramphastoides is known from the Bott-Eder Grube-Unterfeld Quarry of Baden-Württemberg, Germany

Physical Description: Rupelramphastoides is the oldest known barbet-like bird - the barbets being a group of tree-dwelling birds that includes the iconic Toucans, though most barbest don’t have nearly as impressive beaks. This bird resembled its modern relatives in a lot of ways, which is notable given how old it is (still in the Paleogene, aka the first period of the time of modern birds). However, it is also one of the smallest members of the group overall, with very long and slender bones in its foot like modern toucans. Still, it had a small beak - more like non-toucan barbets - and a much smaller size than the living toucans. It had long and narrow arm bones but shorter fingers, giving the wings a more squat appearance at the ends. In general, its legs were slender, as were its toes, so perhaps Rupelramphastoides represents a transitional form between most barbets and the very weird toucans, though this is just conjecture. It probably wouldn’t have gotten much longer than 9 centimeters in overall body length, and it had a small head with a robust triangular beak.

Diet: It is uncertain what Rupelramphastoides ate, but like living barbets and toucans it probably mainly ate fruit, with mainly some supplementing of its diet with insects.

Behavior: Rupelramphastoides would have probably spent most of its time in the trees, hopping around and walking from branch to branch in search of food. It then probably would have stretched about to try and get food, using its beak to chomp into berries and other fruits. It could also use its long and skinny legs to stand up tall and reach food that it couldn’t otherwise. It probably lived in small flocks rather than big ones, and took care of their young. They also probably didn’t migrate. Like other members of the Pici, it was probably at least somewhat brightly colored, and used color in display to one another.

By Scott Reid

Ecosystem: Rupelramphastoides lived in a coastal/bay area, filled with estuaries and streams leading out into the ocean. This was a very lush habitat, filled to the brim with plants from algae ferns and cycads; to conifers, palms, roses, asterids, beeches, oaks, and cypresses. This dense coastal forest transitioned into water-based plants, and its possible there was some sort of a coastal swamp (a proto-mangrove swamp, even?) in the area. This is fascinating as this habitat existed just at the time of the global rainforest collapse, and the transition of the world into more varied and arid habitats - clearly, this particular coastal swamp was not hit by this event. Dozens of kinds of fish lived here, including things like trumpetfish, boarfishes, eels, ladyfish, sea robins, rockfish, shrimpfish, pipefish, sailfin moonfishes, halfbeaks, sea breams, weevers, and so many others that I just have to stop now. There were sharks and rays present as well, though not in as much diversity as the ray-finned fish. Insects such as beetles, flies, and butterflies were present, as well as spiders, crustaceans, snails, slugs, clams, oysters, and other invertebrates. Plenty of turtles were also present. Mammals were rarer in this habitat, but included extinct relatives of modern sea cows and bats; and a predatory Hyaenodont named Apterodon. Many different kinds of dinosaurs lived here alongside Rupelramphastoides, including the early hummingbird Eurotrochilus, the buttonquail Turnipax, the tody Palaeotodus, the (rare example of a) fossilized songbird Wieslochia, the mousebird Oligocolius, the trogon Primotrogon, the loon Colymboides, and the seabird Rupelornis that vaguely resembled modern albatrosses and petrels. In short, you could see a wide variety of ocean-going and tree-dwelling birds, as one would expect in a forested esturary area, and Rupelramphastoides probably mostly had to worry about predation from they Hyaenodonts in the area, rather than other birds.

Other: The exact phylogenetic affinities of Rupelramphastoides are very murkey, because a phylogenetic analysis has never been done on this dinosaur. Morphologically speaking it seems to be somewhere in the Barbet-Toucan clade, with similarities to both non-toucan barbets and the toucans, but it also has traits of other members of Pici such as the honeyguides, piculets, and woodpeckers, and so it can’t really be confirmed as a member of Ramphastides for now.

~ By Meig Dickson

Sources under the Cut

Frey, E., W. Munk, M. Böhme, M. Morlo, and M. Hensel. 2010. First creodont carnivore from the Rupelian Clays (Oligocene) of the Clay Pit Unterfeld at Rauenberg (Rhein-Neckar-Kreis, Baden-Württemberg): Apterodon rauenbergensis n.sp. Kaupia 17:103-113

Mayr, G. 2000. A new mousebird (Coliiformes: Coliidae) from the Oligocene of Germany. Journal of Ornithology 141(1):85-92

Mayr, G. 2004. Old World fossil record of modern-type hummingbirds. Science 304:861-864

Mayr, G. 2005. New trogons from the early Tertiary of Germany. Ibis 147(3):512-518

Mayr, G. 2005. A tiny barbet-like bird from the Lower Oligocene of Germany: the smallest species and earliest substantial fossil record of the Pici (Woopeckers and allies). The Auk 122 (4): 1055–1063.

Mayr, G., and A. Manegold. 2006. New specimens of the earliest European passeriform bird. Acta Palaeontologica Polonica 51(2):315-323

Mayr, G., and C. W. Knopf. 2007. A stem lineage representative of buttonquails from the Lower Oligocene of Germany – fossil evidence for a charadriiform origin of the Turnicidae. Ibis

Mayr, G. 2009. Paleogene Fossil Birds. Springer-Verlag Berlin Heidelberg.

Mayr, G. 2017. Avian Evolution: The Fossil Record of Birds and its Paleobiological Significance. Topics in Paleobiology, Wiley Blackwell. West Sussex.

Maxwell, E. E., S. Alexander, G. Bechly, K. Eck, E. Frey, K. Grimm, J. Kovar-Eder, G. Mayr, N. Micklich, M. Rasser, A. Roth-Nebelsick, R. B. Salvador, R. R. Schoch, G. Schweigert, W. Stinnesbeck, K. Wolf-Schwenninger, and R. Zeigler. 2016. The Rauenberg fossil Lagerstätte (Baden-Württemberg, Germany): A window into early Oligocene marine and coastal ecosystems of Central Europe. Palaeogeography, Palaeoclimatology, Palaeoecology 463:238-260

Micklich, N. R., J. C. Tyler, and G. D. Johnson, E., Swidnicka and A. F. Bannikov. 2009. First fossil records of the tholichthys larval stage of butterfly fishes (Perciformes, Chaetodontidae), from the Oligocene of Europe. Palaeontologische Zeitschrift 83:479-497

Micklich, N., and L. H. Hildebrandt. 2010. Emergency excavation in the Grube (Unterfeld) Frauenweiler clay pit (Oligocene Rupelian; Baden-Wurttemberg, S Germany): New records and palaeoenvironmental informatino. Kaupia 17:3-21

Micklich, N. 2011. Emergency excavation in the Grube Unterfeld (Frauenweiler) clay pit (Oligocene, Rupelian: Baden-Wurttemberg, S. Germany): New records and palaeoenvironmental information. European Association of Vertebrate Palaeontologists Program and Abstracts 9:42

Monninger, S., and E. Frey. 2008. Humming birds and sea cows at the foothills of Kraichgau: A unique fossile assemblage in the Reingraben near Karlsruhe. Meeting of the European Association of Vertebrate Palaeontologists 6:112

Prokofiev, A. M. 2012. Oligocene eel from the Frauenweiler site (Germany). Journal of Ichthyology 52(1):11-18

Wegner, T. 1917. Chelonia gwinneri Wegner from the Rupelton of Flörsheim a. M. Treatises of the Senckenbergische Naturforschenden Gesellschaft 354 : 361-372

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hellwaterholyfire · 4 years

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9 layers of hell

1st Circle - Limbo

Dante’s First Circle of Hell is resided by virtuous non-Christians and unbaptized pagans who are punished with eternity in an inferior form of Heaven. They live in a castle with seven gates which symbolize the seven virtues. Here, Dante sees many prominent people from classical antiquity such as Homer, Socrates, Aristotle, Cicero, Hippocrates, and Julius Caesar.

