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[News] Wispwood Tale Weavers

Discussion in 'UO Siege Perilous' started by Guest, Mar 1, 2006.

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    <table width="100%"> <tr> <td> <table width="100%"> <tr> <td width="202" height="162">[​IMG]</td> <td align="middle">[​IMG] </td> <td width="202" height="162">[​IMG] </td> </tr> </table>
    [​IMG] ne of the many amazing things about Tuesday nights in Wispwood Shire is, while the numbers who attend steadily increase, the groups of people who gather there are not always the same.   So again this week, were there new voices and old, both hearing, and commenting on, tales from around the lands of Siege!

    First, the last.

    Or, more precisely, the last chapter of Yancey DeFlorio's Dragon Rider Saga.

    <table border="2" width="100%" bordercolor="#ffff00" bgcolor="#ffffb9"> <tr> <td align="middle"><font color="#0080ff"><font size="5">The Dragon Rider Saga
    Conclusion
    "Yesterday"
    by
    Yancey DeFlorio</font> </font> </td> <td width="160" height="150"> [​IMG] </td> </tr> </table>
    <table border="1" width="100%" bgcolor="#ffff80"> <tr> <td>

    [​IMG] rn was given visions,
    Before Tamarin passed away.
    A hint into the future,
    From a glimpse of yesterday.

    It had been three hundred years
    Since darkness claimed the land
    In the Blood Wars of the Races
    At a place called Firebrand.

    The Evil had grown strong in time.
    Left unchecked it slipped its noose,
    Poisoning the earth and sky,
    Setting demons on the loose.

    Ogre, Troll and Gnome, it seemed,
    Were the quickest to subvert.
    The weakest of the Races
    To do their Masters work.

    The Elves were first to feel the change,
    Then Dwarf, and finally, Man.
    They knew that they must fight as one --
    So alliances began.

    There were battles fought on every front,
    Both on land and in the skies.
    Blood was spilled so casually,
    Mixed with deafening battle cries.

    The alliances fought bravely
    But were slowly losing ground.
    They must learn to fight as one,
    So a leader must be found.

    The demons had a Master,
    Born straight from burning Hell.
    The Evil even had a name,
    The demons called him Krell.

    Changed by the magics madness,
    The darkness held them tight.
    He fed off pain and misery,
    Dealing death with swift delight.

    He rode upon a Vampree,
    Creatures that fed on blood,
    And on the battlefield
    It wet the ground as mud.

    Clutched within his left hand,
    He held the Staff of Shades,
    Used to do his bidding --
    Evil magic, demon-made.

    The alliances began the task,
    The forging of their trust,
    To put aside their differences
    Or succumb to demon lust.

    They must create a weapon:
    Part Dwarf, part Man, part Elf.
    A symbol of integrity
    Forged of unity, not self

    Dwarves were master craftsman
    Of fire and of ore.
    With hammer and with anvil,
    Their covenant was swore.

    The Elves used earthen magic
    Of life and healing arts.
    Where Dwarves were true in body,
    The Elves were true in heart.

    So came the sword and shield --
    One to destroy, one to sustain.
    They had the heart and body,
    Just the spirit now remained.

    That spirit came from Man,
    Courage dipped with gallantry.
    He would die for what he believed
    And he believed in liberty.

    The man they chose to lead them
    Was a Rider and a Prince.
    His blood ran deep and noble.
    The Chosens name: Armiss.

    He rode a young, yet hardened, mount,
    A brave and fearless jinn,
    A legend in the making
    Whose name was Tamarin.

    Equipped with sword and shield,
    They fought the demon swell.
    When finally they stood face to face,
    With the demon leader Krell.

    Not many had survived that day,
    A few more turned and ran
    When Dragon opposed Vampree,
    Demon against Man.

    The battle flashed across the sky,
    Both riders held their steeds.
    Blood rained down upon the ground,
    Neither willing to concede.

    Both creatures slashed and beaten,
    Had fought beyond their worth.
    In a final confrontation,
    Both fell wasted to the earth.

    Now both riders stood alone,
    Upon the battleground.
    In the valley of Firebrand,
    Their breath, the only sound.
    [​IMG]
    They dodged each other's thrusts,
    Neither gained the upper hand.
    When Krell delivered a crushing blow
    That fell the other man.

    Armiss lay upon the bloodied ground,
    The demon stood over him,
    Raising up his staff once more
    To plunge within his victim.

    With his last ounce of strength,
    Armiss lifted his magic blade
    And with one final swoop,
    Shattered the Staff of Shades.

    Krell let out a deafening scream,
    One last cry of demon lust,
    Then everything born of Evil
    Exploded into dust.

