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« Last post by PlatointheCave on March 26, 2023, 11:49:23 PM »Part three touches planar cosmology. It has been taught as such IG in the university but it might be a bit too "high magic" for a common book shop.
Collected songs about fanciful entities, including a mora about the folly of the Old Wolf of Kartakass.
A collection of incendiary songs for Port-a-Lucine's disenfranchised.
Songs also written udner the Fracas period, but the author was not me the player. I don't know who wrote them but they're good.
https://www.nwnravenloft.com/forum/index.php?topic=60053.msg706070#msg706070
A fanciful retelling of a priest of the Morninglord that fell to vampirism, but ultimately chose to purify themselves in the sun.
Spoiler: Arcane Fundamentals III: Planar Cosmology • show
Title: Arcane Fundamentals III: Planar Cosmology
Icon (book's appearance, if known): Any
Suggested locations (eg. Houlgraves', Castle Ravenloft, Port-à-Lucine library, etc.): Port-a-Lucine Magic Library
Content: Arcane Fundamentals III: The Energies of the Planes
Contents:
Summary.
1. Planar Structure.
2. Inner Planes.
3. Paraelements.
4. Quasielements.
5. Applications.
Summary:
The structure of the planes, the six basic elements and their simplest amalgamates are defined. Uses in arcane practice are briefly discussed.
1. Planar Structure:
Planes are realities that are metaphysically separated from one another. The cosmos is comprised of a variety of planes, but for this text the reader need only be aware of the material plane, the inner planes and the outer planes. The material plane is our world. The inner planes are the elemental planes that are, metaphysically speaking, closest to the prime material plane. The outer planes are the planes of moral and ethical extremes including the abyss, heaven and hell.
2. Inner Planes:
There are six cardinal inner planes corresponding to the six basic energies of the cosmos. The positive and negative planes are above and below the prime material. The planes of fire, earth, water and air are arranged about the material in a wheel between the negative and positive. Note that these planes are all arranged such that their elemental opposite is also placed metaphysically opposite. Positive and negative; air and earth; fire and water. It is the interaction of these fundamental energies in the material plane that produces substantial matter.
The plane of positive energy is one of infinite brilliant energy. The unwary visitor will be burned to nothing by the storm of energy. The plane of negative energy is an expanse of endless entropy and stagnation. There is no air, and the negative energy will kill living things swiftly if they are not prepared.
The plane of water is an infinite sea, filled with life that is sustained by free floating solid reefs. The plane of fire has gravity and is primarily comprised of loosely packed semi-solid flame. The plane of air is filled with little besides air; the unwary traveller will fall forever without a flight spell. The plane of earth is deep and twisting caverns, and shifts constantly; it is easy to be buried alive here.
These six basic energies interact constructively with one another; that is to say they synthesise new elemental arrangements together. The exception to this is elemental opposites, which destroy one another outright.
3. Paraelements:
Though each of the inner planes are physically infinite, they have metaphysical boundaries. At these boundaries there are confluences of two energies. Whether these confluences are their own planes or not remains a matter of debate. What is important to know is they exist, and they are where we derive a number of basic elemental compounds. For the sake of simplicity I will refer to the confluences as planes. The paraelements are formed at the confluences of the four “natural” energies: fire, earth, water and air.
The plane of ice is formed at the confluence of air and water. This is a system of frozen caves that give to floating icebergs on the side of water, and sheer cliffs on the side of air. The plane of ooze is formed at the confluence of earth and water. It is a shifting quagmire and the likely source of conjured acid. The plane of smoke is formed at the confluence of fire and air. It is a plane of burning gas and storms of flame with little solid ground. The plane of magma is formed at the confluence of earth and fire. It is a land of volcanic activity and poisonous gasses.
4. Quasielements:
Each of the “natural” planes also has a confluence with both the positive and negative energy planes. We call these confluences the quasielemental planes. As before, it is debatable whether these are their own planes or simply a quirk of planar interaction.
The plane of lightning is at the confluence of positive and air. This is a plane of storm and constant agitation, with no land. The plane of vacuum is at the confluence of negative and air. This is the elemental absence of air itself, and therefore this energy can be used to remove air from an environment without utilising earth. This is a common use for the negatively aligned quasielements.
The plane of radiance is at the confluence of positive and fire. This is a plane of great heat and dazzling brilliance. I have read that it is quite beautiful, if one has appropriate abjurations to view it. The plane of ash is at the confluence of negative and fire. As the inverse of flame, it is an expanse of warmth sapping space. Note that this is distinct from cooling and therefore wards against cold will do nothing to prevent death for mortal visitors.
The plane of steam is at the confluence of positive and water. This plane is one of water vapour. Notably, the vapour is cool. The plane of salt is at the confluence of negative and water. It is an airless space where all water dwindles to nothing. The planar traveller is advised to have some means of protecting themselves form negative energy, if they do not wish to desiccate.
The plane of mineral is at the confluence of positive and earth. This is a plane of glittering stones of all kinds, elementals of gemstone and power originate from these dazzling caverns. The greedy traveller is advised to take special care protecting themselves should they visit this plane; the earth inherent to beings of the material will crystallise rapidly here. In simple terms: living visitors are turned into lifeless crystals. The plane of dust is at the confluence of negative and earth. Here, all things decay swiftly to dust, even the living. Elemental dust is therefore an excellent tool for destroying structures, if properly controlled.