Pool of Blood, 血池地獄 Those who do not respect others will find themselves soaked in blood.

2nd Circle - Lust

In the Second Circle of Hell, Dante and his companion Virgil find people who were overcome by lust. They are punished by being blown violently back and forth by strong winds, preventing them from finding peace and rest. Strong winds symbolize the restlessness of a person who is led by the desire for fleshly pleasures. Again, Dante sees many notable people from history and mythology including Cleopatra, Tristan, Helen of Troy and others who were adulterous during their lifetime.

Chamber of Scissors, 剪刀地獄 if you steal someone’s husband/wife and break their marriage your fingers are eternally cut off.

3rd Circle - Gluttony

When reaching the Third Circle of Hell, Dante and Virgil find souls of gluttons who are overlooked by a worm-monster Cerberus. Sinners in this circle of Hell are punished by being forced to lie in a vile slush that is produced by never-ending icy rain. The vile slush symbolizes personal degradation of one who overindulges in food, drink, and other worldly pleasures, while the inability to see others lying nearby represents the gluttons’ selfishness and coldness. Here, Dante speaks to a character called Ciacco who also tells him that the Guelphs (a fraction supporting the Pope) will defeat and expel the Ghibellines (a fraction supporting the Emperor to which Dante adhered) from Florence which happened in 1302 before the poem was written (after 1308).

Chamber of Mortars and Pestles, 舂臼地獄 Those who voluntarily waste food will be forced to be feeded by demons with hell-fire.

4th Circle - Greed

In the Fourth Circle of Hell, Dante and Virgil see the souls of people who are punished for greed. They are divided into two groups – those who hoarded possessions and those who lavishly spent it – jousting. They use great weights as a weapon, pushing it with their chests which symbolizes their selfish drive for fortune during their lifetime. The two groups that are guarded by a character called Pluto (probably the ancient Greek ruler of the underworld) are so occupied with their actions that the two poets don’t try to speak to them. Here, Dante says to see many clergymen including cardinals and popes.

Chamber of Dismemberment, 磔刑地獄 Tomb raiders will find their body being torn into pieces.

Mountain of Flames, 火山地獄 Thieves, robbers and corrupt will be thrown into the flames in a hellish volcano.

Yard of Stone Mill, 石磨地獄 Those who subdue the weak, abuse their power and oppress the people will be crushed and pulverized in a stone mill.

Chamber of Saw, 刀鋸地獄 Those who exploit the loopholes in the law and engage in unfair practices in business will be sawn into half by demons.

5th Circle - Anger

The Fifth Circle of Hell is where the wrathful and sullen are punished for their sins. Transported on a boat by Phlegyas, Dante and Virgil see the furious fighting each other on the surface of the river Styx and the sullen gurgling beneath the surface of the water. Again, the punishment reflects the type of the sin committed during their lifetime. While passing through, the poets are approached by Filippo Argenti, a prominent Florentine politician who confiscated Dante’s property after his expulsion from Florence.

6th Circle - Heresy

When reaching the Sixth Circle of Hell, Dante and Virgil see heretics who are condemned to eternity in flaming tombs. Here, Dante talks with a couple of Florentines – Farinata degli Uberti and Cavalcante de’ Cavalcanti – but he also sees other notable historical figures including the ancient Greek philosopher Epicurus, Holy Roman Emperor Frederick II, and Pope Anastasius II. The latter, however, is according to some modern scholars condemned by Dante as a heretic by mistake. Instead, as some scholars argue, the poet probably meant the Byzantine Emperor Anastasius I.

Chamber of Tongue Ripping, 拔舌地獄 for those that gossip find their tongues ripped out.

Chamber of Iron Cycads, 鐵樹地獄 for those that cause discord between family members of others will be speared through the center by long iron stalks or cycads.

7th Circle - Violence

The Seventh Circle of Hell is divided into three rings. The Outer Ring houses murderers and others who were violent to other people and property. Here, Dante sees Alexander the Great (disputed), Dionysius I of Syracuse, Guy de Montfort and many other notable historical and mythological figures such as the Centaurus, sank into a river of boiling blood and fire. In the Middle Ring, the poet sees suicides who have been turned into trees and bushes which are fed upon by harpies. But he also sees here profligates, chased and torn to pieces by dogs. In the Inner Ring are blasphemers and sodomites, residing in a desert of burning sand and burning rain falling from the sky.

Town of Suicide, 枉死地獄 People who commit suicide will find themselves wandering in the city . The wind of sorrow and the rain of pain lash day and night this desolate place. They are those who have voluntarily altered the karmic course of the Incarnation.

Forest of Copper Column, 銅柱地獄 Arsonists for retaliation will be bound to columns of glowing copper.

Mountain of Knifes, 刀山地獄

Those who kill sentient beings with knife without a reason or for pleasure will find themselves climbing a hill of knifes. Sinners are made to shed blood by climbing a mountain with sharp blades sticking out.

Cauldron of Boiling Oil, 油鍋地獄 Rapists, thieves, abusers, false accusers will be boiled in fried oil.

Chamber of Ox, 牛坑地獄 Those who abuse animals will find themselves being bullied by animals.

Chamber of Rock, 石壓地獄 Those who abandon or kill babies will hold a heavy rock (and eventually crashed) and will be surrounded by putrid water.

8th Circle - Fraud

The Eight Circle of Hell is resided by the fraudulent. Dante and Virgil reach it on the back of Geryon, a flying monster with different natures, just like the fraudulent. This circle of Hell is divided into 10 Bolgias or stony ditches with bridges between them. In Bolgia 1, Dante sees panderers and seducer. In Bolgia 2 he finds flatterers. After crossing the bridge to Bolgia 3, he and Virgil see those who are guilty of simony. After crossing another bridge between the ditches to Bolgia 4, they find sorcerers and false prophets. In Bolgia 5 are housed corrupt politicians, in Bolgia 6 are hypocrites and in the remaining 4 ditches, Dante finds hypocrites (Bolgia 7), thieves (Bolgia 7), evil counselors and advisers (Bolgia 8), divisive individuals (Bolgia 9) and various falsifiers such as alchemists, perjurers, and counterfeits (Bolgia 10).

Chamber of Steamer, 蒸籠地獄 Hypocrites and troublemakers will find their punishment in a steamer.

