K
Kimi_Mori
Guest
<table width="100%"> <tbody> <tr> <td> <table width="100%"> <tbody> <tr> <td>
<div style="text-align: center;"> <h1>Tales & Ale at YMCA</h1> </div> </td> <td>
</td> </tr> </tbody> </table>
Yew Merry Center for All. For you people that have no idea where, what is the Yew Cemetary is where it is. I am trying something new regarding the tales told last night. Instead of the order delivered I am trying to show them in alphabetical order of those that told them. Still this program I am using seems to think Gudrun needs to come after Jack & Maddwg. I am sure once I get the hang of it, it will get better.
I'm working with something new that fellow Reporter and News Manager Blind Otto of <a target="_blank" href=http://uo.stratics.com/news/SiegePerilous.shtml>Siege Perilous</a> recently made to help him with tales told on his shard. If you have seen some of his reports when they have story night on SP you will know what I speak of.
<table border="1" width="100%"> <tbody> <tr>
<td align="center">
by
Dor </td> <td>
</td> </tr> </tbody>
</table>
<table border="1" width="100%"> <tbody> <tr> <td>
I've one, if folk wish to hear it. This is a song titled:
<div style="text-align: center;"><big><span style="font-weight: bold;">Happily Ever After </span>
In days that have long passed,
There lived a beautiful mahogony lass
An unmarried and virtous princess, alas,
She was brave, and strong, and bold.
One morning while riding, no guard around,
Armed with sword should trouble abound,
She heard the most horrible sound,
And her nose burned of sulpher.
The sky it darkened, gave her horse a fright.
A dragon swooped, as black as night,
Grabbed the princess then out of sight
Her horse ran frightened home.
The king cried, "All knights be sworn!
Kill the dragon with your swords
Return my daughter for this reward,
That you may marry her."
The bravest knight in all the realm,
Young, handsome, and vain as hell.
Declared the maid his holy grail
And rode off to rescue her.
The knight he climbed up rugged heights
Snagged a run in his pristine tights
At cavern's shaft, he saw no lights
And heard no sound inside.
The knight called the dragon out,
But only a lady's voice came back
"I killed the dragon!", the lady shout
And stepped into the sun.
The princess dressed in scraps of cloth,
Her mahogany hair was all burned off
At muddy face, the knight scoffed,
"Can you clean before we go?"
The princess still in clothes undone,
Told the knight, "I work alone"
The knight rode inot the setting sun,
And the princess was happy thereafter.</big>
</div>
</td> </tr> </tbody> </table> </td> </tr> </tbody> </table> <table border="1" width="100%"> <tbody> <tr> <td align="center">
by
Jack Tallow </td> <td>
</td> </tr> </tbody> </table> <table border="1" width="100%"> <tbody> <tr> <td>
<div style="text-align: center;"><big>T'me me hearties, and what's that ye ask?
"What is a pirate?!" ye say?
It's when laps are just benches
god gave us fer wenches
and a "sail" ain't a low price to pay!
When yer timbers are shivered
yer lillies be livered
and e'ery last buckle be swashed
We'll fill up the bars
with shipfulls of AARS!
and pound back grog til we're sloshed!
We can't keep this fun to ourselves, ye bet
We say Arr! and Aye! every man!
Don't got a good grasp of the alphabet
but a damned good retirement plan!
T'me me hearties and what's that ye ask?
"What is a Pirate?!" ye say?
When whatever's in fahsion is in fer a thrashin
When it's e'ery man's duty
to grab up his beauty
and let out a hearty
YO HO!
And if we offends you
hold yer breath as we sends you
to Davey Jone's Locker below!
We all yearn and hanker
to heave ho and weigh anchor
and buy rum wiht pieces of 8
We fight to be chosen
as first mate er Bosen
and the loser be Davey's first mate!
When we hoists Jolly Roger
the landlubbers dodge her!
we fills em with loathin and fear
WE plunder an pillage
those cities and village
well, at least we clean the tavern of beer!
So hoist up yer mainsail;
and shut down yer braincells
they;'d only get in the way!
Avast there me hearty,m come down to the party
on the docks of ole Skara Brae!
</big></div> <div style="text-align: center;">
</div> <div style="text-align: center;"><big>A long time ago
way back in history
when there was nothing to drink
exceopt for cups of tea
Along came a man by the name o' Charlie Mopps
Adn he had him a special brew and he made it out of hops!
