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[News] Yarns from Yew

Discussion in 'UO Siege Perilous' started by Guest, Apr 12, 2006.

  1. Guest

    Guest Guest

    <table width="692" border="1" align="center" bordercolor="#ff8000"> <tr> <td width="145">[​IMG]</td> <td width="401">[​IMG]</td> <td width="145">[​IMG]</td></tr></table>

    [​IMG]las!
    As I was polishing a mechanical cow, ensuring it was in pristine condition to present to the gathering at the shire last night, I did fall victim to sleep-related shenanigans, and awoke some hours later,
    with these [​IMG]strange sigils upon mine forehead!
    What this means, only time will tell.
    I suspect that I was viciously attacked by assassins sent by the guild of typesetters.

    Still, all was not lost! KSS Initiate Angharad stepped in, with all the initiative and drive that determines a future Knight, and captured every word that flew about the tavern that night, in my stead! Many thanks to her, for without her swift actions, I would have nowt to tell thee! Many thanks, indeed!

    The eve, 'twould seem, began with a contribution from the canine segment of our population. I know not if the narrator has been to Zento of late, for processing, but that seems to have little bearing on the quality of the tail. Er. Tale.

    <table width="100%" border="0"> <tr> <td valign="top" width="10"> <p align="center">


    [​IMG]

    <table bordercolor="#ff8000" width="50%" align="center" bgcolor="#ffff00" border="1"> <tr> <td> <p align="center"><font color="#ff0000">The Winner!</font></p></td></tr></table></p></td> <td> <table bordercolor="#804000" width="80%" align="center" bgcolor="#ffdbb7" border="1"> <tr> <td width="43">[​IMG]</td> <td> <p align="center"><font size="5">The Doggy Paddle
    </font>
    by
     Lord God Dog</p></td></tr></table>
    <table bordercolor="#804000" width="80%" align="center" bgcolor="#ffdbb7" border="1"> <tr> <td>[​IMG]nce I was a young Pup
    Yes many many a year ago
    When my mother
    Rephrases Not to use the B"
    She took me to a Pond
    and Stuck me in the water
    I was scared and nearly drowned
    and then she Whulped around and wolfed at me
    And paddled and paddled around
    I took upon my paws and made
    Yet the same splashing sound
    and Now i have learned that day
    The dog paddle Profound
    That twas the day I learned to be a lil pup
    Whom did not drown.</td></tr></table></td> <td valign="top" width="10">
       









      <p align="center">[​IMG]

    <table bordercolor="#ff8000" width="50%" align="center" bgcolor="#ffff00" border="1"> <tr> <td> <p align="center"><font color="#ff0000">The Winner!</font></p></td></tr></table> </p></td></tr></table>
    After night, comes dawn. After dawn, comes morning. And after Morning, comes Dawn's irate father.
    Still, that is another story - and this night, Morning presented not a story, but a poem, and a fine one at that.

    <table bordercolor="#ffff00" width="75%" align="center" bgcolor="#d5ffd5" border="1"> <tr> <td width="100">[​IMG]</td> <td> <p align="center"><font size="5">Will you ever come running to me again?
    </font><font size="3">by
    Morning</font></p></td></tr></table>
    <table bordercolor="#ffff00" width="75%" align="center" bgcolor="#ceffce" border="1"> <tr> <td>....[​IMG]ill you ever come running to me again?
    as when we were young
    in times smart
    and quick
    to streams that mattered
    blind to
    what hurt the most
    when smiles eased, were born and given
    and hope not longed for
    was not missed
    as kettles filled were watched by us
     
    ever at all will you come?
    over tired plains
    low-downed trees
    of forests lost in a thick, black wild
    branches long given up pointing the way
    and mountains stretched out to swallow
    conquerors
    where waters divide, will you come?
     
    when did the darkness fit us so?
    when did you run out of breath?
    standing still we take another blow
    suspicious of fires stealing heat
    we lose our guide and steady kindness
    how did laughter come to break us
    and children leave us wondering?
    left skipping through puddles of mud
    our skirts happen on each other
    and we find each other
    again</td></tr></table>

    In addition to saving the day with her quick transcription skills, Angharad presented another fine work of words!
    Methinks this land of ours has been blessed - or cursed - with a more stupid variety of troll than other lands know.
    I cannot picture our brutish variety even understanding a festival, much less being able to choose a leader -
    or even remember who their leader was, once they had one, by whatever means!
    Still, while I consider our blessings - here are the words of another one such.

