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belethlegwen · 2 years

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THE STRANDING Character Descriptions Masterlist

HELLO WOULD YOU LIKE TO KNOW HOW SEXY EVERYONE IN THE STRANDING IS?

I have been searching face- and body- (and one butt-) claims all afternoon and OOPS, everyone in The Stranding is hot now. Sorry not sorry.

This list is technically In Progress but will I update it regularly or ever again? The future is a mystery, my friend.

NOTE: THESE PICTURES ARE BASELINE SUGGESTIONS FOR THE CHARACTERS. basically a good place to start from when coupling with the written descriptions. Please enjoy!

Here we gooooooo:

Commander Peter Martellis: Same height as Henry, slightly less built but still muscular. Fantastic legs and butt from riding horses all the time. Short dark hair with some notable gray streaks. Thick eyebrows and dark brown eyes. Well-trimmed black/dark haired beard with silver throughout. Crow's feet in the corners of his eyes, laugh-lines. Has smiled a good bit in the past. 35-36 years old

These photos were originally just going to be for hair and beard but it's just too good not to go with this face-claim in general. Case in point:

"Decorum." ->

Captain Daniel Grant: Clean shaven blonde, luxurious blonde hair that goes to his shoulders, pulled back often in a loose ponytail. Pointed face, very much a resting bitch face situation. Icy, blue-grey eyes that are VERY sharp. Slightly taller than Peter and Henry, thin and agile frame, also a competent rider, so also has nice legs and butt. 34-35 years old

This sour bastard has beautiful hair.

Henry Lemuels: Age: 30 (Rescue) - 32(?) (Stranding) Height: 5'9", or 7.2 inches A highly-skilled sailor from the land of Vogunti Royalty, Henry Lemuels left the port of his home's Capital City on a privateering mission from the King, only to have his vessel, his crew and himself, swept up in an immense storm. The wreck claims the lives of all but him, and he washes up on the shores of a strange land to be rescued by a giant woman.

[Art done by a friend of mine who wishes to remain anonymous (left) and the amazing @aceouttatime (right)]

Corporal Lionus Ethridge: Extremely kind, bright hazel eyes. Bushy eyebrows. Slightly shorter than Peter and Henry but not by much. Soft, light-brown hair that comes to about his ears in soft waves. Light scruff usually but shaves every couple of days-- at least one or twice a week-- to avoid growing a beard of any kind. Thinner than most of the other officers, doesn't have majorly large muscles, seems mostly agility-built similar to Grant. BEST GUESS FOR AGE: Early-Mid Forties but could be as old as fifty.

He's pretty.

Second Lieutenant Edmund Miller: Broad chested, big strong shoulders. Man looks like a happy lumberjack basically all the time. Not bad with riding horses but obviously uses his arms a lot. Warm brown eyes. Taller than most in the Watch. Brown hair, always has some amount of scruff on him but never manages to have a beard, and somehow only ever is clean shaved for special occassions. 27-28 years old

If you throw these three pictures into a paint mixer and shake them all together, that's the closest I can seem to find to our beloved adorable Himbo man

Second Lieutenant Gregory Jones: Fairly plain face, blue eyes, sandy-blonde hair. Shorter than Miller but not by a lot. Very straight, proper posture. Athletic build, strong arms but not nearly as thicc a boi as Edmund. Short hair, as with most of the watch. Little longer on top, almost shaved/short face on the sides. 27-28 years old

Horse pic is his body, firefighter for face.

First Lieutenant Terrance Wells Yes his name is Terrance. "He had a serious face, his neutral expression looking like a man deep in his thoughts. Dark blonde hair, a long nose and sharp features were almost betrayed by stunning dark eyes, large and round, with a browline that seemed soft, pleasant. He was one of the taller men, with a thin, lithe frame, and as he removed his jacket to inspect the back for dirt or debris from traveling through the dusty construction zone she was reminded of male figure skaters." 27-28 years old

Adam Rippon for body (white figure skating costume), that NICE BUTT for his butt, and face for face. Wells is very pretty and has a FANTASTIC butt.

Second Lieutenant Rupert Chase Yes his name is Rupert. Brown eyes, nice eyebrows, brown hair though partially sunbleached to be a bit lighter in the summer. Looks similar to photo. 23-24 years old.

I have been looking at firefighters and cowboys and figure skaters all afternoon, it's been a good day.

First Lieutenant [Noble Guard] Francine Wright Auburn hair, tall, muscular with a stunning face. Often smiling, bright happy eyes. 26-27 years old

More muscular but this girl is her vibe.

Lance Corporal Devon Harris Moody face, dark hair (slightly longer than photo), only ever makes it to five-o-clock-shadow levels of scruff, loves to be clean shaven but his hair grows fast and thick. Dark, dark brown eyes and sharp brows. 24-25 years old

Again, darker eyes. The arsehole is pretty lookin' though.

Privates Peters, Hicks and Bartlett Original Idiot Brigade Crew with Miller and Jones. Peters has crew-clut blonde hair, Hicks has dirty-blonde/light brown hair in short, wavy locks, Bartlett is tallest of the trio with black hair, thick eyebrows. Shown in same order in the picture below. All between 23 and 26 years old

Peters, Hicks, Bartlett

Second Lieutenant Cassandra Greibes Dark skin with dark brown eyes, glossy black hair tied back in a ponytail usually. Slightly shorter than Henry and Peter, very well-built with almost a swimmer's physique. 26-27 years old

This is absolutely her face.

Lieutenant General and Duchess Ais'lyn Vogunti Brilliant red hair now with some faded areas where she's going grey, BRILLIANTLY green eyes, high cheekbones and sharp brow/chin. A LOT of laugh-lines, crows feet, etc. Still toned but not nearly as muscular as when she was active in the ranks. 47 years old. Photos similar to when she was younger, like to imagine that yellow dress photo is very close to a portrait from her youth that hangs over the fireplace in hers and the Duke's home.

Fierce fierce lady.

Melanie Barnes: Age: 32 (Rescue) - 34 (Stranding) Height: 5'4", or 50 feet An "early-retirement" crafter from Canada, Melanie Barnes suffered a string of bad relationships and a devastating loss in her family before stepping away almost completely from her old life, isolating herself in grief. She picked up driftwood art crafts to keep herself busy and semi-social by selling them at flea markets, and one days comes across the bizarre wreck of-- what she believes to be-- an elaborate model ship. After rescuing a small man, she has to adjust her life again to try and keep him safe, and hopefully help him return to his homeland in the future.

[Pictures in order from: @hollewdz, @lnbeep-art, and @aaytaro-gt]

#g/t writing #g/t #giant/tiny #giant tiny #g/t author #gtauthor #author thoughts #big little thoughts #character thoughts #faceclaims #face claims #descriptions #The Stranding

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miitgaanar · 1 year

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@soartfullydone asked: Lemuel—a surprise kiss just because the other couldn’t stop thinking about it

okay so I kind of did what this prompt asked. But in a very roundabout way. I’m sorry but I literally couldn’t get this scenario out of my head as soon as I read the stupid prompt.

Anyway. Yeah. Here it is.

