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A letter to the barmaid pinned to a notice board
Dear Enola
Having discovered the area vacant, we did our best to establish a camp.
Oh, how I wish we'd known.
The Logsmen have all but been decimated, the log camp itself turned to ash. These damn fire sprites are relentless. I suspect their nest is close but I've not been able to find anyone willing to join in this enterprise with a good sword arm. Should you encounter anyone willing to brave their fires come and see me in the grove hidden above the plains. I'll be waiting everyday at 4pm to see if there are any takers.
Rory Owens
A torn diary page
Today didn't go well. I tried my first bit of orc meat and was sick. I know mum has to save money but it doesn't do no good eating orc. I wish dad came back but mum said he just couldn't face the table. I know everybody thinks he's a coward now but I don't want to face the table either. I wish he didn't leave me then we could've gone somewhere together away from all the killing. Somewhere quiet. I miss him.
A witch's brew
A once around the bush at night
A once around the stable
Twice did fall and make no sound
As she supped her maple.
An aged note
It's been a hot summer this ere year, longest seems like the whole plains is drying up with it. If it weren't for me medicine I'd not bother to leave the house. I was on my way to the market when I came across our Julie's little Rebecca. Fiesty little brat that one. Said to me, if ya can believe it, “You look awfully saggy today Miss. Barnstable.” in all her innocent ways. She knew what she was saying and I won't let none tell me different. I don't care if she's three Ernest, me love. She's a wrong'un. Now, if ever there was a great little lady it was always going to be little Ophelia Wright, our Margaret's husband's neice, on mother's side. I can't remember her mothers name but she was pretty as a picture at the fayre when I got there. Wish you was with us my love. I'm sure we'll meet again soon. Best of luck in Durant.
Your love X X X
Midwife's resignation
To whom it may concern,
Being last of the midwives in Door is a great burden to my conscience. As the one responsible for ending them poor little baby's lives is something I cannot bring myself to do any longer. I know the demons say it's best to manage our population so that there's enough food to go round but they're not ones having to live with that decision, I am. I realise it puts us in the lurch but I just cannot continue. There's only Mrs Delwing due to carry and she's already told me she plans to self-terminate. I'm not going to dissuade her, it's her choice. I'm taking this opportunity to resign and move out of Door. I just can't look at the mother's faces here anymore.
Yours regretfully
Dulce Amrose
On the aesthetic of immortality
When must we move past the drudgery of mundane immortality. I have seen the spark of genius burned for so long that I can no longer bear it. Genius is dead to an immortal, there remains only in its stead the vast accumulation of time. Any witless fool can become a genius in this rotten world of ours. Given enough time even a damnable orc like John le Bouef can become synonymous with greatness. How, in good conscience, can an artist appreciate art? When that art is the by-product of a thousand failings. I for one find the aura of today's artefacts to be benign and cancerous, sheeps wool to the silk of the elven writings. Now there is a canon worth noting, the absence of the elves has driven scholarly work into their writings and architecture and begin to unravel a truer appreciation of genius than can be rumbled among the rabble-ous orcs.<br>
“On lilied tongue a glistened pearl dances,<br>
the rainbow's quiver, captivating. Iridescent.<br>
Imagine the call of nature's drop,<br>
and golden crispen morning sun.”<br>
Sun-rising glory, Aliala Ratha-Rey. 3rd elven moon<br>
As ancient as the elves are, knowing what they did of life and magic it is not difficult to see the contrast between that and the crude orish style. Take the subject matter, the connotations of imagery and we find ebullience. Yet, for as gentle the imagery, stark becomes the nature of the poem. It hews itself in verse from the symbolism of the sun. Iridescent, alone and separated from the rest of the words surely signifies the resurrection stones. Monolithic oddities of nature that even the time-wisened elves cannot comprehend.
Shopping list
1/2lb of tuppeny berries<br>
2lb of orc flab<br>
Some (carrotts) (carrots) Carots<br>
Dried pig's foot powder<br>
One of them little fish that's salty. Henflappers?