A bucket of malt, a bushel of hops
you stir it atround with a stick
the kind of lubrication
that'll make my engine tick!
an' it only costs a ha'penny and one in six in tac!
The Drunken Rat, the Fife adn Drum, O'Rourkes down in the dell
you can bet yer arse on
it's Charlie's beer they sell!
so all ye lads and lasses,
at eleven o'clock ye stop
and take five short seconds to remember Charlie Mopps!
HEY!
HE musta been an admiral, a sultan or a King!
And to his praises we shall always sing!
Look at what he done for us!
HE filled us up with cheer!
God bless ole Charlie Mopps
the man who invented BEER! </big>
</div>
</td> </tr> </tbody> </table> <table border="1" width="100%"> <tbody> <tr> <td align="center">
by
Maddwg </td> <td>
</td> </tr> </tbody> </table> <table border="1" width="100%"> <tbody> <tr> <td>
<div style="text-align: center;"><big>Episode Twenty-Three: Drastic Measures
</big></div> <div style="text-align: center;"><big>If Brady Bunch Watching-Care Bear-PAS Loving-Cookie Eatin'
-Goody-Goody Knights giggled, I would have.
But they don't.
Teehee
[Umm, that was a snicker.]
Today was the day of the 'Challenge of the Kooks'.
Death robes at ten paces!
Hmm.
Hours to kill. .
I was all dressed up and no place to go.
I had the worst armor I could find and weapons that would make a mongbat laugh.
Since DragonSnack was unable to accompany me yesterday
and the Challenge was no place for him either,
I decided to kill some time with him.
Digging in me Chest-O'-Leet-Stuff,
I grabbed 'Boink', my uber-goody-Trammie katana.
Everyone knows Heroes name their favorite weapon.
So, DragonSnack and I headed to the Cyclopian Temple area.
With Boink, those Cyclopian Warriors and Titans are no menace
"A nice outing for DS."; I thought.
When we arrived, we ganked a cyclops and decide to enter the temple.
As soon as I entered the Temple I was swarmed by a titan
and four Cyclopian warriors.
Normally, no big deal. But....
I was guickly seeing gray and thinking "WTF?" which came out ooOOoo.
DragonSnack agreed or his ghost did.
My spirit drifted to the shrine and the gears in my brain worked overtime.
Nothing.
With Boink, I should have ruined their day. I didn't get it.
Yeah, I'm slow sometimes.
Cough, always the brave, took my confused self back to the temple.
Inside, I raced through the awaiting throng and lured them away from my body.
I raced back down and grabbed my gear.
That first death was just a fluke, right?
I charged that pack of overgrown thugs, again.
I got in a couple of hits and ooOOoo.
As I ran back to the shrine, my brain finally connected the dots.
I was wearing my "Oh please kill me" set of junk armor.
Once Cough and I got back to the Temple, I applied the tactics of a coward,
luring one beast at a time to his doom. Only dying two more times!
Damn, I'm good!
With a backpack full of trinkets and the ghost of DragonSnack in tow,
I headed to the Haven Bank.
On my arrival, Parker walked over and checked out DragonSnack.
"Again?", was all he had to say.
He asked me to follow him and we went to a home. He had a friend that could rez.
While we waited, he explained how many things had disappeared from his home.
This got my attention, many things have disappeared from the lovely Karyn's home too.
She has been quite upset at what we had thought was the doing of "Glitch".
Now I wonder if it is that lowlife "Hacker". The fiendish putz.
Blossom Dom (E^E) arrived and rezzed DS.
Blossom asked me to go to Bucs Den in Fel and speak to Rambler.
Now, my spidey senses tingled.
Hahahaha. Yeah right.
I've known Rambler through my son. Rambler needed help, I was going.
He has always proven to be a man of honor.
I was right. No trap. He needed help. I gave it.
I will do so again if he needs. Money is nothing.
Honor and respect is everything. Well fun and humor count in there, too.
My wrist-hour-glass announced mere minutes to the challenge.
I dashed to the Fel Brit Bank to await that devious thief, Jack Tallow.
"Argh, Jack Tallow, I shall ruin thy day." I said.
Jack wasn't here. I banked Boink and waited. Ten minutes until we start.