***

The sharp, heavy clatter of wood against wood echoed loudly throughout the parade grounds. The area was mostly empty, the sun dipping low in the sky and the air brisk with the evening wind, leaving Addilyn and Lemuel with no audience for their sparring session.

Which was likely for the best, as Addilyn found herself with the end of a wooden staff pointed at her throat for the fourth time.

“That’s six to two, Theron,” Lemuel declared, a cocksure grin in place. “You’re slacking.”

Addilyn swatted the staff away from her neck, scowling all the while. “It’s been a long day, Captain.”

Lemuel stepped back, twirling his staff with a flourish as he assumed a fighting stance once more. Her scowl only deepened. “Excuses, excuses,” he chided, and charged at her.

With a smooth sweep of her staff, Addilyn met Lemuel’s swing, the impact a thunderous crack that reverberated up her arms. She stepped back and parried his next attack, forcing him to give ground as she advanced.

A smug smirk pulled at his lips, meeting her blow for blow. “Is this your best, da lledeol?”

A frustrated growl escaped her, and she attempted a feint, only for Lemuel to fluidly evade the thrust. She stumbled, just barely managing to spin back around to block his attack. The force of the blow sent her down to one knee, a grimace twisting her features.

Lemuel leaned forward slightly, putting his weight behind the staff and bringing his face closer to hers. “Have you filed down those mighty claws of yours?”

Addilyn’s gaze flickered between his golden eyes, bright with the thrill of a fight, and his lips. A terribly arrogant smirk still played upon his features, and a fresh wave of annoyance shot through her.

She pushed upward, her thigh muscles straining as she got to her feet, and forced Lemuel to stumble back a step. She took advantage of the opening and swung her staff toward his head, only too keen on wiping the haughty expression from his face.

But Lemuel simply knocked the staff away, an amused chuckle escaping him as Addilyn snarled.

“You’re distracted, Theron,” Lemuel said, amusement tinging his words. Addilyn simply swung for his head again, only to be denied the satisfaction of the sound of wood on bone. “Where’s your focus?”

“With all due respect, Captain,” she bit out, thrusting for his abdomen. He batted the staff away with ease. “Shut up.”

A boisterous laugh erupted from him then, and he shifted his hold on his staff, parrying her swing as if it were little more than a stick. He advanced on her, and she was forced to give ground as he aimed for her neck.

“No banter today, then?” he replied, unbothered as she blocked his swing. He flashed his teeth in an infuriatingly charming grin. The staves be damned, she wanted to punch him. “It truly must be a burdensome thing weighing upon your mind.”

Addilyn sidestepped his thrust and backed up a few steps, breathing heavily all the while. She pointedly ignored how her arms ached and twirled her staff as she would her sword. His arrogance was especially maddening today, and she would give anything to knock him down a peg or two at this point.

“Just shut up and fight, sir,” she ground out, and charged at him again.

Lemuel did not move. He simply stood his ground as she swung upward from the hip toward his jaw. For but a heartbeat, she thought she finally had him, and felt her own lips turn upward in a satisfied smirk. But with a slight shift in his weight and a deft flick of his wrist, Lemuel knocked the wooden weapon away, disarming her.

The staff fell to the ground with a loud clatter, and Addilyn found herself with the tip of Lemuel’s weapon pointed at her throat once more.

A deep scowl pulled at her mouth again, and she glared at her captain with all of the self-righteous fury she could muster.

God damn him.

“Seven to two,” Lemuel declared, his grin wide and imperious. “I’m disappointed, Theron.”

A string of profanities that likely danced on the edge of insubordination sat at the tip of her tongue, begging to be unleashed, but she clenched her jaw and forced them back.

Addilyn held her head high, meeting his golden gaze without faltering. He stood tall, his back straight and towering over her own shorter stature, with an irritatingly charming smile gracing his features. The scar that ran diagonally across his face twisted handsomely with his expression, lending an almost roguish quality to his otherwise impeccable soldier persona.

It was enough to make her want to scream.

“Sorry to disappoint, sir,” she forced out through gritted teeth, refusing to swat away the weapon that still sat against her throat. “I’ll do bet—”

She was cut off by a sudden and rather forceful kiss, her eyes widening in shock as she fought to keep from stumbling backward. Lemuel kept the tip of his staff at her throat, angling her chin upward with the weapon as he deepened the kiss. His free hand roamed, but came to settle at the curve of her hip to keep her in place.

Addilyn fell into the kiss easily, her eyes fluttering shut as she felt herself press against him. The pressure at her throat barely registered, her hands coming up to rest upon his chest.

But just as quickly as it began, Lemuel pulled away, running a hand through his unruly golden hair as an all too pleased look crossed his face.

“There, now that that’s settled.” He bent to pick up her staff and tossed it back to her. She caught it on reflex, dumbstruck. “Maybe we can have a real sparring session now.”

She glowered at him openly, her face warm even in the brisk evening air. “What was that for?”

“Come now,” he said, each word laced with amusement. “I know you too well for you to play at such righteous anger. Besides, if you missed another opening due to my irresistibly kissable lips, I was going to have to demote you just on principle.”

Addilyn’s grip on her staff tightened, the old wood creaking ever so slightly under the pressure. What an absolute and utter bastard.

She assumed a defensive stance without another word, her breathing even and her gaze steady. Lemuel mirrored her, his expression vexingly patronizing.

They ended their sparring session for the night eight to five in Lemuel’s favor.

#soartfullydone #unsounded #lemuel adelier #otp: Rewrite this story #oc: Addilyn Theron #writing prompts #writings from Mandalore #if you're reading this instead consider: don't

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baileys-writing-desk · 1 year

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Gulliver’s flashback (excerpt from “summer vacation”- chapter 2: “Old Friends”)

full fic on my AO3. i’m writing a new one about the time he remembers and lemme just say, poor gulliver. :(

…

Summer 2022

It’s not until they turn onto a new road that his surroundings begin to click; it feels like he just stepped back in time. He slows down a bit, since he is at the back of the group anyway, to take a closer look. First is a small library, the one where he spent hours reading in a soft bean-bag chair…and where he bought loads of books that cluttered his room afterwards, most of which he barely opened. Second, right across the street, is a seafood restaurant he went to a couple of times; he figures it was when he and Lemuel were crewmates, before he moved here. He had eaten a plate of fish one night that his stomach didn’t agree with, and he doesn’t remember returning after that. A few more places catch his eye, like a souvenir shop full of mostly useless trinkets and a mini food mart, but a couple are either boarded up or completely different businesses now. It surprises him that most of it is still there; after all these years he would have guessed the shops he remembered would be long gone.

When he notices the final building before the intersection, his heart skips a beat and his legs stop walking, freezing him in place. There, right in front of him, is the place where he spent the most miserable time of his life: Tiny Lily’s Tiki Bar. After his horrific breakup with Lizzy when he was twenty-six, he went there very often for a while…almost every day. He recalls living in despair for many months, maybe even a year or two, either drinking himself to sleep at the bar or locking himself in his apartment. Thank goodness I don’t live like that anymore… His chest aches as it all comes back to him.

“I can’t believe this! After FOUR YEARS together, this is what it’s come to?”

He stood in the living room of their apartment, red in the face and fuming. Lizzy stood across from him, arms folded across her chest.

