1. This site uses cookies. By continuing to use this site, you are agreeing to our use of cookies. Learn More.
  2. Greetings Guest!!

    In order to combat SPAM on the forums, all users are required to have a minimum of 2 posts before they can submit links in any post or thread.

    Dismiss Notice
  3. Greetings Guest, Having Login Issues? Check this thread!
    Dismiss Notice
  4. Hail Guest!,
    Please take a moment to read this post reminding you all of the importance of Account Security.
    Dismiss Notice

[News] Tuesday Tale Telling

Discussion in 'UO Siege Perilous' started by imported_Castor, Dec 29, 2005.

  1. ah yes, the tale of Hooters, it is told in many languages, but its truth still rings true....
  2. Guest

    Guest Guest

    [​IMG]nce again this week, I journied to the Golden Unicorn Tavern in Wispwood shire, to attend the weekly night of tales and lore!
    Many had gathered there, and many more arrived as the night journied onwards.

    There were great tales told that night, as well as tales told by those who may one day be great - and perhaps one or two who should save their tales as weapons of mass distraction!

    I present the night's tales to you now, for your entertainment, your awe, and, perhance, to encourage more to bring their creations to the shire!
    <font size="2" color="#000000" face="Arial"> <div><table width="90%" bgcolor="#CCFFCC" border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="2"> <tr valign="top"> <td> [​IMG]  </td> <td>  <div align="center">

    Robert Franko - Brook made me broke</div> </td> <td>  </td> </tr> <tr valign="top"> <td>  </td> <td> 
    you are my moon my stars my velvet sky
    with out thee i dwell in darkness
    you run my creidt cards thru the roof
    you never do the dishes
    or vacum the house
    and no lovey duve?
    silence wench!
    outr kids cannot even go to college
    you spendeth all thy money
    insolent wench!!!
    we are going to court!
    already gone! </td> <td>  </td> </tr> <tr valign="top"> <td>  </td> <td>  </td> <td>  </td> </tr> </table> </div> </font>
    Robert was encouraged to study more poetry, and not to give up the day job just yet.
    He didn't give up at all, more's the pity, and proceeded to submit another short spurt of modern prose.
    <font size="2" color="#000000" face="Arial"> <div><table width="90%" bgcolor="#CAEACA" border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="2"> <tr valign="top"> <td>  [​IMG]  </td> <td>  <div align="center">

    Robert Franko - Hooters</div> </td> <td>  [​IMG]  </td> </tr> <tr valign="top"> <td>  </td> <td> 
    [​IMG] ooters hooters yum yum yum
    hooters hooters on a girl thats dumb </td> <td>  </td> </tr> <tr valign="top"> <td>  </td> <td>  </td> <td>  </td> </tr> </table> </div> </font>

    Luckily, Kush then found the lever that operated the trapdoor on which Robert had chosen to stand.

    Readers are encouraged to hold on to these two works of *ahem* art - when Robert is rich and famous, perhaps they will be valuable. Or perhaps you can use them to blackmail him.

    Moving on, I was asked to follow that fine performance with a tale of my own.
    I did not know if I could match the quality of Robert's prose, but, never the less, here are my paltry offerings.

    <font size="2" color="#000000" face="Arial"> <div><table width="90%" bgcolor="#CCFFFF" border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="2"> <tr valign="top"> <td>  [​IMG]  </td> <td>  <div align="center">

    Blind Otto - Trust</div> </td> <td>  </td> </tr> <tr valign="top"> <td>  </td> <td> 
    [​IMG]  wrote this tale some time ago, but few have heard it, and so...

    The scene is set in a tavern somewhere... much like this one.

    After a while, a grim lull fell around the table,
    and the two miners glared at each other.
    The others shuffled their feet,
    or expressed extreme interest in the contents of their drinks.
    The deathly silence was broken, as Fjorkson the bald slammed his tankard down on the table,
    showering the others with ale.
    "How DARE thee, thou illegitimate son of a cross-bred mongbat!"
    He bellowed at Kairn across the table.

