What's all this barmy stuff?
Want to find out what has been forgotten in the Styx?
Not enough barminess for you?
|Fourth Clerk of Accordant
February 25th, 2000
Barmy Spotlight of the Week
Monstrous Compedium II, page 112.
are the handmaidens of the demona queen Lolth, who's only a few letters
away from being the sneakiest webiest manipulator this side of Gehenna,
and act as the power's agents, spies, and general sods to lounge around
the realm so it looks lived in and a personal paradise to the queen. In
their unnatural state the Yochlol appear for all the multiverse like tall
pointy eared ladies with opal white eyes and a tendency for dark clothing,
while in their natural state they resemble lumpy tentacled masses with
one crosseyed eye and quite possibly a pinkish texture to the skin- hide-
well, outside covering- from the titan sized embarrassment of being seen without
something trendy and gothy on. They're also found in a few other
shapes, being sometimes seen as a large sleek spider that would give
anyone the ooga-boogas, and they're of course never seen very well at all
when taking the form of a large gaseous cloud, which won't be commented
upon. Though technically the Yochlol are tanar'ri, we won't hold that against
them, and in fact deep down they're nice amorphic metamorphing lump of
rock gals, who just
want to get on with life and maybe write some poetry involving spiders.
What the Yochlol do as handmaidens to Lolth is still a bit confusing,
besides the general manipulating everyone part, but it's assumed by most
that they hang around and knit weby dark frilled handkerchiefs, which
they always have on hand in case someone has a spot, we'll call it happily
splattered red paint by a overenthusiastic barmy, on their face or need a
good sneeze into a hanky.
Barminess: They're barmy handmaidens to the dyslexic gothic
power of spiders, Lloth.
"Here, you can borrow my hanky. Depressing isn't it? That's right
dear, have a good sneeze into it. I know this barmy old world would make
anyone sad. Handy thing I was here, eh sod? Now, let me tell you again how
miserable you are, shall I?"
Likes: Large fuzzy black spiders
as pets. Kicking around other abyssal fiends and smiling daintily while
they hand them a nice hanky for their tears, the chaotic wimps. Dark
clothing, dark tattoos, dark jewelry, dark darkness, you get the idea.
Nothing makes them happier then shutting their eyes and pretending the
whole world is a stylish dark colored place, that is before they trip over
a bone and have a unstylish black eye, of course.
Living in the Abyss, it's not very stylish and dark and gothy at all. In
fact they've started a petition to get the whole realm moved to
Pandemonium, where there's more spiders, darkness, and barmy run gothic
coffee houses. For some reason they dislike the color red immensely,
even though it's commonly associated with spiders and fiends, and it's
quite possible this has something to do with it leading to the color pink.
Yochlol Poetry to have you Laughing out Loud in Dismay. If
you think of poetry as random spoken syllables that make you want to cry
but at the same time have a catchy rhythm that makes you click your
fingers, then we barmies hear poetry all the time. And while there's
nothing like a bleaknik to give you good poetry while beating or strumming
on something that used to be some critter, the Yochlol have angst riddled
poetry down flat and stuck in a web. This is the kind of things that
happen when you give some paramortal fiends some spare time, a nice dark
blanket to curl up in, and a quill.
I Feel Like an Eight Tentacled Angust Lump
Eight, Hate, Eight, Hate
Tentacles dangle useless
An eye sees the sodding multiverse
I have a branch growing in my ear
Lumpy, lumpy, nothing
A clucking feathered wastrel perches on the branch
A mess, a mess in my ear
Eight tentacles thrashing, drip, drip
An Abyssal Dismal Daisy Dirge Penned While Waiting In a
Line At Fell's Tattoo Parlor a Little Before Anti Peak.
A dark spirally tattoo on my face
To look upon it with the eye
A dieing sun in the night?
A web of infinities in darkness?
A downward spiral to bottomless depths?
The sods they say,
A daisy it looks like to the eye
A bloody pretty daisy flower tattoo on my face!
Last Week's Chant
All content copyright 2000 Jeremiah
Golden or credited authors.