Threat
You thought this would be a walk over? You little worms don't know what you've awakened! You watch your back you hear me.<br><br>
X
From the chronicles of the Winged-sun II
As its first incarnation, 'The king's dread', the Winged-sun was primarily feared due to the brutality of its leaders. Known throughout generations as 'Devils' the Devlin family are as equally blessed with war as they are with conviction. No Devlin commander of the WS has ever shied away from their duties and verdicts. Most famous of course, was the account of Sir Merciane Artiliarias Devlin who when entreated to bed with the daughter, Rosalind, of the King of Siall; and, upon finding her deflowered previously, pursued the king from his own castle with naught but a sword to clothe him. Nonetheless nude, the Devlin man swiped the king's head as recompense to save face. It was in this time that the common expression “Rusty as a sword's knob” came by way of Leyton Pendrick's play “Glorious mourning” in which the phrase was used to describe a tavern whore's wares (Act 2, sc.3 ln.15).
Glorious mourning (Act 2 sc. 3)
Setting: The tavern, morning.<br>
A benched table stands to the right of a pillar supporting a wanted poster for the murderer of the king. Stood to far right are the chorus of patrons and the barmaid Lottie.<br>
Enter Abalon, Ereathor and Sir Kelt. Kelt and Ereathor take seats at the table, Abalon hesitates and elects to stand by the pillar.) <br>
1*Kelt: Abalon thou Jester's garment, tell us more of last night's wicked snare.<br>
Ereathor: Aye, tell on good jester's rag.<br>
Abalon: Neigh my good men, I tell not of wickedness but of sweet scented romance.<br>
Kelt: A romance he wagers.<br>
5*Ereathor: Against the viceroy of virginity.<br>
Kelt: Let him go anon, tell us now and wet our drinks till they compare to thine maiden's bloomers.<br>
(Kelt hammers upon the table)<br>
Lottie approaches bubbly carrying three flagons. She lays them before the gents whom each take to her with a gallavanting eye.<br>
10*Ereathor: Or as dry as they be shrivelled.<br>
Abalon: (Leaning with one foot upon the table's benches)As I say by her table nightly, sun doth rise and moon doth fall, I shall come each day to thy bed and perfume a longing desire. And her to me sayeth, 'Sweet Abalon cometh more than once a night and I quiver for the day I shall be thine and thine alone'.<br>
15*Kelt: T'is a woman as rusty as a sword's knob.<br>
Ereathor: 'Cepting her bloods been rusted to many a sword before.<br>
Abalon: (Standing hurriedly drawn) I swear it gents, thy better bind such lascivious tongues. I shall take afront to the honour of a maiden.<br>
Kelt: Fear not Abalon, we jest, we jest.<br>
20*Ereathor. Aye, take no offence brother we mean only to tangle thy britches. T'is sport is all.
A Mayoral decree
By order of her Excellency the Lady Elizabethan Cantor<br><br>
All those of human kin, be that part or full, shall be ordered as sets. The first, being of those beholden the agricultural means, shall henceforth be collated by the title of 'Primaries'; these folk, having birthed into their role are designated to provide sustenance, in the form of their own bodily flesh or that of a suitably fed volunteer, once per week. Those of a more noble station, being that they are owners of swine or other such commodity, are henceforth known by the title of 'Secondaries'; concerning them thereof, the tithing shall be payable by the means of a feeding hand or that of a suitably fed volunteer if their livestock is deemed to be in a decline.
The yellow ball – John Le Bouef
Let us try something different, you and I.<br>
As poet to reader.<br>
When you come across this (…) <br>
I wish you to pause and close your eyes to visualise and embrace the image.<br><br>
A yellow ball, spherical and slightly shaded to the upper most left.<br>
As though spotlighted from somewhere.<br>
It sits, primed in your minds eye.<br>
(…)<br>
The ball begins a gentle roll, rolling to the right or left if you should prefer.<br>
(…)<br>
It is oddly moving in a pitch black world, spotlighted from nowhere.<br>
It can pick up speed, speed we feel it to have.<br>
It can travel away and become small.<br>
(…)<br>
It can loop back in a long arc and return in front of us.<br>
(…)<br>
You have seen the ball, I have seen the ball.<br>
The ball has not moved.<br>
The ball does not exist.<br>
And yet, we are unified by it.