    Many heroes died that day,
    Never to fight again.
    The only one that lived to tell
    Was the dragon, Tamarin.

    That was over three hundred years,
    The staff was lost somehow.
    Sword and shield forgotten,
    At least that was, till now.

    For history has a tendency
    To repeat itself when spurned.
    For unless Man's hate is broken
    The Evil will return
    </td> </tr> </table>
    Spyderbite had little to say this week - the whisperings about the shire have it that Katharine wishes to finish sewing his new outfit, previewed here last week, before he is allowed to speak in public again. So, instead, and after some confusion between the stable and the stage, I took to the stable. Then to the stage.


    <table border="1" width="100%" bgcolor="#c0c0c0"> <tr> <td align="middle"><font size="5">"Cows"
    Chapters IX and X
    by
    Blind Otto</font> </td> <td width="190" height="240"> [​IMG] </td> </tr> </table>
    <table border="1" width="100%" bgcolor="#c0c0c0"> <tr> <td> <h2 style="MARGIN: 12pt 0cm 3pt"><a name="_Toc128747175"><font face="Arial">Chapter IX</font></a></h2>
    <p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial">[​IMG]ilbercio tried to avoid looking at the scrying spheres as he slouched down the stone corridors. Normally it could be handy to have a small insight into what the near future held, but the Grand Luminary of the Controllers had left little doubt as to what HIS future would consist of – at least, until the dragons of Destard were found to have died of frostbite.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial">
    Instead, he shuffled along, very self-aware in his freshly re-issued initiate’s robe, down the corridor that lead towards the cog-sorting bins, to start his newly assigned role of assistant to the junior cog-sorter.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial">
    Why, oh WHY hadn’t the luminary believed him? <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial">That the missing items, the ones he had found secreted away in Trinsic, had come from some creatures he had managed to contact out in the endless Void? That they knew a way to make metal live, and – worst of all – that he believed that there was already a colony of these creatures somewhere HERE, in the lands? <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial">
    But, NO – he got no credit for his hard work, research and experimentation! Here he was – reduced to assisting a junior in the sorting of cogs! If it was not for all the wonderful benefits that came to members of the order, and the fact that no one had ever successfully lived more than 4 seconds after resigning from the order, he would have left there and then.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"></span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial">
    Muttering to himself, he passed the last pair of the spheres that lined that part of the corridor… and stopped.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> 

    </span>Noticing the image of a towering metallic bull-like creature standing over a decidedly naked, frightened young woman, he seized the spheres, and ran back up the passage, shrieking madly for the Grand Luminary. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial">
    Several minutes later, he was being escorted back to the cog-sorting room by two armed guards, with very clear instructions that he was never to approach ANYONE of a higher caste than himself while yelling about nudity and telling them to look at his balls.
    <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial">Soon after, he was given a new initiate’s robe. This one had some embroidery on the back, which read “I am under a vow of silence. If I speak, please beat me soundly.”
    <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial">Filbercio sighed, which resulted in his first beating, and wondered how long it would take him to work his way back up to junior cog-sorter.
    <o:p></o:p></span></p><span style="FONT-SIZE: 12pt; FONT-FAMILY: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA"><br style="PAGE-BREAK-BEFORE: always; mso-special-character: line-break" clear="all"></span> <p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <h2 style="MARGIN: 12pt 0cm 3pt"><font face="Arial">Chapter X</font></h2> <p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial">[​IMG]upre looked around him at the carnage. While a few men still lived, not a one was conscious. He had felt it his sworn duty to not only stay alive but also unscathed, and had very bravely secured himself behind a large rock, a quarter of a mile from the battle against the metallic beasts. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial">
    He surveyed the aftermath of the battle, hoping to spot a horse that he could ride to<st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Britain</st1:place></st1:country-region>, to raise the alarm, or perhaps to get those useless mages moving a bit faster, but the only mountable animal in sight was a llama, which spat at him as he approached, and refused to be ridden. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial">
    “Looking for summat?” came a gruff voice from behind him.

