Erebus Quotes

The man that hath no music in himself, Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils; The motions of his spirit are dull as night, And his affections dark as Erebus. Let no such man be trusted. Mark the music.

By the sweet power of music: therefore the poet did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones and floods; since nought so stockish, hard and full of rage, but music for the time doth change his nature. The man that hath no music in himself, nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, is fit for treasons, stratagems and spoils; The motions of his spirit are dull as night and his affections dark as Erebus: Let no such man be trusted. Mark the music.

The captain of HMS Terror often thought that he knew nothing about the future - other than that his ship and Erebus would never again steam or sail - but then he reminded himself of one certainty: when his store of whiskey was gone, Francis Rawdon Moira Crozier was going to blow his brains out.

Those with courage and character to speak the truth always seem sinister to the ignorant." - First Chaplain Erebus

I wish they could see the tenderness in the way the darkness takes the night's hand. Nyx to Erebus

I know, 0 Caesar, that thou art awaiting my arrival with impatience, that thy true heart of a friend is yearning day and night for me. I know that thou art ready to cover me with gifts, make me prefect of the pretorian guards, and command Tigellinus to be that which the gods made him, a mule-driver in those lands which thou didst inherit after poisoning Domitius. Pardon me, however, for I swear to thee by Hades, and by the shades of thy mother, thy wife, thy brother, and Seneca, that I cannot go to thee. Life is a great treasure. I have taken the most precious jewels from that treasure, but in life there are many things which I cannot endure any longer. Do not suppose, I pray, that I am offended because thou didst kill thy mother, thy wife, and thy brother; that thou didst burn Eome and send to Erebus all the honest men in thy dominions. No, grandson of Chronos. Death is the inheritance of man; from thee other deeds could not have been expected. But to destroy one's ear for whole years with thy poetry, to see thy belly of a Domitius on slim legs whirled about in a Pyrrhic dance; to hear thy music, thy declamation, thy doggerel verses, wretched poet of the suburbs, — is a thing surpassing my power, and it has roused in me the wish to die. Eome stuffs its ears when it hears thee; the world reviles thee. I can blush for thee no longer, and I have no wish to do so. The howls of Cerberus, though resembling thy music, will be less offensive to me, for I have never been the friend of Cerberus, and I need not be ashamed of his howling. Farewell, but make no music; commit murder, but write no verses; poison people, but dance not; be an incendiary, but play not on a cithara. This is the wish and the last friendly counsel sent thee by the — Arbiter Elegantiae.

...beneath the temple of Emesa there is a system of special sewers wherein the human blood rejoins the plasma of certain animals. Through these sewers, coiling into broiling corkscrews whose circles diminish the further they descend to the depths of the earth, the blood of those sacrificed according to the needful rites will find its way back to the geological seams, the congealed cracks of chaos. This pure blood, thinned and refined by the rituals, and rendered acceptable to the god of the underworld, splashes the groaning deities of Erebus, whose breath finally purifies it.

I have seen Fuji, the most dainty and graceful of all mountains; and also Kinchinjunga: only Michael Angelo among men could have conceived such grandeur. But give me Erebus for my friend. Whoever made Erebus knew all the charm of horizontal lines, and the lines of Erebus are for the most part nearer the horizontal then the vertical. And so he is the most restful mountain in the world, and I was glad when I knew that our hut would lie at his feet. And always there floated from his crater the lazy banner of his cloud of steam.

Walking to the taffrail, I was in time to make out, on the very edge of a darkness thrown by a towering black mass like the very gateway of Erebus—yes, I was in time to catch an evanescent glimpse of my white hat left behind to mark the spot where the secret sharer of my cabin and of my thoughts, as though he were my second self, had lowered himself into the water to take his punishment: a free man, a proud swimmer striking out for a new destiny

Erebus,

The Man who has not Music in his Soul, Or is not touch’d with Concord of sweet Sounds, Is fit for Treason, Stratagems, and Spoils, The Motions of his Mind are dull as Night, And his Affections dark as Erebus: Let no such man be trusted.

Hope was never meant to be A future shared alone, As life cannot be won or lost It was never ours to own.

