Good omens

Кунсткамера. Личное пространство игроков, в котором можно найти — и разместить — что угодно. Место для личного вдохновения, обдумывания идей и полировки личных игровых тараканов с последующим рассаживанием их по нумерованным полочкам.
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Lucifer
minutes to midnight
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Good omens

#1

Сообщение Lucifer » 13 сен 2018, 12:08

Потому что Люциферу нужно собственное информационное пространство закрытого типа для хранения всех выплесков его немного противоречивого и изобилующего живительной радиацией ОБВМ.
Неиспользованные грибы, всякая графическая и музыкальная ассоциативная фигня, вырезки источников и заметки на полях здесь.
Изображение
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I swapped my innocence for pride
Crushed the end within my stride
Said I'm strong, now I know that I'm a leaver

Lucifer
minutes to midnight
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Статус: minutes to midnight
Информация: Самаил
33+ y.o. | 18 млрд; арт-менеджер ночного клуба; падший ангел, Владыка Ада, в миру Найджел Пойнс; мастер перемен и исполнитель желаний, чертовски сильный маг, демиург
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Good omens

#2

Сообщение Lucifer » 24 окт 2018, 12:28

Просто слишком прекрасная и обложка, и недооцененная песня
phpBB [video]
I swapped my innocence for pride
Crushed the end within my stride
Said I'm strong, now I know that I'm a leaver

Lucifer
minutes to midnight
Аватара пользователя
Репутация: 332
Статус: minutes to midnight
Информация: Самаил
33+ y.o. | 18 млрд; арт-менеджер ночного клуба; падший ангел, Владыка Ада, в миру Найджел Пойнс; мастер перемен и исполнитель желаний, чертовски сильный маг, демиург
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Good omens

#3

Сообщение Lucifer » 29 окт 2018, 22:54

Причина, по которой Люцифер не живёт в Аду №Х: там слишком много демонов. А Самаил и демоны, несмотря на одну сторону в войне в Эдеме — это плохо совместимые на интеллектуальном уровне существа. Примерно так же:
phpBB [video]


С большинством других бессмертных, впрочем, тоже, но бесценные алмазы средь трухи его уже мотивируют тусить на Земле.
I swapped my innocence for pride
Crushed the end within my stride
Said I'm strong, now I know that I'm a leaver

Lucifer
minutes to midnight
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33+ y.o. | 18 млрд; арт-менеджер ночного клуба; падший ангел, Владыка Ада, в миру Найджел Пойнс; мастер перемен и исполнитель желаний, чертовски сильный маг, демиург
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Good omens