    Dupre half-looked up from going through the backpack of a fallen soldier, where he had hoped to find a spell of travel, or perhaps an unharmed pigeon, but did not turn around. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial">
    “Aye, I need a good steed, and swiftly! Those creatures will overrun <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Britain</st1:place></st1:country-region> before long if the alarm is not raised!” <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial">
    “No fear of that. That lot’re just getting the kinks out before the trip. Who’d wish to go to <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Britain</st1:place></st1:country-region>, anyway? Ghastly place, all full of scruffy architecture and brainless swamp spawn trying to win favours from that charlatan that squats on the throne there. <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Britain</st1:place></st1:country-region>? I’d rather sit in the Trinsic swamp in mosquito season!”
    <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial">Dupre turned, to see who DARED insult his home town and his liege so, and came face to face with a large metallic bull, who was leaning on a fallen trebuchet, and chewing a piece of straw.
    <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial">“Aye. I’m not human. Want ta make something of it?” it sneered at him. “Or are ye one of the few with a brain in yer head?”
    <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial">Dupre found that there was, indeed, a brain in his head. In there, his sword arm was yelling loudly that it needed to raise his sword, and kill this beast, while his legs were yelling equally loudly that the far side of a distant hill was the best place to be.
    <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial">His legs won.<o:p></o:p></span></p> 
    </td> </tr> </table>
    Goliath followed, with a riddle. Ah, many were the cries of "I know this one" when he started... but when he had finished.... that was another story indeed. 

    All lovers of riddles and brain teasers are hereby challenged to awaken the Shire next week - 'tis plain that much more practice is needed!

    <table width="100%" border="1" bgcolor="#80ffff"> <tr> <td align="middle" width="140" height="110">
    [​IMG]</td> <td> <p align="center"><font size="5">Goliath's Riddle
    by
    Goliath</font></p></td></tr></table>
    <table width="100%" border="1" bgcolor="#80ffff"> <tr> <td>

    [​IMG]  man goes for a stroll in a forest
    And he gets it.

    He tries to find it but he can't -
    so he leaves.

    When he arrives home, he finds it.
     
    What is it?

    you may have heard it




    At this point, many pretended to be more interested in their ale than the question, but a few poorly concealed tapping noises were overheard, showing that some were, indeed, trying - and failing - to solve the riddle.

    Eventually, 'twas proven that we need a higher class of drunkard in the tavern, and Goliath provided the answer.
















    Tis a splinter


    </td></tr></table>

    After much ordering of more ale, and red faces at being shamed by a newcomer, the Golden Unicorn returned to whatever it is that passes for 'normal', and Miranda took to the stage, fresh from the crafting of cannons! Many were glad to find that she had not brought samples of her recent wares with her!


    <table width="100%" border="1" bordercolor="#00ffff" bgcolor="#ffffff"> <tr> <td align="middle" width="592"><font size="5">"Battle of the Boyne"
    re-enacted by
    Miranda</font> </td> <td>[​IMG] </td></tr></table>
    <table width="100%" border="1" bordercolor="#00ffff" bgcolor="#ffffff"> <tr> <td>

    [​IMG]  have a tale
    I told a year ago
    in the snow
    for a festival
    in Wintermoor.

    I told this tale here too,
    one time. I like to tell it in march so i am a bit early.
     
    If i may.
    'tis about a people
    oft labeled criminals
    by the KING
    but they are not
    the fight for justice
    as the folks here do as well.

    A remake of the Battle of the Boyne
    A Kingly host loom'd upon the stream
    A monarch, and his troops camped all around
    upon our fair Britania, it's uplands far and wide.
     
    Dwarfed by his gray palacial pavilion crowned.
    Not long ago our sky unclouded showed,
    beneath the sparkling sun sol ray,
    that a gentle stream of blue silver freely flowed
    to meet it's virtuous people, each newborn day.
     
    !! Suddenly Thunder ! Lord British's cannons!! BOOM !
    Echoing thunderous, his injustice is shown
    Whilst a certained sulphurous cloud doth loom
    and moved along, tyranny upon the virtuous twas thrown!
    And knight and horse lie in mingled mass
    irregardless of all life.

    With furious ardor onward the wounded doth pass
    to fight this deadly conflict and strife.
    Not at all strange, that with such ardant flame
    these knights of blue silver, their hearts beat high
    their battle word by name was "Mithras "
    Their battle cry was for justice liberty, "Sol Invictus" !

    Oward they went, onto Ouldebrit, these silver blue clad folowers of Mithras,
    amid sounds of thunder and death unwonted rang
    all heard and seen the mighty clang.
    Their blue silver stream turn'd crimson, wide
    and clogged with many a corpse.

    Floating down the stream's gentle tide
    corpses of knight, citizen, and horse
    Now fiercer grows this battle's rage..
    yon guarded stream IS crossed.
    And hand to hand and blade to blade,fighting, a king whom betrayed us,
    hand to hand blade to blade..shouting Sol Invictus !

    !!! HE FALLS HE FALLS their knight commander falls !
    He whom protected the sacred scrolls in the sacred walls.
    Then they, their battle mages and knights of virtue brave,
    this persecuted silver serpent band
    who foremost rushed amid the hostile wave
    for a time gained that hostlile strand of land.

