Pastelland Forum

Now registration is open and Lurker can register in this forum :S

I thought there was already a lurker here?

I don't know, but I think the only evil user registered is xetroV.

♚

And so the King turned for counsel to the shaded dwellings of the jaded Submarquess, for the ending of the completion of the Misterium was about to be undone, as time spent on scholarly musings and perusals of lengthenduring scrolls passed unequivocally; the adhortation of the sacred witch was to lay a thousand soft, pitying kisses on the surface of the smooth marble of the hallowed stone sealing off the tomb of the ancients, the ninth Corner-Stone of the cube-world; and so the by-topos-described monarch, of centuries of fiery war struggles incarnate, realizator of the will of the genes of their predecessors and thoughts of their fore-philosophers, spirit of territorial disputes, umbrage-ly peregrined to the shrine bequeathed upon him by the murderously logical causality and heirloom, and as it was prophesized, foretold, conjectured and hypothesized long before anything began (whatever this string of names may conjure in the hermetic imaginarium of the receiver's mind), as everything had been, the first of royals realized the unspoken will of the folk truly ruling over him, bespattering the path before them with tears, bedewing their crown-bearing-head with ash; real, flesh-y penitence for a crime never by themself committed, though by the unerasable, still meaningful shades of far forgotten past, and when the embodiment of the idea of ruling fulfilled adhering to the world-inherent topos of journey, the myriads of obstacles overcome, lieutenants by travel wearied, the tedious trek finished, and in that array of arrivals of kingly entourage was the most dramatic and soul-crushing to happen, that they were just a tiny fraction of an eon too late to juxtapose encroaching calamities with the apologetic self-humiliation in order to let go of the rotten hand of curse outstretched over them, and none of the ten thousand humble lip-touches on the cold unforgiving rock did anything in the grand scale of theological things to estabilish, as it was desiderated, ontological stability; there was none to blame, there was no other way it could've happened, though it hadn't been one of the determinist Langragians, as saddening as it was, they've really did all they could and tried really hard not to make it happen, I'm so sorry, but nevertheless it has commenced itself, I know, I understand; the might and force and faith broken like a sea's wave on a stone shore impervious to its saline treachery, incessant watery onrush - broken by a force not all that much greater than its opponent, by a stream of coincidences not all that unfortunate as it could've possibly been with a slightly different set of constants - though of course all that is in sphere of divigation, as since King and everyone with them by the thread of love conjoined watched the ultimate beckoning and embrace of death and void by the whole cube-world they were the dwellers of, their influence and requirement of persistence, the perseverance they hung on so dearly with their jaws and ligaments having amounted to exactly nothing, when the external powers that are desired tranquility and equilibrium within the domain of the Spiral.

I know who the lurker is. He's not a bad one

^Subnet's Core and Edge

What is that?
Something of the Black Death, or the Salem Witch Trials?

Hey, we have a new member!

Yup, he goes to my school He was just over at my house last night, we played through SubVerse