5. Applications:
The pragmatically minded reader might wonder why knowledge of these various elements is useful to the practising arcanist. It is because these elements are fundamental to the physics of our world and our magic. We must understand how they interact, and what their mingling produces, if we are to keep our experimental works contained. Many arcanists have lost limbs or their lives when they failed to account for the quasielemental by products of their experiments. More, the many basic elements can be useful for magics meant to create or destroy things, or achieve a specific physical effect. I have included some uses in this work, but the clever arcanist will doubtless find many more in their years of practice.
Gaius
Icon (book's appearance, if known): Any
Suggested locations (eg. Houlgraves', Castle Ravenloft, Port-à-Lucine library, etc.): Port-a-Lucine Magic Library
Content: Arcane Fundamentals III: The Energies of the Planes
Contents:
Summary.
1. Planar Structure.
2. Inner Planes.
3. Paraelements.
4. Quasielements.
5. Applications.
Summary:
The structure of the planes, the six basic elements and their simplest amalgamates are defined. Uses in arcane practice are briefly discussed.
1. Planar Structure:
Planes are realities that are metaphysically separated from one another. The cosmos is comprised of a variety of planes, but for this text the reader need only be aware of the material plane, the inner planes and the outer planes. The material plane is our world. The inner planes are the elemental planes that are, metaphysically speaking, closest to the prime material plane. The outer planes are the planes of moral and ethical extremes including the abyss, heaven and hell.
2. Inner Planes:
There are six cardinal inner planes corresponding to the six basic energies of the cosmos. The positive and negative planes are above and below the prime material. The planes of fire, earth, water and air are arranged about the material in a wheel between the negative and positive. Note that these planes are all arranged such that their elemental opposite is also placed metaphysically opposite. Positive and negative; air and earth; fire and water. It is the interaction of these fundamental energies in the material plane that produces substantial matter.
The plane of positive energy is one of infinite brilliant energy. The unwary visitor will be burned to nothing by the storm of energy. The plane of negative energy is an expanse of endless entropy and stagnation. There is no air, and the negative energy will kill living things swiftly if they are not prepared.
The plane of water is an infinite sea, filled with life that is sustained by free floating solid reefs. The plane of fire has gravity and is primarily comprised of loosely packed semi-solid flame. The plane of air is filled with little besides air; the unwary traveller will fall forever without a flight spell. The plane of earth is deep and twisting caverns, and shifts constantly; it is easy to be buried alive here.
These six basic energies interact constructively with one another; that is to say they synthesise new elemental arrangements together. The exception to this is elemental opposites, which destroy one another outright.
3. Paraelements:
Though each of the inner planes are physically infinite, they have metaphysical boundaries. At these boundaries there are confluences of two energies. Whether these confluences are their own planes or not remains a matter of debate. What is important to know is they exist, and they are where we derive a number of basic elemental compounds. For the sake of simplicity I will refer to the confluences as planes. The paraelements are formed at the confluences of the four “natural” energies: fire, earth, water and air.
The plane of ice is formed at the confluence of air and water. This is a system of frozen caves that give to floating icebergs on the side of water, and sheer cliffs on the side of air. The plane of ooze is formed at the confluence of earth and water. It is a shifting quagmire and the likely source of conjured acid. The plane of smoke is formed at the confluence of fire and air. It is a plane of burning gas and storms of flame with little solid ground. The plane of magma is formed at the confluence of earth and fire. It is a land of volcanic activity and poisonous gasses.
4. Quasielements:
Each of the “natural” planes also has a confluence with both the positive and negative energy planes. We call these confluences the quasielemental planes. As before, it is debatable whether these are their own planes or simply a quirk of planar interaction.
The plane of lightning is at the confluence of positive and air. This is a plane of storm and constant agitation, with no land. The plane of vacuum is at the confluence of negative and air. This is the elemental absence of air itself, and therefore this energy can be used to remove air from an environment without utilising earth. This is a common use for the negatively aligned quasielements.
The plane of radiance is at the confluence of positive and fire. This is a plane of great heat and dazzling brilliance. I have read that it is quite beautiful, if one has appropriate abjurations to view it. The plane of ash is at the confluence of negative and fire. As the inverse of flame, it is an expanse of warmth sapping space. Note that this is distinct from cooling and therefore wards against cold will do nothing to prevent death for mortal visitors.
The plane of steam is at the confluence of positive and water. This plane is one of water vapour. Notably, the vapour is cool. The plane of salt is at the confluence of negative and water. It is an airless space where all water dwindles to nothing. The planar traveller is advised to have some means of protecting themselves form negative energy, if they do not wish to desiccate.
The plane of mineral is at the confluence of positive and earth. This is a plane of glittering stones of all kinds, elementals of gemstone and power originate from these dazzling caverns. The greedy traveller is advised to take special care protecting themselves should they visit this plane; the earth inherent to beings of the material will crystallise rapidly here. In simple terms: living visitors are turned into lifeless crystals. The plane of dust is at the confluence of negative and earth. Here, all things decay swiftly to dust, even the living. Elemental dust is therefore an excellent tool for destroying structures, if properly controlled.
5. Applications:
The pragmatically minded reader might wonder why knowledge of these various elements is useful to the practising arcanist. It is because these elements are fundamental to the physics of our world and our magic. We must understand how they interact, and what their mingling produces, if we are to keep our experimental works contained. Many arcanists have lost limbs or their lives when they failed to account for the quasielemental by products of their experiments. More, the many basic elements can be useful for magics meant to create or destroy things, or achieve a specific physical effect. I have included some uses in this work, but the clever arcanist will doubtless find many more in their years of practice.
Gaius
Collected songs about fanciful entities, including a mora about the folly of the Old Wolf of Kartakass.