    They bleed, mighty Mithras they bleed !!
    For them please help them Mithras ye must intercede.
    This can not be the end of their virtuous career.
    And then that well contested strand o'land
    Lord British's successive waves of troops doth gain,
    Whilst the Knights of the Silver Serpent died in pain.

    Driven back across that blood soaked plain,
    Drew their blue silver swords one last time, in vain
    And the knights their lives and breath the king, did fling
    and they perished' fighting the unjust King.

    OH!! What better cause ??
    Thy witness is boldly shown
    upon the blood soaked ground
    that tyranny must be over thrown !

    Thy bravest and choicest fell, to unjust cannons sound.
    There is no shame, ye abandoned not the fray
    Ye fought injustice and tyranny this day.
    Labeled now as crimminals by Injustice's laW,
    Yet ye fight ye deaths shine as witness to all,
    The Truth !
    So sing !
    Yes sing !
    Sing harrah harrah for Liberty, sing harrah !

    For freedom's sword must continue to draw
    to dare to battle those unjust in power on high
    so let ye blue silver banners fly
    With grateful hearts, remember to celebrate
    Truth Honor and Courage are never out of date.
    So sing !sing Harrah harrah for freedom's flame
    Even in death, the flame will always be rekindled again
    and again and again will be fought to the death, for what is right
    can not be killed, tis now and forever in spirit and hearts of men this night !

    Something the unjust ones, can never really fathom, nor control
    that the will to bring truth and justice burns in every heart and soul,
    such a will can nary be killed,

    for Liberty and Freedom is everyone's birthright !
    </td></tr></table>

    Aye, and down with "lord" British! 

    He sits alone on a giant throne
    Pretendin' he's the king
    A little tyke who's rather like
    A puppet on a string
    And he throws an angry tantrum
    if he cannot have his way
    And then he calls for Mum while he's suckin' his thumb
    You see, he doesn't want to play


    Feh. Wrong king.  Now, moving along to the next offering of the night, it seems that Angharad had much to offer indeed. Or, did she...?



    <table width="100%" border="1" bordercolor="#ff8000" bgcolor="#a3a754"> <tr> <td align="middle"><font size="5">"A Toast to Noble Lady"
    by
    Angharad</font> </td> <td width="300" height="300"> [​IMG] </td></tr></table>
    <table width="100%" border="1" bordercolor="#ff0000" bgcolor="#c8cc7b"> <tr> <td>

    "[​IMG]  Toast to Noble Lady"
    as performed by a friend

    In cheer she tips her glass
    and when her cup is empty
    she flashes us her -

    Assassin's in the courtyard
    they'll have to catch him quick
    he's on to find a lady
    and stick her with his -

    Dicker with the merchants
    and haggle over stock
    be sure it's by the arm length
    not measured by his -

    Cocktails after dinner
    and songs sung by a bard
    advances from a comely lass
    are sure to make him -

    Hardened in the oven
    his tankard is the best
    he spun it on his potter's wheel
    and shaped it like a -

    Abreast the men stand ready
    their weapons poised for war
    they're dreaming of last evening
    how they spent it with a -

    Hoarse a man lies dying
    a little death in bed
    he thinks no way is better
    his wife gives him good -

    Heading to a party
    she's happy to have stayed
    for the rumor down at West Bank
    is that everyone gets -

    laid out on a table
    fair trimmings and a roast
    good gentles stand together
    I'd like to give a toast!
    </td></tr></table>

    It seems more and more talent is pouring into our lands by the week! Wherever it is coming from, let us hope no one finds the hole in the dam, and plugs it!

    Another fine example, speaking for the first time this week, was Aisha.



    <table width="100%" border="1" bordercolor="#00ff00" bgcolor="#ccffcc"> <tr> <td align="middle" width="589"><font size="5">"Naeloth"
    by
    Aisha</font> </td> <td> [​IMG] </td></tr></table>
    <table width="100%" border="1" bordercolor="#00ff80" bgcolor="#d5f9b0"> <tr> <td>

    [​IMG]his tale takes place in a far off land, strikingly distant from this... Yet hauntingly similar.
    In this land there stood a city, named Naeloth, on the island of Hythloth.
    Many were the vassals who pledged allegiance to the lord of Naeloth and a shiver went down the
    spine of all men who heard the name of the place whispered..

    At this time, the lord of Naeloth was named Xirzin. As all rulers do in time, he finally surrendered
    his power...
    But as Xirzin gave his throne, the new lord - A superstitious man - Refused to sit it.
    "Your throne is yours, milord - I shall sit as your advisor, now and forever."
    And so he did - The great black throne of Naeloth remained empty
    Whilst the advisors seat was ever occupied.