“Gulliver, I’m so sorry…” she pleaded, “I can explain…”

To him, her begging was meaningless. They were just empty words, nothing that would cover up what she’d done.

“No, you can’t! You’re betraying me, Elizabeth! So, I guess I mean NOTHING to you now. Everything I did for you…for what?! So you could just abandon me?!”

He could barely contain himself, for at that moment he broke out into sobs. Lizzy couldn’t do anything to comfort him…what did it matter anyway? His life was already ruined. He would never be able to trust anyone ever again…

“Gulliver! Hello?...Are you listening?”

The sound of Wilbur’s voice snaps him out of the memory. He turns his focus away from the bar and over to his boyfriend, standing right in front of him with a puzzled expression.

“Is everything alright? I couldn’t reach you for a second there.”

“Yeah, it’s fine. I, uh…just had…well, a horrible reminder of my past.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Wilbur glances over his shoulder, where Mia, Orville, and Daisy are all waiting. “Well, you got me worried there, baby. We crossed the street and you didn’t follow. Are you okay to keep going, or do you need a minute?”

“No, I think I’m okay. I want to leave this road anyway.”

Wilbur agrees, gently grabbing onto one of Gulliver’s wings. The two slowly cross the street together and meet up with the others. Fortunately for Gulliver, he doesn’t need to explain the whole story; Wilbur already knows about his thing with Lizzy, so he just says that the bar triggered the memory. After a brief apology and a ‘no worries’ from Mia, they continue on toward the park.

#gulliver #acnh #animal crossing fic #my au #i wrote this last year btw #daisy is an oc based off the villager #mia mcallister #wilbur #2007: goodbye lizzy #baileyboo2016

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xgenesisrei · 1 year

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Imagining an Integral Church

“Integral Mission is not the task of a few chosen people. It is the task of the whole church and the more members of the church becoming involved the better integral mission functions. You cannot just have a little group trying to do things, the whole church has to be involved." This is one of the memorable lines I got from C. Rene Padilla when I first heard him speak a decade ago in Thun, Switzerland. His concern then was to remind the participants of the gathering about the need to bring mission back to the people at the pews and celebrate the diverse gifts and talents available in the Body of Christ. With this, he zeroed in at the heart of the problem encountered by not a few churches that have come to embrace a more holistic approach to ministry. Often times, a handful of specialists will carry the brunt of the work. As a result, the vision and passion for integral mission remains confined to them. This can mean, for most local churches, a committee, a department, or even at times, a point person put in charge of the social arm, mercy and justice-related initiatives, and the likes. The underlying assumption is that such kind of work require special training and qualifications. But as Padilla wrote in the book, ‘The Local Church, Agent of Transformation: An Ecclesiology for Integral Mission,’ this is far from the design that God wants for his church. He said,

"New Testament perspective provides no basis for making the church a hierarchical institution in which a small elite holds a monopoly of gifts and ministries, leaving the majority to limit themselves to 'submitting' to their leaders."

I think, this is a necessary reminder in light of the unintended effects of ‘professionalizing’ the work of helping people and the 'technicalisation' of the doing of good for our neighbors. This is not an uncommon phenomenon in the circle of Christian community development. In not a few times, the work has been so well-designed, that a local church will have no way of continuing and sustaining the programs and projects unless it adopts the structures and practices of an NGO. While there is a need to recognize that certain needs and issues in the community will require technical know-how, the church’s response will have to be carried out by its members and so shaped by the compassion and capacity that they can contribute as a faith community. This moves the missional discourse beyond expanding the borders of what is construed as mission into also liberating ordinary people, with ordinary skills, and ordinary resources, to take part in expressing a vibrant and transformative witness within their communities.

-Rei Lemuel Crizaldo (March 3, 2023)

#integralmission

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jacksycrim · 2 years

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arknights au - chapter 1!

hey there! back with another writing post!! I've yet to name this au, but I finally finished chapter 1 of it!! now the angst settles in :) take a look!! ---

Plunging her weight into the snow, Exusiai lifted her body and began walking up the slickened road to the cabin that sat ahead. The morning sun broke past the evening’s clouds and illuminated her face so much she had to squint to see. As she walked, she shook her wings free of snow and moisture.

Ahead of her sat a rustic cabin, owned by a quiet woman that Exusiai had gotten to know after she had saved her life one evening in the past month. Enya, a member of the prestigious Silverash Family of the Highlands, was a lookout. At least, that’s what she said she was. She lived alone, away from the towns and animals, atop a cliff side overlooking the fields below. She sat with a firepit before her home, a path of laden stone trailing through the snow and ice into the thickets further down.

The woman’s whitened dress concealed her in the colorless backdrop, but the black, swaying specks of her tail could tell Exusiai that she was, in fact, standing by the fence overlooking the valleys to the north.

“Exusiai,” she said, sensing the angel’s presence. “Welcome back,”

“Saintess Enya, I… I’m here for guidance,” Exusiai said, sheathing her blade.

“Guidance? But Lemuel, you are a Sankta. The divine light above you guides your forward, does it not?” Enya responded, hardly turning to face her guest.

“It doesn’t wish to guide me as I am now,”

“Then come closer,”

Quietly, the Sankta stepped forward and joined the saintess by the old oak fence. Her amber eyes drifted across the valley, scanning for life, trees, stones, anything to battle the pale whites and grays of the scene.

“Is it Jacksy again?” Enya asked.

“It is,” Exusiai responded.

“I am not sure how I can help you,”

“Reassurance,”

“How?” “Reassure me we’ll be okay.”

The Feline chuckled under her breath, finally daring to turn her attention to Exusiai with a faint smile. She set a hand on the fur collar of her coat before returning to her open stare into the vastness of the mountains.

“Lemuel, you are strength. Jacksy is wisdom. Two powerful virtues, found in two Sanktas, nonetheless.” Enya said quietly. “With those virtues intact, what worry do you have?”

“I’m not strong enough. And Jacksy isn’t wise enough,” Exusiai groaned in response. “I can barely protect a small town from being annihilated by the plague, and Jacksy’s mind wanders when they’re stressed,”

“Those virtues are not exclusive to the field of combat, my dear,”

Exusiai opened her mouth to speak, but the icy wind swept all voice from her body.

“Strength is not always physical ability. It is also constitution, the ability to withstand or overcome,” continued the saintess. “And wisdom, while being crucial for decisions, is used to make righteous judgment, or know right from wrong,”

“‘And with those virtues’…” Exusiai whispered.

“‘One may overcome the evils of humanity.’ Yes.”

Enya lifted her feet and paced along the edge of the fence, Exusiai following close behind. They drifted along the edge of the cliffs, carrying their blank and vast stares across the scene that stretched on infinitely.

“You are the Sankta, the beings forged of light and will, protectors of humanity,” Enya recited with a hand raised. “To do things right, just, to overcome, it is in your oath,”

“I can barely protect another Sankta, much less a town from destruction!” Exusiai shouted, her face growing so hot that it could melt the surrounding snow. “I can’t ‘do things right’, I can’t ‘overcome’ anything! My thoughts, my feelings, my insecurities…”

“‘And the Light declared, that no man, holy being, demon, or those in between, may ever be a perfect creation.’” Enya spoke again. “You do not need to be a perfect person, Lemuel. Neither of you have to be.”