The blacksmith's pledge
Delilah, my rose, I will always be there for you. When the day finally comes that your husband gives up his goat, I will be there waiting. I have loved you all along, so much so that I humbly write you this letter on the eve of your wedding. Begging you reconsider this blacksmith's offer and run away with me to Durant.<br><br>
But if not, know that I shall always be waiting.
Postcard
Hope you're all okay. We're having a wonderful time at the coast. Don't worry, we didn't forget to get that rock you love soo much. <br>Best wishes Mum and Dad x
Postcard #2
Your father is enjoying the fresh air. It does his morale good to be next to the sea again. We'll be home soon.<br>
Missing you<br>
Mum and Dad
Fundamental nutrition for kids
The best child is one reared on a diet rich in dairy. This adds a wonderful creaminess to the flesh when they reach the table age. Bearing in mind the complications of the child's weight is one important factor in raising. It is best, when a second child is available, to grow one to work and one to rest. In doing so you are providing a valuable resource for both lean and fatty meats. Whilst the children themselves may take issue with this tact, you can always remind them of the necessity of this charitable duty.
A traveller's journal
It has been a while since the road opened up in such a welcoming manner. I had to die only once on my journey across the plains. As unwelcome as the recollection is, I can't help but feel a tiny bit exhilarated. The memory of the pain has dulled but the fear , something about that fear. I watched as they consumed me, I remember my head lolled to the floor watching as they ravished my torso. It was surreal, I tingle a little recounting it. Do I welcome death, I don't know. At the present it was horrific, like something one would hope occurred only in damnation; but, when survived, it holds a fascination. An experience so vivid and in its nature true. The truth of death is something else.
Dear Enola
Having discovered the area vacant, we did our best to establish a camp.
Oh, how I wish we'd known.
The Logsmen have all but been decimated, the log camp itself turned to ash. These damn fire sprites are relentless. I suspect their nest is close but I've not been able to find anyone willing to join in this enterprise with a good sword arm. Should you encounter anyone willing to brave their fires come and see me in the grove hidden above the plains. I'll be waiting everyday at 4pm to see if there are any takers.
Rory Owens
A torn diary page
Today didn't go well. I tried my first bit of orc meat and was sick. I know mum has to save money but it doesn't do no good eating orc. I wish dad came back but mum said he just couldn't face the table. I know everybody thinks he's a coward now but I don't want to face the table either. I wish he didn't leave me then we could've gone somewhere together away from all the killing. Somewhere quiet. I miss him.
A witch's brew
A once around the bush at night
A once around the stable
Twice did fall and make no sound
As she supped her maple.
An aged note
It's been a hot summer this ere year, longest seems like the whole plains is drying up with it. If it weren't for me medicine I'd not bother to leave the house. I was on my way to the market when I came across our Julie's little Rebecca. Fiesty little brat that one. Said to me, if ya can believe it, “You look awfully saggy today Miss. Barnstable.” in all her innocent ways. She knew what she was saying and I won't let none tell me different. I don't care if she's three Ernest, me love. She's a wrong'un. Now, if ever there was a great little lady it was always going to be little Ophelia Wright, our Margaret's husband's neice, on mother's side. I can't remember her mothers name but she was pretty as a picture at the fayre when I got there. Wish you was with us my love. I'm sure we'll meet again soon. Best of luck in Durant.
