The Signs and Knights

normal-horoscopes:

Aries: Knights in ornate silver armor with masks like a beak. Their unusual curved glaives resemble an outstretched cranes wing. Each piece of the maille, sharpened to a razor edge.

Taurus: Knights that run on all fours, a pair of axes strapped to their backs. They wear only hides, relying on speed and ferocity to keep them safe.

Gemini: The holy knights of a vast arid empire swathed in silks and scales. Heavy curved greatswords inscribed with the words of the prophet act as weapon and canticle alike. 

Cancer: The knights just below the surface of the mire. Wicker masks and wooden pikes waiting in ambush.

Leo: Knights frozen in place, like gargoyles still watching over the battlements where they stood guard for thousands of years, armor frosted white by the arctic wind.

Virgo: The royal guard ritually buried with their queen. Mummified flesh and tarnished bronze armor patrolling the endless halls of the great necropolis.

Libra: The banner-bearers of a great nomadic army. Their backs adorned with torches and horsetails, wicked barbed arrowheads rest on their shoulders, one for every rider struck down.

Scorpio: The knights bedecked in crows feathers. Rarely engaging in combat themselves, they use their long hooked spears to snag the corpses of the fallen and spirit them away.

Ophiuchus: The last of a now unrecognizable order of knights. A great axe warped by unnatural fire. All too familiar eyes.

Sagittarius: The royal guards that have protected the family for generations. Fine steel interworked with lace and taffeta. Weapons fashioned to look like sewing implements. 

Capricorn: The only of the pirates to return, whispers of voices in the deep. Shedding all man-made clothing, clutching only a dagger made of whale bone.

Aquarius: The legion that was melted down in the great furnaces, their weapons and armor reforged into something unspeakable.

Pisces: Knights that scaled the walls of the great cities. Leaping over the heads of the spearmen. Steel balls and leather slings viciously denting armor. 

ritual-and-chaos:

I am the only grad student in a class of undergraduates, a contemporary art class.

I made reference to an artwork – “oh, it’s like that piece thats three feet of air above a pedastal that contains a curse or a blessing from a witch.”

I sure baffled a bunch of students, right then.

Tom Friedman, “Untitled (A Curse),” 1992

They are required to pack it for shipping with room for the curse.

kramergate:

slab-o-meat:

we all remember the first time we saw a centaur in fallout

yeah cause nothings gonna top the emotional roller coaster of me playing my first fallout game at a ripe 15 years old and seeing the word centaur float across the subtitle bar and thinking OH BOY THEY GOT CENTAURS? only to use VATS to target it and rocket out of my seat in shock