    Naeloth grew stronger and stronger still, under this new stewart.
    It's coffers laden with gold both plundered and offered in tribute.
    And like all men with power, this Stewart fell in love and found a bride.
    But yet, he was troubled. Each night as he slept, he saw before him the same haunting nightmare
    Two rats tore at a great serpent and fought each other for the ripe and lush flesh.

    So the stewart of Naeloth sought the advice of a witch who rumored had it dwelt within that
    dank cave that gives the isle it's home.
    He explained his troubles to this withered crone, retelling the tale in excruciating detail...
    And she slowly nodded and spake thus; 'The serpent is your city, Stewart. Two rats unworthy of it
    will feast on it's flesh and tear it to pieces'.
    And it was true that the serpent was the sigil of Naeloth.
    This prophecy troubled the stewart - As it rightly should..

    "What rats would dwell within my realm and seek to tear it apart? Who would lust so dearly for
    the seat of an advisor?"
    Now, many things this stewart knew - To lead men in battle, to charm visitors and read signs and
    portents...
    But how to avoid fate, what man or woman knows this?

    After a great deal of thought, the stewart called his wife to him and he spake
    "The words of this witch troubles me deeply. Should our realm be torn asunder, I will have failed
    my task to my lord and a bondsman who's oath is void is a bondsman who's life is void."
    "I shall travel the realm and seek these rats, that I may prevent this to come to pass."
    And with these words, he donned his cloak and mounted his steed and rode away from Naeloth.
    Now, as was custom in Naeloth, the wife took the title of Elamshinae Dalharess
    in the tongue they spoke, it meant 'Favored Daughter'
    Like her husband, she would only serve, not rule from the black basalt throne.

    Time passed...

    Vassals pledged themselves to Naeloth, the coffers grew rich and richer
    And in time, it seems the stewart and his curious edict that none would sit the black basalt
    throne was forgotten.
    His wife took other men to share her bed and styled herself with many great titles
    And in time, she grew to long for even that one, last forbidden title.

    And so it was that she sent forth heralds one day and announced that she would crown herself
    the queen of Naeloth.
    A hundred vassals, kings and queens in their own right, had gathered for the ceremony.
    And only the ominous thunder could be heard as she ascended the steps to the black basalt throne
    But then, as she laid her gloved hand on the arm rest.. A sound, at last!
    The doors burst open and a thunderous roar emerged from the gates
    "Child, that seat is not for you!"

    Through the gates, in the eyes of all the vassals of the would-be queen, strode Xirzin
    First lord of Naeloth and the rightful heir to the black basalt throne.
    The assembled vassals grew excited, whispering to one another and wondering
    For they had sworn oaths both to Naeloth and to Xirzin.
    Within mere moments, the entire scene was reduced to chaos

    The assembled lords and ladies, dignitaries of the finests houses of the land had drawn their sword
    and begun to chant their spells
    And in the middle of it all clashed would-be-queen and rightful king, for the black basalt throne.
    The sounds spread out from the great hall to the commoners amassed outside
    Who, in turn, began to raise their voices for their chosen lord or lady
    Within the day, Naeloth was in the grip of civil war as men and women declared for Xirzin or the
    queen.

    For days, the turmoil clashed - The coffers grew thinner and thinner as they raided them again
    and again, for money to hire mercenaries
    Vassal after vassal sensed weakness and broke free from their serfdom
    And at long last, the city lay in ashes, only those few buildings from stone remaining.

    The survivors scattered from the place and now only the wind echo through the once great
    streets of Naeloth...
    Only the wind now sits the black, basalt throne.
    </td></tr></table>
    And here we had another first - for Aisha's first appearance at Story Night won first prize!

    Well done indeed!

    And Hoffs? I believe that two vultures are out and about in the lands, stalking thee for some carelessly tossed words. But, of course, you can not believe all you hear - especially at Story Night!


    Yancey found another scroll hidden about his person - which is no small feat, considering how he dresses - and ended the eve with this tale of wonder, woe and wagging.

    </td> </tr> </table> <table bordercolor="#00ff00" width="100%" bgcolor="#e7b46d" border="1"> <tr> <td> <p align="center"><font size="5">Baba Yaga
    by
    Yancey Deflorio</font></p></td> <td width="255">[​IMG]</td></tr></table>
    <table bordercolor="#0000ff" width="100%" bgcolor="#d1fd82" border="1"> <tr> <td>[​IMG] once saw the witch with teeth of steel
    who of small children would make a meal
    Her eyes were cold and her skin was gray
    upon a mortar and pestal she would fly away

    Her laugh would make a grown men faint with fear
    and within the shadows would she appear
    A witch that evil grew legendary in fame
    Baba Yaga was that witches name