Hill of Ice, 冰山地獄

Schemers, deceivers of elders (including parents) and adulterers will be left naked in freezing cold.

9th Circle - Treachery

The last Ninth Circle of Hell is divided into 4 Rounds according to the seriousness of the sin. Though all residents are frozen in an icy lake. Those who committed more severe sin are deeper within the ice. Each of the 4 Rounds is named after an individual who personifies the sin. Thus Round 1 is named Caina after Cain who killed his brother Abel, Round 2 is named Antenora after Anthenor of Troy who was Priam’s counselor during the Trojan War, Round 3 is named Ptolomaea after Ptolemy (son of Abubus), while Round 4 is named Judecca after Judas Iscariot, the apostle who betrayed Jesus with a kiss.

DEMON CREATION:

Chamber of Mirrors of Retribution, 孽镜地狱 To those who managed to escape the punishment for their crimes during earthly life will be shown their true shape.

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superpickthewise20posts-blog · 4 years

Text

Consistently is Dewsday in the timberland …

The dew point is ‘the temperature to which a volume of muggy air must be cooled … for water fume to gather into fluid water in any case, 'what is the purpose of dew’? That is an alternate inquiry, however one which may have been replied by Michael Latakos et al. – at any rate in a herbal setting. In their interesting investigation (New Phytologist194: 245–253, 2012) they exhibit that dew – 'dense water that structures on a strong surface’ – is produced on the bark of understorey trees in a marsh woodland in French Guiana until early evening, due to the warm properties of the trunks.

Decent work! Notwithstanding the article, I likewise prescribe Michael Proctor’s astute discourse consequently (New Phytolologist194: 10–11, 2012). Incidentally, however, comparative decisions about the significance of dew were come to by Khumbudzo Maphangwa et al., who analyzed an inside and out drier condition where 'differential capture attempt and dissipation of mist, dew and water fume and basic aggregation by lichens clarify their relative bounty in a waterfront desert’ (Journal of Arid Environments82: 71–80, 2012). Similarly as new hydrobotanical revelations are made over the ground, updates on another, down beneath. Utilizing neutron tomography, Ahmad Moradi and associates have evaluated and 3-D pictured the water content in situ in the rhizospheres of chickpea (Cicer arietinum), white lupin (Lupinus albus) and maize.

Finding that – irrationally – soil water content expanded towards the root surface for every one of the three animal categories, the group recommend that plants change the pressure driven properties of the rhizosphere’s dirt in a manner that improves water take-up under dry conditions. This 'repository’ of water can be seen as a save that enables the plants to conquer brief times of dry season. Pressure driven lift Rebecca Neumann and Zoe Cardon, New Phytologist194: 337–352, 2012), anybody?

In attempting to urge my understudies to consider the structure–work issues in being a land plant, I frequently joke that all plants truly need to be trees when they grow up, to order assets, conceal out rivalry, and so on. Also, you can – nearly – trust it is valid; all things considered, greeneries seek to be trees , monocots need arborescence, cycads are wannabe mammoth redwoods, and even the grasses contain bamboos .

What’s more, why not? This living thing is a definitive exhibit of the grandiose statures that can be scaled without anyone else supporting natural structures utilizing the most essential of 'fixings’ (tallest surviving tree – purportedly – is a coast redwood, Sequoia sempervirens, at 115·56 m. Also, ostensibly, trees speak to the longest-lived living thing on earth – 9554 years for a Norway tidy in Sweden (James Owen, National Geographic News April 14, 2008).

Furthermore, it’s no mishap that the entire of creation is imagined as branches on the TREE of life. All things considered, another lift to yearning of the way of life ligneous – on the off chance that it were required – Here pickthewise is given by Stagoll et al. (Protection Letters5: 115–122, 2012), who underline the significance of enormous trees as 'cornerstone structures’ in urban stops in giving 'urgent living space assets for untamed life’, particularly feathered creatures. Cornerstone structures are 'particular spatial structures giving assets, safe house or “merchandise and enterprises” significant for other species’ (Tews et al., Journal of Biogeography31: 79–92, 2004), and are unmistakable from the more recognizable idea of cornerstone species.

This exploration stresses the environment administrations job of trees and broadens a past report by three of the present paper’s co-creators (Manning et al., Biological Conservation132: 311–321, 2006) on the cornerstone job of trees in less urban – however similarly human-oversaw – situations. Review trees right now makes the significant point that even a dead structure can assume a significant job in biology; what better heritage for a real existence? Which leads on to your finish of-year Botany Exam question: 'Trees contribute more in death than when alive. Examine’. [I’m so happy that Mr P. Cuttings opposed the compulsion to ask: 'What did Mack Sennett call a little gathering of trees? Answer: A cornerstone thicket’ – Ed.

What does ethnobotany intend to you?

I’m most likely not the only one in partner ethnobotany with stories of derring-do, normally including difficult treks through insufferably hot, mosquito-pervaded, infection ridden marshes or wildernesses in remote of the tropics looking for 'goodness-comprehends what-however we’ll-remember it-when-we-discover it’. Indeed, ethnobotany – which endeavors to 'report, portray and clarify complex connections among societies and (employments of) plants, concentrating fundamentally on how plants are utilized, overseen and seen across human social orders’ – isn’t confined to the more difficult to reach portions of the world.

It tends to be discovered right close to home, as Łukasz Łuczaj and Monika Kujawska exhibit in their investigation of wild nourishment plants recollected by Polish botanists during youth (Botanical Journal of the Linnean Society168: 334–343, 2012). Their recognitions were contrasted with ethnobotanical concentrates from the 21st and mid-twentieth Centuries.

Two of the ethnobotanical examines provided more extravagant material on past starvation plants, though the botanists referenced many outsider plants and plants from urban natural surroundings not referenced in the ethnographical investigation. Unfortunately(!), the investigation reasoned that, in spite of the fact that botanists are perhaps the best wellspring of data for investigations of contemporary or new employments of plants, they were insufficient for utilizes that are vanishing.

As we face an eventual fate of dubious nourishment security, it will be progressively critical to recognize 'overlooked’ nourishment plants, regardless of whether at home or abroad, and to meet the individuals who have that neighborhood information. Albeit oft-disparaged, these alleged 'nearby information frameworks’ (LKSs), which 'comprise of the information, convictions, conventions, practices, organizations, and perspectives created and continued by indigenous and neighborhood networks’, merit (request?) to be abused for their 'latent capacity and built up estimation of ethnobiological information and its related plant and creature assets for nearby networks and society everywhere’ (Ina Vandebroek et al., Journal of Ethnobiology and Ethnomedicine7: 35, 2011). Thus, much as I like botanists, if it’s a decision between the 'savvy lady’ realistic

Pharmacopeia Shakespeariensis

Proceeding with an ethnobotanical topic, another incredible wellspring of data in regards to society employments of plants is the compositions of the Bard of Avon , England’s own special quillmeister, William Shakespeare. Take, for instance, this line from Hamlet (Act 4, Scene V); Ophelia (to Laertes), 'rosemary, that is for recognition . Old spouses’ story , or wise counsel (sorry, play on words recognized, however accidental)? Work by Mark Moss and Lorraine Oliver (Therapeutic Advances in Psychopharmacology, in press, 2012) proposes the last mentioned.

