Decemberists Oracle
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
I'm making an oracle for In A Wicked Age based on the songs of The Decemberists, one of my favorite bands. If you know them, you know their lyrics are ripe for this sort of thing.I think I'm off to a good start, but I'm running out of steam at only halfway done. I'd like to have around 50 total (52 to be exact). Here's what I have so far. Please join in the fun!
- A white crane, helpless and bloodied by an arrow, not at all what it seems.
- A luckless mariner, haunted and wild-eyed at the bulwark, bent on revenge.
- The sole survivors of a shipwreck, huddled close and fearful.
- A whispered curse, the last words of an old woman dying from heartbreak.
- A pale and lovely stranger, arrived at moonrise beneath the birch boughs, wielding secret talents.
- A sudden transformation, revealing truths better left concealed.
- A harbor lost within the reeds, home to an ancient sleeper, fouled with piles of tiny bones.
- A new-born babe, foretold by sages, rocked within its cradle of briars.
- The landlord's daughter, threatened with word and pistol at the hands of a wandering rogue.
- A fresh corpse laid to rest by the water's edge, coins for weights upon its eyes.
- A soldier's sweetheart, vigilant for his return against all rumors of his death, beginning to show her condition.
- Two families, locked in a blood feud, muskets at the ready and no quarter given.
- The betrayal of a secret romance, with deadly consequences.
- A gang of murderous youths, knives glinting under the gaslights, the boogeymen of children's lore.
- The ill-timed arrival of a raft of refugees, seeking new homes far from the war.
- The ghost of a soldier, heedless of his fall in battle, marching ever homeward.
- The lamp-lit tent of a teller of fortunes, redolent of cinnamon, cardamom, and myrrh.
- A sickly legionnaire, veteran of exotic wars, the last of his laudanum clutched in his bony hands.
- A veiled young virgin on camelback, the prince's betrothed, conveyed by night to her lover's hiding place.
- A bejeweled palanquin on the back of an elephant, centerpiece of the the Queen's procession.
- A fine robe of gold and silk Arabian thread, the burial robes for one of surprisingly low station.
- A teenage lookout on a signal tower, sentinel for a convocation of burglars.
- A deadly accusation, pointed at the wrong man, but the lie believed.
- A sweaty bagman, dreading watchful agents, anxious to be rid of the evidence.
Crossposted with Story Games.
Labels: iawa
1 Comments:
Philip says:Thanks to this post, I've just got this one line stuck in my head:
"It was the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect crime."
I may be missing several "the perfect"s in there.
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