Spoiler: The Conquerors Songbook • show
Title: The Conqueror's Songbook
Icon (book's appearance, if known): Any
Suggested locations (eg. Houlgraves', Castle Ravenloft, Port-à-Lucine library, etc.): Houlgrave's
Content:
This is a collection of songs authored by a travelling bard, who disappeared not long after performing The Old Wolf in Kartakass.
Nothing Else to Be:
Deep in the witchwood, where the free spirits play,
There came a Hunter searching for fresh prey.
The moon on his shoulders and fire in his eyes,
He howled and the witchwood was still.
You are hunter or prey.
By the night or the day.
There's nothing else to be!
Be prey or be free.
From the wood came a champion,
Wine soaked and deceitful!
"We make the world our prey, why don't you stay?"
The Hunter saw then the heart.
He vowed to play his part. Again he howled!
You are hunter or prey.
By the night or the day.
There's nothing else to be!
Be prey or be free.
Though he saw how others bowed,
He would not be cowed!
The heart sang its song and consumed the baying throngs.
But the Hunter saw the lie and so he did cry:
I am no slave to a tree.
I am hunter, not prey.
The heart burns this day.
For there are no chains on me.
I choose to be free.
Septimus' Crown
Deep in the dust amidst rust and decay,
Where all fear to go and only dead men stay.
Candles burn low, the wind is a whisper,
There's no light in this room, save alone on a throne.
One light, then two, the lord opens his eyes and cries:
INTERLOPERS!
No longer a gnome, now wreathed in shadow and bone!
The doors slam closed and he cackles:
NHEHEHEHEHE!
NHAHAHA!
You've come to my kingdom in search of riches!
There's some there in the corner, with other failed liches.
But listen well meat, take a seat!
I AM SEPTIMUS BLACKTALLOW!
Lord of all I survey, at least for today.
There's none better, you see,
Save the one that made me.
INTERLOPERS!
Put that bauble down, gather 'round!
I am master today and for me you shall play.
Focus if you can on my BRILLIANT plan.
I know it's hard for you to understand,
But my freedom is at hand!
INTERLOPERS!
My master comes now to an enormous disaster.
The cretin made me, but soon all shall see!
Lord Blacktallow does not bend the knee.
I will tear him apart and reclaim my own heart.
INTERLOPERS!
On this day I ascend, or find a glorious end.
Either way they will say: Septimus Blacktallow won that day!
Freedom or death, nothing else shall I claim.
It's time I put my maker to shame.
INTERLOPERS!
See how he burns! See how tides turn!
NHEHEHE!
NHAHA!
By earth and the stars!
By a gnome's burning heart!
Interlopers.
The battle is done.
I fear I have won.
It has cost all I am.
But this was the plan.
Inter-lopers...
This crown I have claimed.
From a master now shamed.
For a throne of bone...
My ashes drift through...
Alone.
The Old Wolf
Deep in the Wolfwood, where only the daring go,
I heard whisper of a great tree, that only our Grandfathers know!
Though the path was winding, though the wolves did gather,
I set forth on an adventure, to find the truth of the matter!
For there's only one place you can hear,
All that Grandfather Wolf holds dear!
There's only one place you can see,
What the wolves do when they're wild and free!
There's only one place I care to be,
In the boughs of Grandfather Tree!
Over rivers and under trees, the path wound through history,
Dead Hawks in empty castles, dark men burned in scores,
All the enemies of the wolf had fallen into their maws!
But through it all I did finally see,
The stately figure of Grandfather Tree!
High I did climb, into his mighty branches,
Surely, I thought, I would find here my answers!
What secrets does Grandfather Wolf know?
After all his grand hunts, where next does he plan to go?
For there's only one place you can hear,
All that Grandfather Wolf holds dear!
There's only one place you can see,
What the wolves do when they're wild and free!
There's only one place I care to be,
In the boughs of Grandfather Tree!
Night fell fast as I clung to the branches,
from my secret place I did listen as the wolves gathered with their master.
I heard a voice, sickly sweet, howl out from beneath:
"Hear me now, my moon kissed brothers; I am a wolf like no other!"
"I am the great hunter you know as Grandfather."
"Hear me now as I make my decree: it is time to be done with the forest and the trees!"
"I'm tired of the prowling, no more being free! There's a whole world of man and it's all I care to see."
"I'm tired of the hunt, my schemes and my tricks, I'd rather howl for the humans that gave me a crown!"
There was a silence there after, then it was filled with laughter,
The Grandfather, once respected, was roundly rejected!
For there's only one place you can hear,
An Old Wolf's shuddering despair!
There's only one place you can see,
The last gasps of a has been!
There's only one place I care to be;
In the boughs of Grandfather Tree!
Desperately curious I peered down from my perch,
Scores of wolves gathered below around a gilt throne!
There sat our Grandfather, bloated and alone.
Fur once so majestic had grown thin and mangy,
Tail all twisted and teeth terribly mangled.
Like a man he did sit, oh what a sight to see!
I could hardly believe it was a wolf before me.
No, the truth was clear, even though I was not near!
The Grandfather was wolf no more,
He had become a Grandfather Boar!
For there's only one place you can hear,
An Old Wolf's end come near!
There's only one place you can see,
The death of a fat wolf's dignity!
There's only one place I care to be,
In the boughs of Grandfather Tree!
To the circle then came an outsider,
Her pelt dark and sleek, her yellow eyes the Grandfather's did meet!
"You were once a great beast that called no man master, but your time is now gone and you seed nought but disaster."
"With ash on the winds and fires on the rise, it's time, once great beast, that you opened your eyes:"
"Fat and feeble you've grown, so I claim these woods for my own."