Exusiai’s expression grew sorrowful as her wings sagged and weighed her down. She looked up to Enya, but did not meet her eyes. She grew silent again, then sighed, and shook her head.

“I apologize for wasting your time, saintess. I suppose I just need to wait a little longer before I can realize what I’m capable of,” Exusiai muttered.

“No, Lemuel, no person asking for my help is wasting my time. I am glad you came, really,” Enya responded in a gentle tone. “It gets lonely up here, and I cannot help but feel rather vexed by the absence of- Wait.”

The two paused.

Silence permeated the air. Even the wind stood still to listen.

“What…?” Exusiai asked. “What is it?”

Enya said nothing, and instead paced along the edge of the fence again. Curiously, she gazed across the landscape. Nothing. Was she insane?

No.

Enya remained silent, trailed further down the fence, then pushed through the twiggy saplings blocking a drop-off to the trail down the mountains. Then, she looked across the horizon in penetrating soundlessness.

Then, she felt her heart drop.

“Saintess, I’m sorry- I’d rather not stay any longer,” Exusiai said, shoving past the twigs jabbing her coat sleeves. “If I don’t get back soon, Jacksy might worry, and-”

Exusiai’s eyes affixed on the scene before her too. She and Enya stood motionless, not threatening to move a muscle in fear of being seen or heard.

Before them sat the distant shadows of corruption, covered by an expanding storm, slowly creeping across the fields. The darkness was here. The darkness had found them.

~ . . . ~

“No…” Exusiai stammered. “N-No, I thought it was-”

“Lemuel, listen to me,” Enya muttered beneath her breath. “Leave. At once. Grab your belongings, grab Jacksy, flee to the west away from the plague,”

“But what about-” Exusiai staggered to say.

“Do not worry about me, angel! You are far more important!”

Exusiai could not find the strength in her legs to move. Her heart raced too frantically for her mind to draw a thought. She could not speak, the fear ripping sense and voice away from her.

“I will tell Ezell as soon as he returns. Leave, quickly, Lemuel!”

Exusiai was so scared, she couldn’t move her arms, her legs, her body. Her mind was at a standstill, yet so many thoughts were rushing around at once.

“Wh-what about the town!? The people!?” Exusiai stammered.

“The best you can do is warn them, tell them to fight or leave,” Enya responded. “But please, do not endanger yourself or Jacksy, do not fly west, and only run east,”

Exusiai took a step backwards, then shoved past the bushes again. She looked behind her, spotted Enya, standing as still as a statue. Without another word, Exusiai stretched out her wings, crouched, and released her body into the clouded sky.

~ . . . ~

Nobody knew.

Nobody could’ve known.

Not yet.

Not now.

Jacksy sat by the small cabin in anticipation, awaiting Exusiai’s return from the mountains. She was never gone too long. They would soon see the red of her coat in the sky, then be greeted by the warm, soothing embrace of her hugs.

Snow fell, tenderly and softly, blanketing the already white landscape even further. The pale gray roads, icy and frosted, would only fall white, then be shoveled away. It was always like this; they had figured, since the day Exusiai begged the kind folks to let them stay.

The ringing of the fence’s bell showed that finally, the messenger who had departed the night before, was spotted on the road returning home. The people rushed from their homes, then to the stables to hear of the news; good or bad. Jacksy had vowed to stay by the cabin until Exusiai’s return, but with no sight of her red snow coat, they joined the mass of people by the stable gates.

People murmured between each other, of what news the messenger would bring. They did not know if it would be good news for a new ally. Or, perhaps, would it be bad news of the spreading Blackness? Nobody knew, but one would have to wait.

The militiamen shooed the people back away from the gate, as to give the messenger room to dismount and board his horse. The bell rang again, signaling he was close.

But something felt rather strange. Usually, the messengers would slow to a trot when on paved roads. Yet, despite that, the messenger’s steed was in a frantic sprint towards the gates. The lookouts cried for him to slow down, but he took no warning.

Soon, the horse bolted past the outer fences and into the town’s streets. Then as usual, it paused before the mass by the stables. But something was terribly, terribly wrong.

The horse was not as pristine and clean as it was before. Its armor was tattered, reins were snapped, and by god, its flesh was rotting away. And the messenger, who usually sat upright and tall with news to bear, was slumped on the horse’s back.

The horse grew stiff, and after a moment of shocked, realizing silence, the horse fell over dead, bringing her rider to the ground.

The rider’s body was rotten. Flesh was festering, bubbling, melting off bones as blood pooled into the bare tiles. The horse’s body was just as tattered. With only a moment to think, everyone had learned what this meant.

The Blackness was here.

Jacksy, who had been among the last to linger after the crowd panicked and dispersed, saw the pair of bodies sitting before them. Immediately, their worried curiosity turned to morbid terror. The rotting bodies, the way they festered so fast, and the way the blood turned an ebony gray, Jacksy had recognized the signs.

“No, it couldn’t be here yet!” Cried a man from the stables. “It’s black magic from a rival city!”

“It’s a zombie! Here to infect us all and kill us from the inside out!” Argued another woman.

Jacksy paid no mind to the people arguing over the alternate possibilities. They simply stared, cold tears streaming down their face as their feet slowly carried them back. Their body shook, their voice grew weak, their thoughts raced. The surrounding folks did not know the fear in their eyes.

And now, as if it were the gift of prophecy, the streaks of red from above were finally back. Quickly did they move, drifting past clouds, and quickly did the enraged flames of the Sankta’s halo grow brighter. Slamming her weight into the snow and kicking up a cloud of white, Exusiai’s eyes immediately turned to the pair of corpses lying dead on the street. She bolted forward with the help of her wings, grabbed Jacksy’s shoulder and yanked them back to her side.

“Away!! All of you!!” She cried, aiming one of her pepperboxes at the pools of darkening blood. “This place is forsaken, you’ll find nothing of value here!!”

“Sankta, Sankta!!” Cried an elderly townsfolk. “Please, guide us - What is happening!?”

“Saintess Enya and I have seen it with our own eyes,” Exusiai explained. “And what lies before you is proof of its arrival - The Blackness is real, and it is growing closer by the minute.”

Things grew silent as the Sankta spoke the truth. Silence soon turned to panic, some rushing to grab their loved ones, others arming themselves.

“Fighting it is no use!” Cried a soldier from the stables. “It’s pointless!”

“I’ll be damned if I abandon what I’ve known for my entire life!” Cried another.

Exusiai shrugged off the fighting and confusion amongst the townsfolk and turned to the shuddering angel beneath her arm. Her expression changed to worry, then she draped an arm over their shoulder.

“Jacksy, we can’t stay here much longer,” Exusiai muttered. “Grab what you need. We’re leaving immediately!”

Without uttering a single moan of fear, Jacksy pulled away from Exusiai and ran towards their cabin. Exusiai stood where she was and aimed her pepperbox down at the corpse. Watching, awaiting, for what, nobody else knew.

Then, under the watchful eyes of a burning Sankta, the rotten corpse of the now unidentifiable messenger squirmed. It groaned behind pools of blood, then lifted its body off the ground, leaving mounds of flesh behind. The first - and last - thing it ever saw was the strict gaze of Exusiai, a pepperbox held firmly in her hand, alight with rage.