    <table bordercolor="#000000" width="60%" align="center" bgcolor="#ffd5ea" border="1"> <tr> <td width="78">[​IMG]</td> <td> <p align="center"><font size="5">Herewith, Hogni and the Odinsword
    </font>
    by
    Angharad</p></td></tr></table>
    <table bordercolor="#000000" width="60%" align="center" bgcolor="#ffc6e2" border="1"> <tr> <td>[​IMG]he king of the trolls caroused at yule,
    Whiling winter with wine from the south,
    Never fearing a foeman's coming
    To pierce this hill, piled high with snow.
     
    No gloom was there, for flowing gold
    Roofed the room where rang their songs,
    Driving dark from deep in the caves
    Where trolls hide well the treasure they win.
     
    But one-eyed Odin entered the sleep
    Of Hogni, telling the hero a sword
    Of Wayland's making might be his
    If he forbore to fatten on rest.
     
    Up rose Hogni to run on staves,
    Skimming the drifts on skis, as petrels
    Skim the waves of the wife-bereaver,
    Swift on slopes as a sliding otter
     
    The cold mirk-wood might cast no terror
    On such a man. His mood was baneful.
    He'd slake his longing or sleep forever,
    Win the weapon or waste in his howe.
     
    He found the drift as his dreams had showed him,
    Winnowed the woof of winter's loom,
    Found the rift in the rocks behind it
    And entered the earth there, eager for plunder.
     
    A fearful fire-drake formed by Loki
    Was there to watch but winter had lulled it;
    Certain of safety, sightless with sleep,
    Traitor to trust, the trolls' guard lay.
     
    No man-made sword could mar its life;
    Steel-hard scales were scornful of axes.
    Woe was Hogni's should he wake it,
    As well he knew; but he never wavered.
     
    Hardy the hero who held his course
    Past such a monster, mocking the peril!
    Boldly he passed it, bored through the hill -
    A dangerous mole in that dark passage.
     
    Soon he heard 'skoal!' from stinkers by hundreds,
    And, following further, found the cavern
    Glorious with gold and glittering jewels,
    Splashes of fire in a splendor of colors.
     
    Careless the king sat, cracking jests,
    Proud of his thanes nor thinking of evil;
    But Hogni was grim and gripped his axe.
    He would not turn with this undone.
     
    Wild were the warriors, wine-sodden trolls!
    When Hogni harried the hall of their monarch.
    Fierce was his onset, fast as an osprey's.
    He made no pause to ask pardon of any.
     
    Before the ruler could roar for help
    Hogni's axe was high above him.
    Keen was the edge the King saw then;
    Trapped in his hall the troll sat moveless.
     
    'What will the hero have for my ransom?'
    The ring-bestower wrathfully asked him.
    'I'll give you gold or gorgeous gems
    Craftily hewn from the hold of the earth.'
     
    Loud laughed Hogni. 'Leave it for dragons
    Sour with aging to sulk over treasure!
    Let cowards be misers - a man is before you!
    I want no baubles, but Wayland's sword!"
     
    Not gladly given, the glaive was his
    And warriors ran for weapons, raging;
    They were all fain to follow Hogni;
    Who leaped to leave them, laughing his triumph.
     
    The noise unknotted the noose of sleep
    That bound the fire-drake, fiercely it reared;
    Sure no sword could shear its armor,
    It deemed then that Hogni was done with life.
     
    But Wayland forges no false weapons -
    They're valkyries with vampire mouths,
    Brands that none but the Norns can break -
    And Hogni carved to its cold heart.
     
    Maddened with anger oncoming trolls
    Rushed to catch and kill the riever,
    But skillful on skis he skimmed away,
    Bearing his booty back to his steading.</td></tr></table>
    Valor, Honor, Honesty. Such are in short supply in this land, especially in these current days of war.
    Still, Aeric Horn brought word of them - presented here.

