#glossary

This is the glossary related to everything I made related to the LEGO Elves franchise.

return to main glossary

This is a compiled list with links of every post I have (related to my creations). It is split in a few posts, so that all content (all sections, if we follow the library theme) has its own glossary.

I will add onto this as this blog goes on!

prosperverse (coming some day)

Word of the day:

Care

(kēar)

| verb | To care for; to care about; to take care of; to be care(ful/less)

| common derivated words | Careful; careless; carefully; caring

| origins | Proto-Germanic: Karō (lament, expression of pain, concern). From this came relatives such as the Old High German chara (lament) — which gave rise to the German word Karfreitag (Good Friday, literally "Friday of Lamentation").

| evoluation with english | Modern English: Care (to care for, to be concerned about); Middle English: Care / Carien (to suffer, to be anxious, to have mental pain); Old English (5th to 11th centuries): Caru or Ċearu (meaning "anxiety", "sadness", "mourning", "cry of pain"). Hence the expression careworn (overwhelmed by worry).

| fake info | For centuries, people (and even old dictionaries) thought that "care" came from the Latin "cura" (meaning attention, care, from which we get curator, manicure, pedicure). ​

Scientific proof: Historical linguistics and the laws of phonetic mutation (such as Grimm's Law) have proven that it is impossible for care to come from a cure.

Ardreyth: Adopted daughter of Minaste Mizzrym; later known as the Hand of Lolth. A female drow of House Mizzrym. Calimar Mizzrym: Nephew of Minaste Mizzrym and second son of Minaste’s sister. He holds the title of Qu’el’velguk in House Mizzrym. Da’viir Mizzrym: Elder brother of Calimar Mizzrym and firstborn son of Minaste’s sister. A male drow of House Mizzrym who holds the title of Qu’el’saruk. Jhaelra: Adopted daughter of Minaste Mizzrym and a priestess of Lolth. She oversees trade routes, intermediaries, hidden storehouses, and goods whose origins are better left unnamed. Minaste Mizzrym: Matron Mother of House Mizzrym; aunt of Calimar and Da’viir. An old and highly powerful priestess of Lolth, ruthless and hungry for power. Naenelis: Calimar’s lover; a surface elf whose death became central to Calimar’s downfall. Nymrak: A young Sargtlin whose death reminds Calimar of his own past mistakes. Shi’nayne: Adopted daughter of Minaste Mizzrym and a Yathrin of House Mizzrym. She oversees the resources that keep the house alive: supplies, debtors, servants, contracts, and capital. Tazagh Mizzrym: Minaste’s Qu’Faern; an older male drow who has survived long enough near Minaste’s power to understand its dangers. Veszra: A priestess of Lolth who commands Velkynlani’rath, a remote and dangerous outpost of House Mizzrym. Xullrae: Adopted daughter of Minaste Mizzrym; First Priestess of House Mizzrym and a Yathtallar of Lolth. She commands Minaste’s hunters and enforcers.

Glossary of Drow Terms Used

(this will be tidied up into an ACTUAL intro later for now I just wanna lay down my tagging system)

thinking out loud - "girlblogging" basically, just my passing thoughts

the nameless story of mine - my oc loreeeee 😛

bad poetry - poems from my google doc of the same name

answered - for when I answer my asks

Mask, Death-Face and Theatrical Dehumanisation

Corpse paint is one of the most recognisable images of black metal. Black-and-white painted faces, harsh contrasts, hollowed eyes, distorted mouths, pale skin. A face that is no longer meant to look entirely human. Or at least not conveniently human in any everyday sense.

To outsiders, it can easily look like: “Ah. People with very serious make-up decisions.” This is not entirely wrong, but it is somewhat insufficient.

Corpse paint is more than make-up. It is a mask. A transformation. A refusal of the ordinary face. The person behind the music steps back, and something else steps forward: corpse, demon, ghost, warrior, shadow, priest, spectre, forest creature, calamity with backstage access.

Naturally, this does not always succeed.

Sometimes corpse paint truly looks like an apparition from the depths. Sometimes like a cold death mask. Sometimes like ritual. Sometimes like nightmare. And sometimes it looks as though someone lost an argument with the wrong wall during renovation and then decided this was now their spiritual form. That, too, must be admitted.

What Is Corpse Paint?

In the metal context, corpse paint refers to a usually black-and-white style of face paint that became especially associated with black metal. The name suggests a deathly or corpse-like appearance.

Typical features include:

- white or very pale face paint

- black areas around the eyes, mouth, or cheeks

- harsh lines, cracks, spikes, or shadow shapes

- a deliberately cold, dead, demonic, or inhuman expression

- strong contrasts, often matching stage clothing, spikes, leather, bullet belts, or a darker visual aesthetic

Of course, there are many variations. Some are simple and severe. Some are wild and distorted. Some almost ritualistic. Some strongly reminiscent of horror, theatre, or war paint. Some highly individual. Some rather suggest that the artist had five minutes and a mirror of questionable loyalty.

Corpse paint is not a fixed rulebook. It is a visual code.

The Face Disappears

One important effect of corpse paint is this: the ordinary face disappears. And that matters.

The human face is strongly tied to identity. We recognise people by faces. We read emotion, closeness, vulnerability, intention. An unpainted face says: here is a person. Here is someone with daily life, a name, skin, tiredness, perhaps a tax return.

Corpse paint interrupts that.

It turns a face into a surface. A mask. A symbol. Something between human and non-human.

This fits black metal very well, because the genre often works with estrangement anyway: alien voice, cold sound, distance, night, death, myth, anti-Christianity, wilderness, departure from the normal.