They have shown that presentation on psychological undertakings is fundamentally identified with convergence of assimilated 1,8-cineole (eucalyptol: 1,3,3-trimethyl-2-oxabicyclo[2,2,2]octane – a constituent of rosemary, Rosmarinus officinalis, basic oil). The impacts were found for both speed and exactness results; which isn’t actually 'recognition’, however related. Of more straightforward association in treating mind related disarranges is news that a semi-refined concentrate of the foundation of Withania somnifera 'turns around Alzheimer’s sickness pathology by improving low-thickness lipoprotein receptor-related protein in liver’ (Neha Segal et al., PNAS109: 3510–3515).

I’m not so much sure what this implies, however I do realize it is welcome and empowering news for Alzheimer infection (AD) sufferers, since AD is the 'most basic type of dementia … for which there is no fix … and which intensifies as it advances and inevitably prompts passing … and is anticipated to influence 1 of every 85 individuals all inclusive by 2050. Alright, so much for the AD transgenic mice – in which test-living beings the work was performed – shouldn’t something be said about the human sufferers? Almost certainly treatment for those well evolved creatures is still a few years awa https://pickthewise.com/best-outdoor-wifi-cameras.

#pickthewise #best pickthewise

1 note · View note

thepickthewise20-blog · 4 years

Text

Consistently is Dewsday in the timberland …

The dew point is 'the temperature to which a volume of muggy air must be cooled … for water fume to gather into fluid water in any case, 'what is the purpose of dew'? That is an alternate inquiry, however one which may have been replied by Michael Latakos et al. – at any rate in a herbal setting. In their interesting investigation (New Phytologist194: 245–253, 2012) they exhibit that dew – 'dense water that structures on a strong surface' – is produced on the bark of understorey trees in a marsh woodland in French Guiana until early evening, due to the warm properties of the trunks.

Decent work! Notwithstanding the article, I likewise prescribe Michael Proctor's astute discourse consequently (New Phytolologist194: 10–11, 2012). Incidentally, however, comparative decisions about the significance of dew were come to by Khumbudzo Maphangwa et al., who analyzed an inside and out drier condition where 'differential capture attempt and dissipation of mist, dew and water fume and basic aggregation by lichens clarify their relative bounty in a waterfront desert' (Journal of Arid Environments82: 71–80, 2012). Similarly as new hydrobotanical revelations are made over the ground, updates on another, down beneath. Utilizing neutron tomography, Ahmad Moradi and associates have evaluated and 3-D pictured the water content in situ in the rhizospheres of chickpea (Cicer arietinum), white lupin (Lupinus albus) and maize.

Finding that – irrationally – soil water content expanded towards the root surface for every one of the three animal categories, the group recommend that plants change the pressure driven properties of the rhizosphere's dirt in a manner that improves water take-up under dry conditions. This 'repository' of water can be seen as a save that enables the plants to conquer brief times of dry season. Pressure driven lift Rebecca Neumann and Zoe Cardon, New Phytologist194: 337–352, 2012), anybody?

What's more, why not? This living thing is a definitive exhibit of the grandiose statures that can be scaled without anyone else supporting natural structures utilizing the most essential of 'fixings' (tallest surviving tree – purportedly – is a coast redwood, Sequoia sempervirens, at 115·56 m. Also, ostensibly, trees speak to the longest-lived living thing on earth – 9554 years for a Norway tidy in Sweden (James Owen, National Geographic News April 14, 2008).

Furthermore, it's no mishap that the entire of creation is imagined as branches on the TREE of life. All things considered, another lift to yearning of the way of life ligneous – on the off chance that it were required – Here pickthewise is given by Stagoll et al. (Protection Letters5: 115–122, 2012), who underline the significance of enormous trees as 'cornerstone structures' in urban stops in giving 'urgent living space assets for untamed life', particularly feathered creatures. Cornerstone structures are 'particular spatial structures giving assets, safe house or "merchandise and enterprises" significant for other species' (Tews et al., Journal of Biogeography31: 79–92, 2004), and are unmistakable from the more recognizable idea of cornerstone species.

This exploration stresses the environment administrations job of trees and broadens a past report by three of the present paper's co-creators (Manning et al., Biological Conservation132: 311–321, 2006) on the cornerstone job of trees in less urban – however similarly human-oversaw – situations. Review trees right now makes the significant point that even a dead structure can assume a significant job in biology; what better heritage for a real existence? Which leads on to your finish of-year Botany Exam question: 'Trees contribute more in death than when alive. Examine'. [I'm so happy that Mr P. Cuttings opposed the compulsion to ask: 'What did Mack Sennett call a little gathering of trees? Answer: A cornerstone thicket' – Ed.

What does ethnobotany intend to you?

I'm most likely not the only one in partner ethnobotany with stories of derring-do, normally including difficult treks through insufferably hot, mosquito-pervaded, infection ridden marshes or wildernesses in remote of the tropics looking for 'goodness-comprehends what-however we'll-remember it-when-we-discover it'. Indeed, ethnobotany – which endeavors to 'report, portray and clarify complex connections among societies and (employments of) plants, concentrating fundamentally on how plants are utilized, overseen and seen across human social orders' – isn't confined to the more difficult to reach portions of the world.

As we face an eventual fate of dubious nourishment security, it will be progressively critical to recognize 'overlooked' nourishment plants, regardless of whether at home or abroad, and to meet the individuals who have that neighborhood information. Albeit oft-disparaged, these alleged 'nearby information frameworks' (LKSs), which 'comprise of the information, convictions, conventions, practices, organizations, and perspectives created and continued by indigenous and neighborhood networks', merit (request?) to be abused for their 'latent capacity and built up estimation of ethnobiological information and its related plant and creature assets for nearby networks and society everywhere' (Ina Vandebroek et al., Journal of Ethnobiology and Ethnomedicine7: 35, 2011). Thus, much as I like botanists, if it's a decision between the 'savvy lady' realistic

Pharmacopeia Shakespeariensis

Proceeding with an ethnobotanical topic, another incredible wellspring of data in regards to society employments of plants is the compositions of the Bard of Avon , England's own special quillmeister, William Shakespeare. Take, for instance, this line from Hamlet (Act 4, Scene V); Ophelia (to Laertes), 'rosemary, that is for recognition . Old spouses' story , or wise counsel (sorry, play on words recognized, however accidental)? Work by Mark Moss and Lorraine Oliver (Therapeutic Advances in Psychopharmacology, in press, 2012) proposes the last mentioned.

They have shown that presentation on psychological undertakings is fundamentally identified with convergence of assimilated 1,8-cineole (eucalyptol: 1,3,3-trimethyl-2-oxabicyclo[2,2,2]octane – a constituent of rosemary, Rosmarinus officinalis, basic oil). The impacts were found for both speed and exactness results; which isn't actually 'recognition', however related. Of more straightforward association in treating mind related disarranges is news that a semi-refined concentrate of the foundation of Withania somnifera 'turns around Alzheimer's sickness pathology by improving low-thickness lipoprotein receptor-related protein in liver' (Neha Segal et al., PNAS109: 3510–3515).

