Feb 2016
So, a Grecian alchemist and his apprentice were trying to make gold.
The tenured teacher and ambitious student toiled in their lab for many days, mixing all manner of heavenly substance and earthen metal with no success. It ******, any one successful solution produced hardly a glimmer, and the cost for spoils was a draining demand on their cosmological rate of alchemical exchange, sure. The Magi grew weary, tired and hopeless. So they searched for higher knowledge, why not. Hermes Traelderstus looked toward the stars for sensible wisdom, and Ostanes Zoyoang'nshper worked through charms for potent magic, vowing to steer clear of power the master fears ("ain't that **** cliche?").
Upon one worn out night, after a bit of stargazing, Traelders falls asleep in his observatory. Under a full moon his mind soon begins to drift through stars, life, death, broiling quazars, those elements and all their combinations. In time, deeper meaning begins to blossom into understanding... Little does he know, Zoyoang'nshper, eager to impress, keeps toiling and is boiling in forbidden brews.
"Voodoo, yeah. That'll work on this chemistry test. Some beech leaf strands, cherry bark as a base, beats, and career advice from Eru Iluvatar. People'll love it. magna opera. A great work!" This yong'n drops dank and dusty ingredients into a ***, chuckling, "My great work..." I swear, kid's got good intentions, just trying to make the grade. So half-baked conclusions mixing in half-brained solutions fission, lab ceilings echo with a BANG and a CRASH. Traelders rifles into reality, zoyoa risen over him, holding something glitter prone.
"MY GODS! Have we made THE stone?! Is that gold?!"
"I think I'VE done it! It FEELS so!" Zoyoang'nshper declares with delight.
Traelders snatches an orbiting glitter-stone from his student's hand and feels it in his own. It is a rough marble turning there, each revolution staining his palm and tips with a grassy aqua-green film fringed in oily illness.
"You broke my dream... for THIS?!" He scolds! Casting his stone into the ****** fool's liver.
"That is BRIMSTONE!
and irony..."
The tenured teacher and ambitious student toiled in their lab for many days, mixing all manner of heavenly substance and earthen metal with no success. It ******, any one successful solution produced hardly a glimmer, and the cost for spoils was a draining demand on their cosmological rate of alchemical exchange, sure. The Magi grew weary, tired and hopeless. So they searched for higher knowledge, why not. Hermes Traelderstus looked toward the stars for sensible wisdom, and Ostanes Zoyoang'nshper worked through charms for potent magic, vowing to steer clear of power the master fears ("ain't that **** cliche?").
Upon one worn out night, after a bit of stargazing, Traelders falls asleep in his observatory. Under a full moon his mind soon begins to drift through stars, life, death, broiling quazars, those elements and all their combinations. In time, deeper meaning begins to blossom into understanding... Little does he know, Zoyoang'nshper, eager to impress, keeps toiling and is boiling in forbidden brews.
"Voodoo, yeah. That'll work on this chemistry test. Some beech leaf strands, cherry bark as a base, beats, and career advice from Eru Iluvatar. People'll love it. magna opera. A great work!" This yong'n drops dank and dusty ingredients into a ***, chuckling, "My great work..." I swear, kid's got good intentions, just trying to make the grade. So half-baked conclusions mixing in half-brained solutions fission, lab ceilings echo with a BANG and a CRASH. Traelders rifles into reality, zoyoa risen over him, holding something glitter prone.
"MY GODS! Have we made THE stone?! Is that gold?!"
"I think I'VE done it! It FEELS so!" Zoyoang'nshper declares with delight.
Traelders snatches an orbiting glitter-stone from his student's hand and feels it in his own. It is a rough marble turning there, each revolution staining his palm and tips with a grassy aqua-green film fringed in oily illness.
"You broke my dream... for THIS?!" He scolds! Casting his stone into the ****** fool's liver.
"That is BRIMSTONE!
and irony..."
i don't get it, could you help me out