    "I gained that gold through perseverance,
    and many weeks of hard toil in the worst mining areas known to man!
    That thou would accuse me of stealing, or mere good luck -
    I will not have the cow-dung of your words slung at my good name!"

    Kairn gave him a cold look, and slowly applauded.
    "Bravo, shiny headed one, bravo.
    There are not many who can give as convincing a display of anger as you.
    Why, the bar-dwellers behind you are leaving in their droves!
    Bravo. Still, you have given me no cause to believe a word you say.
    That you would have the nerve to even enter Wrong dungeon,
    let alone venture to it's depths,
    is a tale that I would only believe after several casks of the finest ale,
    and, while there may well be great treasure down there,
    to have me believe that thou, of all people,
    would be able to drag chest upon chest of it up past all the creatures that dwell there,
    and escape without a single scratch - nay, come now!
    Simply admit that thou has spun a fine tale,
    and it has relieved our boredom for this night, and be done with it!"

    "I shall do no such thing, Kairn." growled Fjorkson.
    "However, I shall give thee a choice.
    Thou can kiss the flat of mine hammer outside the back door
    of this fine establishment, or thou can accompany me back into the depths,
    to give me the chance to prove the virtue of my words."
    At this, Kairn, quite impressively, shot ale out his nose.

    "Well, Kairn, which shall it be?
    At least allow me the chance to avenge my good name against thy slurs,
    one way or another. I am happy to reshape thy head with this hammer,
    or to spend a day or three putting up with thee underground.
    Take thy pick, or bring thy pick - it makes no difference to me!"
    "Ah, well done again, oh moon-domed one!" laughed Kairn
    "I now have the choice of being struck down by a far larger,
    stronger man than myself, or venturing into the darkness with either
    a liar or a lunatic!
    I can be humiliated and bloodied outside,
    or face almost certain death in Wrong. Well played, indeed!
    But, I am no coward. I shall call thy bluff. I choose to accompany thee,
    on the condition that these fine gentlemen here accompany us to the entry point,
    and wait outside. I wish them to bear witness that I did not flee in terror,
    as thou are bound to suggest,
    and that thou do actually enter this vile place of which you speak!
    I would not ask them to accompany us within, that would not be fair to them."
    Fjorkson beamed. "Tomorrow, then, we ride!" he laughed.
    "Barkeep! A round for my friends here, on me!"

    Kairn looked nervous.
    No miner in their right mind ventured into Wrong,
    and certainly not with a huge smile on their face.
    What was going on here?
    Still, he had seen the huge pile of treasures in Fjorkson's house -
    a dozen pack mules, aided by as many beetles,
    could not have carried that much gold out of any mine.
    Had Fjorkson trained a dragon to carry for him, perhaps?
    Or was there more to this?
    Either way, he would know the secret before the week was out,
    or have the pleasure of rediculing his rival in front of the
    entire local mining community! All he had to do, was stay alive - in Wrong!

    Morning broke, and the small group of miners headed for the cavern that lead to Wrong.
    Fjorkson had only brought one pack llama, which puzzled Kairn even more.
    Still, he was no one's fool, and would soon see what the great mystery was.
    They left their friends at the enterance, lit torches, and stepped inside.
    After a short walk, they heard voices.
    The low, gutteral, sing-song was unmistakable - Juka!
    They crept past them, and on towards the rough stairway
    that lead down into the darkness.

    A huge, metalic beast shambled past,
    as they hugged the rock wall, in the shadows - a golem!
    Three more followed, clanking past, talking to each other in a low, metalic hum.
    Many more creatures were seen, the deeper they crept into the caves.
    Deeper and deeper, into the darkness, past strange men, and wonderous sights.

    "Here we are!" exclaimed Fjorkson in a loud voice
    "The treasure is right through here!"
    "Quiet!!!!!" hissed Kairn "thou ART mad -
    be still, or half the dungeon shall descend upon us!"
    "Ah, but that is the way to receive the treasure!"
    smiled Fjorkson. Kairn did not like the look on his face.
    "What do you mean?" he asked, backing away warily.
    "Look behind you." Fjorkson grinned, his eyes glowing red in the darkness.
    Kairn slowly turned...