"Grandfather Boar you are wolf no more."
"Only my prey. Dead if you choose to stay!"
For there's only one place you can hear,
Grandfather Wolf's dying whimpers!
There's only one place you can see,
What becomes of those that stop living free!
There's only one place I care to be,
Under the boughs of Grandfather Tree!
Icon (book's appearance, if known): Any
Suggested locations (eg. Houlgraves', Castle Ravenloft, Port-à-Lucine library, etc.): Houlgrave's
Content:
This is a collection of songs authored by a travelling bard, who disappeared not long after performing The Old Wolf in Kartakass.
Nothing Else to Be:
Deep in the witchwood, where the free spirits play,
There came a Hunter searching for fresh prey.
The moon on his shoulders and fire in his eyes,
He howled and the witchwood was still.
You are hunter or prey.
By the night or the day.
There's nothing else to be!
Be prey or be free.
From the wood came a champion,
Wine soaked and deceitful!
"We make the world our prey, why don't you stay?"
The Hunter saw then the heart.
He vowed to play his part. Again he howled!
You are hunter or prey.
By the night or the day.
There's nothing else to be!
Be prey or be free.
Though he saw how others bowed,
He would not be cowed!
The heart sang its song and consumed the baying throngs.
But the Hunter saw the lie and so he did cry:
I am no slave to a tree.
I am hunter, not prey.
The heart burns this day.
For there are no chains on me.
I choose to be free.
Septimus' Crown
Deep in the dust amidst rust and decay,
Where all fear to go and only dead men stay.
Candles burn low, the wind is a whisper,
There's no light in this room, save alone on a throne.
One light, then two, the lord opens his eyes and cries:
INTERLOPERS!
No longer a gnome, now wreathed in shadow and bone!
The doors slam closed and he cackles:
NHEHEHEHEHE!
NHAHAHA!
You've come to my kingdom in search of riches!
There's some there in the corner, with other failed liches.
But listen well meat, take a seat!
I AM SEPTIMUS BLACKTALLOW!
Lord of all I survey, at least for today.
There's none better, you see,
Save the one that made me.
INTERLOPERS!
Put that bauble down, gather 'round!
I am master today and for me you shall play.
Focus if you can on my BRILLIANT plan.
I know it's hard for you to understand,
But my freedom is at hand!
INTERLOPERS!
My master comes now to an enormous disaster.
The cretin made me, but soon all shall see!
Lord Blacktallow does not bend the knee.
I will tear him apart and reclaim my own heart.
INTERLOPERS!
On this day I ascend, or find a glorious end.
Either way they will say: Septimus Blacktallow won that day!
Freedom or death, nothing else shall I claim.
It's time I put my maker to shame.
INTERLOPERS!
See how he burns! See how tides turn!
NHEHEHE!
NHAHA!
By earth and the stars!
By a gnome's burning heart!
Interlopers.
The battle is done.
I fear I have won.
It has cost all I am.
But this was the plan.
Inter-lopers...
This crown I have claimed.
From a master now shamed.
For a throne of bone...
My ashes drift through...
Alone.
The Old Wolf
Deep in the Wolfwood, where only the daring go,
I heard whisper of a great tree, that only our Grandfathers know!
Though the path was winding, though the wolves did gather,
I set forth on an adventure, to find the truth of the matter!
For there's only one place you can hear,
All that Grandfather Wolf holds dear!
There's only one place you can see,
What the wolves do when they're wild and free!
There's only one place I care to be,
In the boughs of Grandfather Tree!
Over rivers and under trees, the path wound through history,
Dead Hawks in empty castles, dark men burned in scores,
All the enemies of the wolf had fallen into their maws!
But through it all I did finally see,
The stately figure of Grandfather Tree!
High I did climb, into his mighty branches,
Surely, I thought, I would find here my answers!
What secrets does Grandfather Wolf know?
After all his grand hunts, where next does he plan to go?
For there's only one place you can hear,
All that Grandfather Wolf holds dear!
There's only one place you can see,
What the wolves do when they're wild and free!
There's only one place I care to be,
In the boughs of Grandfather Tree!
Night fell fast as I clung to the branches,
from my secret place I did listen as the wolves gathered with their master.
I heard a voice, sickly sweet, howl out from beneath:
"Hear me now, my moon kissed brothers; I am a wolf like no other!"
"I am the great hunter you know as Grandfather."
"Hear me now as I make my decree: it is time to be done with the forest and the trees!"
"I'm tired of the prowling, no more being free! There's a whole world of man and it's all I care to see."
"I'm tired of the hunt, my schemes and my tricks, I'd rather howl for the humans that gave me a crown!"
There was a silence there after, then it was filled with laughter,
The Grandfather, once respected, was roundly rejected!
For there's only one place you can hear,
An Old Wolf's shuddering despair!
There's only one place you can see,
The last gasps of a has been!
There's only one place I care to be;
In the boughs of Grandfather Tree!
Desperately curious I peered down from my perch,
Scores of wolves gathered below around a gilt throne!
There sat our Grandfather, bloated and alone.
Fur once so majestic had grown thin and mangy,
Tail all twisted and teeth terribly mangled.
Like a man he did sit, oh what a sight to see!
I could hardly believe it was a wolf before me.
No, the truth was clear, even though I was not near!
The Grandfather was wolf no more,
He had become a Grandfather Boar!
For there's only one place you can hear,
An Old Wolf's end come near!
There's only one place you can see,
The death of a fat wolf's dignity!
There's only one place I care to be,
In the boughs of Grandfather Tree!