Your love X X X
Midwife's resignation
To whom it may concern,
Being last of the midwives in Door is a great burden to my conscience. As the one responsible for ending them poor little baby's lives is something I cannot bring myself to do any longer. I know the demons say it's best to manage our population so that there's enough food to go round but they're not ones having to live with that decision, I am. I realise it puts us in the lurch but I just cannot continue. There's only Mrs Delwing due to carry and she's already told me she plans to self-terminate. I'm not going to dissuade her, it's her choice. I'm taking this opportunity to resign and move out of Door. I just can't look at the mother's faces here anymore.
Yours regretfully
Dulce Amrose
On the aesthetic of immortality
When must we move past the drudgery of mundane immortality. I have seen the spark of genius burned for so long that I can no longer bear it. Genius is dead to an immortal, there remains only in its stead the vast accumulation of time. Any witless fool can become a genius in this rotten world of ours. Given enough time even a damnable orc like John le Bouef can become synonymous with greatness. How, in good conscience, can an artist appreciate art? When that art is the by-product of a thousand failings. I for one find the aura of today's artefacts to be benign and cancerous, sheeps wool to the silk of the elven writings. Now there is a canon worth noting, the absence of the elves has driven scholarly work into their writings and architecture and begin to unravel a truer appreciation of genius than can be rumbled among the rabble-ous orcs.<br>
“On lilied tongue a glistened pearl dances,<br>
the rainbow's quiver, captivating. Iridescent.<br>
Imagine the call of nature's drop,<br>
and golden crispen morning sun.”<br>
Sun-rising glory, Aliala Ratha-Rey. 3rd elven moon<br>
As ancient as the elves are, knowing what they did of life and magic it is not difficult to see the contrast between that and the crude orish style. Take the subject matter, the connotations of imagery and we find ebullience. Yet, for as gentle the imagery, stark becomes the nature of the poem. It hews itself in verse from the symbolism of the sun. Iridescent, alone and separated from the rest of the words surely signifies the resurrection stones. Monolithic oddities of nature that even the time-wisened elves cannot comprehend.
Shopping list
1/2lb of tuppeny berries<br>
2lb of orc flab<br>
Some (carrotts) (carrots) Carots<br>
Dried pig's foot powder<br>
One of them little fish that's salty. Henflappers?
Threat
You thought this would be a walk over? You little worms don't know what you've awakened! You watch your back you hear me.<br><br>
X
From the chronicles of the Winged-sun II
As its first incarnation, 'The king's dread', the Winged-sun was primarily feared due to the brutality of its leaders. Known throughout generations as 'Devils' the Devlin family are as equally blessed with war as they are with conviction. No Devlin commander of the WS has ever shied away from their duties and verdicts. Most famous of course, was the account of Sir Merciane Artiliarias Devlin who when entreated to bed with the daughter, Rosalind, of the King of Siall; and, upon finding her deflowered previously, pursued the king from his own castle with naught but a sword to clothe him. Nonetheless nude, the Devlin man swiped the king's head as recompense to save face. It was in this time that the common expression “Rusty as a sword's knob” came by way of Leyton Pendrick's play “Glorious mourning” in which the phrase was used to describe a tavern whore's wares (Act 2, sc.3 ln.15).
Glorious mourning (Act 2 sc. 3)
Setting: The tavern, morning.<br>
A benched table stands to the right of a pillar supporting a wanted poster for the murderer of the king. Stood to far right are the chorus of patrons and the barmaid Lottie.<br>
Enter Abalon, Ereathor and Sir Kelt. Kelt and Ereathor take seats at the table, Abalon hesitates and elects to stand by the pillar.) <br>
1*Kelt: Abalon thou Jester's garment, tell us more of last night's wicked snare.<br>
Ereathor: Aye, tell on good jester's rag.<br>
Abalon: Neigh my good men, I tell not of wickedness but of sweet scented romance.<br>
Kelt: A romance he wagers.<br>
5*Ereathor: Against the viceroy of virginity.<br>
Kelt: Let him go anon, tell us now and wet our drinks till they compare to thine maiden's bloomers.<br>
(Kelt hammers upon the table)<br>
Lottie approaches bubbly carrying three flagons. She lays them before the gents whom each take to her with a gallavanting eye.<br>
10*Ereathor: Or as dry as they be shrivelled.<br>
Abalon: (Leaning with one foot upon the table's benches)As I say by her table nightly, sun doth rise and moon doth fall, I shall come each day to thy bed and perfume a longing desire. And her to me sayeth, 'Sweet Abalon cometh more than once a night and I quiver for the day I shall be thine and thine alone'.<br>
15*Kelt: T'is a woman as rusty as a sword's knob.<br>
Ereathor: 'Cepting her bloods been rusted to many a sword before.<br>
Abalon: (Standing hurriedly drawn) I swear it gents, thy better bind such lascivious tongues. I shall take afront to the honour of a maiden.<br>
Kelt: Fear not Abalon, we jest, we jest.<br>
20*Ereathor. Aye, take no offence brother we mean only to tangle thy britches. T'is sport is all.
