Permissions

Feb. 1st, 2020 12:42 pm
mordredeschain: (Default)
Since Mordred is a telepath, among other things, please put information permissions here.

Mordred's world plays with the fourth wall so much already, they even have a name for 'author of your story'. Two of them, actually. So go right ahead!

And no killing or seriously injuring my Mordred, thankee sai.

Voicemail

Jul. 31st, 2019 08:42 am
mordredeschain: (Default)
What is this for again? Oh, yes. Right.
You've gotten to the voicemail of Mordred Deschain. Like to palaver, but I'm out. Most likely hunting. See you.
mordredeschain: (Default)

Oh, where have you been, my blue-eyed son?
And where have you been, my darling young one?
I've stumbled on the side of twelve 
                                                         (Guardians)

misty mountains,
I've walked and I've crawled on six crooked 
                                                                    (Beams)
highways,
I've stepped in the middle of
                                               (a Hell of my own making) 
seven sad forests,
I've been out in front of a dozen dead
                                                              (worlds filled with lobstrocities and acidspiders) 
oceans,
I've been ten thousand miles in the mouth of 
                                                                            (Red Daddy)
a graveyard,
And it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard,
It's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.

Oh, what did you see, my blue-eyed son?
And what did you see, my darling young one?
I saw a newborn baby 
                                    (and o, 'twas myself)
with wild wolves all around it,
I saw a highway of diamonds with nobody 
                                                                       (left but the dead, dying and mad)
on it,
I saw a black branch with blood 
                                              (of a poor silly beast past it's time, but still more important than me) 
that kept drippin',
I saw a room full of men with their 
                                                         (machines)
hammers a-bleedin',
I saw a white ladder 
                                (to the very top o' yon Tower)
all covered with water,
I saw ten thousand talkers 
                                             (all speaking word salad)
whose tongues were all broken,
I saw guns
                (so many guns, and all their child soldier owners died for nothing) 
and sharp swords in the hands of young children,
And it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard, and it's a hard,
It's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.

Oh, what did you hear, my blue-eyed son?
And what did you hear, my darling young one?
I heard the sound of a thunder 
                                                   (no, not thunder--gunfire)
that roared out a warnin',
Heard the roar of a wave that could drown 
                                                                       (the entire universe, and more)
the whole world,
I heard one hundred 
                                  (shots fired)
drummers whose hands were a-blazin',
I heard ten thousand whisperin' 
                                                     (in the language of madness and the Tongue of the Unformed)
and nobody listenin',
I heard one person starve, 
                                            (my poor belly rumbles so)
I heard many people laughin',
Heard the song of 
                              (death itself as it passed over)
a poet who died in the gutter,
I heard the sound of a clown 
                                                ('twas Pennywise, mayhaps)
who cried in the alley,
And it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard,
It's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.

Oh, what did you meet, my blue-eyed son?
And who did you meet, my darling young one?
I met a young child 
                              (who was as good as dead himself)
beside a dead pony,
I met a white man 
                             (how I hated him)
who walked a black dog,
I met a young woman 
                                   (darker than the night sky, body and soul)
whose body was burning,
I met a young girl, she gave me a 
                                                     (Maerlyn's)
rainbow,
I met one man who was wounded in 
                                                              (the loss of, the lack of)
love,
I met 
       (the same man, futher on)
another man who was wounded in hatred,
And it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard,
It's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.

And what'll you do now, my blue-eyed son?
And what'll you do now, my darling young one?
I'm a-goin' back out 'fore the
                                              (bombs)
rain starts a-fallin',
I'll walk to the depths of the deepest dark 
                                                                      (in my own heart)
forest,
Where the people are 
                                    (angry and lost and confused)
many and their hands are all empty,
Where the pellets of 
                                (radiation, for o! the bombs were atomic)
poison are flooding their waters,
Where the home in the valley meets the 
                                                                    (homeless ones)
damp dirty prison,
And the executioner's face is 
                                                 (Dim, Walter o')
always well hidden,
Where hunger is 
                          (all that I know, say true)
ugly,
Where the souls are
                                    (eaten)
forgotten,
Where black is the color, where none 
                                                                (care about me)
is the number,
And I'll tell it 
                 (even through no one will hear it)
and speak it and think it and breathe it,
And reflect 
                (on my hatred, my fear and my folly)
from the mountain so all souls can see it,
And I'll stand 
                   (in the desert and cry for my loss)
on the ocean until I start sinkin',
But I'll know my song well 
                                          (it's all I have)
before I start singin',
And it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard, and it's a hard,
It's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.

mordredeschain: (Default)
Come-come-commala
Soon we all will crawl-a
Some folken would end all things
If you paid them a dolla'!
 
Come-come-commala
If you paid them a dolla'?
Some folk would destroy the Tower
Just to see it fall-a!

Come-come-commele
Our wounds will never heal
In pale wastes past Empathica
It's more than cold you feel

Come-come-commele
More than cold you feel
And pity Mordred spider's child
But don't be his next meal.
mordredeschain: (Default)
 Mordred hates thinnies, really he does. Thinnies, old oak doors, todash and all other methods of unorthodox travel.

This probably has something to do with the fact that he is currently sprawled on a lawn in completely the wrong universe, with no way to get back.

After a second or two he gets up and wanders to the door of the house. There's bound to be food in there somewhere, he can feel at least one mind. "Let me in, sai, if ya would. Mordred's a-hungry and a-lost!"
mordredeschain: (Default)
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Who do ya think, sai?
mordredeschain: (Default)
[Error: unknown template qotd]
No.

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Mordred Deschain

July 2015

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