As I wait, I contemplate what to do with DragonSnack.
I already have that one warning from the ASPCA. Another would be bad.
I hate putting him in the stables. I dismount and pace.
Oh, bandages. I'm out of those. I run to the tailor shop and cut pretty patterns from the cloth.
Pleased with my deft scissor use, I return to the bank and a happy DS on its roof.
Okay, that works. I mounted the roof and put him in charge. He was giddy.
Hmm, 7:02. Where is that incorrigble Jack? I'm anxious to put him in his place.
I wait a few more minutes before jumping on Cough and racing toward the Gate.
As I near the gate I see many 'blues' and 'reds' dashing hither and therether.
I race in singing.
Zap, poke, poke, zap, and I'm dead.
A fluke, I think as I race to a healer. I race back into the crowd.
Barnee Phife (S1N) says, "Hey Mad, wanna duel. You promised."
Duh, you bet. We agree to meet at Jhelom gate. He recalls away.
As I began to journey, smack, bang, zap, ooOOoo. Scarekrow missed my singing.
Awww, how sweet. Don't worry Scarekrow, I'll be back.
I run back to the healer and gate to Jhelom.
Barnee meets me there and we go to the farms.
We were joined by Lady Giggles (S1N) who watched on, very impressed I'm sure.
We dueled for a while, leaving me dead four times.
While we were dueling, I received word that Jack was cowering in Haven.
Begging my leave, I journeyed to that city.
I raced around in my calculated 'Chicken with it's head cut off' pattern.
Until I was calmly stopped by that heel, Jack.
We Exchanged the proper insults and went back to the Britain Bank.
We agreed to a thirty minute time limit and charged toward the gate.
The Challenge was on. Who could collect the most death robes!
We both arrived at the fight. I was barely able to get one line of a song out
and BAM, zoink, ping, ooOOoo.
I raced to the healer and back to the fight. One line of a song and crunch, ooOOoo.
You can die a lot faster if you don't heal and have no armor! (Make a note of that.)
I repeated this process and as I returned, someone questioned why
I was riding around naked.
"Cuz armor slows down getting killed, duh."
Bang, ping, ooOOoo.
And so it continued until time was up. I raced to the bank and laid out ten
deathrobes. Poof, they disappear. Sack-a-frackin-frikin timers!
hmm, where is Jack? It's braggin time.
I go back to the gate and find him hiding there. He lays out twelve death robes.
DOH!
I have been defeated by that scalawag, vagabond, thief!
Now I owe him twelve ales.
<span style="font-weight: bold;">*sighs*</span>
I still did get twenty robes in one day and sixteen in seventy-five minutes!
Har dee har har.
Stay tuned for the next Kookfest.
</big></div> <div style="text-align: center;">
</div> Thank you.
<div style="text-align: center;"><big><span style="font-weight: bold;">A dragon!</span>
eep
A dragon has come to our village today.
We've asked him to leave, but he won't go away.
Now he's talked to our king and they worked out a deal.
No homes will he burn and no crops will he steal.
Now there is but one catch, we dislike it a bunch.
Twice a year he invites him a virgin to lunch.
Well, we've no other choice, so the deal we'll respect.
But we can't help but wonder and pause to reflect.
Do virgins taste better than those who are not?
Are they salty, or sweeter, more juicy or what?
Do you savor them slowly? Gulp them down on the spot?
Do virgins taste better than those who are not?
Now we'd like to be shed you, and many have tried.
But no one can get through your thick scaly hide.
We hope that some day, some brave knight will come by.
'Cause we can't wait around 'til you're too fat to fly.
Now you have such good taste in your women for sure,
They always are pretty, they always are pure.
But your notion of dining, it makes us all flinch,
For your favorite entree is barbecued wench.
Now we've found a solution, it works out so neat,
If you insist on nothing but virgins to eat.
No more will our number ever grow small,
We'll simply make sure there's no virgins at all!
<span style="font-weight: bold;">The Dragon's Retort </span>
Now, I am a dragon. Please listen to me.
For I'm misunderstood to a dreadful degree.
This ecology needs me and I know my place.
But I'm fighting extinction with all of my race.
Well, I came to this village to better my health
Which is ever so poor, despite all my wealth.
But I get no assistance and no sympathy,
Just impertinent questioning shouted at me.
Yes, virgins taste better than those who are not.