The Man who has not Music in his Soul, Or is not touch’d with Concord of sweet Sounds, Is fit for Treasons, Strategems, and Spoils, The Motions of his Mind are dull as Night, And his Affections dark as Erebus: Let no such Man be trusted.17 Copying a passage

The tidal current runs to and fro in its unceasing service, crowded with memories of men and ships it had borne to the rest of home or to the battles of the sea. It had known and served all the men of whom the nation is proud, from Sir Francis Drake to Sir John Franklin, knights all, titled and untitled--the great knights-errant of the sea. It had borne all the ships whose names are like jewels flashing in the night of time, from the Golden Hind returning with her round flanks full of treasure, to be visited by the Queen's Highness and thus pass out of the gigantic tale, to the Erebus and Terror, bound on other conquests--and that never returned. It had known the ships and the men. They had sailed from Deptford, from Greenwich, from Erith--the adventures and the settlers; kings' ships and the ships of men on 'Change; captains, admirals, the dark "interlopers" of the Eastern trade, and the commissioned "generals" of East India fleets. Hunters for gold or pursuers of fame, they all had gone out on that stream, bearing the sword, and often the torch, messengers of the might within the land, bearers of a spark from the sacred fire. What greatness had not floated on the ebb of that river into the mystery of an unknown earth!...The dreams of men, the seed of commonwealth, the germs of empires.

Is it not enough to shine, To know that friends are true? That love is born of friendship, And who you are is you?

Know yourself, not a face, in love, a deeper grace.

Dr. Faust is my personal physician, as well as being medical director of the Erebus Health System.

Empires aren't built in a day. But in the case of Erebus they can disappear in one.

Ah, much deluded! lay aside Thy threats, and anger misapplied! Art not afraid with sounds like these To offend, where thou canst not appease? Death is not (wherefore dream'st thou thus?) The son of night and Erebus: Not was of fell Erynnis born On gulfs where Chaos rules forlorn. But sent from God, his presence leaves, To gather home his ripen'd sheaves, To call encumber'd souls away From fleshly bonds to boundless day, (As when the winged hours excited, And summon forth the morning light) And each to convoy to her place Before the Eternal Father's face.

You're right, Mal, you and Erebus both. My father made me for immortality and the galaxy should know of me. Ten thousand years from now I want my name to be known all across the heavens." - Warmaster Horus

Unfast’ns: on a sudden op’n flie With impetuous recoile and jarring sound Th’ infernal dores, and on thir hinges great Harsh Thunder, that the lowest bottom shook Of Erebus. She op’nd, but to shut Excel’d her power; the Gates wide op’n

Gee, I wonder who you could be referring to?" Owen said. "I mean you," Erebus said. "I just did not wish to be rude." "All you've been is rude." Owen muttered just under a whisper. "Some minds are more capable than others." Erebus smiled at Hugh.

Unfortunately, gentlemen, Crozier had told the boys during their first day aboard—the captain had been more than usually drunk that day—if you look around, you’ll notice that while Terror and Erebus were both built as bombardment ships, gentlemen, neither has a single gun between them. We are, young volunteers from Excellent—unless one counts the Marines’ muskets and the shotguns secured in the Spirit Room—as gunless as a newborn babe. As gunless as fucking Adam in his fucking birthday suit. In other words, gentlemen, you gunnery experts are about as useful to this expedition as teats would be on a boar.

If we limit our hunt to only what is know, the unknown will soon hunt us.

Spread your wings. Fly as far to know who you are.

Ah, the young! Always so convinced their problems are unique in nature and unique to themselves.

Some things are Dark Some things are dark --- or think they are. But, in comparison to me, All things are light enough to see In any place, at any hour. For I am Nightmare: where I fly, Terror and rain stand in the sky So thick, you could not tell them from That blackness out of which you come. So much for ``where I fly'': but when I strike, and clutch in claw the brain--- Erebus, to such brain, will seem The thin blue dusk of pleasant dream.

I had never seen war, or even talked of it at length with someone who had, but I was young and knew something of violence, and so believed that war would be no more than a new experience for me, as other things—the possession of authority in Thrax, say, or my escape from the House Absolute—had been new experiences. War is not a new experience; it is a new world. Its inhabitants are more different from human beings than Famulimus and her friends. Its laws are new, and even its geography is new, because it is a geography in which insignificant hills and hollows are lifted to the importance of cities. Just as our familiar Urth holds such monstrosities as Erebus, Abaia, and Arioch, so the world of war is stalked by the monsters called battles, whose cells are individuals but who have a life and intelligence of their own, and whom one approaches through an ever-thickening array of portents.