#4

Сообщение Lucifer » 09 ноя 2018, 20:16

Поделюсь крупицей не самого очевидного вдохновения.
Была такая очень интересная по сеттингу, но такая себе по истории в девяностые фантастика/фэнтезячка, Трилогия Хладного Пламени. И был там такой очаровательный почти сьюха и совсем не вомпыр, Джеральд Таррант.
Два куска текста и два арта от небезызвестной sandar'ы (ныне удалённых в её галерее, ребят!) прилагаются:
арты
ИзображениеИзображение
His Excellency is a religious man…
Side by side, the travelers entered the Hunter’s keep. Black volcanic glass gave way to black numarble, streaked with random bits of crimson. In the light of Senzei’s torch, it made the floor look bloodstained. The furniture was black as well, heavy novebony pieces that were as intricately worked as the building’s facade, cushioned in jet black velvet. Red silk tassels and fine red fringe edged black velveteen draperies, fixed permanently shut over the high arched windows. There were bits of gold visible here and there — drawer handles, locks, opulent doorknobs — but the dramatic darkness of the castle’s interior was only intensified further by the contrast.
At last they came to a door at which the albino paused.
“You can wait here if you like,” he said. “I think you’ll find this room…” He grinned. “Comforting?”
He pushed the door open. For a moment, Damien could see nothing. Then the torch that Senzei was holding began to pick out details of the furnishings within-
And he stepped inside, motioning for Senzei to follow him. Not quite believing what he saw. Not knowing how to react to it.
It was a chapel. A room dedicated to the God of his faith, outfitted in the Revivalist style. No black stone here, nor any hint of visual blasphemy; the place might have been lifted out of Jaggonath a thousand years ago, and set down here without a single
alteration. Which was, simply…
Impossible.
Damien walked to the altar, let his fingers brush against the fine silk damask that covered it. He hungered to be able to Work, to Know for himself that this was indeed what it appeared to be, that no subtle malevolence was at work here, defiling the very patterns of his faith. But even in such a place as this he dared not use the fae.
Especially in such a place as this, he told himself.
There were oil lamps flanking the door, and the albino lit them. “No need for open fire,” he said, and he pried the torch carefully out of Senzei’s fingers. Holding it at a distance as if in distaste, he turned to Damien. And smiled, clearly amused by the priest’s reaction.
“His Excellency is a religious man,” he said. As if that would answer all their questions. “I’ll tell him you’re here. Please feel free to make yourselves at home here… if you think you can.”
He turned to leave, but Damien stepped forward quickly and caught him by the arm.
His body was as chill as ice, and the scent of his flesh was like carrion — but that might be just a perceptual Working meant to discourage physical contact, and Damien held on.
“His Excellency?” the priest asked tensely. “You mean the Hunter?”
“He prefers his Revivalist title,” the albino said. He closed a hand over Damien’s own — cold, so cold — and then pulled it off his arm. “Your people knew him as the Neocount of Merentha. He prefers Revivalist custom in general, I might add. You would do well to indulge him.” Lamplight glinted off the points of his teeth as he grinned: a ferocious expression. “I’m sure he’ll be delighted to find out that you made it here.”
He left them. Shutting the door firmly behind him, as if by leaving it open he might contaminate the rest of the keep. Senzei looked at Damien — and found him leaning against the altar for support, his face as pale as a ghost’s.
“Merentha Castle,” he whispered. “It’s a copy. That’s why — oh, my God…”
His hand on the altar clenched, catching up a fold of damask and crushing it. “Zen… do you understand? Do you know who the Neocount of Merentha was?”
“I know he was one of the figureheads of the Revival. A strategist of Cannon’s, yes? A supporter of your Church-”
“A supporter? My God, he wrote half our bible. More than half! His signature is on nearly every holy book we have. The dream that we serve is his, Zen. His!”
Senzei looked confused. “What about your Prophet?”
“He is the Prophet. Don’t you understand? That was the name that they gave to him, when…” He shut his eyes; a shiver ran through his frame. “A name for the first part of his life. The time when he served God and man, and designed a faith that he believed could tame the fae, if only humanity would accept it. How could we follow in his footsteps without recognizing the source of our inspiration? But the Church didn’t dare use his name, because that might have invoked something of his spirit. They struck it from the books. And after… after…”
He turned away. He didn’t want Senzei to see the tears that were coming. He might misread their source, assuming weakness — when in fact they were tears of rage.