With a single pull of the trigger, her gun grew brighter, and fired with an unbreakable fury that nobody else had seen. The zombified messenger, just thinking that he had been given a second chance, was reduced to nothing but smoldering ruins.

~ . . . ~

Her halo dripped with melting rage, her fury unavoidable. Again she tried, again she failed, and the result was always the same. A misfire, a recoil, and an utter embarrassment to everyone she knew.

She wasn’t skilled with a gun. She wanted to learn the blade, but her duties as a Sankta could not be ignored. These were her patron firearms, the weapons that ‘chose’ her, yet she felt as if they rejected her very existence. Every time she tried to use her energy to fire a focused shot, the bullet exploded in the chamber, and someone had gotten hurt. Now she stood here, in the middle of the woods, smoldering guns thrown to the ground, and illuminant holysteel dripping on the already singed stones beneath her feet.

She was Exusiai - she was a Sankta - she was a protector of humanity. But how could she protect herself if she couldn’t even fire a gun correctly? She cringed at her failure, kicked her pepperboxes further down the trail, and landed a slash of her sword into the tree behind her. Then, she screamed as loud as her lungs would let her.

Her screams wouldn’t reach anyone but the birds she startled from their nests.

Exusiai used the silence to think. Think about her duties, think about herself, her aspirations. She was going to be in charge of protecting humanity one day, but her flight was unstable, and her guns never accepted her. She frowned, then scoffed, then looked up at the godrays shining past the thin blanket of leaves above her.

She began to sing.

Softly, sweetly, tenderly and quiet. She would do this whenever she was angry, but only when she was alone. It helped her calm down. As each word slipped from her lips, her halo cooled more, and she could finally find a moment of calm beyond her previous anger.

Yet, as she thought she was alone, she could still feel the lingering presence of someone else. She thought it must’ve been an elderly caretaker walking by, and didn’t stop her melody for them. Instead, she sang aloud, to herself and to whatever creatures around her who may have heard.

This presence felt… Odd. This was the feeling of empathy - Another Sankta was nearby, and searching. Quickly realizing the suspicions that someone may have been following her, Exusiai bolted for her pepperboxes and held them up, tracking wherever she had felt the presence. Quietly, she scanned the edge of the woods, finger on the trigger, feeling that presence grow closer and closer.

And soon, the light of a silvered halo broke free of the bushes, and a Sankta stood before her.

Exusiai quickly choked up and threw her pepperbox aside, begging to herself that she didn’t just threaten an advisor. But she spotted the small and frail figure of a Feline, yet, one with a halo and wings.

The two were completely silent, staring at one another in mixed bewilderment.

“You- You’re not- That’s not possible-” Exusiai stammered. “Feline ears, and a tail… But a halo and wings…? State your business!!”

The small Feline remained quiet, briefly sinking into the warmth of their discolored wings. Exusiai reached for her sword, nearing the hilt every second they didn’t speak. Eventually, they had no choice but to answer.

“U-Um, hi… I…” They stammered in a very soft voice. “I heard really pretty singing, and I… Wanted to hear it better… Were you singing…?”

Exusiai paused and stared at the Feline for another moment. She didn’t answer.

“I’m sorry if I interrupted something…! I’ll… I’ll go-”

“No.” Exusiai demanded. “No, I’m sorry for thinking illy of you, I’m just… Having a rough time…”

The Feline grew quiet again.

“My name is Lemuel ‘Exusiai’ Powers, Protector-in-Training. Nice to meet you, um… Feline,” Exusiai said. “I’ve… Never heard of a mixed-blood Sankta… That’s impossible, that’s what I’ve always been told…”

“I know, it’s rare and… I don’t like it either, but…” Responded the Feline again. “It gives me so much attention… It’s overwhelming…”

“No,” said Exusiai. “It’s beautiful,”

The Feline blushed slightly, then hid their hands behind their back as they swayed with the leaves above. They turned to look at the pepperboxes on the ground beside Exusiai’s feet, then dared to inquire with her about them.

“Are those your patron weapons…?” They asked.

“Oh, these? Well, they’re supposed to be, but I can’t master them,” Exusiai responded. “Here, you wanna try them?”

“N-No, no!! It's fine!! Every gun I try to hold… Always misfires…”

Exusiai cocked her head slightly, but didn’t bother asking them about it further.

“Oh, I’m… Really not supposed to be out right now… The professors don’t like me being outside before it rains…” Mumbled the Feline.

“Then don’t stay around with me, I have nothing of importance to you,” Exusiai responded. “Oh, before you go… Could I ask you your name?”

“M-my name…?” They stuttered. “M-my name is Jacksy… It's really nice to meet you, El…”

~ . . . ~

The frigid air continued to bite at Exusiai’s hands as she walked along, carrying the freezing and tired body of Jacksy. She kept their wings tightly closed around the two of them as best as she could, hoping that she could help preserve her partner’s warmth ever so slightly.

“El… Is it… Is it gone yet…?” Jacksy asked, quivering from the cold.

“Is what gone yet?” Exusiai inquired.

“The darkness…”

Exusiai remained silent for another moment, sighing, and shaking her head.

“It’ll never be gone, Jacksy…” She mumbled quietly. “It’ll always be here, in this world, and… We can’t do anything about it…”

“But what if we could…? What if we could fight it…?”

“Then… Then I wouldn’t be running away, if I could fight it to keep you safe…”

Jacksy let out a worried sigh, still shivering from the snow falling across them.

“Please don’t let go of me, El…” Jacksy begged.

“I promise I won’t…” She replied.

The silence returned, and it was deafening.

Ever since that morning, the thoughts of the impending darkness haunted Jacksy’s every idea. The sounds of the screams, the sight of those decaying corpses, all of those panicked people… And the idea that, no matter what they did, they could do nothing but run… It hurt them so much.

Their body ached now, the cold was too aggressive in the wind, and now Exusiai had to carry them. Thankfully, they were light enough that it wasn’t any serious labor, but they still hated being so helpless.

Exusiai knew these parts. She mapped these places out ahead of time to ensure she knew where to flee when The Blackness inevitably caught up to them. Through these bitterly cold woods was an old passage under a flooded - now frozen - valley that led to a vibrant series of forests and plains. She knew of a city, welcoming to the Sankta, that might house them there. It too, would no doubt fall, but Exusiai hoped the valleys could provide a buffer.

After the greater part of the afternoon had expired behind their fear and worry, the pair had finally reached the gates into the abandoned shafts beneath the valleys. Exusiai set Jacksy down, then blasted open the iced-over hinges with a firm shot from her pepperboxes. With the way open, Exusiai struck her halo with the butt of her gun, setting the holysteel ablaze, and led the way with Jacksy close behind.

The tunnels were quiet, aged and sagging from the years it had endured alone in the cold depths. Not a soul remained, nor did a corpse provide any ill-fated warnings to the angels who sought to traverse through the tunnels.

“Lemuel, I feel something…” Jacksy mumbled. “Close…”

Exusiai extended her arm and paused.

“No, no. I feel it too.” She said, “Don’t move,”

In absolute silence, the pair remained motionless. Something was, in fact, nearby, slithering up and down the cavern walls, stalking, searching for whoever had stepped foot into this cavern of the damned.