PROLOGUE   Zoey “Wow, Z, this is a seriously awesome turnout. There are more humans here than fleas on an old dog!” Stevie Rae shielded her eyes with her hand as she looked around at the newly lit-up campus. Dallas was a total jerk, but we all admitted that the twinkling lights he’d wrapped around the trunks and limbs of the old oaks gave the entire campus a magickal, fairy-like glow. “That is one of your more disgusting bumpkin analogies,” Aphrodite said. “Though it’s accurate. Especially since there are a bunch of city politicians here. Total parasites.” “Try to be nice,” I said. “Or at least try to be quiet.” “Does that mean your daddy, the mayor, is here?” Stevie Rae’s already gawking eyes got even wider. “I suppose it does. I caught a glimpse of Cruella De Vil, a.k.a. She Who Bore Me, not long ago.” Aphrodite paused and her brows went up. “We should probably keep an eye on the Street Cats kittens. I saw some cute little black and white ones with especially fluffy fur.” Stevie Rae sucked air. “Ohmygoodness, your mamma wouldn’t really make a kitten fur coat, would she?” “Faster than you can say Bubba’s drinkin’ and drivin’ again,” Aphrodite mimicked Stevie Rae’s Okie twang. “Stevie Rae—she’s kidding. Tell her the truth,” I nudged Aphrodite. “Fine. She doesn’t skin kittens. Or puppies. Just baby seals and democrats.” Stevie Rae’s brow furrowed. “See, everything is fine. Plus, Damien’s at the Street Cats booth, and you know he’d never let one little kitten whisker be hurt—let alone a whole coat,” I assured my BFF, refusing to let Aphrodite mess up our good mood. “Actually, everything is more than fine. Check out what we managed to pull off in a little over a week.” I sighed in relief at the success of our event and let my gaze wander around the packed school grounds. Stevie Rae, Shaylin, Shaunee, Aphrodite, and I were manning the bake sale booth (while Stevie Rae’s mom and a bunch of her PTA friends moved through the crowd with samples of the chocolate chip cookies we were selling, like, zillions of). From our position near Nyx’s statue, we had a great view of the whole campus. I could see a long line at Grandma’s lavender booth. That made me smile. Not far from Grandma, Thanatos had set up a job application area, and there were a bunch of humans filling out paperwork there. In the center of the grounds there were two huge silver and white tents draped with more of Dallas’s twinkling lights. In one tent Stark and Darius and the Sons of Erebus Warriors were demonstrating weaponry. I watched as Stark was showing a young boy how to hold a bow. Stark’s gaze lifted from the kid and met mine. We shared a quick, intimate smile

It had borne all the ships whose names are like jewels flashing in the night of time, from the Golden Hind returning with her round flanks full of treasure, to be visited by the Queen’s Highness and thus pass out of the gigantic tale, to the Erebus and Terror, bound on other conquests — and that never returned. It had known the ships and the men. They had sailed from Deptford, from Greenwich, from Erith — the adventurers and the settlers; kings’ ships and the ships of men on ‘Change; captains, admirals, the dark “interlopers” of the Eastern trade, and the commissioned “generals” of East India fleets. Hunters for gold or pursuers of fame, they all had gone out on that stream, bearing the sword, and often the torch, messengers of the might within the land, bearers of a spark from the sacred fire. What greatness had not floated on the ebb of that river into the mystery of an unknown earth! . . . The dreams of men, the seed of commonwealths, the germs of empires.

Meanwhile, Captain Crozier took to his Private Cabin yesterday and is terribly sick. I can hear his stifled moans since the late Peddie’s compartment borders the captain’s here on the starboard stern side of the ship. I think Captain Crozier is biting down on something hard—perhaps a Strip of Leather—to keep those moans from being heard. But I have always been Blessed (or Cursed) with good hearing. The Captain turned over the handling of the Ship’s and Expedition’s affairs to Lieutenant Little yesterday—thus quietly but Firmly giving Command to Little rather than to Captain Fitzjames—and explained to me that he, Captain Crozier, was battling a recurrence of Malaria. This is a lie. It is not just the symptoms of Malaria which I hear Captain Crozier suffering—and almost certainly will continue to hear through the walls until I head back to Erebus on Friday morning. Because of my uncle’s and my father’s weaknesses, I know the Demons the Captain is battling tonight. Captain Crozier is a man addicted to Hard Spirits, and either those Spirits on board have been used up or he has decided to go off them of his own Volition during this Crisis. Either way, he is suffering the Torments of Hell and shall continue to do so for many days more. His sanity may not survive. In the meantime, this ship and this Expedition are without their True Leader. His stifled moans, in a ship descending into Sickness and Despair, are Pitiable to the extreme.