    <table bordercolor="#0000ff" width="75%" align="center" bgcolor="#b7ffff" border="1"> <tr> <td width="90" height="90">[​IMG]</td> <td> <p align="center"><font size="5">The Squire's Joust</font>
    by
    Aeric Horn</p></td></tr></table>
    <table bordercolor="#0000ff" width="75%" align="center" bgcolor="#c4ffff" border="1"> <tr> <td>[​IMG]ir Red...the Knight of Valor
    Made sure he drew the Black
    A right good man, a fightin' man
    None better at yer back.
    His mount reared up a flailin
    And Black he got the jump
    A gallopin', and gallopin'
    Knocked Red clean past the stump
     
    And now White Knight Sir Honor
    Fixed helmet, lance and shield
    He paced around, then raced around...
    Best charger on the field.
    Sir Black he was a waitin'
    Like a wordless spectre he
    The speed of them, the both of them!
    Sent Sir Honor to his knees
     
    And now the Blue Sir Honesty
    A stalwart strappin' lad
    A nod to the lasses, a grin for the lasses
    Sparklin', shinin' and armorclad
    The Black stood on the ready
    Nary breath,and no fatigue
    Black faster now, Blue slowin' down
    For Blue there's no relief.
     
    Now Black he stands center
    Like a crow in empty fields
    "Is there no one, is there no one
    Who'll do anything 'cept yield?"
    A young man stepped up to the gate
    A spry and earnest son.
    He suited up, then mounted up
    "Sir Black, you've not yet won!"

    A Shield he got from Valor
    Lance from Honor, helm from Blue
    He faced the Black, then raced the Black
    And beat the Black it's true.
    The squire's face.. full of resolve
    His dare beyond belief
    With the force of all, Evil falls
    And we all can live in peace.</td></tr></table>

    It seems I missed a night of warriors tales - for Yancey, too, spoke of one - a paladin, mighty in deed and spirit.

    <table bordercolor="#0000ff" width="60%" align="center" bgcolor="#cacaff" border="1"> <tr> <td width="75" height="75">[​IMG]</td> <td> <p align="center"><font size="5">The Mighty Paladin Hooh
    </font>
    by
    Yancey DeFlorio</p></td></tr></table>
    <table bordercolor="#0000ff" width="60%" align="center" bgcolor="#c1c1ff" border="1"> <tr> <td>[​IMG]n the Forest of Redemption
    Where the imperfect souls dwell
    Begins the story
    I must tell.
     
    Deep in the forest
    Lives a protector true
    The sire of his race
    The Mighty Paladin, Hooh.
     
    Loyal has been his kind
    Since the dawn of creation
    Each Paladin born taking up the task
    Of the last generation.
     
    In the service of the creator
    Guarding souls while they wait
    To be perfected while time
    Cleanses their marred slate.
     
    To this task alone
    Generations of Paladins have been born
    Whether on the darkest winter night
    Or at the breaking of a summer dawn.
     
    His days as sentry scout
    Had come and gone
    Now with homage
    He was looked upon.
     
    His great deeds were told to pups
    In the dark of night
    As they huddled
    Oh, so tight.
     
    Listening to the tales
    Of Hooh, their great sire
    For adventure and honor
    Set their young hearts afire.
     
    Deeds of the past
    Wouldnt help him on this night
    As he watched for the young ones
    To come into sight.
     
    The night around him falling
    But Hooh stood taciturn
    Watching for the last patrol
    Of protectors to return.
     
    He understood the pain that seized him
    He'd felt too often as of late
    It told him a Paladin
    Had just gone to meet his fate.
     
    He howled his lament
    Up to the sky
    Asking once more
    Why, Creator, why?
     
    The whistle of an arrow
    Reached his ear
    This predator was bold
    And very near.
     
    He howled again
    This time a warning
    Hide the young ones
    Til sunrise brings the morning.
     
    Then, he went to meet his foe
    Whose arrows met their mark
    There'd be one less human
    When the dawning chased the dark.
     
    This time justice
    Would not be cheated
    This barbarian
    Would be defeated.
     
    Others had justice escaped
    By virtue of distance from Hooh
    This time the killer
    Would get his just due.
     
    Storm Cloud the Bold
    Was the first put to the slaughter
    They hunted him down
    And gave him no quarter.
     