But my favorite snack mixed with peril is fraught.
For my teeth will decay and my trim go to pot.
Yes, virgins taste better than those who are not.
Well, I'm really quite kind almost all through the year.
Vegetarian ways are now mine out of fear.
But a birthday needs sweets as I'm sure you'll agree.
And barbecued wench tastes like candy to me
As it happens our interests are almost the same.
You see I'm really quite skillful at managing game.
If I ate just your men, would your excess decline?
Of course not, the rest would just make better time.
Now, the number of babies a woman can bear
Has limits, and that's why my prunings done there.
And an orphan's a sad sight and so when I munch.
I'm careful to eat only virgins for lunch </big>
</div>
</td> </tr> </tbody> </table> <table border="1" width="100%"> <tbody> <tr> <td align="center">
by
Gudrun
</td> <td>
</td> </tr> </tbody> </table> <table border="1" width="100%"> <tbody> <tr> <td>
a song from the old country ;
<div style="text-align: center;"><big>It was on a fine summer's morning,
When the birds sweetly tuned on each bough;
I heard a fair maid sing most charming
As she sat a-milking her cow;
Her voice, it was chanting melodious,
She left me scarce able to go;
My heart it is soothed in solace,
My Cailn deas crite na mb.
With courtesy I did salute her,
Good-morrow, most amiable maid,
I'm your captive slave for the future.
Kind sir, do not banter, she said,
I'm not such a precious rare jewel,
That I should enamour you so;
I am but a plain country girl,
Says Cailn deas crite na mb.
The Indies afford no such jewel,
So precious and transparently fair,
Oh! do not to my flame add fuel,
But consent for to love me, my dear;
Take pity and grant my desire,
And leave me no longer in woe;
Oh! love me or else I'll expire,
Sweet Cailn deas crite na mb.
Or had I the wealth of great Damer,
Or all on the African shore,
Or had I great Devonshire treasure,
Or had I ten thousand times more,
Or had I the lamp of Alladin,
Or had I his genie also,
I'd rather live poor on a mountain,
With Cailn deas crite na mb.
I beg you'll withdraw and don't tease me;
I cannot consent unto thee.
I like to live single and airy,
Till more of the world I do see.
New cares they would me embarrass,
Besides, sir, my fortune is low,
Until I get rich I'll not marry,
Says Cailn deas crite na mb.
An old maid is like an old almanack,
Quite useless when once out of date;
If her ware is not sold in the morning
At noon it must fall to low rate.
The fragrance of May is soon over,
The rose loses its beauty, you know;
All bloom is consumed in October,
Sweet Cailn deas crite na mb.
A young maid is like a ship sailing,
There's no knowing how long she may steer,
For with every blast she's in danger;
Oh! consent, love, and banish all care.
For riches I care not a farthing,
Your affection I want and no more;
In comfort I'd wish to enjoy you,
My Cailn deas crite na mb.. </big>
</div> <div style="text-align: center;">
</div> Ok, A song from me old days
<div style="text-align: center;"><big>I'm Scotch and I'm married, two things I can't help,
I'm married - but I have no wife -
For she bolted and left me - but that's nothing new,
It happens sae often in life.
So I journeyed tae London, for that's where she'd gone
With her lover to hide her disgrace.
And though London's a big town I swore I'd not rest
Till I'd searched every street in the place.
And I tramped - how I tramped - weary mile upon mile
Till exhausted and ready ta drop.
I would not give in, so I climbed on a coach,
And took a front seat on the top.
We came to a halt in a brightly lit square
To my joy, there ma lassie I spied,
Looking weary and worn, but thank heaven - ALONE
From my heart -'Maggie - Maggie' I cried.
She gasped with delight as I rose from ma seat,
But a harrowing thought made me wince,
I couldna get off - for I'd just paid ma fare,
AND I'VE NEVER CAUGHT SIGHT OF HER SINCE. </big>
</div> <div style="text-align: center;">
</div> a song about.... Woad...