The men standing on deck now were not surprised by the order to abandon ship. They had been called up and assembled for it. There were only about twenty-five Terrors present this morning; the rest were at Terror Camp two miles south of Victory Point or sledging materials to the camp or out hunting or reconnoitering near Terror Camp. An equal number of Erebuses waited below on the ice, standing near sledges and piles of gear where the Erebus gear-and-supply tents had been pitched since the first of April when that ship had been abandoned. Crozier watched his men file down the ice ramp, leaving the ship forever. Finally only he and Little were left standing on the canted deck. The fifty-some men on the ice below looked up at them with eyes almost made invisible under low-pulled Welsh wigs and above wool comforters, all squinting in the cold morning light. “Go ahead, Edward,” Crozier said softly. “Over the side with you.” The lieutenant saluted, lifted his heavy pack of personal possessions, and went down first the ladder and then the ice ramp to join the men below. Crozier looked around. The thin April sunlight illuminated a world of tortured ice, looming pressure ridges, countless seracs, and blowing snow. Tugging the bill of his cap lower and squinting toward the east, he tried to record his feelings at the moment. Abandoning ship was the lowest point in any captain’s life. It was an admission of total failure. It was, in most cases, the end of a long Naval career. To most captains, many of Francis Crozier’s personal acquaintance, it was a blow from which they would never recover. Crozier felt none of that despair. Not yet. More important to him at the moment was the blue flame of determination that still burned small but hot in his breast—I will live.

Giordino looked at Pitt like he was crazy, then followed his gaze up the ravine. Overhead was a dark mass of rock buried beneath a thin layer of ice. Surveying the hillside, Giordino suddenly felt his jaw drop. It wasn’t a mound of rock at all, he realized with astonishment. Above them, embedded in the ice, the men found themselves staring at the wooden black hull of a nineteenth-century sailing ship. 80 THE EREBUS STOOD LIKE A FORGOTTEN RELIC OF a bygone era.

Canto I And then went down to the ship, Set keel to breakers, forth on the godly sea, and We set up mast and sail on that swart ship, Bore sheep aboard her, and our bodies also Heavy with weeping, and winds from sternward Bore us out onward with bellying canvas, Circe’s this craft, the trim-coifed goddess. Then sat we amidships, wind jamming the tiller, Thus with stretched sail, we went over sea till day’s end. Sun to his slumber, shadows o’er all the ocean, Came we then to the bounds of deepest water, To the Kimmerian lands, and peopled cities Covered with close-webbed mist, unpierced ever With glitter of sun-rays Nor with stars stretched, nor looking back from heaven Swartest night stretched over wretched men there. The ocean flowing backward, came we then to the place Aforesaid by Circe. Here did they rites, Perimedes and Eurylochus, And drawing sword from my hip I dug the ell-square pitkin; Poured we libations unto each the dead, First mead and then sweet wine, water mixed with white flour. Then prayed I many a prayer to the sickly death’s-heads; As set in Ithaca, sterile bulls of the best For sacrifice, heaping the pyre with goods, A sheep to Tiresias only, black and a bell-sheep. Dark blood flowed in the fosse, Souls out of Erebus, cadaverous dead, of brides Of youths and of the old who had borne much; Souls stained with recent tears, girls tender, Men many, mauled with bronze lance heads, Battle spoil, bearing yet dreory arms, These many crowded about me; with shouting, Pallor upon me, cried to my men for more beasts; Slaughtered the herds, sheep slain of bronze; Poured ointment, cried to the gods, To Pluto the strong, and praised Proserpine; Unsheathed the narrow sword, I sat to keep off the impetuous impotent dead, Till I should hear Tiresias. But first Elpenor came, our friend Elpenor, Unburied, cast on the wide earth, Limbs that we left in the house of Circe, Unwept, unwrapped in sepulchre, since toils urged other. Pitiful spirit. And I cried in hurried speech: “Elpenor, how art thou come to this dark coast? “Cam’st thou afoot, outstripping seamen?” And he in heavy speech: “Ill fate and abundant wine. I slept in Circe’s ingle. “Going down the long ladder unguarded, “I fell against the buttress, “Shattered the nape-nerve, the soul sought Avernus. “But thou, O King, I bid remember me, unwept, unburied, “Heap up mine arms, be tomb by sea-bord, and inscribed: “A man of no fortune, and with a name to come. “And set my oar up, that I swung mid fellows.” And Anticlea came, whom I beat off, and then Tiresias Theban, Holding his golden wand, knew me, and spoke first: “A second time? why? man of ill star, “Facing the sunless dead and this joyless region? “Stand from the fosse, leave me my bloody bever “For soothsay.” And I stepped back, And he strong with the blood, said then: “Odysseus “Shalt return through spiteful Neptune, over dark seas, “Lose all companions.” And then Anticlea came. Lie quiet Divus. I mean, that is Andreas Divus, In officina Wecheli, 1538, out of Homer. And he sailed, by Sirens and thence outward and away And unto Circe. Venerandam, In the Cretan’s phrase, with the golden crown, Aphrodite, Cypri munimenta sortita est, mirthful, orichalchi, with golden Girdles and breast bands, thou with dark eyelids Bearing the golden bough of Argicida. So that:

Power and influence made for a lonely existence.