    There, towering over him, stood a tall man, with grey skin,
    in a red and white robe, flanked on either side by two floating creatures.
    The last thought that entered his mind was
    "oh, flying golems. What will they think of next?".
    The man thrust a gleaming metal band about Kairn's head, and everything went black...

    The next day, the miners sat around the table, drinking to the memory of Kairn,
    the poor soul who had lost his nerve in the mine, and fled screaming into the darkness,
    despite the noble efforts of Fjorkson to stop him.

    "I tried my uttermost, but Kairn had the strength of madness - I could not restrain him. I am sorry, my friends." he told them.

    "Ah, but you brought back another huge load of gold, we are all witness to that!"
    said one of the younger miners. "May I accompany you, next time?"
    "Certainly! I am not greedy - you are welcome to accompany me, any time." smiled Fjorkson, counting his latest blood-spoils in his head.
    "Besides, we should be safer this time, now that I have my newly tamed golem!".

    Ah, the controllers paid well for his victims, indeed.

    Somewhere, imprisoned deep within the metalic mind of the golem,
    Kairn screamed silently to warn ears that could not hear... </td> <td>  </td> </tr> <tr valign="top"> <td>  </td> <td>  </td> <td>  </td> </tr> </table> </div> </font>
    I then yeilded the stage to a newcomer, Daichi Yamamoto, who told us the following tale: <font size="2" color="#000000" face="Arial"> <div><table width="90%" bgcolor="#7FFFAA" border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="2"> <tr valign="top"> <td>  [​IMG]  </td> <td>  <div align="center">Daichi Yamamoto - Call of the Samurai</div> </td> <td>  </td> </tr> <tr valign="top"> <td>  </td> <td> 
    [​IMG]  am very new to this land.
    I hope that any mistakes in your native
    tongue are forgiven by our hosts and
    my fellow guests.

    I am Daichi Yamamoto.
    I have come from another land far away, by the call
    of Obake Yamamoto.

    However, and I am ashamed to say,
    I missed Obake's fleet boarding. You see, I was
    training hard so that I might make Obake and the
    Shogun Yasou proud of me.

    I first heard the call to arms while in a fierce
    fight with a mighty dragon. Forgive me, but I
    believe the dragons of my homelands are much more
    visually appealing than your own, yet just as
    dangerous and clever.

    With the Dragon bearing down
    on me, and Obake's call for assistance I hurried
    my efforts.. perhaps not a wise decision.
    The Dragon, intent on ripping me appart made a
    very strategic swipe of its taloned claw while I
    battled with my indecision. He caught me unaware,
    and took my feet from under me. There I lie.

    Staring up at the magnificent beast as he pulled
    in a lung full of air, every intention of blackening
    me within my suit of armor.
    I could do naught but hold my shield and sword before
    me and hope for the best.

    At that moment, I heard the calling of Obake Yamamoto
    again. It was his voice, but not calling to the
    Yamamoto's as before. They were words for only my
    ears. He said to me, "You must turn to powers that
    are not of this world to save yourself young samurai"

    I was ashamed that Obake could sense the teachings
    of my Mother; a sorceress. But, I heeded his words,
    and spoke an ancient evil not of my homelands.
    Daring to peek, I saw the dragon's eyes widen just
    as he was about to expel his firey breath upon me!
    He stopped short, reared up and grasped his scaled
    throat. When he was finally able to get a breath,
    he inhaled deeply.

    A very big mistake.. as he inhaled
    his own eruption of fire and molten breath meant for
    me. In a firey explosion, I curled up in a ball and
    hoped for mercy from those Shogun's who have long
    since passed.

    And as the smoke cleared, I was
    thankful that I was only blistered.. as painful as
    it had been. I crawled towards what remained of the
    dragon and took a scale, which I planned to give to
    my Master, Obake as an honorable token of my thanks.

    After many weeks, I finally made my way to the docks,
    and then a very long journey here where the Wakayama
    clan greeted me most graciously.