<div style="text-align: center;"><big>Whats the use of wearing braces
vests and pants and boots with laces
spats or hats you buy in places
down on brompton road
Whats the use of shirts of cotton
studs that always get forgotten
these affairs are simply rotten
better far is woad
Woad's the stuff to show them
woad to scare your foemen
boil it to, a brill-iant hue
and rub it on your back and your ab-do-men
Ancient briton never hit on
anything as good as woad to fit on
neck or knees or where you sit on
tailors you be blowed
Romans came across the channel
all dressed up in tin and flannel
half a pint of woad per man'll
dress us more than these
Saxons you can waste your stitches
building beds for bugs in britches
we have woad to clothe us which is
not a nest for fleas
Romans keep your armor
saxons your pyjama
hairy coats were meant for goats
gorillas, yaks, retriever dogs and llama
Tramp up snowdon with your woad on
never mind if we get rained or snowed on
never want a button sewed on
go it like ancient Britons </big>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div> a song for men on the go...
<div style="text-align: center;"><big>I gazed at her body, an' what did I see </big>
<big>Keepin me from where I wanna be </big>
<big>That cruel contraption lookin' back at me </big>
<big>Where did he hide that key! </big>
<big>Come free, damned chastity belt </big>
<big>Keepin' me from where I wanna go </big>
<big>Come free, damned chastity belt </big>
<big>Quick before her husband comes home </big>
<big>I searched high and low for that damned key </big>
<big>where in the hell could it be? </big>
<big>I've got a hard on stiff as a tree </big>
<big>I've got to get that damned thing free!! </big>
<big>Come free, damned chastity belt </big>
<big>Keepin' me from where I wanna go </big>
<big>Come free, damned chastity belt </big>
<big>Quick before her husband comes home </big>
<big>I looked out the window and over the lea </big>
<big>Past the cliff out leagues three </big>
<big>Her husbands vessel comin' in from sea </big>
<big>Pretty soon I'll have to flee </big>
<big>Come free, damned chastity belt </big>
<big>Keepin' me from where I wanna go </big>
<big>Come free, damned chastity belt </big>
<big>Quick before her husband comes home </big>
</div>
</td> </tr> </tbody> </table> <table border="1" width="100%"> <tbody> <tr> <td align="center">
by
Rumil of Lorain </td> <td>
</td> </tr> </tbody> </table> <table border="1" width="100%"> <tbody> <tr> <td>
the tale I tell tonight is called The Ragged Man
<div style="text-align: center;"><big>The ragged man dreamed. He knew he was dreaming.
There his children laughed and played in the rose garden.
Here his wife smiled at him, the love in her eyes like the touch of the Sun.
Gone were the blood and the screams. Gone was the rage,
pain and fear as they staked him down and forced him to watch
the savage torments they inflicted
on those he loved more than life itself
While he dreamed like this he was sane again and happy for a while.
Sometimes the dreams were darker
Sleep was an enemy then.
A betrayer unimpressed with the screams of his children haunting his every waking hour,
allowing the agony to intrude into his fortress of dreams.
Rarer still were those times when he watched the tragedy unfold disp*$$ionately,
a mere observer watching with a curious detachment.
In these dreams he could see the point when the screams snapped his mind
and his old self fled deeper and deeper into the false sanctuary of madness.
There almost seemed to be another watcher in those dreams.
railing impotently at him, at what hed become.
This others voice was always quiet as though shouting from a distance.
The ragged man ignored it.
One thing was constant. Whenever the ragged man awoke he wished he hadnt.
His first waking act of every day for the past few months,
had been to sob like a child,
curled wherever he had lain the night before.
The villagers were kind enough and gave him food in exchange for odd jobs.
Mad he may have been but the ragged man was strong as an ox.
There was always some work simple enough for him to do,
usually work that would have taken two or three of the stout village men to accomplish.
Marak knew none of this as he paused in the act of opening the small tavern door.
He looked at the huge,
rag-clothed man sobbing at the side of the street,
and a sense of almost recognition touched him.
He let the door fall shut and turned towards the ragged man for a better look.
As soon as he moved the ragged man looked up,
eyes wild with fear and fled down the single street
"He never takes to strangers that one" came a voice.
Marak turned to regard the speaker and saw a slim young man standing
in the now open door of the tavern.
Wisps of blonde hair had struggled free of the dark blue kerchief that covered his head.
His green eyes, rare this far north,
regarded the short gray haired bowman before him intently.
It was a small enough village that strangers were always a source of interest,
and often of suspicion.
Marak inclined his head. "Strange to see so large a man so frightened"
he said his eastern origin making the northern tongue suddenly musical.