Reflective eyes searched the cavern floors, growing closer and closer to the scent of the angels that had drifted through the mines. Closer, closer, and closer still, until the light of a blazing halo had flooded its eyes.

And when it deemed the time right,

It charged.

Immediately sensing the rush of some beast, Exusiai drew a pepperbox from her belt and landed a clean blast on the monster. Quickly pushing Jacksy backwards and tossing a freshly lit torch into the shadows, she spotted the glimmering figure of a serpentine monster gazing at her with eyes filled with malice.

“Pythia!!” Exusiai exclaimed, diving forward to narrowly dodge another charge. “J-Jacksy, you’re the knowledgeable one, what’re these things like!?”

“P-Pythia… Phythias are… Snakes… Serpentines!!” Jacksy shouted back in mild panic.

“I know that!! What’re their weaknesses!?”

Jacksy grew silent for a moment in thought. They had to remember their studies of the mythic, to help Exusiai all they could.

“Pythias are serpentine creatures, found guarding certain places of their importance!” Jacksy shouted over the tumult. “They have several eyes and a tendency to charge, and those eyes are their weakness!”

Exusiai immediately took a shot at an eye, but found her bullet nullified by an eyelid of silvered scales.

“Dammit, this thing’s scales are tough…” She swore under her breath. “Jacksy, what do I do!?”

“Their eyes… Lock onto light…” Thye mumbled. “And they track it… So their target is always…”

“J-Jacksy, a little faster, please!!”

“Your halo!! Snuff it out!!”

“What!?”

“Do it!!”

Refusing to let any more time go to waste, Exusiai obeyed and quickly snuffed the flame from her halo. While the creature before her stumbled around in the dark for a moment, Jacksy dove forward to scoop the torch off the ground. Fumbling with the burning wood in their hands, they rose it into the air and shouted at the serpentine. Quickly, it turned to face them, and got ready to charge.

Exusiai realized Jacksy had a plan. Sensing they were about to throw the torch across the tunnel, she quickly landed another shot on the monster’s softer scales. It howled in pain, then turned to Exusiai, but then tracked the flame flying across the room.

“Lemuel, throw me another torch!!” Jacksy called. “If we can occupy its eyes, we can get it down easily!”

Exusiai said nothing, but drew another torch from her belt and chucked it at Jacksy who failed the catch. They lifted the torch from the icy ground and lit it with a quick strike, then ran along the side of the tunnel.

The Pythia’s rightmost eyes tracked Jacksy while its leftmost scanned the torch on the ground. Exusiai found it right to ignite her halo, then ran around the creature’s flank to land more shots. It turned, nearly taking her out with its tail, and howled again.

Eyes stared at Jacksy, then at Exusiai, then at the flame on the ground, then at the torch Exusiai had just now thrown. Completely obsessed - or perhaps bewildered - by lights, the creature stumbled over its own feet. One step towards Exusiai, then another towards the wall, but a third towards Jacksy, and back again. With the monster thoroughly distracted, Exusiai drew her sword, ditched her pepperboxes, and jumped towards the beast’s jaw. Slamming the blade through its face, she held on tight, and nailed the sword further down, carried by gravity and a powerful sense of determination.

Screeching in pain, the Pythia’s eyes cracked like glass as its whitened scales were stained a deep crimson with its own blood.

Exusiai soon dropped to the floor, her face and clothes a bloodied mess, and watched as the gored body of the Pythia dropped in front of her. In that very moment, the two Sanktas could finally have peace.

~ . . . ~

So there she stood.

Standing before her master, a freshly obtained pepperbox in her grasp.

Silence permeated the cathedral. Sankta of all classes sat behind her, gazing quietly at the small assemblage before them. She had finally done it. She could finally be a protector.

“Lemuel ‘Exusiai’ Powers of the Sankta,” spoke the hooded bishop before her. “Through the months you have toiled endlessly, wrought by the guns in your hand for your fellow Sankta, and those mortal beings we have been created to protect,”

Exusiai remained silent.

“By the hands of the Great Creator, you have been crafted to become a worthy vessel of Their Light. It is with you, whom They have entrusted with the gift of Strength, that humanity shall suffer just as less,”

Silence.

“By the creed and laws of the Sankta, and by the very spirit of Their Light and from which the Seraphit from wherein we live, it is with the greatest honor I deem you; A Protector.” The man continued, “Do you accept, my child?”

“I accept, father.” Exusiai said sternly.

“Do you accept all burdens that may and will be placed upon your shoulders, no matter how wicked, or crushing they may be?”

“I accept.”

“Do you vow to protect humanity with the guns in your hand until you cannot stand to fight any longer, just as They have deemed it worthy?”

“I do.”

“And with the halo above your head, and the wings on your back, do you, as a Sankta, entrust your will, your power, and all that you may imagine to the skill of only yourself and your firearms?”

Exusiai hesitated.

She looked down at the pair of ivory pepperboxes wrapped in a scarlet ribbon that sat in her outstretched hands. She examined the craftsmanship, the essence, and felt the power that flowed through her. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and let her wings settle.

“Yes. I do.”

“Then, in the name of Them, and for the good of humanity, I vow you, Lemuel ‘Exusiai’ Powers, to be an honorary knight, angel, and protector of the realm.” ---

AND WE'RE DONE. FOR NOW. also! sorry for it all being in red! tumblr formatting is weird and for some reason it kept posting the text black which isn't too readable with a gray background. oh well!! I'll be working on the second chapter soon! and we'll have a very special guest in that one too..

#arknights #exusiai #jacksy #arknights oc #woah au stuff!#jacksy writes things

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christianserrano1404 · 1 month

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Drama Script

FAMILY TOGETHER

CONTACT INFORMATION:

Christian Danielle G. Serrano

059 San Isidro Bario Magalang Pampanga

09360272547

[email protected]

Cast of Characters

Manuel (Father): Portrays the loving and playful patriarch who cherishes his family deeply.

Rochelle (Mother): Represents the nurturing and supportive matriarch who anchors the family.

Camille(Daughter): Adds humor and light-heartedness, depicting the familial dynamics and connections.

Paulo(Son): Contributes reflective insight, emphasizing the unity and completeness of the family.

DanielleS(Son): Expresses enthusiasm and joy, highlighting the vibrant energy within the family.

Lemuel(Son): Concludes with a poignant reminder of the family's imperfections and unique bond.

SETTINGS:

-Living Room and house

[Scene: A cozy living room filled with warm sunlight streaming through the windows. A family of four sits together, laughing and chatting happily.]

Manuel

(with a twinkle in his eye) Ah, my dearest family, you are the melody to my heart's symphony, the stars in my night sky.

Rochelle

(smiling affectionately) And you, my love, are the anchor that keeps us steady in life's turbulent seas.

Danielle

(excitedly) Hey, Dad, Mom, did you know? Our family is like a garden, each of us a unique flower, yet together we bloom in harmony.

Camille

(giggling) Yeah, and Dad is the tall oak tree, strong and protective, while Mom is the gentle breeze, guiding us with her wisdom.

Manuel

(teasingly) Well, if I'm the oak tree, then you two are the mischievous squirrels, always climbing and exploring.