    I am happy to be alive, and more importantly, in this
    "perilous" land with you fine people.

    Thank you </td> <td>  </td> </tr> <tr valign="top"> <td>  </td> <td>  </td> <td>  </td> </tr> </table> </div> </font>
    All this talk of their homeland, and battles, seemed to stir something in the blood of the Wakayamas present, and, after a minor skirmish outside, during which a few miscreants were dispatched, ended only when some of their number suddenly remembered the laws of the Shire, the tales resumed, with a fine offering by Sir Gilfond Skyling.

    <font size="2" color="#000000" face="Arial"> <div><table width="90%" bgcolor="#7FAA7F" border="0" cellpadding="2" bordercolor="#ECE9D8" cellspacing="2"> <tr valign="top"> <td>  </td> <td>  <div align="center">

    Gilfond Skyling - The Siege of Britain</div> </td> <td>  [​IMG]  </td> </tr> <tr valign="top"> <td>  </td> <td> 
    [​IMG] ack many moons ago the city of britian was put under siege by a band of monsters from despise
    orges, lizard men titans, ettins -
    all poured forth from the cave and made war on britian

    for many moons they squatted in the capital city of britain,
    and no one could push them back
    us in KSS, seeing 'Lord' British would let his city just fall without helping the citizens, decided we could do something to help

    We would drive the beasts from Britian!
    We brave hearts we set out for the city, to do battle with the ogres!
    We apporached the center city lines, where the monsters seemed to be pinned,
    and we prepared ourselves to do battle!
    We readied weapons and spells and then launched into there midsts!
    Us warriors launched ourselves into there midst while the mages helped kept us healed.

    The first few mintues were violent.
    Spells and weapons were sent at the beasts, driving them back,
    laying the streets of Britian in ogre blood!
    We could see them reeling when a general showed up,
    with shouts of 'Death to britian'
    and yelling at their minions to slay us or be killed!

    The monsters surged forth with renewed vigor.
    We were sent back reeling for a momment,
    but we did not give up driving into the midst of the foes.
    They buckled under our fierce assult, and were sent fleeing.

    We had cleared them from the front of the castle, but
    as we apporached the bardic school they surged back with renewed vigor!

    Surged back with renwed vigor -
    ogres and lizard men
    and ettins
    and trolls
    pouring at us -
    but we did not back down!
    We fought on!
    But we were getting tired.
    Not one of us had not taken hits,
    but we still fought on!
    We would clear the streets of britian of the foul beasts!
    We fought back -
    dropping far more then we were taking.
    Their bodies piled up -
    the carrion birds would be feasting that night,
    and yet we pushed on!
    They seemed to be buckling again,
    until the generals appeared again.
    But we were ready for them,
    and hit them hard!
    The mages keeping us warriors healed,
    and even the generals could not hold against us!
    And soon we pushed them back,
    to the very edge of town!

    But they turned around and fought on,
    fought back...

    These beasts would not be easily turned from the streets.
    but we were tired,
    and I could feel my weapon arm was getting tired,
    and I knew the others were growing tired,
    But then our hope was renewed!
    When our allies in the shire came to bolster our line,
    we saw them pour in on the side of the monsters!
    With renewed vigor we fought on!
    We fought on!
    The beasts looked like they were reeling again -
    We could tell that the streets were soon to be cleared, when they came back
    with there generals leading again!

    we would not let them in though,
    and fought back hard.
    Soon even the generals were dead!
    We looked around and saw the beasts reeling in the graveyard.
    There they stood, and we debated driving them from the forest.
    But we were exhuasted.

    We debated it,
    and decided to head to bed.
    Head back to wintermoor,
    so for one night thanks to the efforts of KSS with help from the shire folks,
    the streets of Britian were clean of beasts.
    But alas, the next day they returned.
    It was not just me but, the whole of KSS and the shire folk.
    </td> <td>  </td> </tr> <tr valign="top"> <td>  </td> <td>  </td> <td>  </td> </tr> </table> </div> </font>

    After that tale of valor, 'twas time for some levity!