    I went to see her long ago
    to tell her of a maiden that I loved so,
    but her love was not for me
    and to Baba Yaga I went to see

    My friends tried to warn me from such a foul place
    and told me that the Devil was better than to see Baba's face
    for in the darkest swamp does Baba Yaga live
    and nothing but evil are the gifts that she gives

    I ignored the advice and ignored their tales
    I stepped in the darkness following the trails
    to the swamp that no one returned
    to tell Baba Yaga of the love which I burned

    I followed the trail for many a day
    deeper in the swamps where no sane man would stray
    after weeks in the swamp I saw a fence of bones
    I knew then I had found Baba Yagas home

    Despite my fear I called her by name
    I then heard her answer and felt ice in my veins
    Then she appeared from the door of her home
    picking her steel teeth with a chewed fingerbone

    Her mouth then parted in a hideous grin
    as she told me my tale from beginning to end
    With an evil chuckle and a sinister grin
    she sent her zombies for some items to begin

    She cast a spell to capture my lady's heart
    and bound it to mine so we could never part
    Upon a lock of my love's hair and mine ,she cast her spells
    and told me, together we would be upon the mornings bells

    Baba Yaga's clawed hands touched me and I fell into a swoon,
    and awoke the next morning in my true love's bedroom
    She suddenly awoke and shrieked in delight
    and clasped in her arms I was held tight

    I tried to speak, yet no words could come
    and I looked in horror at what I had become
    I now mourn my fate as I lay by this warm log
    She loves me now more than I was man now that I am her dog
    </td></tr></table>
     
  2. Magnificent reportage, sir.

    As per usual. :)
     
  3. Mandolin

    Mandolin Guest

    Great tales everyone! And a special congratulations to Aisha.. not only was it her first Story Night.. but she is also newborn to Siege as well! Quite a first impression, Aisha! Bravo!
     
  4. Guest

    Guest Guest

    Thanks as ever for your time, Otto.

    And let me also add my congratulations to Aisha for her lovely tale.

    But, Otto, do I infer that you thought the vultures were a reference to yourself? Nay! I would class thee more in the 'crow' or 'coot' category.
     
  5. Guest

    Guest Guest

    *snickers* I like coot. Blind Otto the "coot"! Heh!
     
  6. A Vulture preying upon the coffers of the Shire am I? Madaam, I am offended. To prove to you I am no vulture, but instead a civilized man of means, I make this challenge.

    Tuesday next is the monthly Grand Prize of one hundred thousand gold marks is it not? I challenge all Bards and Poets to come out tell me. I shall match the Shire's prize. Should a lucky person weave a better yarn than myself, should they hold the audiance in the same thrall, I will give them a check in the amount of one hundred thousand gold marks in addition to the prize money.

    Honorably,
    Yancey DeFlorio
    Tale Seeker [TSR]
     
  7. I've heard some folks call him a bit of an odd duck, sometimes.

    Still, that's nothing. You should hear what they say about that Hoffs person! Why they... oh. Hi Kelmo. No, no... nothing to ban here. I'll be moving along now.... *whistles*
     
  8. Mandolin

    Mandolin Guest

    <blockquote><hr>

    You should hear what they say about that Hoffs person!<blockquote><hr>



    Hehe.. I've heard many of the gentlemen in the Golden Unicorn eye Hoffs and mutter "If I weren't married, I'd..." Or was that just me? [​IMG]
     
  9. <blockquote><hr>

    Hehe.. I've heard many of the gentlemen in the Golden Unicorn eye Hoffs and mutter "If I weren't married, I'd..." Or was that just me? [​IMG]

    [/ QUOTE ]
    That's just you Spyder. They were eyeing you in the reflection of the tray that Hoffs was carrying. Be afraid. Be very afraid.
     
  10. Mandolin

    Mandolin Guest

    <blockquote><hr>

    Be afraid. Be very afraid.

    [/ QUOTE ]

    I wasn't afraid before.. but now I am.. [​IMG]
     
  11. Guest

    Guest Guest

    Why, thank you Hoffs. I mean that sincerely.

    You see, when faced with true greatness, there are truly few roads open to those who encounter it.

    <ul>
    [*]They can try to ignore it, and keep the impact on their lives to a minimum. However, they will always be aware, in some small part of their mind, that THIS was greatness, and that they CHOSE to walk away from it.

    [*]They can embrace it, and try to learn from it, in the hope and desire to reach their own potential - or perhaps surpass that which they have encountered.
    From an attitude such as this, ever greater heights are reached. While it is rare to meet such a man or woman, those who do cross our paths are usuall inspirations in of themselves.