To the circle then came an outsider,
Her pelt dark and sleek, her yellow eyes the Grandfather's did meet!
"You were once a great beast that called no man master, but your time is now gone and you seed nought but disaster."
"With ash on the winds and fires on the rise, it's time, once great beast, that you opened your eyes:"
"Fat and feeble you've grown, so I claim these woods for my own."
"Grandfather Boar you are wolf no more."
"Only my prey. Dead if you choose to stay!"
For there's only one place you can hear,
Grandfather Wolf's dying whimpers!
There's only one place you can see,
What becomes of those that stop living free!
There's only one place I care to be,
Under the boughs of Grandfather Tree!
A collection of incendiary songs for Port-a-Lucine's disenfranchised.
Spoiler: LE FRACAS • show
Title: LE FRACAS
Icon (book's appearance, if known): Any
Suggested locations (eg. Houlgraves', Castle Ravenloft, Port-à-Lucine library, etc.): Port-a-Lucine black market
Content:
The works of le Fracas belong to every man. Never forget the dream.
The Ballad of Felix Toure:
The hour is late. There's blood on the stones. Another poor soul, cornered scared and alone.
The Coats don't patrol here. The night's a grim game. But from the shadows steps a hero; we already know his name.
FELIX TOURE!
With a BANG. BANG. BANG. There's an end to the gang. Our poor soul is free.
Because there's a truth plain to see. If you don't bleed blue, there's nothing the Coats will do.
They'll pay "heroes" and foreigners to kill one or two, but they don't care about you.
And if you step out of line? You're comitting a crime, and the lapdogs will cut short your time.
He knew that pain. The loss and the blood. Neighbors lost to the mud.
So he took arms for a cause. He took on Communal laws. If you prey on the meek, if exploitation is what you seek?
Then he stepped from the night and judged you in the light.
FELIX TOURE!
With a BANG. BANG. BANG. True justice is done. No more should we run!
The frills have their laws. The Church has their doors. To who do we pray when they come to take us away?
SAINT FELIX TOURE!
Patron of a people. The home is his steeple. The State took him away, but in our hearts he shall stay.
His spirit roars with a vengeance when our lives are taken. The frills might forget, but we know the path he set.
So when they come for your own, when they break into your home? There's only one thing to do...
BANG.
BANG.
BANG.
Fall in Something Very Like Love:
I've got this tune in my head. You all know how it goes.
The one with deep eyes, brown hair and a lifetime of blows.
We met only briefly, but I can't seem to forget, the way you moved like anyone that crossed you is dead.
You set my heart racing, and when the light falls on you just right...
I know THAT I'VE FALLEN IN SOMETHING VERY LIKE LOVE TONIGHT!
This aint one for the stories. This aint good or proper.
Maybe in time those feelings can bloom. But right now in this room?
I'm holding you tight, because I'M FALLING IN SOMETHING VERY LIKE LOVE TONIGHT!
I'm not proposing. There's time to date, it's true. I want in good time to see more of you.
But to me now? You're a dish, you're a dream!
I WANT TO BREAK A TABLE DOING SOMETHING OBSCENE!
So drink, dance and move with me just right. I'M FALLING IN SOMETHING VERY LIKE LOVE TONIGHT!
I hope we'll get on. I think we'd make a good match! But there's passion and /passion/, and right now I'm unattached.
I'm really quite simple. A beast at my heart. I like to sing, drink, fight, make true art and...
I'D LOVE IF YOU LET ME TEAR YOUR WORLD APART.
So take a leap with me through the pale moonlight.
Wont you fall in something like love with me tonight?
Ghosts:
There's a ghost at the bar, never says a word, but he's there every time I go.
There's another on the corner, where the gutters overflow, I can't look him in the eye yet but someday I will.
They're under crumbling awnings, they're down crooked streets, they're everywhere in the city that never sleeps.
Where were you when war came again? Where were you when it took family and friends?
Where were you when the storm broke on our town? When the streets ran red, and the sky fell down?
Yeah, they say ghosts they come from business undone.
They're waiting for a righting of wrongs. They're haunting the places they used to know.
I don't know if that's true, but I know that they're there, I know my conscience aint clear.
Where were you when the cables snapped? Where were you when the boiler burst?
Where were you when they came for the young? When childhood was traded for darkness and pain?
I see them still. Ghosts drifting in the rain.
There's so many places that'll never be the same.
I'm not going to forget. I wont ignore them forever.
I hope some day, that the world will be better.
But for now they're there still, and when it's my time in life's queue...
I wonder if I'll haunt these streets, too.
Broken Promises:
When you're small they'll say; you gotta seize the day...
That if you're quick, if you're bright, if you do everything right...
The world will be yours! How high you'll soar!
So to work you go; aiming high by starting low.
Twelve hour days, eyes glazed, heart weak. You begin to lose hope in ever claiming what you seek.
Still, they'll smile to your face. They'll say: good citizens know their place.
Keep bleeding for me and someday you'll be free!
Each time, you swallow the line. But it's like swallowing poison; soon enough you gotta choose:
To spit it back up or die slow. I know how I want to go. So when they open their powdered mouths I shout:
I'M DONE ASKING. I'M NOT WAITING ANYMORE. GIVE ME WHAT I'M DUE!
OR.
I.
WILL.
BREAK.
YOU.
I'm over the lies, I've heard your promises before.
Always you say: "just wait a little more".
Always you say: "there's a new plan to help."
You live like pigs on high and pretend that you care if I die.
Well I know it's not true. Here's all I got to say to you:
I'M DONE ASKING. YOU HAD YOUR CHANCE. I'M TAKING WHAT I'M OWED.