I'm not so much sure what this implies, however I do realize it is welcome and empowering news for Alzheimer infection (AD) sufferers, since AD is the 'most basic type of dementia … for which there is no fix … and which intensifies as it advances and inevitably prompts passing … and is anticipated to influence 1 of every 85 individuals all inclusive by 2050. Alright, so much for the AD transgenic mice – in which test-living beings the work was performed – shouldn't something be said about the human sufferers? Almost certainly treatment for those well evolved creatures is still a few years awa https://pickthewise.com/best-outdoor-wifi-cameras.

#Pickthewise #best pickthewise

1 note · View note

pickthewise20-blog · 4 years

Text

Consistently is Dewsday in the timberland …

This broad window of hydration – up to 0·69 mm of dewfall a day – Pickthewise is instrumental in dragging out photosynthesis, of epiphytic crustose lichens specifically. The group recommend that this wonder might be a progressively broad component of woodland environments around the world, and this up to this point unrecognized system of early afternoon dew arrangement adds to the water supply of most corticolous (bark-staying) life forms. Decent work! Notwithstanding the article, I likewise prescribe Michael Proctor's astute discourse consequently (New Phytolologist194: 10–11, 2012). Incidentally, however, comparative decisions about the significance of dew were come to by Khumbudzo Maphangwa et al., who analyzed an inside and out drier condition where 'differential capture attempt and dissipation of mist, dew and water fume and basic aggregation by lichens clarify their relative bounty in a waterfront desert' (Journal of Arid Environments82: 71–80, 2012).

Similarly as new hydrobotanical revelations are made over the ground, updates on another, down beneath. Utilizing neutron tomography, Ahmad Moradi and associates have evaluated and 3-D pictured the water content in situ in the rhizospheres of chickpea (Cicer arietinum), white lupin (Lupinus albus) and maize. Finding that – irrationally – soil water content expanded towards the root surface for every one of the three animal categories, the group recommend that plants change the pressure driven properties of the rhizosphere's dirt in a manner that improves water take-up under dry conditions. This 'repository' of water can be seen as a save that enables the plants to conquer brief times of dry season. Pressure driven lift Rebecca Neumann and Zoe Cardon, New Phytologist194: 337–352, 2012), anybody?

I need to be … a tree!

All things considered, another lift to yearning of the way of life ligneous – on the off chance that it were required – Pickthewise is given by Stagoll et al.(Protection Letters5: 115–122, 2012), who underline the significance of enormous trees as 'cornerstone structures' in urban stops in giving 'urgent living space assets for untamed life', particularly feathered creatures. Cornerstone structures are 'particular spatial structures giving assets, safe house or "merchandise and enterprises" significant for other species' (Tews et al., Journal of Biogeography31: 79–92, 2004), and are unmistakable from the more recognizable idea of cornerstone species.

What does ethnobotany intend to you?

Indeed, ethnobotany – which endeavors to 'report, portray and clarify complex connections among societies and (employments of) plants, concentrating fundamentally on how plants are utilized, overseen and seen across human social orders' – isn't confined to the more difficult to reach portions of the world. It tends to be discovered right close to home, as Łukasz Łuczaj and Monika Kujawska exhibit in their investigation of wild nourishment plants recollected by Polish botanists during youth (Botanical Journal of the Linnean Society168: 334–343, 2012). Their recognitions were contrasted with ethnobotanical concentrates from the 21st and mid-twentieth Centuries.

Pharmacopeia Shakespeariensis

Old spouses' story , or wise counsel (sorry, play on words recognized, however accidental)? Work by Mark Moss and Lorraine Oliver (Therapeutic Advances in Psychopharmacology, in press, 2012) proposes the last mentioned. They have shown that presentation on psychological undertakings is fundamentally identified with convergence of assimilated 1,8-cineole (eucalyptol: 1,3,3-trimethyl-2-oxabicyclo[2,2,2]octane – a constituent of rosemary, Rosmarinus officinalis, basic oil). The impacts were found for both speed and exactness results; which isn't actually 'recognition', however related. Of more straightforward association in treating mind related disarranges is news that a semi-refined concentrate of the foundation of Withania somnifera 'turns around Alzheimer's sickness pathology by improving low-thickness lipoprotein receptor-related protein in liver' (Neha Segal et al., PNAS109: 3510–3515).

. Alright, so much for the AD transgenic mice – in which test-living beings the work was performed – shouldn't something be said about the human sufferers? Almost certainly treatment for those well evolved creatures is still a few years awa https://pickthewise.com/best-outdoor-wifi-cameras.

#Pickthewise #best pickthewise

1 note · View note

prof-cycad · 7 months

Text

Most Bug Types don't require as much sleep as other types of pokemon, but there are quite a few Bug Types that require more sleep than a drowsy Slowbro!

During their first two years, Sizzlipede sleep for about 18 hours a day. They take countless Meowth-naps throughout their day, sometimes only a few minutes per nap!

Pinsir, unlike their Heracross cousins, actually have a sleep pattern very similar to that of a human. They become very sleepy when the sun goes down, and will return to the same sleeping spot every night.

#pokemon headcanons #professor cycad #cycad speaks #pokeblogging #pokemon behavior

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circe-poetica · 5 years

Text

Cernunnos

Cernnunos - Ancient Celtic God

by J. M Reinbold

Cernnunos Sleeps (2) The Old God sleeps down in the dark, moist, odorous underfoot, Waiting for us To put down our roots.

The God In The Wild Wood (3) At the Sacred Centre, in the Grove of all Worlds, He sits with legs crossed beneath an ancient Oak. Entranced, connecting the three worlds Earth, Sea, and Sky, and the worlds behind the worlds, the god and the Great Tree are One, His immense limbs widespread, stretching into distant sky and starry space.

His massive trunk, spine of the Middleworld, is the heart of the Ancient Forest around which all Life, all worlds turn; His limitless root web growing deep into secret earth and Underworld; above him the great turning circles of Sun, Moon, and Stars. All around Him subtle movements of the leaves in melodious, singing air; everywhere the pulsing, gleaming Green awash in drifts of gold and shimmering mist; beneath Him soft moss creeping over the dark, deep, moist of spawning earth. At His feet is the great Cauldron from which the Five Rivers Flow.

Through the forest stillness they come, whispering wings and secret glide, rustling leaves, and silent step, the first Ancestors, the Oldest Animals, to gather around Him: Blackbird, Keeper of the Gate; Stag of Seven Tines, Master of Time; Ancient Owl, Crone of the Night; Eagle, Lord of the Air, Eye of the Sun; and Salmon, Oldest of the Old, Wisest of the Wise leaping from the juncture of the Five Springs. He welcomes them and blesses them, and they honour Him, Cernnunos of the nut brown skin and lustrous curling hair; the god whose eyes flash star-fire, whose flesh is a reservoir of ancient waters, His cells alive with Mystery, original primeval essence. Naked, phallus erect, He wears a crown of antlers limned in green fire and twined with ivy. In his right hand the Torq of gold, testament of his nobility and his sacred pledge; in his left hand the horned serpent symbol of his sexual power sacred to the Goddess. Cernnunos in His Ancient Forest, His Sacred Temple, His Holy Grove, Cernnunos and His children dream the Worlds.

