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nach Hobbes „Leviathan“ : ... was Leviathan das Kommunum saget :
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BINATE BLITZ Renée van Velthuijsen | © 2016 Inspired by Leviathan by Scott Westerfeld 1.1 Day Break (Interactive cut scene:) Dead of night at a grand mansion.
Nos praepotens Lucifer, juvante Satan, Belzebub, Azazel, Leviathan, Elimi, atque, Astaroth, aliisque, hodie, habemus, acceptum pactum foederis ______________________ (Το όνοματεπώνυμό σου) qui nobis est.
there is that leviathan [large sea creature], whom thou hast made to play therein.
I began to disregard the individuals and started looking at whole encampments as their own living thing - a grassroots leviathan, a community greater than the sum of its parts.
KIDS IN SATAN’S SERVICE Justin Wheatley In Which We’re in the House of God It was on a Sunday morning, in the second row pew of the Church of God, when I knew I wanted to go to Hell. I feel no God in my bones, but I know if He were to exist, he would have to answer committing the mortal sin of forcing young children into his myriad houses of worship. Thirteen years later and I can still feel the fits of heavylidded yawns prying open my jaw every thirty seconds, and I can still see the backward glances at the clock at the back of the sanctuary, just high enough on the wall to (I swear) discourage small children such as myself from paying it too much sinful attention. This was casino psychology. I’m now convinced that it was a form of hypnotic trance that I would fall under. The syrupthick doldrums, the standing still of time. It was a cruel ritual, fit not for any child with the promise of a weekend noontime kicking and pricking in their unscraped, OshKosh B’Goshed legs. There’s the natural buildup that comes before Sunday servicethe inertia of not wanting to go dear God mom please. It was the opposite of suspense. And then after that the Dress Up, in which you decide to rebel and wear your tiny scuffed Chuck Taylors and hope dear God mom please don’t notice. Then she notices and you have to change into your nice church shoes right this second, Justin. We didn’t have money, but I can imagine our church clothes cost us at least three Sundays’ worth of collection plates. My tie was a clipon, but let me tell you, it was a nice clipon. After the Dress Up is the Drive There. The Drive There is mercifully short, as the church is only a couple blocks away. Then there’s the Greeting in the front parking lot of the church. Here you meet with the other Sunday school kids, already anxious, pulling at your clipon tie as if its imaginary grip is too tight around your collar. You kick some gravel around, maybe throw it at the side of the church when no one is looking, because hey man, screw this. You gather into the sanctuary with the other churchgoers. They’re an elderly bunch, save for that attractive young couple sticking out like two spicy thumbs. Then you wait thirty minutes until Sunday School is called into attendance. Such is the Dance of the Dutiful. Rinse and repeat. Reaffirming my deepseated belief that Tom Petty is some sort of mellowedout pop prophet, the waiting was the hardest part of Sunday service. I’m not going to say that I approach the notion of Sunday school as some sort of oasis in the beige desert of organized religion. It’s not often that I agree with the commonly held notion that children are an awful race of persons, because they aren’t. But even at that young age, my peers in youth did nothing for me. I say this not with pride, but with sad bafflement. Was it the glassy stares the Massy brothers would develop when one tried to talk to them? Was it the whitish flecks of dead skin that salted Kevin Dodd’s shoulders, pants, and any tabletop in front of him? Was it the revolving cast of fat women that “taught” the class, on average named Linda, all seemingly doomed to wear the same Dillards floral print dress? I could go on, and each time the answer would be a resounding, bitter ‘yes’. However, to say that Sunday church services in the sanctuary was the most unbearably dull situation that I’ve ever experienced would be a cosmic understatement. While Sunday school