DON'T MAKE ANOTHER SOUND.
OR I'M GONNA BURN YOU TO THE GROUND.
There's no life on a factory floor.
There's no law that'll guard my door.
Your kingdom glitters bright with all that stolen delight.
I wont rob my own, like those thugs that shed our blood, but from you?
I'LL TAKE WHAT I'M DUE.
TIME'S UP.
TOO LATE.
YOU. WILL. BREAK!
Icon (book's appearance, if known): Any
Suggested locations (eg. Houlgraves', Castle Ravenloft, Port-à-Lucine library, etc.): Port-a-Lucine black market
Content:
The works of le Fracas belong to every man. Never forget the dream.
The Ballad of Felix Toure:
The hour is late. There's blood on the stones. Another poor soul, cornered scared and alone.
The Coats don't patrol here. The night's a grim game. But from the shadows steps a hero; we already know his name.
FELIX TOURE!
With a BANG. BANG. BANG. There's an end to the gang. Our poor soul is free.
Because there's a truth plain to see. If you don't bleed blue, there's nothing the Coats will do.
They'll pay "heroes" and foreigners to kill one or two, but they don't care about you.
And if you step out of line? You're comitting a crime, and the lapdogs will cut short your time.
He knew that pain. The loss and the blood. Neighbors lost to the mud.
So he took arms for a cause. He took on Communal laws. If you prey on the meek, if exploitation is what you seek?
Then he stepped from the night and judged you in the light.
FELIX TOURE!
With a BANG. BANG. BANG. True justice is done. No more should we run!
The frills have their laws. The Church has their doors. To who do we pray when they come to take us away?
SAINT FELIX TOURE!
Patron of a people. The home is his steeple. The State took him away, but in our hearts he shall stay.
His spirit roars with a vengeance when our lives are taken. The frills might forget, but we know the path he set.
So when they come for your own, when they break into your home? There's only one thing to do...
BANG.
BANG.
BANG.
Fall in Something Very Like Love:
I've got this tune in my head. You all know how it goes.
The one with deep eyes, brown hair and a lifetime of blows.
We met only briefly, but I can't seem to forget, the way you moved like anyone that crossed you is dead.
You set my heart racing, and when the light falls on you just right...
I know THAT I'VE FALLEN IN SOMETHING VERY LIKE LOVE TONIGHT!
This aint one for the stories. This aint good or proper.
Maybe in time those feelings can bloom. But right now in this room?
I'm holding you tight, because I'M FALLING IN SOMETHING VERY LIKE LOVE TONIGHT!
I'm not proposing. There's time to date, it's true. I want in good time to see more of you.
But to me now? You're a dish, you're a dream!
I WANT TO BREAK A TABLE DOING SOMETHING OBSCENE!
So drink, dance and move with me just right. I'M FALLING IN SOMETHING VERY LIKE LOVE TONIGHT!
I hope we'll get on. I think we'd make a good match! But there's passion and /passion/, and right now I'm unattached.
I'm really quite simple. A beast at my heart. I like to sing, drink, fight, make true art and...
I'D LOVE IF YOU LET ME TEAR YOUR WORLD APART.
So take a leap with me through the pale moonlight.
Wont you fall in something like love with me tonight?
Ghosts:
There's a ghost at the bar, never says a word, but he's there every time I go.
There's another on the corner, where the gutters overflow, I can't look him in the eye yet but someday I will.
They're under crumbling awnings, they're down crooked streets, they're everywhere in the city that never sleeps.
Where were you when war came again? Where were you when it took family and friends?
Where were you when the storm broke on our town? When the streets ran red, and the sky fell down?
Yeah, they say ghosts they come from business undone.
They're waiting for a righting of wrongs. They're haunting the places they used to know.
I don't know if that's true, but I know that they're there, I know my conscience aint clear.
Where were you when the cables snapped? Where were you when the boiler burst?
Where were you when they came for the young? When childhood was traded for darkness and pain?
I see them still. Ghosts drifting in the rain.
There's so many places that'll never be the same.
I'm not going to forget. I wont ignore them forever.
I hope some day, that the world will be better.
But for now they're there still, and when it's my time in life's queue...
I wonder if I'll haunt these streets, too.
Broken Promises:
When you're small they'll say; you gotta seize the day...
That if you're quick, if you're bright, if you do everything right...
The world will be yours! How high you'll soar!
So to work you go; aiming high by starting low.
Twelve hour days, eyes glazed, heart weak. You begin to lose hope in ever claiming what you seek.
Still, they'll smile to your face. They'll say: good citizens know their place.
Keep bleeding for me and someday you'll be free!
Each time, you swallow the line. But it's like swallowing poison; soon enough you gotta choose:
To spit it back up or die slow. I know how I want to go. So when they open their powdered mouths I shout:
I'M DONE ASKING. I'M NOT WAITING ANYMORE. GIVE ME WHAT I'M DUE!
OR.
I.
WILL.
BREAK.
YOU.
I'm over the lies, I've heard your promises before.
Always you say: "just wait a little more".
Always you say: "there's a new plan to help."
You live like pigs on high and pretend that you care if I die.
Well I know it's not true. Here's all I got to say to you:
I'M DONE ASKING. YOU HAD YOUR CHANCE. I'M TAKING WHAT I'M OWED.
DON'T MAKE ANOTHER SOUND.
OR I'M GONNA BURN YOU TO THE GROUND.
There's no life on a factory floor.
There's no law that'll guard my door.
Your kingdom glitters bright with all that stolen delight.