    They drove him, and drove him
    And drove him until
    They had him surrounded
    Then fired their arrows at will.
     
    In the forest he loved
    Eight wounds in his side
    The brave and proud Paladin
    Slowly died.
     
    With the vision of Storm Cloud
    Fresh in his mind
    Hooh saw the man
    He'd been searching to find.
     
    Hooh tracked the human
    With all of his skill
    But unlike the cruel hunters
    He went straight for the kill.
     
    Once it had started
    It was done in a flash
    On the barbarians neck
    Was a wide-open slash.
     
    Hooh, had done it
    Without any thought
    The human deserved to die
    For the cruelty he wrought.
     
    His enemy dead
    Hooh returned to his post
    This was not something
    About which he'd boast.
     
    For the killing of a living thing
    Whether the greatest or least
    Brought the killer of it
    One step closer to beast.
     
    Hooh watched over all
    Through the night til the morn
    The creators voice touched him
    As the morning was born.
     
    My faithful servant
    Hear what I say
    To save you kind
    You must spirit them away.
     
    I and my kind
    Will obey your command
    We will our home
    As you demand.
     
    My servant, go first to the south
    And then to the west
    The Lady Glenamaraen
    Will aid in your quest.
     
    She and her brother
    Will grant you sanctuary
    And the Paladin Race
    Will eermore and forever be free.
     
    Now go to your rest
    My servant, so true
    I will stand watch
    O'er you kind and you.
     
    Your journey can start
    When you awake
    And remember, my blessings
    With you you take.
     
    Hooh did as bidden
    And the events did unfold
    Exactly as the Paladins' Creator
    Had foretold.
     
    Hooh lead the Paladins
    From the Forest of Redemption
    And Paladins honor him still
    For bringing them salvation.</td></tr></table>

    A fine tale, indeed. There is far too little chance of redemption and salvation in these lands, and far too much anger and blood. But, I missed my chance to wax poetical, as I lay on the altar of QWERTY last night, so, I turn to the last offering of the eve.

    Here, I find myself in a quandry.
    This may sound strange, coming from one once accused of bringing 'cow porn' to the Shire - but this offering was far from subtle.

    While the second presentation by Lord God Dog did lead to him tying with Yancey and Aeric for first place, and L.G.D. did then go on to win the roll of the die... I can not present his second offering here.

    The reason is simply this:

    I know, for a fact, that while most who present their words here on these forums are of mature age, there are those who are not. There are those who are left, without guidance of their parents, to read here as they will. 
    I know of at least three, under the age of ten, who read here, regularly.
    And nay, none of those three are in my care.
    Whether that decision is right or wrong is not the point. The fact is, they read here.
    And if I know of three - there are probably at least twenty times that number that I don't know of.

    So, after much consultation with other scribes and those who weild the fearsome weapons of moderation, though I may be insulted, called 'prude', and 'elitist censor' and the like - I have to take the decision to not present Lord God Dog's second tale, part censored though it already be.

    I am sure those who would like to see a copy can ask it of him.
    It is not too terrible, it is far less raunchy than many things that are easily found lying around, and I am probably creating a mountain out of a molehill - but I would not wish children of my own to read it, and based on that, I take this decision.
    While it is true they can and will find far worse things lying around the place, I refuse to be the one who shows them to them.

    This is in no way a slight against Lord Dog. I wholeheartedly congratulate him on winning.
    I just find myself placed in a difficult situation - and I have to make a decision.
    I leave Hoffs and the rest of CWS to decide what is appropriate for the Shire - but I have to decide what is appropriate for this post.
    I have to answer to my own conscience.
    I am not a moderator, but I do have a responsibility to those who read here.

    If any feel I am wrong, then by all means - post it, and let our good moderators decide whether to let it stand, or delete it.
    To any who feel the need or desire to bring similar tales to Story Night in future, my decision will stay the same.

    On the bright side, it should be very clear to any who read this who the winner was! Well done to all three finalists - and especially to Lord God Dog!

    I go now, to find my 70 fire resist suit! And, to wage war on the guild of typesetters!
     
  2. Ginsu-SP

    Ginsu-SP Guest

    Twas a very enjoyable evening. Congrats to Lord God Dog.

    Cheers!
    Aeric