was a test of tolerance, services in the sanctuary were a test of character, determination, and the human will.There’s no describing the mental anguish the lack of stimuli during a Church of God service brought upon my young soul. My mother’s side, my browner half, they were all Catholic. Why couldn’t I be Catholic? They had better parties, and better food. Their communions were more fun, even if their grape juice tasted awful. And during Mass, you were never left to your own devices. There were recitations, there was lots of kneeling, there was call and response like some sort of divine stage banter at a really quiet jazz show. In the Church of God you may find a page of a coloring book stuffed into the hymnal slot of the pew in front of you, creased and ripped and scribbled upon, leftovers from the previous Sunday’s young occupant like halfeaten rations mercifully left behind in a foxhole. But this never happened. And even when it did, you’d be no doubt left with a truly awful Lisa Frank page, all jumping ponies and flying unicorns, ready to be ravaged with Tickle Me Pinks and Atomic Tangerines. (The “nontoxic” guarantee on a box of Crayolas never seemed like such a smirking taunt until you’re left in church with bad coloring books and worst colors.) I recall my grandmother being the sole provider of diversions as she gave in to my nonverbal pleas and handed me handfuls of TicTacs, Altoids, and/or sticks of Big Red chewing gum. This respite was, of course, fleeting, just as dust in the wind, or flavor in a stick of her occasional Big Red. They say those in the most desperate times of need will turn to the Bible and find solace in its pages. This couldn’t have been any truer. In my times of need, without any other stimulus to cajole my eyes into staying open, I turned to the Good Book and found sanctuary. Like all good books, it’s the first chapter and the last chapter that deliver the most important information. So I started at the Beginning, and then skipped to the End. The gist was: In the Beginning there was suffering, in the End there will be even more suffering. Made sense. Despite some minor glitches and discrepancies, it was nice of God to direct the Bible’s various authors, editors, and interpreters into chronologically ordering that musty King James edition sunk weighty into my hands. The Bible could’ve easily confused its readership and gone for a more arthouse approach, maybe bookending the inbetweens with two parallel accounts of the apocalyptic showdown, thus signifying the fundamentally circular nature of the eternity concept, or something. Real Joycean shit. But such is not the case. We get Genesis, with God breathing life into the Universe, and we get Revelation, with God annihilating the Earth with fire, dragons, and a horn section (presumably called The Funk of Ages). Here, at Revelation, is where my childhood fascinations landed. Is this boring? Here’s a digression. I once had an idea for a short story. The main character is a young boy in a wheelchair. He goes to the bathroom. While in the bathroom, he hears strange, resonant clops outside the door. He peeks under. Pacing right outside the door are a pair of deepreddish hooves. They are cloven, and they stomp with anger and purpose. They are the Devil’s. For the boy, the story is: Now what? Oh, and somehow the wheelchair played a part in the story. See, I can’t help it, but I’ve always had a lot of affection for, and fascination with, the Satan character. He’s so much more interesting than that pissy Yahweh, or his touchyfeely son, Jesus. We understand Satan, we sympathize with Satan. I know that even the most hardcore evangelical Christian has stopped, looked down at the space between their feet, and thought a nasty, vile thought that only that Infernal Boiler Keeper would understand. I almost pity those who grew up without a Satan figure in their non/religious upbringing. He’s the only fun character in an otherwise selfimportant, overbloated swordandsandals epic. He’s the ultimate bad guy, and the sad part is that the only reason he’s condemned to that role is because he experiences those human emotions that we’ve since had forgiven. It’s not as if he’s Snidely Whiplashing young