“He was an adept,” he whispered hoarsely. “One of the first. And the premier knight of my Order. One day he… snapped. We don’t know what caused it. We’re not even sure exactly what happened. But those who searched through Merentha Castle after his disappearance found the remains of his family, gruesomely slaughtered. Apparently he… vivisected his wife. His children.” He turned back to Senzei. “You have to understand,” he whispered urgently. “In our tradition, there is no greater evil. Because he was, before he fell, all that we venerate. All that we strive to become. And then he threw it all away!
In an act of such brutal inhumanity that there could be no question that he had damned his soul forever…”
“And no one knew where he went, after that?”
“They thought he died! They thought that hell had claimed him. And of course, yes — there were rumors. There always will be, after something like that. His brothers died in violent accidents, and he was blamed. His fiercest rival was found with his throat torn out, and of course it wasn’t mere animals that had done it. The ghost of the Neocount was given credit for at least a hundred crimes — but there never was any proof, not for any of it. And when several lifetimes had passed since his disappearance, it was reasonable to assume him dead. Mortality is the one constant of human existence.” He shook his head in amazement, and struck his fist against the altar top; a candelabra trembled. “It’s been almost ten centuries, Zen. Ten centuries! How can a human being live that long?”
“Maybe,” the sorcerer said nervously, “by becoming something that’s no longer human.”
…if that’s what it took. Just to prove a point
“Let go,” he whispered fiercely. “This is not your flesh, not your place. Obey me!”
She struggled in his grasp — helplessly, like an infant. Blood poured down her cheek and smeared on his hand, deep purple in the fae-light. It dripped to the ground. He took no notice of it.
“Obey me,” he whispered. And the power that flowed from him was so bright, so blinding, that Senzei had to turn away.
For a brief moment, the whole of Ciani’s body went rigid; her bonds creaked as she strained against them. Then, suddenly, all the strength went out of her. She lay on the bloodied earth like a shattered doll, her intermittent gasping for breath the only sign of her survival. After a moment, Tarrant released her. Her eyes — now human, heavily bloodshot — shut. She shivered, as if from cold.
“Take out the Fire,” the Hunter said quietly to Damien.
“You’re sure-”
“Take it out!”
He stood as the priest complied with his command, and put a few hurried steps between himself and the rest of the party. Nevertheless, he was clearly loath to go too far from Ciani; he remained close enough that when the Fire was uncovered its light burned a swath across his face that blistered an angry red as he watched her.
For a moment, Senzei could see nothing: the Fire’s light was brilliant, blinding. He felt his Seeing fade, knew that it would be long minutes before he could conjure such vision again. But there was no need for it. The dark fae was gone, consumed in an instant by the force of that Church-spawned blaze. And with it, whatever remnants of the night’s power that had clung to Ciani. She whimpered softly as Damien went to her, clung to him as he severed her bonds and gathered her up in his arms, the light of the Fire pressed into her back.
“She’ll be all right,” the Hunter promised. “Keep the Fire out until Casca rises. No. Until the sun comes up. She’ll be safe, once she’s exposed to true sunlight; neither his power nor mine can cling to her then.”
“But if you-” Damien began.
“You’ll have to function without me,” he said sharply. “There are several things that want looking into, and I can handle them best alone.”
“Not to mention the Fire,” Damien said quietly.
Tarrant turned toward him, slowly, and let him watch as the sanctified light spread across his features. The skin of his face and hands reddened, tightened, began to peel — but his cold eyes gazed steadily at Damien, and there was no hint in his manner of any pain or hesitancy.
“Don’t underestimate me,” he warned. Blood pooled in the corner of one eye, and he blinked it free; it traveled down the side of his face like a tear. Still he did not turn away, nor shield himself from the Fire’s light. “Don’t ever underestimate me.”
“I’m sorry,” Damien said at last.
“You should be,” he agreed. And he bowed to Ciani — a minimal gesture, hurried but graceful. “It’s vital that you don’t discuss what happened here tonight — any of it — until the sun rises. Otherwise your attacker might learn… too much. Lady?”
She whispered it.
“I understand.”
He stepped — and was gone, more quickly than the eye could follow. Reddened flesh fading into blackness, burnt skin swallowed up by darkness. Salved, by the true night’s special power.
“The Fire didn’t hurt him,” Senzei whispered, “Not like it should have.”
“Of course it hurt him,” Damien said sharply. “And it would have killed him if he’d stayed here long enough.”
“But he didn’t seem-”
“No, he didn’t, did he? And what gets to me is that he would have stayed there, endured the pain — till the Fire fried him to a crisp, if that’s what it took. Just to prove a point.”
He drew in a ragged breath, and closed his arms tightly about Ciani.
“That’s what makes him so vulking dangerous,” he muttered.
I swapped my innocence for pride
Crushed the end within my stride
Said I'm strong, now I know that I'm a leaver