The voice no longer sounds entirely human.

The guitar sounds like weather.

The drums sound like attack.

And the face looks as though everyday life no longer has jurisdiction there.

With all due respect: this is consistent.

Death, Mask, Ritual

Corpse paint can carry different meanings.

It can evoke death: pale skin, black eyes, death mask, corpse-like face. The face is not beautified, but emptied. It is not meant to look healthy, friendly, or socially available.

It can demonise: the musician does not appear as a private person, but as a figure. Something that does not have to be “nice” on stage. Something that can carry screams, cold, hatred, ritual, or myth.

It can feel ritualistic: like a marking for a threshold. Before: human. After: role. Before: daily life. After: performance. Before: face. After: sign.

It can also create distance. Someone wearing corpse paint does not say: “Look personally into my face.” Rather: “Look at the figure that has been created here.”

This is not merely decoration. It changes the relationship between musician, music, and audience.

Theatre and Seriousness

Black metal has a complicated relationship with theatre.

On the one hand, much of the genre wants to feel serious, raw, authentic, or dangerous. On the other, it works strongly with staging: clothing, poses, forest photos, candles, ruins, logos, masks, album covers, stage light, fog, symbols.

Corpse paint sits exactly on that border.

It can be a serious mask.

It can be a theatrical mask.

Most of the time, it is both.

And that is not automatically a problem.

Theatre does not automatically mean falsehood. Ritual is staged. A uniform is staged. So is a priestly robe, a crown, mourning dress, or war paint. Clothing and marking can change the person wearing them — or at least change the space around them.

The better question is not: is it real or performed? The better question is: what does the performance do?

When corpse paint works, the mask strengthens the music. It makes visible what is already happening in the sound: dehumanisation, death, frost, shadow, refusal, demonisation, ritual.

When corpse paint fails, the mask feels like a costume with no room behind it.

Then what stands before us is not the terror of the night, but someone who appears to have been released from the Halloween department somewhat prematurely.

Corpse Paint and the Second Wave

Corpse paint became especially tied to black metal through the Norwegian second wave in the early 1990s.

Bands such as Mayhem, Immortal, Darkthrone, Gorgoroth, Emperor, and many others shaped images that remain closely connected with the genre today: pale faces, black eyes, fixed stares, forests, frost, leather, spikes, weapons, ruins, snow.

These images became so strong that they almost turned into visual cliché.

When people hear “black metal,” many do not first imagine a guitar technique or a production aesthetic. They see a black-and-white face in the forest. That is the power of symbols.

They simplify.

They condense.

They can also flatten.

Corpse paint therefore became both: a powerful expressive tool and an immediately recognisable scene code. Whoever wears it stands in a tradition. But precisely because of that, it can quickly become formulaic.

Not every corpse-painted face creates depth. Sometimes it only says: “I am aware of the dress code.”

Why Not Just a Normal Face?

One might ask: why paint the face at all? Why not let the music speak for itself?

Of course, black metal can work without corpse paint. Many bands do not use it, or used it and later abandoned it. The mask is not a certificate of legitimacy. Nobody automatically becomes more credible simply by looking as though they climbed out of a grave under moonlight.

But when corpse paint is used well, it can do something an ordinary face cannot:

It lifts the music out of everyday life. It makes visible that another level is being entered. Stage, ritual, myth, horror, symbol, threshold.

Because black metal works so strongly with atmosphere, the visual aspect can expand the sonic space. It says: this is not only a concert. This is not only a band photo. This is a figure in the room. Or at least the attempt to become one.

The Danger of Cliché

The problem with powerful images is that they wear out.

Corpse paint can be overwhelming. But it can also become instantly parodiable. A black-and-white face in the forest is now so clearly black metal code that it can swing very quickly between serious, beautiful, ridiculous, and lovingly exaggerated. That is not necessarily a tragedy.

A genre that works so heavily with pathos, death, Satan, frost, and the evil stare must accept that someone will occasionally raise an eyebrow.

The art lies in not believing every symbol automatically. Corpse paint is a tool. Not proof of quality.

It can create a figure.

It can condense atmosphere.

It can create distance.

It can make death, cold, and ritual visible.

It can also simply look bad.

Even darkness is not immune to unfortunate make-up technique.

A Small Viewing Guide

When looking at corpse paint, try asking:

Does the paint truly transform the face — or does it merely sit on top of it?

Does it feel like mask, death-face, ritual, or merely costume?

Does it fit the music and the atmosphere of the band?

Does it create distance, cold, inhumanity, or myth?

Is it individual, or merely a scene template?

Does the image become stronger — or simply more expected?

The most important question may be:

Does the corpse paint serve the music? Or does it merely serve the cliché?

Because, as with everything in the Black Chronicles, not every symbol is automatically meaningful. Not every mask has depth. And not every grim stare from a coniferous forest is a revelation.

Sometimes it is merely a grim stare from a coniferous forest.

Which, admittedly, is already a respectable application letter in this particular genre.

What Remains?

Corpse paint is one of the defining visual signs of black metal.

It is make-up, but not only make-up. It is mask, death-face, ritual, theatre, refusal, and scene code. It removes everyday humanity from the face and turns it into something strange.

Used well, corpse paint can strengthen the music: make cold visible, withdraw humanity, create myth, open a threshold space.

Used badly, it is merely painted pathos with excessive confidence.

But perhaps that is exactly why it remains fascinating.

Corpse paint stands on the border between seriousness and theatre. Between death and costume. Between ritual and pose. Between transformation and make-up accident.