The Origins of Cernnunos Cernnunos, a nature and fertility god, has appeared in a multitude of forms and made himself known by many names to nearly every culture throughout time. He is perhaps best known to us now in his Celtic aspects of the untamed Horned God of the Animals and the leaf-covered Green Man, Guardian of the Green World, but He is much older. Cernnunos worked his magic when the first humans were becoming. Our prehistoric ancestors knew him as a shape-shifting, shamanic god of the Hunt. He is painted in caves and carved everywhere, on cliffs, stones, even in the Earth Herself. Humans sought to commune with Him and receive his power and that of his animal children by dressing themselves in skins and skulls, adorning themselves with feathers and bones, by dancing His dance. Yet He is older still. In the time of the dinosaurs, the great swamps and subtropical forests of cycads, seed ferns and conifers, and later in the time of the deciduous plants and flowers, when the pollinators came and the first tiny mammals were creeping up from beneath the ground, Cernnunos was the difference and diversity of life, the frenzy and ferment of evolution. But, He is much older still. He is oldest of the Ancient Ones, first born of the Goddess. At the time of First Earth, Cernnunos grew in the womb of the All Mother, Anu, waiting to be born, to come forth to initiate the everlasting, unbroken Circle of Life.

The Many Faces & Natures Of Cernnunos Cernnunos, as The Horned God, Lord of the Animals is portrayed as human or half human with an antler crown. Though he wears a human face his energy and his concerns are non-human. He is protector of animals and it is Cernnunos who is the law-sayer of hunting and harvest. While He is recognized most often through his connection to animals and our own deeply buried, dimly recalled, instinctual animal natures, Cernnunos is also a tree, forest, and vegetation god in his foliate aspect of The Green Man, Guardian of the Green World. His branching antlers symbolize the spreading treetops of the forest as well as his animal nature. As Master of the Sacrificial Hunt, His is the life that is given in service of new life. His wisdom is that the old must pass away to make way for the new.

In his Underworld aspect Cernnunos is The Dark Man, the god who dwells in the House Beneath the Hill, the Underworld. He is the one who comforts and sings the souls of the dead to their rest in the Summerlands of the Otherworld. Cernnunos, as Master of the Wild Hunt, who pursues the souls of evil doers, is not associated with a biblical or even modern morality, but with the protection and continuance of the Land and Nature and the spirits that dwell therein.

Pan, lusty Satyr god of the Greeks is another aspect of the Horned God. ‘Pan is a proud celebration of the liberating power of male erotic energy in its purest and most beautiful form.’ (5) He is portrayed as playful and cunning, but He also has a darker, dangerous nature. The panic or terror often associated with Pan is not related to human violence, but to the Life and Death of the natural world. In this form he is called the "All Devourer." However, Pan, as Protector of the Wilderness and as a god prone to fits of madness and violence, can induce panic or wild fear in those who threaten his domain.

Cernnunos appears again in Elizabethan England, and is mentioned by Shakespeare, as Herne the Hunter, the demon and guardian of Windsor Forest, the Royal Wood. In this aspect it is said that he appears as Guardian of the Realm during times of National emergency and crisis. In modern times he is often called the God of the Witches and embodies uncorrupted masculine energy. A masculine energy that is fully-developed and in balance with the natural world

Cernnunos & The Sacred Wheel Of The Year We celebrate and honour Cernnunos as the Green Man in spring and summer, the light half of the year and as the Dark One or the Dark God in autumn and winter, the dark half of the year. He appears in spring as the young Son, child of the Goddess, embodiment of the budding, growing, greening world. In summer He is the Green Man, vibrant, pulsing with life essence, the consort of the Green Lady Goddess. It is in autumn, the dying time, that perhaps we see the Horned God most clearly. He is the sacrificed one, who, wounded unto death begins his journey to the Underworld, returning to the Earth from which he was born and where the seeds of light released from his decaying body will quicken Her womb with a new Sun once again.

The Path To Cernnunos The path to Cernnunos is both through the natural world: seeking out the wild places and a deep understanding of the processes of growth, bounty, decay, rest, and rebirth, and through Otherworld journeys to the Middleworld forest of which he is guardian. One may experience this both actually and symbolically by following the path that disappears over the horizon into the distance and moves away from the ‘civilized’ world and into the heart of the Wild Wood. Often experienced as traveling away from the centre to the perimeter, this is in actuality a return to the Centre. When the seeker reaches the god's forest the track ends, and her/his pathways are found by other means. After entering the Wildwood the seeker cannot be followed, nor can s/he follow another. Whatever pathways are discovered disappear in passing, and the Wood is trackless once again, for each one's way is different. In the Forest of Cernnunos there is a stillness, an otherworldly feeling, as if one has passed out of time. Here the mind is not supreme. It is instinct, the innate wisdom of the body that guides us to Him.

The Way Of Cernnunos The way of Cernnunos is the way of the shaman or any person who truly seeks Communion with the Land. Yet, one cannot speak of Cernnunos without speaking of Anu or Don, the All Mother who gave Him birth. The way of Cernnunos is through the One. Like Her, Cernnunos is a Being or Power that existed before time and before the gods, the Shining Ones. Together they are First Mother and First Father, All Mother and All Father who brought the gods into being. Limitless and everlasting His energy permeates Her matter through every aspect of life to the sub-atomic. As Lord of the Dance He is present in the billions and billions of infinitely small movements that make up the seemingly chaotic Dance of Life, the Dance of Making and Unmaking. He is truly the Life that never, never dies, for even as nothingness he is self-originating. He is triple as She is triple. He is Cernnunos: Father, Son, and Wild Spirit.

Cernnunos Chant Cern-nu-noh-oh-oh-oh-os Stag Horned Hunter, Hunted One Join Us Now Cer-nu-noh-oh-oh-oh-os Greenwood Lord of Life and Death Join Us Now Cern-nu-noh-oh-oh-oh-os Herne and Pan and Every Man Join Us Now (6)

BIBLIOGRAPHY OF SOURCES Anderson, William. Green Man: The Archetype of our Oneness with the Earth. London: HarperCollins Publishers Limited, 1990. Carr-Gomm, Philip & Stephanie. The Druid Animal Oracle: Working with the Sacred Animals of the Druid Tradition. New York: Simon & Schuster Inc., 1994. Conway, D. J. By Oak, Ash, & Thorn: Modern Celtic Shamanism. St. Paul, MN: Llewellyn Publications, 1995. Corrigan, Ian. The Portal Book: Teachings and Works of Celtic Witchcraft. Cleveland Heights, OH: Chameleon Press, 1996. Knight, Sirona. Greenfire: Making Love With the Goddess. St. Paul, MN: Llewellyn Publications, 1995. Matthews, Caitlín. Singing the Soul Back Home: Shamanism In Everyday Living. Shaftesbury, Dorset, United Kingdom: Element Books Limited, 1995. Matthews, John. The Celtic Shaman: A Handbook. Shaftesbury, Dorest, United Kingdom: Element Books Limited, 1991. Matthews, Caitlín and John. The Encyclopædia of Celtic Wisdom. Shaftesbury, Dorset: Element Books Limited, 1994. Stewart, R. J. The Way of Merlin: The Prophet, the Goddess, and the Land ¬ Techniques of Transformation from the Merlin Tradition. London: The Aquarian Press, 1991. Zell, Morning Glory. ‘Pan.’ Green Egg: A Journal of Awakening Earth Vol. 27, No. 104, Spring 1994: 12-13, 49.