Lucifer
minutes to midnight
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33+ y.o. | 18 млрд; арт-менеджер ночного клуба; падший ангел, Владыка Ада, в миру Найджел Пойнс; мастер перемен и исполнитель желаний, чертовски сильный маг, демиург
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Good omens

#5

Сообщение Lucifer » 28 ноя 2018, 20:05

Та самая песня
phpBB [video]
I swapped my innocence for pride
Crushed the end within my stride
Said I'm strong, now I know that I'm a leaver

Lucifer
minutes to midnight
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Репутация: 332
Статус: minutes to midnight
Информация: Самаил
33+ y.o. | 18 млрд; арт-менеджер ночного клуба; падший ангел, Владыка Ада, в миру Найджел Пойнс; мастер перемен и исполнитель желаний, чертовски сильный маг, демиург
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Good omens

#6

Сообщение Lucifer » 06 дек 2018, 00:18

Стихотворение, строчка которого пошла в название эпизода
На самом деле с этим стихотворением, которое я считаю абсолютно потрясающим, у меня история порядка лет десяти, оно меня очень вдохновляет, я его не раз читал наизусть публике, которая не знакома с Отблесками Этерны, фандом которых его и породил. А ещё уже не одного персонажа складывается история под этот пышное и образное стихотворение. И это примерно один тип моего героя. Один из немногих не просто пассионариев, а по-настоящему способных на поступки и невероятные вещи ребят. У меня вообще это гости в репертуаре не частые, но очень яркие. И всем им присущ горький привкус фатализма и былых болей, которые и сформировали такой стоический, юморной сквозь сжатые зубы взгляд на свою роль в мире. Они, как правило, знают, что их ждёт, и согласны платить цену за то, чтобы менять мир, оказавшись в позиции, в которой оказались.

Кто-то должен

Багровеет закат; виноградная кровь
Тёмным пламенем бьётся в плену хрусталя.
Когда каждый второй или первый — герой,
Кто-то должен стрелять.

И своею — ещё не предавшей — рукой
С древней тайной мешать неизбежности яд.
Когда падают звёзды — одна за другой,
Кто-то должен стоять.

Волны точат скалу, ветер гонит волну,
Вспышки молний кромсают покров бытия.
Кто-то должен в любовницы выбрать войну.
Почему бы не я?

* * *

Камнем долга и пылью чужих ожиданий
Под копыта дорога легла,
Обложив непременной кровавою данью
За иллюзию меньшего зла.

Чист и ясен хрустальный шатёр небосвода,
Спит земля, задыхаясь в бреду.
Сквозь болота и горы, не ведая брода,
Я иду у судьбы в поводу,

Чтоб в итоге, до горькой слюны, до отрыжки
Наглотавшись возвышенной лжи,
Попытаться сменить неизбежное «выжить»
На почти невозможное «жить».

* * *

Именно так — по пути к неизбежной развязке —
Сходят с ума,
Силясь понять, то ли это прекрасная сказка,
То ли кошмар,

Что вопреки всем стараньям забыться не может,
Сплавив в одно
Страшную память о стылом супружеском ложе
С нежностью снов,

Ветку рябины над выбитой вдребезги дверью,
Смерть на дворе,
Боль неожиданной и беспощадной потери -
С встречею встреч.

Синее солнце упрямо восходит под кожей,
Жжётся, смеясь.
Как ты нелепа и как ты смешно безнадёжна,
Радость моя…

Да, я безнадёжный романтик, а теперь забудьте это немедля и притворитесь, что ничего не видели.
I swapped my innocence for pride
Crushed the end within my stride
Said I'm strong, now I know that I'm a leaver

Lucifer
minutes to midnight
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Статус: minutes to midnight
Информация: Самаил
33+ y.o. | 18 млрд; арт-менеджер ночного клуба; падший ангел, Владыка Ада, в миру Найджел Пойнс; мастер перемен и исполнитель желаний, чертовски сильный маг, демиург
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Good omens

#7

Сообщение Lucifer » Вчера, 00:09

Всякий раз слушаю именно этот ремикс и меня качает и наполняет желанием писать вот именно что дождь, бурю и что-то упоительно магическое. И это даже без залипательного клипа.
phpBB [video]

fun trivia: Infected Mushroom - коллектив из Израиля.
I swapped my innocence for pride
Crushed the end within my stride
Said I'm strong, now I know that I'm a leaver

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