A Mayoral decree
By order of her Excellency the Lady Elizabethan Cantor<br><br>
All those of human kin, be that part or full, shall be ordered as sets. The first, being of those beholden the agricultural means, shall henceforth be collated by the title of 'Primaries'; these folk, having birthed into their role are designated to provide sustenance, in the form of their own bodily flesh or that of a suitably fed volunteer, once per week. Those of a more noble station, being that they are owners of swine or other such commodity, are henceforth known by the title of 'Secondaries'; concerning them thereof, the tithing shall be payable by the means of a feeding hand or that of a suitably fed volunteer if their livestock is deemed to be in a decline.
The yellow ball – John Le Bouef
Let us try something different, you and I.<br>
As poet to reader.<br>
When you come across this (…) <br>
I wish you to pause and close your eyes to visualise and embrace the image.<br><br>
A yellow ball, spherical and slightly shaded to the upper most left.<br>
As though spotlighted from somewhere.<br>
It sits, primed in your minds eye.<br>
(…)<br>
The ball begins a gentle roll, rolling to the right or left if you should prefer.<br>
(…)<br>
It is oddly moving in a pitch black world, spotlighted from nowhere.<br>
It can pick up speed, speed we feel it to have.<br>
It can travel away and become small.<br>
(…)<br>
It can loop back in a long arc and return in front of us.<br>
(…)<br>
You have seen the ball, I have seen the ball.<br>
The ball has not moved.<br>
The ball does not exist.<br>
And yet, we are unified by it.
The blacksmith's pledge
Delilah, my rose, I will always be there for you. When the day finally comes that your husband gives up his goat, I will be there waiting. I have loved you all along, so much so that I humbly write you this letter on the eve of your wedding. Begging you reconsider this blacksmith's offer and run away with me to Durant.<br><br>
But if not, know that I shall always be waiting.
Postcard
Hope you're all okay. We're having a wonderful time at the coast. Don't worry, we didn't forget to get that rock you love soo much. <br>Best wishes Mum and Dad x
Postcard #2
Your father is enjoying the fresh air. It does his morale good to be next to the sea again. We'll be home soon.<br>
Missing you<br>
Mum and Dad
Fundamental nutrition for kids
The best child is one reared on a diet rich in dairy. This adds a wonderful creaminess to the flesh when they reach the table age. Bearing in mind the complications of the child's weight is one important factor in raising. It is best, when a second child is available, to grow one to work and one to rest. In doing so you are providing a valuable resource for both lean and fatty meats. Whilst the children themselves may take issue with this tact, you can always remind them of the necessity of this charitable duty.
A traveller's journal
It has been a while since the road opened up in such a welcoming manner. I had to die only once on my journey across the plains. As unwelcome as the recollection is, I can't help but feel a tiny bit exhilarated. The memory of the pain has dulled but the fear , something about that fear. I watched as they consumed me, I remember my head lolled to the floor watching as they ravished my torso. It was surreal, I tingle a little recounting it. Do I welcome death, I don't know. At the present it was horrific, like something one would hope occurred only in damnation; but, when survived, it holds a fascination. An experience so vivid and in its nature true. The truth of death is something else.