Time: her heart wretched. What a useless thing, her mind growled. Only humans would be so arrogant and so stupid as to count down their own deaths.

I just…let me figure what I want to do with my life, and then I’ll be fine. Promise.

The gods love you, Fabius. You delivered a Legion to them. You opened the door with your twisted ingenuity, in ways Erebus could not conceive. And you are still opening that door, every time your scalpel draws a red line across flesh. The universe is made of two parts--a knife and a stone. If you do not wield the one, you must lay upon the other. And you wield the knife very well indeed.

Do go on. You’re making such an eloquent point that I’m enraptured with your cause,” Hecate deadpanned, her gaze nearly withering a man as ancient as time itself. Erebus shook his head.

Well done, Melany,” Erebus shook his head. “You killed someone.” “She’s not dead. She’s having some kind of seizure.

to see a woolly indricothere. It was the latest animal Erebus had de-extincted,

Yes,” she said. “I know this is sudden to you all, but I love Erebus. And he loves me. He promised me that if I do end up in Kerberos, he’ll stay there with me. He’ll keep me protected. He’ll even work with me to try to find a way back to Earth. I also won’t age while in Kerberos, so we’ll be able to search for a long time.

It is.” She nodded. “Erebus is there on the other end. He wants to make sure I bind the portal on my own free will, so he’s waiting to join me until it’s complete. Once it is, he’ll stay by my side. Forever.

Ares,” Erebus answered, as if it should have been obvious. “The god of war.

He placed a hand on Danielle’s shoulder, and she spun around, throwing herself into his arms and burying her head into his chest. He held her tightly, and then he pulled away to look into her eyes. He said something to her—we couldn’t hear what he said since the portal blocked all sound—and then he lowered his lips to hers in a long, sensual kiss. Being together seemed to come naturally to them—as if they’d done this many times before. But eventually they broke apart, and Erebus reached for Danielle’s hand, as if letting us know he was there for her.

The future is not written in stone,” Chronos said, watching her calmly. “There are many possible paths that the future can take at any given time, and those paths are constantly changing based on every decision made. Even deities like Nyx and Erebus, who can see where those paths might lead, are not always correct.

Lat. 70°–05′ N., Long. 98°–23′ W. 11 November, 1847 It has been one year, two months, and eight days since Sir John’s eventful conference aboard Erebus, and both ships are frozen in the ice roughly where they were that September day in 1846. Although the current from the northwest moves the entire mass of ice, over the past year it has rotated ice, icebergs, pressure ridges, and both trapped Royal Navy ships in slow circles so that their position has remained about the same, stranded some twenty-five miles north-northwest of King William Land and slowly revolving like a blotch of rust on one of the metal music disks in the officers’ Great Room.

He continued staring at the pistol and bottle of whiskey. The captain of HMS Terror often thought that he knew nothing about the future — other than that his ship and Erebus would never again steam or sail — but then he reminded himself of one certainty: when his store of whiskey was gone, Francis Rawdon Moira Crozier was going to blow his brains out.

Sir John made no announcement to the men. None was required. That night as the men settled into their hammocks on Erebus and as Hartnell whispered his usual prayer for his dead brother, thirty-five-year-old Seaman Abraham Seeley, in the hammock next to him, hissed, “We’re in a world of shit now, Tommy, and not your prayers nor neither Sir John’s is going to get us out of it … not for another ten months at least.

Erebus

Vanity is always the first casualty of survival,

Curious about these new entities, the elementals asked why the gods were in the shape they were. "We are bipedal," Erebus said. "We wish to be distinguished from the animals." "What are animals?" an elemental asked. "We're not sure yet, but they will have more than two legs. Unless we give them less than two... or maybe not. Anyway, it's just a concept we're playing with at the moment.

I recall Decimus instructing me while at work that wrong friends will make my heart yearn for sin more than it usually does. Compromises will be easier and wisdom will be replaced with folly. I just figured that they didn’t know him, and therefore were judging him. Plus, I told them that Erebus …was interested in becoming a Christian, and that was the basis of our friendship. My biggest mistake was when I told John that Jesus spent time with sinners far worse than Erebus. ‘Oh foolishness, you forget I was with Jesus when he was in the homes and company of sinners,’ John chided. ‘Jesus did not come to make friends, but to call sinners to repent. Do that long enough and let’s see how many friends you pick up…His visits were hardly a social call…He did not save any lost soul by living like that lost soul…until Erebus sees Christ in you, you are guilty of leading him astray as I’m afraid he is leading you astray...As I see it, friendships are grown when you are all going in the same direction, and can help, encourage and protect all involved. Friendships are not to be reckless, but constructive and purposeful where you are building each other up and improving each other’s character. If this isn’t that inner, guiding principle of all the friends you hold, then in what direction is it actually going, and what good will be derived from it? If friends are not making each other better, then they’re fulfilling the role of our spiritual enemy by tearing down what is good and ruining what had potential……