Rochelle

(playfully) And you, dear, are the wise old owl, watching over us with your steady gaze.

[They share a moment of laughter, their bond palpable in the air.]

Paulo

(reflectively) You know, our family is like a puzzle. Each of us is a piece, and when we come together, we create a beautiful picture of love and togetherness.

Camille

(nodding) And just like a rainbow after a storm, our family brings color and joy to each other's lives.

Rochelle

(wiping away a tear) My darlings, you are the light that illuminates my darkest days, the reason my heart sings with joy.

Manuel

(holding Mom's hand) Together, we are a masterpiece, a tapestry woven with threads of love, laughter, and endless memories.

[They share a group hug, their love radiating like the warmth of the sun.]

Lemuel

(whispering) We may not be perfect, but together, we are perfectly imperfect, and that's what makes our family truly special.

[As the sunlight bathes them in its golden glow, the curtain falls on this scene of familial bliss.]

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snooty-tooty · 3 months

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Stumbled upon this article which I found very helpful. I’ve always found it unsettling that the BoM said that dark skin was a “curse,” so I was honestly a bit scared when I saw this article. But I think it brings up good points, especially emphasizing that we do not believe that white people are somehow more holy than the rest of the world population.

“These were based not on race, however, but rather on religious, cultural, and tribal differences fueled by costly violent conflicts over the course of nearly a thousand years. Furthermore, these occasional expressions of prejudice do not constitute the message of the Book of Mormon, which overwhelmingly extends an inclusive invitation for all people to repent and come unto to Jesus Christ.”

#ch #from the opened box

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internshipswithgladyslaw · 9 months

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Underwater Cables: 23rd August 2023

This was the third day of the Shared Summer School Programme between Singapore, Zurich and Trondheim. We had a workshop by Bani Haykal who introduced us to the concept of World-Repairing. We were prompted to think of our favourite word and why. I had chosen the word "treacherous" as I used often. The reason it was my favourite word was due to the fact that it often suggests a type of risk and has connotations of danger in the situation or whatever that I am describing. Lemuel then interjected while discussing this word with "Anything worth doing will always have a risk."

We were then asked to choose two words that we are unfamiliar with and find out their origin and etymology. Lemuel and I decided to give each other two words to search. I gave him 'clandestine' and 'tumultuous' while he gave me 'misanthrope' and 'ennui'.

Learning Point 1: It is interesting how the words that we use or give to somebody often can paint a larger picture of who we are as a person. With the words that Lemuel had given me, he embodied being a misanthrope that is ennui. While the words I gave painted me as someone who valued secrecy and revolution (with a hint of violence).

With our convergence with Zurich and Trondheim, we had a brief afternoon exercise (morning for the other two locations) to translate feelings of power, confidence, intuition, etc through our body.

Then we started with Mohammed's acting workshop. As there was a bit of a mix up with yesterday's sitting arrangement, Lemuel and I decided to swap our stories. We were supposed to act out without making the point to obvious. Mohammed had a ton of instructions and we were all visibly struggling to follow along in Singapore as well as Zurich, that we had to clarify multiple times.

For the first part of the acting workshop, we were supposed to act out the stories that we were given. I was given the character Hannah who lived in Iceland, works as an archaeologist, cycles to work and has a habit of biting her nails. The setting: it was a snowy day and her cat, Sai, was sitting by the window as she leaves for work on her bicycle. She was cycling to her office just went she smelled something that made her cycle to a dig site to find a ring. She was supposed to meet someone named Andrew at that place.

Learning Point 2: I had never acted before, which made me feel really uncomfortable to act in front of such a large number of people and people who were at different locations as well. I had never acted before, so my actions were definitely more on the meek side and I was unsure if my actions translated what my mind was thinking of. It was definitely a little displacing to try a different medium to express myself.

For the second part of the acting workshop, we were made to have a twin to write a story with their characters individually. Karolyna and I were paired up and she had the idea for us to speak in our mother tongues. She spoke in Polish while I spoke in Chinese. We were having a 6 way dialogue with two from Trondheim and two from Zurich.

Learning Point 3: I really regret speaking in my Mother Tongue as it was not part of my character's backstory and it made connecting with people from other locations much harder. Although it was a pretty funny experience watching all of us act out quirky but I felt that I could have had a better opportunity getting to know them more if I had spoken in English.

#underwatercables #day3

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unsoundedcomic · 2 years

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Do you ever see any OCs for your comic? I oft seek fellow fans of the series and am surprised more people aren’t drawn in by the diverse landscape for speculation of lifestyles. Your work is just inspiring.

Aww, thank you, Anon. My favourite thing is fanworks of any stripe because I like to see other people making stuff too, and expressing themselves. If I can spark that, I feel pretty good. Same with people who make friends through the fandom; friendships that outlast the initial shared interest. That's how all my best friendships came about.

There are a few OCs, yes! You can meet their makers in the Discord and read about them in the fanworks section on the site, but some of my favourites include Groucho's Fallon - a Copper Black Tongue with a spotty past - and Cassie's OC whose name is not immediately coming to mind, but I think she eighty percent exists to be smooched on by Lemuel. You should make one too, Anon!

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bookoformon · 1 year

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1 Nephi Chapter 3, "20 Years."

Lehi’s sons return to Jerusalem to obtain the plates of brass—Laban "Purity" refuses to give the plates up—Nephi exhorts and encourages his brethren—Laban steals their property and attempts to slay them—Laman "needs to be yoked" and Lemuel "dreams of the future" smite Nephi "the sage" and Sam "wants to escape" and are reproved by an angel. About 600–592 B.C.

The numerology of 592 is 30, which the year Joseph began to rule Egypt.

This power to begin transforming the world in earnest begins when we turn thirty. Up until that point we are in training. The Midrash Shmuel[2] states that one has the ability to guide and influence others for good at the age of thirty. Until then, he is simply laying his foundation.

BUT as the rubric says, "Purity refused to give its reflective surface to the Sons of Lehi." This is the equivalent of not wanting your "father's water" AKA the Moabites, or his reflection in your brass bowl. For this one goes to the Desert of Zin, "dry of the water of tradition". Why there was a fight and why Purity wanted to stay with the Plates is explained:

1 And it came to pass that I, Nephi, returned from aspeaking with the Lord, to the tent of my father.

2 And it came to pass that he spake unto me, saying: Behold I have dreamed a adream, in the which the Lord hath commanded me that thou and thy brethren shall breturn to Jerusalem.

3 For behold, Laban hath the record of the Jews and also a agenealogy of my forefathers, and they are bengraven upon plates of brass.

4 Wherefore, the Lord hath commanded me that thou and thy brothers should go unto the house of Laban, and seek the records, and bring them down hither into the wilderness.

We don't bring our father's voices into the unknown, but our own and it must be able to read and review itself. This is always done with reflection on the scriptures.

5 And now, behold thy brothers murmur, saying it is a hard thing which I have required of them; but behold I have not required it of them, but it is a commandment of the Lord.

6 Therefore go, my son, and thou shalt be favored of the Lord, because thou hast anot bmurmured.

7 And it came to pass that I, Nephi, said unto my father: I will go and do the things which the Lord hath commanded, for I know that the Lord giveth no bcommandments unto the children of men, save he shall cprepare a way for them that they may accomplish the thing which he commandeth them.