    <font size="2" color="#000000" face="Arial"> <div><table width="90%" bgcolor="#D4FFFF" border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="2"> <tr valign="top"> <td>  [​IMG]  </td> <td>  <div align="center">Akane Wakayama - Hurried Hens </div> </td> <td>  </td> </tr> <tr valign="top"> <td>  </td> <td> 
    [​IMG]nce there was a man,
    riding his horse down the road.
    and he is going at a walk,
    while this chicken
    he sees run past him.
    "a chicken?"
    most peculiar.
    so he puts his horse to canter,
    and still the chicken runs past him.
    then he takes his horse to a gallop,
    and still this chicken speeds on.
    he sees this chicken turn into a farmyard,
    and his curiosity has him go in.
    and he says to the farmer,
    "is that your chicken that is so speedy?'
    and the farmer says 'yes it is."
    He asks "why is that chicken so fast?"
    so the farmer says,
    "why ye see sir I likes me chicken legs.
    me wife likes de chicken legs
    and me son likes the chicken legs as well,
    so I did some breeding and got myself a three legged chicken."

    the man pasuses and then asks,
    " so how does a three legged chicken taste"
    the farmer replies,

    "Well I aint sure since we've never been able to catch one" </td> <td>  </td> </tr> <tr valign="top"> <td>  </td> <td>  </td> <td>  </td> </tr> </table> </div> </font>

    And lastly, Angharad brought us a poem from a far off land.

    <font size="2" color="#000000" face="Arial"> <div><table width="90%" bgcolor="#99CCFF" border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="2"> <tr valign="top"> <td>  [​IMG]  </td> <td>  <div align="center"> Angharad - Dance of Death</div> </td> <td>  </td> </tr> <tr valign="top"> <td>  </td> <td> 
    [​IMG]wo steps forward, one step back
    Then let an arrow fly
    The dance of death does thus begin
    For Willowind and I.

    A wyvern roars, an imp does cast
    A spell of deadly fire
    As I strike up a martial tune
    Upon my Oaken Lyre

    Our hoofbeats pound, we circle 'round
    To face an angered foe
    As Ophid Knight does join the fight
    The wyvern is laid low.

    We weave a virtual tapestry
    In time to deadly beat
    Precision wondrous to see
    Our enemies defeat

    Willow looses deadly bolt
    As Orckish Lord does flee
    The wild dance continues on
    We laugh out loud in glee!

    Circle in, then dodge a blow
    Then three quick paces back
    In perfect time to lively beat
    We press on our attack

    A dance of beauty - bloody corpses
    Littering the ground
    We battle still yet more to kill
    And circle twice around

    Come join us in the dance of death
    Beloved brotyhers pure
    In manic joyous thrilling dance
    There's always room for more! </td> <td>  </td> </tr> <tr valign="top"> <td>  </td> <td>  </td> <td>  </td> </tr> </table> </div> </font>

    Indeed, there is always room for more - and I hope more will come, either to listen, or to offer their own works, for the enjoyment of all gathered!

    I can not guarantee that I will be able to cover this event every week, but, when I am able, I will bring the week's tales to thee!
    So, if any are of a mind to see their tales in print, to entertain their fellows - and possibly win a prize for their craft - Wispwood Shire is the place to be!
  3. <blockquote><hr>

    When our allies in the shire came to bolster our line,
    we saw them pour in on the side of the monsters!

    [/ QUOTE ]
    This bit bothered me in Gilford's tale. Is he saying that during the Brit invasion, CWS fought on the side of the monsters???
    No wonder that butt-ugly statue says the invaders occupied Brit on Siege. CWS were helping them!

    They should be ashamed of themselves.

    CWS should be make KOS, and added to the various trade embargo sigs, for the crime of monster-loving!
  4. And don't forget to be here next week, when Robert discovers that he's actually a leg man! (just kidding Robert, we love you anyway. Oh. A poll just came in. No we don't. My mistake. [​IMG] )
  5. Yes, the end is near. It's right there, in my sig. What of it?