    [*]They can be so overwhelmed by it, made so mindful of how small, and insignificant they are in the overall scheme of things, that the lowliest of tools, such as insults and mud, are all that they can find the will to hurl.
    [/list]

    Each of those is, in it's own way, a compliment to the bringer or bearer of the greatness.

    And so, Yancey and I are content in the knowledge that you acknowledge that we walked amongst you, and you were overwhelmed.

    Next week, however, I promise to try to remember to change my socks.
    Hopefully that will help.


    (It could be worse Kelmo - Bea was suggesting that I change my name to Hugh Heffer after the tales of a week gone by. That scribe worries me. Come to think of it, I think she worries lots of people.)
     
  12. Ginsu-SP

    Ginsu-SP Guest

    <blockquote><hr>

    <blockquote><hr>

    Hehe.. I've heard many of the gentlemen in the Golden Unicorn eye Hoffs and mutter "If I weren't married, I'd..." Or was that just me? [​IMG]

    [/ QUOTE ]
    That's just you Spyder. They were eyeing you in the reflection of the tray that Hoffs was carrying. Be afraid. Be very afraid.

    [/ QUOTE ]
    Wait! If you can see Spyder in the reflection of a tray.... I cry FOUL! FOUL I say!
    Are those plastic fangs?

    Cheers!
     
  13. Mandolin

    Mandolin Guest

    <blockquote><hr>

    Wait! If you can see Spyder in the reflection of a tray.... I cry FOUL! FOUL I say! Are those plastic fangs?

    [/ QUOTE ]

    *sighs and mumbles about stereotypes*

    You silly Mortals watch far too many vampire movies.. [​IMG]
     
  14. Ginsu-SP

    Ginsu-SP Guest

    <blockquote><hr>

    <blockquote><hr>

    Wait! If you can see Spyder in the reflection of a tray.... I cry FOUL! FOUL I say! Are those plastic fangs?

    [/ QUOTE ]

    *sighs and mumbles about stereotypes*

    You silly Mortals watch far too many vampire movies.. [​IMG]

    [/ QUOTE ]
    *cough* Is there some definitive field guide that I might refer to?

    Cheers!
     
  15. Guest

    Guest Guest

    *shakes garlic at Spyder*

    hmm. Did it work? You dont look like you are becoming pruned to me.... perhaps its time for me to, umm... run!

    *gulps*
     
  16. Guest

    Guest Guest

    <blockquote><hr>

    Tuesday next is the monthly Grand Prize of one hundred thousand gold marks is it not? I challenge all Bards and Poets to come out tell me. I shall match the Shire's prize. Should a lucky person weave a better yarn than myself, should they hold the audiance in the same thrall, I will give them a check in the amount of one hundred thousand gold marks in addition to the prize money.

    [/ QUOTE ]

    Ah! A challenge indeed. A veritable vulture's ransom!

    Do not forget though, sir, that I have now raised the weekly prizes on offer, and next week it will be 101,000 gold marks.
     
  17. Mandolin

    Mandolin Guest

    <blockquote><hr>

    *cough* Is there some definitive field guide that I might refer to?

    [/ QUOTE ]

    What do you think this is? A Superman movie? I'm not going to expose my weaknesses! Perhaps I should just tatoo a bullseye on my chest.. would that make it easier for ya?? [​IMG]

    @Sevi.. I lubs garlic.. hand me that shaker.. I'm making tortellini this afternoon! Yum! *licks fangs*
     
  18. Ginsu-SP

    Ginsu-SP Guest

    Seems like I recall a situation like this......
    [​IMG]
    it's not wabbit season.... it's duck season... and "No Elmer you obviousssly don't
    know everything about wabbitssss. Sstsome DO come with billssstss! SSStupid
    SSSsssterotypthes!"

    Cheers!
     
  19. Guest

    Guest Guest

    Verily, what are these 'movies' ye refer to, webbed one?
    Is it some new form of beast-drawn cart, for 'movie-ng' from place to place, or worse yet, another elf-spawned beast from the depths of the earth?

    But, fear not, Spyderbite. I shall not divulge thy greatest weakness.
    I will not mention the occurances of a week past when I inadvertantly left that banana peel on your top step, and the barrel full of rabid ferrets at the bottom.
    Your secret is safe with me.

    *nods knowingly*
     
  20. Guest

    Guest Guest

    <blockquote><hr>

    They can be so overwhelmed by it, made so mindful of how small, and insignificant they are in the overall scheme of things, that the lowliest of tools, such as insults and mud, are all that they can find the will to hurl.


    [/ QUOTE ]

    My dear amaurotic avian, I might be more inclined to be cowed (no pun intended) by your 'greatness' had I confidence that the work you present is your own.