Charon,” I said as he looked each of us over. “Is that Nathan Garrett? I figured you’d be dead by now.” “Sorry to disappoint,” I said with a smile. “Not disappointed, son, just surprised. You had a tendency to piss off the wrong people.” “It’s more of a hobby these days,” I stated. “You still ferrying souls to and from this place?” “We all have our penance to pay. This is mine.” “Why does he look so old?” Lucie whispered. “Isn’t he the son of Erebus?” The mention of the name Erebus made me remember something, a conversation I’d had recently, although I couldn’t remember the details and wasn’t even sure if it had actually happened or I’d dreamed it. I pushed the thought aside. “The water ages you,” I told her. “It’s why no one swims in it. Even the tiniest bit ingested will cause you to lose part of your life and age you. Charon has done this job for over four thousand years, since the Titans were first placed here. He took their side in the war, so his punishment was to ferry people. Forever.” “And he drinks the water?” “I started to,” Charon said, making Lucie jump slightly. “I’m not deaf, girl.” “Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend,” she told him. Charon waved her off. “I’d been doing this job for a millennia when I decided to start drinking the water and take my own life by the natural death of old age. Unfortunately, I learned too late that it takes a percentage of your life, until it can’t take anymore. It doesn’t kill you—just ages you physically. So now I’m stuck looking like this.” “I’m sorry,” Lucie said. Charon shrugged. “I still have the energy of someone much younger than I appear. Hades tried to suggest I get someone else to do the ferrying, but I’ll be damned if I give someone else my boat.” “What’s with the armor?” I asked. Charon smiled. Maybe. There was a lot of beard in the way, so it was hard to tell for sure. “Hades gave it to me. I needed something better than those old rags I used to wear. I’ve got a dozen sets. Apparently Avalon keeps giving them to Hades for a Faceless he doesn’t have.” Hades had never liked the idea of the Faceless and refused to have one join his organization, despite repeated requests by Avalon members for him to have one. I always got the impression that he found the idea of a masked man at his beck and call distasteful and counterproductive to having people place trust in him.

Erebus (Darkness) and Nyx (Night), who formed a striking contrast to the cheerful light of heaven and the bright smiles of earth. Erebus reigned in that mysterious world below where no ray of sunshine, no gleam of daylight, nor vestige of health-giving terrestrial life ever appeared. Nyx, the sister of Erebus, represented Night, and was worshipped by the ancients with the greatest solemnity.

Do not wonder why he might despise you—he has every reason to. Wonder why he would love you. It is not his wrath that should amaze you, but his grace. It is not Erebus that should astound you, but Charis!

The Song of the Swan and the Raven They called themselves poets, They were great grammarians, They spoke very well with their mouths, But, They didn't speak with their hearts, And the princess Sought the Alpine Star, From the North, the South, The East and the West, But they did not find it, From the lands where men, Forgot their Love for War, And learned to love gold more, More than Love itself, Now, they lose wars and win Alms, And sell their Nordic and Mediterranean beauty, To be loved at the Altar of Aphrodite, But Aphrodite, Loved War and married the lame Blacksmith, Who gave her alms (of affection) And from the stolen Rose, From the Daughter of the King of Phoenicia, Taken to the Tropics, From the Sons of Caesar, To Tropical Lands, Was born a Scion of Hades, Who harbored darkness within, But also kept an infinite love, And he Looked at all this, And contemplated so many times, The Face of Medusa, That his gaze turned to Stone, Everything he couldn't see, And what became immobile, Moved everything else, Moved Georgios, Who listened to the soft music, Of Satyrs in Carnival, And blasphemed, Mocked and threw stones at those, Bacchantes, For the wine no longer inebriated, It became juice, Music, like Water, Needs to flow, For Bacchus of this land, Made it his Abode, And banished the other Gods, And said that in the Earthly Eden, There would only be drunkenness and indolence, And everyone was happy, But, they discovered that, Even in Bacchic Lands, One hears the Sad suffering, For in the Festivities, There was no joy, They were masked balls, In which everyone cried, But the masks showed joy, And Mirrors were placed on the walls, Narcissus, however, Refused to see his image, He knew that drowning again, In his own vanity, Would bring back the Apple, The golden apple, And the Goddesses, Would war, And there would be no more peace, In that Constant War, And we were made captives, Of drunkenness, Watched and Hounded, For, The King's Face was Guarded, Cured of Leprosy, But, His disease was Love, The love for those Christians, Who no longer believed in God, The priests who lost Faith, The Daughters of Eve who choked, On the apple, And the sons of Adam, Who in the deepest cave of Erebus, Were bound, And seeing the shadow of distant lights, Were blinded, And even if, Like Argos, They had a hundred eyes, They would see nothing, Beyond what their scant minds, And their scant hearts, Were incapable of Beholding.