I wont rob my own, like those thugs that shed our blood, but from you?
I'LL TAKE WHAT I'M DUE.
TIME'S UP.
TOO LATE.
YOU. WILL. BREAK!
Songs also written udner the Fracas period, but the author was not me the player. I don't know who wrote them but they're good.
https://www.nwnravenloft.com/forum/index.php?topic=60053.msg706070#msg706070
Spoiler: LE FRACAS II • show
Title: LE FRACAS II
Icon (book's appearance, if known): Any
Suggested locations (eg. Houlgraves', Castle Ravenloft, Port-à-Lucine library, etc.): Port-a-Lucine Black Market
Content:
The works of le Fracas belong to every man. Never forget the dream.
Well Paid, Well Fed, Submissive:
The nobles take care of us,
They tend to our wants and needs;
Or at least that’s what they claim,
With the phrase “Noblesse Oblige”.
The truth is much more ugly:
Most treat us worse than dogs.
All part of the machinery,
We’re ground down, broken cogs.
Well paid, well fed, submissive.
Is this how you describe a citizen?
Say this for the hunger and the beatings:
At least they don’t lie.
How intolerable the hypocrisy
Of the nobles who dare to cry.
More than food, more than money,
We are deprived of agency.
Promoting the odd self-serving wench
Is no true meritocracy.
Well paid, well fed, submissive.
Is this how you describe a human?
Where are the fruits of the Revolution?
Why have I become so bitter?
Why are we ruled by inbred toffs?
Is truly no-one fitter?
The mendacity of our masters
Has finally taught its lesson:
Despite honeyed words and promises,
True power is not given, it is taken.
Well paid, well fed, submissive
No longer.
The Coward’s Labor:
The nobles of Dementlieu are haughty
And consider themselves free-thinkers.
They ignore the reality:
Their power becomes blinkers.
If they exclaim, “Not signing your name is cowardice!”
Then just ask them: “Who killed Guy Maurice?”
For the powerless and the voiceless,
Rich only in obsequiences,
Speaking truth to power comes
With swift and damning consequences.
If they challenge, “Masking yourself has no honor!”
Respond: “What was the fate of Jacques Varteur?”
Mistrust their perverted justice,
Disbelieve their free expression.
Blind obedience to tradition
Is our true Constitution.
If they offer, “Please, have your say!”
Don’t end up like Felix Touré.
Trust no-one.
Hide your name.
Change your voice.
Wear a mask.
Don’t be a snitch.
Who’s the real coward, hiding behind their power?
Useless Prophylactics
When you’re tumbling with your squeeze,
And don’t know who they’ve seen
When you’re kissing them and loving them,
And getting, well, you know what I mean!
Some swear by sheep intestine tubes
Some on Lamordian contraption
Some use herbal tea, whatever works
To avoid unwanted contagion!
[CHORUS]
Baronesse de Prophylactic!
Baronesse de Prophylactic!
When you’re in need and the blue coats chase
Don’t trust her to keep you safe!
There is a plague amongst the bluebloods
Evil that spreads as it may please
I’ve no fancy doctorate from the university,
So I jus’ call it the Gendarme’s disease
It’s a sickness of the heart
That sucks our blood like a tick
To this illness there’s no cure
Not even a prophylactic
[CHORUS]
Baronesse de Prophylactic!
Baronesse de Prophylactic!
When the blue coats chase you up the wrong track
Don’t trust her to have your back!
We’re good enough to work for her,
And she pays well enough, that’s true
But when it comes to weighty matters
She hasn’t invited you!
She’s got her place at the big table
While we’re crawling on all fours:
Her masters on the Council
Won’t let you forget yours
[CHORUS]
Baronesse de Prophylactic!
Baronesse de Prophylactic!
When the Council tore up the Constitution,
Did you expect her to show contrition?
I hope we’ve learned something today
Let’s not forget the facts
Some people claim to help others
Just to climb on their backs
So if you find yourself wanting,
Buried in a real deep fix
Don’t expect to be protected
By that sycophant Alix!
[CHORUS]
Baronesse de Prophylactic!
Baronesse de Prophylactic!
Don’t forget to smile and thank her
[The last verse is spoken without music or mirth]
When the Council’s boot is on your neck
Icon (book's appearance, if known): Any
Suggested locations (eg. Houlgraves', Castle Ravenloft, Port-à-Lucine library, etc.): Port-a-Lucine Black Market
Content:
The works of le Fracas belong to every man. Never forget the dream.
Well Paid, Well Fed, Submissive:
The nobles take care of us,
They tend to our wants and needs;
Or at least that’s what they claim,
With the phrase “Noblesse Oblige”.
The truth is much more ugly:
Most treat us worse than dogs.
All part of the machinery,
We’re ground down, broken cogs.
Well paid, well fed, submissive.
Is this how you describe a citizen?
Say this for the hunger and the beatings:
At least they don’t lie.
How intolerable the hypocrisy
Of the nobles who dare to cry.
More than food, more than money,
We are deprived of agency.
Promoting the odd self-serving wench
Is no true meritocracy.
Well paid, well fed, submissive.
Is this how you describe a human?
Where are the fruits of the Revolution?
Why have I become so bitter?
Why are we ruled by inbred toffs?
Is truly no-one fitter?
The mendacity of our masters
Has finally taught its lesson:
Despite honeyed words and promises,
True power is not given, it is taken.
Well paid, well fed, submissive
No longer.
The Coward’s Labor:
The nobles of Dementlieu are haughty
And consider themselves free-thinkers.
They ignore the reality:
Their power becomes blinkers.