    You see, I have it on good authority that there is a secret tower in Wintermoor containing an infinite number of skittering hoppers with an infinite number of scribe's pens.....
     
  21. Mandolin

    Mandolin Guest

    <blockquote><hr>

    when I inadvertantly left that banana peel on your top step, and the barrel full of rabid ferrets at the bottom.
    Your secret is safe with me.

    [/ QUOTE ]

    *wonders if "rabid ferrets" is some sort of code word for that evil contraption called "NewsPro" and shudders in fear*
     
  22. <blockquote><hr>

    You see, I have it on good authority that there is a secret tower in Wintermoor containing an infinite number of skittering hoppers with an infinite number of scribe's pens.....

    [/ QUOTE ]
    Thats probably why Yancey just moved into Wintermoor too...
     
  23. Guest

    Guest Guest

    Ah, alas. I fear that thy intelligence, such as it is, has not weathered the ravages of time well. For, several winters past, the snow storms that assailed Wintermoor were so severe, and the avalanches that hemmed us in so great, that those trapped there were forced to consume the skittering hoppers. The scribes pens had to be smelted down, for the extreme cold made them extremely brittle, and they shattered under their own weight.

    So, the updated information, therefore is, somewhere in Wintermoor, there is a secret tower. Trapped within that tower is a single knight, his or her name withheld for security reasons. Unfortunately, his or her name is also the password, so until he or she completes a quest to gain sufficient security clearance to use the password, thus shall it be.

    As to the rest - I rest my case.
    And vow to change my socks before next Tuesday night.


    However, Hoffs.... dear, dear, Hoffs - I was sincere when I said we missed thy tales. Please do not think yourself less than a skittering hopper - as your response clearly indicates you do... You MUST pick up that pen! Find the strength within yourself! You can do it! You can! GRASP the pen! GRASP that quill! (no, not you, Bea!) WRITE, woman, WRITE!!!
     
  24. Guest

    Guest Guest

    yall just KEEP AWAY from my secret Wintermoor spot, all camoflaged all white hidden under the snow tower and secret stash of garlic toasted croutons !!! MINE I SAY ALL MINE !!
     
  25. Mandolin

    Mandolin Guest

    <blockquote><hr>

    hidden under the snow tower and secret stash of garlic toasted croutons

    [/ QUOTE ]

    *quickly brushes garlic toasted crouton crumbs from his white robes*

    I've never seen the place.. I swear it on my undead wife's coffin! *whistles innocently*
     
  26. Hmm perhaps its time for me to tell a story on the history of the Shire, about a certain Demon of Yew, since we have so many new comers. I've not been able to come to a story night in a long time, but I will try my best next week

    And thank you thank you, Otto for this great coverage, along with Kush and Hoffs doing a great job, these reports I'm sure have put a few people on stools, in the ole tavern.

    oops, common term over here in US, sorry.
     
  27. I wish I could make it to more of those evenings... but, since they're at 3AM our time, I usually have to make do with reading Otto's coverage of it, and listening to hiim snoring at strange hours of the day. At least I get to see the director's cut. [​IMG]

    But, yes, I agree that his reports have managed to put quite a few seats on stools ...
    *tries to do damage repair before half the UK readers pound the 'notify mod' button to death*
     
  28. Awww, did i miss my chance to get Fel banned from stratics? Gah.
    Hehe.
    Next time gadget, next time... [​IMG]
     
  29. Guest

    Guest Guest

    <blockquote><hr>

    Hmm perhaps its time for me to tell a story on the history of the Shire, about a certain Demon of Yew, since we have so many new comers. I've not been able to come to a story night in a long time, but I will try my best next week.

    [/ QUOTE ]

    Hah! Typical Felinious. Waft a huge pile of gelt under his nose and he starts drooling and fidgeting like a ***** on heat.
     
  30. To those tellers of tales wanting my gold, remember one thing. I also want to keep my gold. Expect to earn it should you win.
     
  31. There, Fel, now don't say I never do anything for you! [​IMG]
    Back! ye mod-button pounders! Back I say! This pen is freshly inked, and I know how to use it!

    Oh boy... I've been hanging around that weird blind guy too much...
    Still, why break such a good habit? [​IMG]

    Oh, and Daan? 'Gadget' is the name of Otto's pet pug...
    That probably explains a few more things that you didn't want to know.
    [​IMG]

    [​IMG]
    (the pug's the hairy one on the left, being taught more efficient ways to tunnel under the fence and dig up the neighbour's back garden. My pug's camera shy, but Otto says that with a name like 'Buddy', you'd be camera shy, too. This, from a man who names his dog 'Gadget'...)
     
  32. Guest

    Guest Guest

    And which one of the others is Otto, then?