On Saturday, October 21, 2017 at 9 PM, the Knowne World Courtesans hosted the Seven Deadly Sins Soiree at the Honey Badger Tavern at War of the Wings XII, in the Barony of Sacred Stone in Atlantia. It was an evening of delights and debauchery, love and licentiousness, sin and scandal!

A painting by Michelangelo of Adam and Eve accepting the fruit from the snake, which takes the form of a woman

Amusements were themed for each of the Seven Deadly Sins.

  • Pride: A contest for best display of red in garb. Period cosmetics available to appease your vanity.
  • Sloth: A luxuriously appointed tent full of rugs, cushions, and beds for lounging
  • Greed: Gaming and gambling hosted by Honey Badger Tavern
  • Wrath: Based on a game called “Jomswikinger” in which blindfolded players attempt to hit each other with pillows
  • Gluttony: A feast of finger foods
  • Envy: Anonymous compliments collected in a bowl, which were read aloud late in the evening
  • Lust: Represented by the courtesan hosts

In addition to all these festivities, our Patron, Lord Gideon ap Stephen, composed Seven Deadly Sonnets in our honor.

Sloth

Sloth (The End of The Work)


There is so much to be done my sweet love
we ardent farmers till such sullen soil
Til sweat fits brow like hand in fitted glove
I do not mean to keep you from your toil
But pray, take rest and lay with me an hour
Let pillows take the place of stubborn field
Let kisses fall as cool as summer show’rs
And knotted flesh like autumn’s harvest yield
Come give yourself unto this soft embrace,
Allow this touch a balm to suff’ring be
Defy the blazing sun and turn your face
Let all your labor turn to lay with me.
And if they call us idle, judge and fuss
Pray, they just be jealous they are not us

Wrath

Wrath (Let Us Come to Blows)


Say that again my lord, slow’r if thou please
For patience have I in surplus, but thou
sparked flame that shall not dim or ease.
So utter thy oath under breath most foul,
stoke up what gall you must summon and settle
thy bones ‘gainst the bed thou hast gravely made.
Dost thou draw good steel sir? Stay red metal,
Our hands will stand as weapons, come as bade.
Tongues dig graves and patience be overthrown
Come, my lord. see what you can make of me.
With thy grand threats, grand fists and tiny stones
Show the gathered throng how weak thy heart be
Spark to Flame, Ash to ever burning house
Thou wouldst still hath teeth had thou watch’d thy mouth

Gluttony

Gluttony (The Unending Appetite)


My mouth is ever open, just like hell
I cannot resist the ev’r growling pull
Empty my belly be, like winter well,
Unsated, ever craving, never full
So smear my mouth with salt and fat and grease
Stuff tight my hide with the wages of this sin
My life I dedicate unto this feast
Bring meat and bread and wine until I end
My life with fork and knife and stained spoon
Pray bury me within the widest grave
So pale and round and fat like gloried moon
No room for pie or port was ever sav’d.
You fill my plate and cup for all of time
For I sup and drink forever in this rhyme.

Lust

Lust (The Body, The Blood: A Blasphemy)


The way God made us both is good and sure
and in my duties I would be remiss
If I abstained from joy and sin so pure
for skin to skin is holy palmer’s kiss
Sing sweat and mouths and heat and blessed skin
and so bated that exhalation be
That saints in reliquaries rise again
So jealous of the temple given me
Indulge these prayers and breathe out holy psalms
On bended knees, swap saintly names for mine
Let heaven hear the pressing of our palms
Take blessings from this bed as such are thine
My want be the wine, your body the bread
an off’ring of lust, this altar, this bed.

Pride

Pride (This is Not a Metaphor)


Fools! Step back! Do you know not who I am?
My very name should bring you to your knees
No, not your savior or your bless-ed lamb,
Dear God I am a poet can’t you see?
You bend your knee to dukes and queens and kings
And other noble worthies as they pass
But what of how you treat the work I bring?
Just comments on my meter and my ass!
I cannot help but have such perfect form
That rhymes just seem to float right off my lips
I cannot help my words are often borne
Not often to completion, but just the tips.
I preen and bask and flaunt–I will not hide.
I am a poet pois’d within his pride.

Greed

Greed (The Finest Things)


O Gather what is mine from field and fen
Call me scythe and harvester, call me lord
Call me dragon, call me wyrm within his den
Call me pirate resting high upon his hoard.
Ply me with chests of gold and strings of gems
Dress me in finer clothes than blessed king
My avarice rings out like shepherd’s hymns
My appetite is for the finest things
But crave I now the liquor of your kiss
Pray get me drunk and take all I am worth
Empty my vaults, there’s nothing I shall miss
Take all the rights entitled to my birth
My ache is for the richest finery
My greed extends to beauty such as thee

Envy

Envy (It Hurts So Much I Love It)


When I want, I want so hard it breaks my teeth
I trade sleep for clenched jaw and tir’d eyes.
This longing spreads me thin without relief
With once what I held best I now despise
How dare they have so much more joy than me
These monsters with their love and scope and art
I wish like them my wretched self to be
My lacking burns like venom through my heart
My envy leaves me stripped of all kind words
Bitterness and anger weigh my tongue
My thoughts a flitting flock of frightened birds
Their voices rendered silent songs unsung
When the wanting goes away I relax
And count the hours until I want it back


Scheduled Events Past Patron

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