Some say that Darkness was first, and from Darkness sprang Chaos. From a union between Darkness and Chaos sprang Night, Day, Erebus, and the Air.

The bird life, was, as ever, of great interest to ship’s surgeon McCormick. On seeing hovering over the ship what he believed to be a new species of Lestris, or Arctic Yager, described by Audubon, the great American bird illustrator, as an ‘indefatigable teaser of the smaller gulls’, he took a pot-shot at it. His shot failed to despatch the bird cleanly and, after descending near the deck, it recovered and flew away with one leg broken. McCormick, unusually, felt compelled to justify himself: ‘For notwithstanding that my duties as ornithologist compel me to take the lives of these most beautiful and interesting creatures . . . I never do so without a sharp sting of pain and qualm of conscience, so fond am I of all the feathered race.’ So fond, indeed, that on the same night he recorded that ‘Between midnight and one a.m. I succeeded in adding two more of the elegant white petrel to my collection, one falling dead on the quarter-deck and the other on the gun-room skylight . . . a third I shot . . . fell overboard into the sea.

With a cry of ‘Land Ahoy!’, Lieutenant Wood confirmed that not only had Erebus and Terror become the first sailing ships to break through the ice-pack, but they were now the first ships to come face-to-face with irrefutable proof that an Antarctic continent existed. Surprisingly, Ross’s first reaction was less than ecstatic. All he could see was that this ‘coastline’ had effectively blocked the way to his most coveted goal, the South Magnetic Pole. Nevertheless he was, like everyone else, humbled and overawed by what he saw as they drew closer to land. ‘We had a most enchanting view of . . . two magnificent ranges of mountains . . . The glaciers that filled their intervening valleys, and which descended from near the mountain summits, projected in many places several miles into the sea . . .The sky was a clear azure blue, with the most brilliant sunshine . . . all that could be desired for giving effect to such a magnificent panorama.’ For Joseph Hooker, it was simply ‘one of the most gorgeous sights I have ever witnessed’. And there was another cause for celebration. Measurements showed that Erebus and Terror had reached latitude 71°14'S, passing Captain Cook’s furthest south. ‘We have now but Weddell’s track to get beyond,’ wrote Captain Ross, referring to the whaling captain’s 74°15'S, a record that had stood since 1823.

The ships slowly picked their way through, guided from patch to patch of open water by the shouts from the crow’s nest. Tern, cape pigeon and white petrel flew around the ship. Seals on the ice were so slow to take fright that they were easily bludgeoned on the head and brought on board for food. In the stomach of one of them they found 9 lb of granite stones, which puzzled Ross, as they were a thousand miles from the nearest land.

The prettiest sunsets always happened when Nyx was in a good mood, and she stopped to chat with Helios; it always made for the best colors. Erebus let a soft smile cross his face as he looked up at the clouds. Now, you’re just showing off, my darling.

May we be forgiven for the suffering we deliver unto the innocent

She’s coming…” Fez says, taking several steps backwards as he gazes up. “Fez, who was you just talking to?” Rohza asks, with an inquisitive yellow glow. “The stones, Rohza, the stones.” “Uncertainty. There is thought… I do not believe these stones can talk. How can I know their interaction with you truly exists?” “I don’t think that thinking necessarily proves existence, Rohza. And even if thought proves that I am, I can always think that thought is not actually thought. Therefore I am not what I think and not what I am.” Fez traces the shape of a pyramid with his finger, “The universe leaves secrets sown within its structure Rohza—known only to a few—allowing those with access to such knowledge to hack the simulation.” “But Fez, my analysis indicates an inexplicable link buried deep within your psyche. It’s as if a higher form of entangled telepathy exists between you and the Erebus, one that you are unaware of.” “Ahh, but how do you know that isn’t just what the simulation wants you to perceive?” “Calculating. Oh no! That would mean we are all part of an entity, a machine so advanced that there is no conceptual awareness to even conceive what such a higher-level essence would be like.” “We’re all machines, Rohza… subject to the will of God.