8 And it came to pass that when my father had heard these words he was exceedingly glad, for he knew that I had been blessed of the Lord.

9 And I, Nephi, and my brethren took our journey in the wilderness, with our tents, to go up to the land of Jerusalem.

10 And it came to pass that when we had gone up to the land of Jerusalem, I and my brethren did consult one with another.

11 And we acast lots—who of us should go in unto the house of Laban. And it came to pass that the lot fell upon Laman; and Laman went in unto the house of Laban, and he talked with him as he sat in his house.

Casting lots is taking chances with material things rather than the eternal. We are very early in the Book of Mormon, but the script explains which material goods we put trust and effort into and which we do not.

Reason and Lots

"The casting of lots expresses the idea that one has passed beyond the realm of motive and reason. A lottery is resorted to when there is no reason or impetus to choose one option over the other, so that the matter must be surrendered to forces that are beyond one’s control and comprehension.

So we impel ourselves beyond the realm of nature and reason, beyond the pale of merit and fault. We disavow all the accouterments of physical identity—food and drink, earthly pleasures, and our very sense of reason and priority. We cast our lot with G‑d, confident that He will respond in kind and relate to us in terms of our quintessential bond to Him rather than by the existential scales of pro and con."

12 And he desired of Laban the records which were engraven upon the plates of brass, which contained the agenealogy of my father.

Genealogy= The names of the personality traits that create an Israelite.

13 And behold, it came to pass that Laban was angry, and thrust him out from his presence; and he would not that he should have the records. Wherefore, he said unto him: Behold thou art a robber, and I will slay thee.

14 But Laman fled out of his presence, and told the things which Laban had done, unto us. And we began to be exceedingly sorrowful, and my brethren were about to return unto my father in the wilderness.

15 But behold I said unto them that: aAs the Lord liveth, and as we live, we will not go down unto our father in the wilderness until we have baccomplished the thing which the Lord hath commanded us.

16 Wherefore, let us be faithful in keeping the commandments of the Lord; therefore let us go down to the land of our father’s ainheritance, for behold he left gold and silver, and all manner of riches. And all this he hath done because of the bcommandments of the Lord.

17 For he knew that Jerusalem must be adestroyed, because of the wickedness of the people.

18 For behold, they have arejected the words of the prophets. Wherefore, if my father should dwell in the land after he hath been bcommanded to flee out of the land, behold, he would also perish. Wherefore, it must needs be that he flee out of the land.

19 And behold, it is wisdom in God that we should obtain these arecords, that we may preserve unto our children the language of our fathers;

20 And also that we may apreserve unto them the words which have been spoken by the mouth of all the holy bprophets, which have been delivered unto them by the Spirit and power of God, since the world began, even down unto this present time.

21 And it came to pass that after this manner of language did I apersuade my brethren, that they might be faithful in keeping the commandments of God.

22 And it came to pass that we went down to the land of our inheritance, and we did gather together our agold, and our silver, and our precious things.

23 And after we had gathered these things together, we went up again unto the house of Laban.

24 And it came to pass that we went in unto Laban, and desired him that he would give unto us the records which were engraven upon the aplates of brass, for which we would give unto him our gold, and our silver, and all our precious things.

To trade gold and silver for one's reflection in brass, the visage of God is appropriate.

Anything gold is "high intuition" Silver is "everyday comprehension"

Brass is often referred to symbolically in Hebrew Scripture: Deut. xxviii. 23, "Thy heaven that is over thee shall be brass" (without clouds and rain); Job vi. 12, "Is my flesh brass?" (enduring, insensible); Dan. ii. 32, "Belly and thighs of brass" (expressing brilliancy); Dan. x. 6, "His feet like in color to burnished brass."

25 And it came to pass that when Laban saw our property, and that it was exceedingly great, he did alust after it, insomuch that he thrust us out, and sent his servants to slay us, that he might obtain our property.

Purity lusting after "property" while in possession of one's true inner reflection is a conundrum this Book was written to solve.

26 And ait came to pass that we did flee before the servants of Laban, and we were obliged to leave behind our property, and it fell into the hands of Laban.

The Servants of Laban were Zilpah, "to drip or pour" she was wed to Jacob and they gave birth to Asher and Gad (happiness and "to expose fortune").

="The servant of purity, when married to the follower has happiness and fortune poured upon them."

The other was Bilhah, "trouble" and she gave birth to Naphtali and Dan, "to fight and to govern".

="If trouble marries the follower, then the government must fight injustice."

27 And it came to pass that we fled into the wilderness, and the servants of Laban did not overtake us, and we ahid ourselves in the cavity of a rock.

=What is hidden in a cavity of a rock is where the Christ, the Grace of God hid for Three Days- a must after it was betrayed in the Courtroom of Judgement.

Three Days is the amount of time it took for dry land to appear, symbolizing an end to violence on the earth. Once this happens, the Christ, the Grace of God in the Flesh can appear again and walk among us.

We have always steeped ourselves in flawed ideals about the interplay of religion, politics, and secular life. This third chapter of Nephi says if we empty the mind and read the Scripture correctly, we will be able to figure it out. This is what is meant by the jump between 600 BC and 592 BC.

28 And it came to pass that Laman was angry with me, and also with my father; and also was Lemuel, for he hearkened unto the words of Laman. Wherefore Laman and Lemuel did speak many ahard words unto us, their younger brothers, and they did smite us even with a rod.

Laman and Lemuel want to use their age and masculinity as trump cards; this is repugnant as they are brutes:

29 And it came to pass as they smote us with a rod, behold, an aangel of the Lord came and stood before them, and he spake unto them, saying: Why do ye smite your younger brother with a rod? Know ye not that the Lord hath chosen him to be a bruler over you, and this because of your iniquities? Behold ye shall go up to Jerusalem again, and the Lord will cdeliver Laban into your hands.

Use of the Rod is supposed to spread kindness. "Being in the proximity of holiness can cause dried out sticks to blossom and yield fruit."

30 And after the aangel had spoken unto us, he departed.

31 And after the angel had departed, Laman and Lemuel again began to amurmur, saying: How is it possible that the Lord will deliver Laban into our hands? Behold, he is a mighty man, and he can command fifty, yea, even he can slay fifty; then why not us?

->Angels always stand between things- men and each other, heaven and earth, Adam and Eve and Eden, they are mitigators of the conscience.

-> -> The Fifty Men represent the exodus from Egypt, which is mentioned in the Torah exactly fifty times. The fact that the exodus from Egypt is mentioned in the Torah exactly fifty times may further reinforce the idea that after reaching level fifty, freedom becomes absolute.

Now remember the Book of Mormon was not written to keep people indoors at night or to remind kids to wash their hands before dinner, minding their manners the whole time. This was 1830, and things in America were just not right.

To suggest we embark from a nation run by the slave trade to one that incubated the Gospels instead could cost you your life. And it did- every last person who stood with the President against the Southern Darkness, where there should have been light was erased. And we have never recovered from it.

This time we can't cast lots, we must be prepared and when we are ready, as the Book of Nephi says, God will at last deliver us from the impurities of Civil War America.

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