https://www.druidry.org/library/gods-goddesses/cernnunos-ancient-celtic-god

https://youtu.be/n2sCerl-MJA

#cernunnos #celtic #god #animals #goddess

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bgpportfolio · 2 years

Text

Tales of Aeora (1.9)

Note from the Author: The final chapter for Part 1, yay! This chapter, and all of my previous chapters, are available in the complete Tales of Aeora Part 1 PDF at my website ^^ Thanks for reading!

The last raindrops fell on Medeva’s face as she curled up beneath the tree whose branches saved her from the storm. She couldn’t tell whether she was still crying. The roar of the whirlpool began to dull as the storm passed and the waves, once licked the tops of those cavernous islands, drained far below the marker of encrusted mollusks around each stone cliff. Medeva peered to the north and southwest and saw islands, much like her own, standing like city-sized, stone pillars above the retreating sea line. Baring her glance down the plateau was a blanket of jungle flora which danced like shadows in the purple-light of the storm from an hour earlier.

Now, however, she could make out the fat fronds of several dwarf palms, and a wide assortment of ferns decorated with vibrantly-colored seeds and flowers. Medeva stood up at dawn, when Solarus’ first beams stretched over the hazy, shimmering sea horizon, and cast’d a final glance hoping Emilia and the Kraken would bob, miraculously, into view. But they didn’t. Medeva slung her pack over her shoulder and slipped the golden elixir into her pant’s pocket, after a brief debate over whether to throw it into the ocean, and said a prayer to Luna before wiping the final tears from her face.

As Medeva approached the jungle, she noted that a thin mist bent to follow its outline across the plateau and flickered with semi-opacity in and out of the sunlight. She followed its tail with her gaze, down a valley, and when she looked back into the trees Medeva nearly jumped. There was a person standing between the ferns, past the mist, with her face half-obscured by the shade from a palm frond. But Medeva recognized the jetblack hair, the emerald eyes, and breathed, “Emilia?” as the priestess turned to run.

Medeva didn’t have time to think. She followed.

“Where are you going?” Medeva shouted. Emilia never looked back.

There was a chuckle that could’ve been the breeze. Light filtered through the jungle canopy and cascaded on the forest floor like emeralds or autumn leaves scattered by a fairy queen’s careless dance. Emilia slipped around the corner of a pygmy palm. The thick odor of smoke stuck to the air. Medeva rounded the corner, but Emilia wasn’t there. Instead a bluebird and a small bonfire in the center of a hidden grove. Medeva felt surrounded by the towering branches of a few sycamores which dominated the clearing and dwarfed the surrounding cycads. The bluebird cocked its head as she approached.

“Where did she go?” Medeva asked.

The bird paused, as if seeking an answer, then chirped happily as it flew into the bonfire. Medeva cringed as the creature dropped among the embers, its body writhing as the fire danced agreeably until it withered into a pile of ash. There was no stench. Just the smell of smoke.

Medeva jerked when she heard soft laughter above her head. There was a man lying on a branch with his feet propped against the trunk of a tree, at least fifteen feet up, his right hand holding a jagged dagger across his chest. A maroon gem, like a sparkling droplet of blood, decorated its grip. His skin as pale as Luna’s surface, but his hair brighter than the fire reflected in his dark brown — black? — eyes, alluded that he was not entirely human.

“Tricky creatures,” he said, “They only speak in metaphors.”

“Oh…” Medeva said, unsurprised, and turned to leave.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Seems a rather common predicament.”

“I suppose.”

“You see, people spend too much time thinking about where they have been.”

“Is that so?”

“Without a doubt. Maybe you should think about where you are now.”

Medeva’s eyes grew wide. She chuckled and shook her finger at him, more firmly than she intended, and turned to leave. She took two steps.

“You know you won’t be able to get back,” the man said.

Medeva stopped. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re not in Aeora anymore,” he said, shrugged, and swiveled to face the fire. “And, wherever we are, it turns out that we don’t just get to leave.”

The flickering mist…

It was as if a lamp had suddenly turned on. “No, no, no,” she breathed and ran back to the cliff-face. But, on her way, she could hear the conviction of the man’s laughter echoing through the treetops. When she got back to the spot where she’d entered the forest, she found that there was no longer a cliff overlooking the vast ocean — but only a small, placid pond in the middle of a forest. There were no streams to fill it and no reflections in the water, as if it were sustained by an unnatural force.

An assortment of trees, and vines, hung over the water’s edge and dipped their leaves into the unreflective surface where every so often a few bubbles would emerge from the mysterious depths. Transfixed by the shadowy gloss of the water, she stared off until the sun had moved midway through the sky. At least there is day and night. She sat on the embankment, pulled out her book of shadows, and a quill that she had somehow managed to keep. She didn’t have any ink (and hadn’t thought to grab any coals from the bonfire), so she used the only thing she could think of and dipped her quill into the golden elixir.

Then, she started to write.

#am writing #fantasy writing #writeblr #writing community #reading community #readers #fantasy readers #Aeora #BGP

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deadbonessinderhellaton · 6 years

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Me: I’m so excited to excavate the cycad from my front yard to my garden!

Everything I’ve ever researched on cycads: Transplanting cycads is easy! Clear a zone around fifteen inches from the cycad as to not damage the roots. Make sure that the hole that you’re transplanting it into is twelve to fifteen inches deep, otherwise, it will die. Unearth it with tools of silver-and only silver-lest the fair folk find you during the deed. Do this on a moonless night with a satchel of blessed herbs around your neck. Speak to no one of what you’ve done. They must never know.

#headlife #these things have like an 80% chance of dying if i transplant them wrong

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blue-opossum · 5 years

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A Long Conversation

Morning of June 5, 2019. Wednesday.

Dream #: 19,161-03. Reading time (optimized): 1 min.

Sensible conversations are so rare in dreams (due to language skills and the conscious mind typically not being operative even in some levels of lucidity) that I can title this dream "A Long Conversation" based on its uniqueness alone.

Such dreams, however, rarely have much imagery if any. I am talking with an unknown girl (likely based on Zsuzsanna, though my identity is not extant, though the inference near my dream's end validates this likelihood). I am standing in a room that does not have much lighting, though as is typical, the setting jumps between several unrecognized locations. The girl I talk with as I use a headset seems to be a different character now and then as well but mostly remains the same. There is a brief temporary shift to a different scenario using a rotary telephone on a table when I seem to talk with a male for a short time - more like a dream within a dream.