Bathshebas to the train tracks. He’s simply succumbing to the temptations that his Creator provided him. Free will is a bitch. Why can’t God cut the guy a break? What grudge needs so much keeping that it manages to create a diametrically opposing supervillain for the superdeity grudgee? It’s Pride, which is, as we all know, what sent Satan tumbling down through those Ptolemaic chambers in the first place. I never ended up writing that story. But really, don’t you think Satan was probably relieved to leave the Kingdom of God? How vanilla can things get before you need a little Rocky Road to put some kick into your life? Speaking metaphysically, of course. I don’t like to perpetuate cliches, but here’s one: All the most interesting people throughout history probably made it down to Hell. In Heaven, everything is too fine. I’m not saying that I would want to make company with Hitler or Ted Bundy, but I am secretly thinking it. Really, I’m not so spiritually bankrupt as to admire those monsters from the past. I despise mass murderers, bank collectors, and daytime TV producers as much as the next caucasian male. But let’s all take a deep, honest breath here and consider just how boring Heaven would be. Who wants to drink lukewarm drip coffee with Billy Graham while the late members of Stryper wail painful power ballads over that fluffy white PA system? Pardon my English, but shiiiit. And since we’re being honest, let me clarifyboredom is not the primary reason I’d take Hell over Heaven. The real reason is that I would like to make smalltalk with the evil bastards of the past. I would like to pick Attila the Hun’s brain, or comb through Nietzsche's moustache. But all the same, I don’t want to spend eternity bored out of my mind. Satan, once subservient, once the brightest star, he only wanted to rule Heaven, a desire presumably brought about by the sheerest of boredom. And I knew his pain. Encased in buttons and cornstarch, standing for seven, eight, nine minutes to mouth the words to the same dozen hymns with the same four melodies, keeping my eyes closed for the opening prayer, the halftime prayer, the closing prayer, keeping my eyes open for the recycled sermon and the phonedin open mic testimonies from the slowest and quietest and most elderly members of the congregationI knew Heaven, and it was Hell. And sitting in the second row pew in that Church of God, I would pull out my copy of the Bible, stiff from disuse, and I would read and reread Revelation. Even the Bible’s more adventurous excursionsJob with his Leviathan, Ezekiel with his wheels within wheelshad nothing on Revelation’s bad trip apocalypse. Suffering through the laws of the Old Testament and the parables of the New Testament was worth it, if only for the terrifying wrath of the sevenheaded dragon, or the shimmering pangs of protolust that stabbed in my belly when I read about the (heehee) Whore of Babylon. The psychedelic fire and brimstone had no choice but to enthrall budding senses of story and fiction. As I read through that epic document of Hell and Heaven on Earth, of Satan’s futile struggle to regain control of the world for which he had, and forever will, serve as supreme antagonist, I knew whose side I was on. I knew I had no control over my attendance of the Church of God, at least not until I was old enough to explain to my parents why exactly I had trouble with the discrepant injustices in our religious beliefs. I knew that I would have to endure many more sweaty Oklahoma summers in the basement of the church, trying not to spill my undersugared cherry KoolAid as I made my way through dozens of farty senior citizens in hopes of catching the potluck buffet before the plate of deviled eggs was vultured clean by their papery, blueveined talons. And I knew, above all else, that writing “Hail Satan” in Sharpie on the stall wall of the upstairs mens room was as necessary as it was hilarious.
Initially, the flame burned bright, but it faded almost as quickly once the PlayStation 2 appeared on the horizon, like the world-conquering leviathan that it was.
Initially, the flame burned bright, but it faded almost as quickly once the PlayStation 2 appeared on the horizon, like the world-conquering leviathan that it was.