I looked on in wonder, at seeing the magnificent sculptor at work when it noticed me, taking my cubic ship between its colossal fingers. Its giant wrist turned one way, then the other as its machine-driven eyes focused upon my darkling configuration. At that point I freely presented myself in humanoid form, stepping out of my ship, and with my mysterious abilities I levitated before him, offering my companionship. But it treated me like an insect, flicking me away with a giant fingertip. As I came to rest, stopping before another giant statue the other side of the hall—between which there lied a bottomless rift—a strange sensation ran through my mid-section, and as it did, launched from my ship was a bright sparkler. A fuzzy feeling I felt as it shot toward the giant being. As it touched the fingertip that hit me, it dissipated into nothingness… leaving the giant with half a severed finger and oozing from it a strange type of cosmic energy. A second bright sparkler quickly emerged from my ship, which seemingly communicated with the giant gaining control over its awareness. Once done, the celestial giant bowed before me, and carried on with its work.

We are nothing without faith, sire,' said Erebus. 'Humanity,' Kor Phaeron pressed his palms together in prayer, 'must have faith. Nothing unites mankind the way religion in¬ spires unity. No conflict rages as fiercely as a holy war. No warrior kills with the conviction of a crusader. Nothing in life breeds bonds and ambitions greater than the ties and dreams forged by faith. Religion brings hope, unification, law and purpose. The foundations of civilisation itself. Faith is nothing less than the pillar of a sentient species, raising it above the beast, the automaton, and the alien.' Kor Phaeron - First Heretic

Rae was an explorer in the mould of Amundsen and Nansen, listening to the locals, learning from them what to wear, what to eat and how to survive. In his lifetime he mapped 1,750 miles of unexplored territory, with the loss of only one man. What a contrast with the disastrous expedition whose fate he was the first to discover.

Of all the euphemisms for drunkenness, I think ‘disordering the attic’ one of the most poetic.

You killed my mother. Surely, you knew there was no escaping this,

I'm here in one fine ass piece.

No, it can’t. Now, I’m leaving ’cause I got shit to do, not because I want to. Once that shit is done, I’m coming back here to be with you, and that’s ’cause I do want to. And every day for the foreseeable future, I’ll be doing the same. I’m not leaving you again, darlin’, so get used to it.” He leans over and kisses my forehead.

My club is the air I breathe, but you’re the blood in my veins. If you left, I could breathe, but everything inside me would shrivel up and die. You’re my only reason for living.

It’s from Bran—the founder of the Brotherhood of Maribor—that we know of Phyre and the truth that there are only five gods. Erebus is the father of all; Ferrol, the father of the elves. Drome brought forth dwarves, and of course Maribor created mankind. As for the plants and animals, that was the work of Muriel.

Fuck that, I want to know now how come the strongest of us ended up in a hole," Erebus complained.

Die Erebus war nicht zufällig nach dem Gott der Unterwelt benannt, und für die Männer an Bord muss es sich angefühlt haben, als wären sie dort angekommen

disordering the attic

The Republic of Lonoria is centered on the world of Noctorus, a planet tidally-locked to its sun surrounded by a moon of gold. They became one of the wealthiest places in the galaxy. They had a world of gold and then shattered it. They cast the entire economy of the galaxy into a sudden decline. Their city is all but abandoned on a dying world. All that remains are dark secrets of Erebus that I am not sure ought to be brought to light. She is a land of contradictions; the wealth of gold and the poverty of poor decisions. Fire and ice, shadow and light. It is best to be careful of people from such a land.

Altitude sickness, also known as mountain sickness, is caused by a lack of oxygen at great heights. Symptoms include headaches, dizziness, and shortness of breath. Climbers traveling up Mount Erebus train for days by climbing to gradually increasing heights.

In his literary commonplace book, Jefferson transcribed these lines from a version of Shakespeare’s Merchant of Venice: The Man who has not Music in his Soul, Or is not touch’d with Concord of sweet Sounds, Is fit for Treasons, Stratagems, & Spoils, The Motions of his Mind are dull as Night, And his Affections dark as Erebus: Let no such Man be trusted.

Gran was waiting for me in the car and raring to go.

The Man who has not Music in his Soul,                          Or is not touch’d with Concord of sweet Sounds,                          Is fit for Treason, Stratagems, and Spoils,                          The Motions of his Mind are dull as Night,                          And his Affections dark as Erebus:                          Let no such man be trusted.

State of the mind, in general. There grows,In my most ill compos’d affection, such  A stanchless avarice, that, were I king,I should cut off the nobles for their lands.Shak.Macbeth. The man that hath no musick in himself,Nor is not mov’d with concord of sweet sounds,Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils;The motions of his spirit are dull as night,And his affections dark as Erebus:Let no such man be trusted.Shakesp.Merchant of Venice.6. Quality;

You are Erebus, brother to Night, father to Heaven and Day. You command Dreams and control Death. You are Darkness,