If they exclaim, “Not signing your name is cowardice!”
Then just ask them: “Who killed Guy Maurice?”
For the powerless and the voiceless,
Rich only in obsequiences,
Speaking truth to power comes
With swift and damning consequences.
If they challenge, “Masking yourself has no honor!”
Respond: “What was the fate of Jacques Varteur?”
Mistrust their perverted justice,
Disbelieve their free expression.
Blind obedience to tradition
Is our true Constitution.
If they offer, “Please, have your say!”
Don’t end up like Felix Touré.
Trust no-one.
Hide your name.
Change your voice.
Wear a mask.
Don’t be a snitch.
Who’s the real coward, hiding behind their power?
Useless Prophylactics
When you’re tumbling with your squeeze,
And don’t know who they’ve seen
When you’re kissing them and loving them,
And getting, well, you know what I mean!
Some swear by sheep intestine tubes
Some on Lamordian contraption
Some use herbal tea, whatever works
To avoid unwanted contagion!
[CHORUS]
Baronesse de Prophylactic!
Baronesse de Prophylactic!
When you’re in need and the blue coats chase
Don’t trust her to keep you safe!
There is a plague amongst the bluebloods
Evil that spreads as it may please
I’ve no fancy doctorate from the university,
So I jus’ call it the Gendarme’s disease
It’s a sickness of the heart
That sucks our blood like a tick
To this illness there’s no cure
Not even a prophylactic
[CHORUS]
Baronesse de Prophylactic!
Baronesse de Prophylactic!
When the blue coats chase you up the wrong track
Don’t trust her to have your back!
We’re good enough to work for her,
And she pays well enough, that’s true
But when it comes to weighty matters
She hasn’t invited you!
She’s got her place at the big table
While we’re crawling on all fours:
Her masters on the Council
Won’t let you forget yours
[CHORUS]
Baronesse de Prophylactic!
Baronesse de Prophylactic!
When the Council tore up the Constitution,
Did you expect her to show contrition?
I hope we’ve learned something today
Let’s not forget the facts
Some people claim to help others
Just to climb on their backs
So if you find yourself wanting,
Buried in a real deep fix
Don’t expect to be protected
By that sycophant Alix!
[CHORUS]
Baronesse de Prophylactic!
Baronesse de Prophylactic!
Don’t forget to smile and thank her
[The last verse is spoken without music or mirth]
When the Council’s boot is on your neck
A fanciful retelling of a priest of the Morninglord that fell to vampirism, but ultimately chose to purify themselves in the sun.
Spoiler: The Vicar's Dawn • show
Title: The Vicar's Dawn
Icon (book's appearance, if known): Any
Suggested locations (eg. Houlgraves', Castle Ravenloft, Port-à-Lucine library, etc.): Morninglordians, Houlgrave's
Content: The Vicar's Dawn
Tonight's tale is based on a true story.
Though we took liberties with the details.
But then, no two tellings are quite the same.
In the light of the Dawn she walked.
Healing, from a pain of youth and blood.
Healing, from the abuses of the City of Lights.
She walked with Hope. She walked with Heroes.
For all the cruelty the world had done her?
She would defy the night.
She would defy until Dawn.
Her pain would not define her path.
The cruelty of the world would not enslave her!
But the night is long.
The night is cruel.
The night is ancient.
From the Child of Light, kin were taken.
Peace was shaken. Old pain awakened.
With tin soldiers she marched.
To avenge him? To avenge herself?
No. To be free of the pain.
To heal. For though the darkness was great, there was Hope for the Dawn.
The night took its due.
Her soul chained to a name.
A false faith. Hollow Family.
Where others gave in.
Where lessers served willingly.
She resisted.
From the light the Huntress called.
For the Dawn, her true Family fought.
How could Fear stand against Compassion?
The chain shattered. Florette was free to choose.
She chose the Dawn.
She chose Hope.
She chose to be free.
In the end, it was not might that defeated the night.
It was love.
It is a shame that in those that remain,
we will not see Florette's light again.
For they do not struggle.
They do not care.
They have chosen hate.
So they deserve the stake.
K.V.[/quote]
Icon (book's appearance, if known): Any
Suggested locations (eg. Houlgraves', Castle Ravenloft, Port-à-Lucine library, etc.): Morninglordians, Houlgrave's
Content: The Vicar's Dawn
Tonight's tale is based on a true story.
Though we took liberties with the details.
But then, no two tellings are quite the same.
In the light of the Dawn she walked.
Healing, from a pain of youth and blood.
Healing, from the abuses of the City of Lights.
She walked with Hope. She walked with Heroes.
For all the cruelty the world had done her?
She would defy the night.
She would defy until Dawn.
Her pain would not define her path.
The cruelty of the world would not enslave her!
But the night is long.
The night is cruel.
The night is ancient.
From the Child of Light, kin were taken.
Peace was shaken. Old pain awakened.
With tin soldiers she marched.
To avenge him? To avenge herself?
No. To be free of the pain.
To heal. For though the darkness was great, there was Hope for the Dawn.
The night took its due.
Her soul chained to a name.
A false faith. Hollow Family.
Where others gave in.
Where lessers served willingly.
She resisted.
From the light the Huntress called.
For the Dawn, her true Family fought.
How could Fear stand against Compassion?
The chain shattered. Florette was free to choose.
She chose the Dawn.
She chose Hope.
She chose to be free.
In the end, it was not might that defeated the night.
It was love.
It is a shame that in those that remain,
we will not see Florette's light again.
For they do not struggle.
They do not care.
They have chosen hate.
So they deserve the stake.
K.V.[/quote]