By way of the logic of my dream's backstory, I had not spent time with the girl though still seem to know her well. I seem to be a teenager. She discusses mathematics homework at one point though as usual, there is the occasional incoherent phrasing (as typical with either reading or speaking in dreams).

In the final moments, before we hang up, I start talking about the beauty of the densely clustered cycad palms that I can see through an open area (as if looking through a big low-set window).

#dream journal #meaning of dreams #palm tree #telephone #headset #conversation in dreams

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semicoloncancer · 7 years

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The Botanist;

I heard someone shouting out the driveway. I live in a small compound designed to look Italian or Greek. European. Let’s keep it safe at that. Colored white and blue but the verandas resembled more the Italian homes you see in movies. The walls ran drip stains on the sides. The lack of care from the old landlord was apparent. I have lived here for a year now and became friends with almost every neighbor but the one at the far end, left side of the 8-apartment compound. 4 houses on either side facing directly each other. All noise from any of them audible even from the depths of the lonely bedroom I occupy.

Instinctively, I went out. The kids from the house at the right side end have glued their eyes already in their dirty feet, their hands fidgeted on their tail end. I was watching a movie that Sunday afternoon. It was boring and I wanted something to distract me and that moment felt perfect even if the glum look on the kids’ faces made me frown too. Two plant pots scattered its contents on the floor. Some exotic looking plant laid flat looking more lifeless than it usually does. The other plant stood still yet as lifeless as the other. The man shouted shifting his stare from the kids to the plants. His right index finger stiffened. I couldn’t see his left hand from the angle but I imagined it tighten bit by bit on the adjacent hip.

He was screaming about how precious the plants were.

He was screaming. He was red. The kids were gray.

One of the kids, Angelo, shifted his eyes to me almost teary eyed almost pleading for salvation. By this time more and more people were coming out of their houses as he raised his voice saying “don’t you look at him asking for help.” I got the taste of the stiff index finger he had been brandishing about. “Look at me and apologize,” he said repeatedly. With all the meager force Angelo could muster, he said sorry. Rafael (or Raf-Raf as I call usually call him) looked at his brother either in dismay or in envy for having such strength to speak. Rafael remained speechless the entire time. Two small basketballs stopped rolling from the other end, the ones they played with to break the two pots.

They were being (poorly) babysat by an unfamiliar teenager. She was the last person to go out. She wiped her still wet hands on the back of her faded red shirt. It resembled the words high school but I couldn’t figure out which one it was. Probably from a city far from here.

Her face was stretched into a shock, she too was stunned at the very same area the kids stood. The screaming went on for another minute and I still haven’t said anything being the first person to witness the scolding. I occupied the second door on the left which is the same side as the man’s. I stood my half a square meter of a veranda almost leaning on the wall avoiding to look comfortable. Beside me walked a tall woman from the house beside me. The daughter of the old landlord. She shook her head slightly, “hello, what’s going on?”

“They broke my pots!” the man said struggling not to stutter. He said the same things in a calmer sort of anger as what he said to the kids before. I asked myself: why do older people talk to each other differently than to kids? The two kids finally moved two steps back with the help of their babysitter. Even the old landlord’s daughter was puzzled when she saw her face.

The situation hushed down but the intensity of the man’s exclaims still lingered in the air. Half of the remaining doors closed, the occupant of the unit in front of me smiled uncomfortably before doing so. I stayed there making myself more comfortable against the wall. The movie inside my living room kept playing through. I wished it would already end when I come back.

Rafael and Angelo were the only kids in this compound. The other apartments housed two more babies from two newlyweds. The kids have no one else to play with at home but each other. The daughter motioned the babysitter that she can already walk the kids in. Usually when they do we can still hear them play except for today. Within the same minute, everyone else has gone in but me. The two adults weren’t even aware I was still standing there. I hoped for any information why the plants were so special.

A few minutes more, the daughter walked my way again, slowed down, smiled, and shook her head. She mustn’t have understood the sentiments of the man why the plants were so special. The babysitter ran out once more to tell the man she will clean the mess herself. The man, already crouching to pick up the lifeless plant, waved his hand, “it’s okay, just go in.”

From the angry man the he was not 15 minutes ago he became the most careful person I have seen. His movements even seemed calculated. Like fixing a bed in the morning. Like a devoted encoffiner. He was suddenly distracted by my presence but continued in what seemed a crucial activity for something he hoped wouldn’t happen. He suddenly spoke as if in monologue.

“I have seen you there since earlier. You haven’t moved much and it’s weird.” He paused but he didn’t want me to answer. “Why you’re there, I’m pretty sure because you’re wondering why I was so angry earlier. I’m not angry anymore, don’t worry. I won’t blare at you. The kids were just having fun and I can’t be angry about that. I might buy the kids some candies later today or a cake. What do you think?” but even in an actual question, it still seemed he didn’t want me to answer. “You know,”

“I’m a botanist. I have been studying science almost my entire life. Even when I was young I especially dreamed of becoming a plant scientist. It’s not just because I think they’re pretty. Or they’re harmless and fragile. I mainly relied on herbal medications growing up. And yes, you guessed it right, at least one of my parents must be a botanist as well.

“I’m pretty sure you haven’t heard of my mother’s name but she’s a pretty big deal in the field of botany. She homeschooled me mainly because she usually went on trips. My father died when I was young so no one else would be there if I didn’t go with my mother on her trips. Funny thing, even in science, a lot of shagging happens. A huge part of my life was spent in hotel rooms and I was used to hearing my mother sneak out although not very carefully.”

Slowly and carefully, he continued fixing the mess. There is now some degree of grace in his movements. I still took his pause as a dramatic punctuation and not a chance for me to speak. I won’t even have any input in the topic he chose to share.

“That’s where I met Sarah. I know, yeah, a very typical name for a daughter of a scientist. There were a lot of tropical plants at that time. And one of them was this plant. It can live a long time if given sufficient care. I wanted to keep it in to be safe but it really needs to be out for air and sun. Sarah and I were the only kids in that seminar so we kinda had no choice but to be with each other. Besides, our parents were good friends and teammates.” He chuckled, I finally sat. “I’m not sure if our parents slept with each other that night, though.

“This is a cycad that my mother’s team crossbred. This one, I tried this on my own after my mother died. I saw Sarah once more during the burial but she couldn’t remember me that well until she extended her condolences. Her father sat in front of her on a wheelchair. She still looked beautiful as then when we were kids. She was the one who threw the same plant into my mother’s grave.” He looked at me and smiled trying to know if I’m still interested in the story. For the first time, I said something: go on.

“All right. This won’t last long anymore, I’m about done fixing this anyway. So yeah, I asked her out and we went out thrice. We weren’t the best pair together but she was the woman of my dreams. Until this happened. I kept this plant alive because it kept the image and the memory of her. More of her than of my mother. She’s been married for 10 years now. My mother died 11 years ago. I don’t even see the point of keeping this plant anymore and I needed a reason to let it go.”

He paused. I didn’t answer. He carried the remnants of what was a lifeless-looking cycad. I sat there and stared at the clouds. I heard shouting in the living room and I realized the movie was still on.

#short story #short #story #fiction

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