1 - Research Chart 2 - Crafting Styles 3 - Crafting Sets 4 - Food Recipes 5 - Drink Recipes 6 - Delicacy Recipes 7 - Alchemy Effects 8 - Alchemy Master Writs 9 - Enchanting Translations 10 - Fishing 11 - Houses 12 - Blueprints 13 - Designs 14 - Diagrams 15 - Formulas 16 - Patterns 17 - Praxis 18 - Achievement Furnisher 19 - Crown Store Furnisher 20 - Luxury Furnisher 21 - Mastercraft Mediator Created by Blacknight841 - (Owner of the Empire Trade Company Guilds) Research Chart Weapon Axe Hammer Sword Battle Axe Maul Greatsword Dagger Wood Powered Powered Charged Charged Precise Precise Infused Infused Defending Defending Training Training Sharpened Sharpened Decisive Decisive Nirnhoned Nirnhoned Armor Cuirasses Sabatons Gauntlets Helms Greaves Pauldrons Griddle Wood Bow Inferno Shield Ice Lightning Restoration Time (days) Maxed Skill + ESO Plus Sturdy Sturdy Trait 1 0.1625 0.14625 Impenetrable Impenetrable Trait 2 0.375 0.3375 Reinforced Reinforced Trait 3 0.65 0.585 Well-Fitted Well-Fitted Trait 4 1.5 1.35 Training Training Trait 5 3 2.7 Infused Infused Trait 6 6 5.4 Prosperous Prosperous Trait 7 12 10.8 Divines Divines Trait 8 24 21.6 Nirnhoned Nirnhoned Trait 9 30 27 Clothing Sturdy Impenetrable Reinforced Well-Fitted Training Infused Prosperous Divines Nirnhoned Robe Shoes Gloves Hat Breeches Epaulets Sash Jack Boots Braces Helmet Guards Armcops Belt Crafting Styles # Style Material Location 1 High Elf Adamantite Inns, Backpacks, Cabinets 2 Dark Elf Obsidian Inns, Backpacks, Cabinets 3 Wood Elf Bone Inns, Backpacks, Cabinets 4 Nord Corundum Inns, Backpacks, Cabinets 5 Breton Molybdenum Inns, Backpacks, Cabinets 6 Redguard Starmetal Inns, Backpacks, Cabinets 7 Kajiit Moonstone Inns, Backpacks, Cabinets 8 Orc Manganese Inns, Backpacks, Cabinets 9 Argonian Flint Inns, Backpacks, Cabinets 10 Imperial Cyrods Nickel Inns, Backpacks, Cabinets 11 Ancient Elf Palladium Inns, Backpacks, Cabinets 12 Barbaric Copper Inns, Backpacks, Cabinets 13 Primal Argentum Inns, Backpacks, Cabinets 14 Daedric Daedra Hearts Inns, Backpacks, Cabinets 15 Dwemer Dwemer Frame Dwemer Ruins (Urns) 16 Glass Malachite Crafting Writ (Glass Motif Fragment) 17 Xivkyn Charcoal of Remorse Imperial City Vaults 18 Akaviri Gold Scales Cyrodiil (AP Purchase) 19 Mercenary Laurels Undaunted Keys 20 Yokudin Ferrous Salt Repeatable quests in Craglon 21 Ancient Orc Casserite Old Orsinium and Rkindaleft Bosses 22 Trinimac Auric Tusk Orsinium Daily Delve Quest 23 Malacath Potash Orsinium Daily World Boss Quest 24 Outlaw Rogue’s Soot Hew’s Bane Delves and World Bosses 25 Dominion Eagle Feather Cyrodiil Chests/Maps (Dominion) 26 Covenant Lion Fang Cyrodiil Chests/Maps (Covenant) 27 Pact Dragon Scute Cyrodiil Chests/Maps (Pact) 28 Ra Gada Ancient Sandstone Craglorn Enemies and Chests 29 Soul-Shriven Azure Plasm Caldwell’s Silver Completion 30 Morag Tong Boiled Carapace Vvardenfel Dailies 31 Skinchanger Wolfsbane Incense Holiday Event (Winter 2016) 32 Abah’s Watch Polished Shilling Thieves Guild Repeatable quests 33 Thieves Guild Fine Chalk Thieves Guild Heists 34 Assassins League Tainted Blood Defeating bosses in Gold Coast 35 Dro-M’arthe Defiled Whiskers Maw or Lorkhaj 36 Dark Brotherhood Black Beeswax Dark Brotherhood Sacraments 37 Ebony Night Pumice Writ Vouchers 38 Draugr Pristine Shroud Fighters, Mages, Undaunted Dailies 39 MInotaur Oxblood Fungus Gold Coast Daily Boss Quest 40 Order of the Hour Pear Sand Gold Coast Daily Arena Quest 41 Celestial Star Sapphire Craglorn Trials 42 Hallowjack Amber Marble Holiday Event (Fall 2016) 43 Grim Harlequin Grinstone Crown Store Exclusive 44 Silken Ring Distilled Slowsilver Cradle of Shadows Boss 45 Mazzatun Leviathan Scrimshaw Ruins of Mazzatun Boss 46 Frostcaster Stalhrim Shard Crown Store Exclusive 47 Bouyant Armiger Volcanic Viridian Vvardenfell Chests 48 Ashlander Ash Canvas Vvardenfel Dailies 49 Militant Ordinator Lustrous Sphalerite Battlegrounds Vendor (AP) 50 Hlaalu Legerdemain Vvardenfell 51 Telvanni Legerdemain Vvardenfell 52 Redoran Legerdemain Vvardenfell 53 Apostle Clockwork City Daily Quests 54 Ebonshadow Clockwork City Daily Quests 55 Dreadhorn Falkreath Hold Dungeon 56 Bloodforge Bloodroot Forge Dungeon Book 1: