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Literature Text
sweet little slaughterfish, crazy with the hist,
swaying and swerving and gnawing and gnashing—and what sharp little teeth you enlist!
a bloody mess is the poor muddy mud crab,
sweet little slaughterfish, eating whatever you grab.
bowmen, bandits, Bosmer, Bretons, begging for a chance,
but sweet little slaughterfish hasn’t a glance.
sweet little slaughterfish, the Rumare is your home,
the rock is your bed and the beach is your loam.
sweet little slaughterfish, my words do you hear?
sweet little slaughterfish, you’ve got a fin on your rear.
the scales you wear stink quite the fume-ah,
sweet little slaughterfish, I really want some skooma.
swaying and swerving and gnawing and gnashing—and what sharp little teeth you enlist!
a bloody mess is the poor muddy mud crab,
sweet little slaughterfish, eating whatever you grab.
bowmen, bandits, Bosmer, Bretons, begging for a chance,
but sweet little slaughterfish hasn’t a glance.
sweet little slaughterfish, the Rumare is your home,
the rock is your bed and the beach is your loam.
sweet little slaughterfish, my words do you hear?
sweet little slaughterfish, you’ve got a fin on your rear.
the scales you wear stink quite the fume-ah,
sweet little slaughterfish, I really want some skooma.
What Is Wicca?
What Is Wicca?
History
Wicca is a neo-pagan religion based on the pre-Christian traditions of England, Ireland, Scotland, and Wales. Its origins can be traced even further back to Paleolithic peoples who worshipped a Hunter God and a Fertility Goddess. Cave paintings found in France (and dated at 30,000 years old) depict a man with the head of a stag, and a woman with a swollen, pregnant belly. They stand in a circle with eleven mortals. These archetypes of the divine are worshipped by Wiccans to this very day. By these standards, the religion that is now called Wicca, is perhaps the oldest religion in the world.
In 1951, the laws against
Into Death
Into death,
Out of mind,
Gone from body,
All are blind.
Gone are we,
From the earth,
We are free,
No more mirth.
Upon our graves,
Are roses red,
To quell the fact,
That we are dead.
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I made it up on the spot when I was writing, and it made me laugh. I thought I'd share.
It isn't supposed to make sense. It's the psychotic ravings of a drug addict.
If you aren't accustomed to the Elder Scrolls universe, skooma is a very addictive, dangerous drug. Like Tamriel's equivalent of crack-cocaine, or something ridiculous like that.
If you're still confused, go to uesp.net and look up whatever's irking you.
That being said, everything referenced in here belongs to Bethesda, not me, for they created TES IV: Oblivion, and alas, I cannot take credit for such a funderful eden.
It isn't supposed to make sense. It's the psychotic ravings of a drug addict.
If you aren't accustomed to the Elder Scrolls universe, skooma is a very addictive, dangerous drug. Like Tamriel's equivalent of crack-cocaine, or something ridiculous like that.
If you're still confused, go to uesp.net and look up whatever's irking you.
That being said, everything referenced in here belongs to Bethesda, not me, for they created TES IV: Oblivion, and alas, I cannot take credit for such a funderful eden.
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"Skooma a Day, Keeps the Mages away"
... M'aiq
... M'aiq