"The ragged man isnt quite right in the head" replied the youth.
He stepped back into the doorway,
making room for Marak to enter the inn. "Im Arvin," he continued.
"Please come in and we can talk inside.
Ill wager the dust of the trail is still coating your mouth".
Marak bowed deeper this time, moving his arms clear of his body,
palms facing the young innkeep.
"I am Marak of Briarwood and I thank you for your invitation and your trust".
He stepped smoothly past Arvin who was impressed despite himself at the strangers courtesy.
The inn was a small but well kept place with large windows that
let in the pale northern sun.
A large oak table ran along the western wall
with a single long bench on either side for the patrons to seat themselves.
Smaller tables dotted the rest of the floor and a sturdy looking bar
ran along the southern wall,
pitted and scored from years of use but still polished and clean.
A small doorway led from behind the bar,
probably to the kitchens guessed Marak.
Indeed a plump young woman was peeping round the frame at the sound of voices.
Marak looked at her pretty round face with approval.
He rarely admitted it, even to himself,
but one of the reasons for traveling so far from Fort Briarwood,
was that the women there were too delicate for his taste.
Arvin noticed her to and a smile broke out on his face.
"Lena my dove this is Marak, come from Briarwood of all places".
Marak bowed again as Lena smiled warmly at him.
"Welcome to you Marak" she said, smiling at the sound of his name.
"Would you like some tea?
You strike me as a man who has the decency to let the sun awaken properly
before his thirst for ale does."
She looked pointedly at Arvin as she spoke and he rolled his eyes,
Obviously this was a conversation often heard in this household.
The small bowman found himself warming to the young couple.
"A glass of water would see me in your debt good lady" he replied.
"I do not drink." He smiled apologetically at Arvin,
knowing his wife would probably add this to her store of arguments against his drinking.
Lena grinned at Marak as if she shared the same thought
and moved back through the small door.
Arvin motioned Marak to a chair and they both sat at one of the small tables.
"So our ragged man interests you does he?" asked Arvin, eyebrows raised.
"I would have thought that a man as traveled as yourself
would have seen many things more interesting than that poor soul."
Marak divested himself of his unstrung bow and placed the weapon and quiver
onto an adjoining table,
"He seemed familiar to me," replied the easterner.
"Would you have time to tell me how he came to be here?"
Lena arrived back in the taproom and handed Marak a large clay cup full of cool water.
Marak raised the cup to her in thanks and turned his attention back to Arvin.
The innkeep shrugged. "Little enough to tell my friend" he said.
"He arrived here one night some months back, red eyed and wailing like a child.
Arvins eyes took on a far away look as he thought back.
"Naked he was and covered in wounds,
the skin around his ankles and wrists were black with blood".
He stood and moved behind the bar,
casting a guilty glance towards the kitchens as he poured himself
a small measure of ale.
"I can hear you well enough Arvin" came Lenas voice from the doorway.
"Make sure thats your one and only before tonight, theres work to be done".
Her voice carried an undertone of amusement and Marak guessed Arvins
drinking was no real problem,
merely a vehicle for some good-natured wrangling between husband and wife.
Arvin grinned like a naughty child as he sat back at the table.
"Caused quite a stir he did,
" he continued. "No-one knew what to make of him at first".
Arvin took a small sip of ale,
licking the froth from his lips with obvious relish.
"Some wanted him driven away in case whatever had wounded him so followed him here".
Arvin smiled and looked again to the kitchens as he spoke. "Others, my Lena among them,
would hear nothing of such an action.
They bathed him and treated his wounds as best they could.
" The inkeeps smile fell. "Sobbed the whole time he did, rocking back and forth.
Nothing we could say seemed to get through to him. Wherever he was that
night his spirit is there still".
He locked eyes with Marak's.
"You dont need to be a priest or a thaumist to know wherever he is its somewhere bad".
The eastern bowman looked somber as he heard the tale and shook his head,
wondering anew at the cruelty that the world allowed to crawl across her skin.
Arvin moved his cup and leant his elbows on the table.
"Now he does the odd job around the village for food and shelter in barns and the like.
He was no beggar before he came here thats for certain".
Marak also leant forward, his interest piqued. "How so?" he asked.
"Youve seen the size of the man," he said. "Its not simple bulk.
Hes muscled like Ive rarely seen.
My own father was a bear of a man and the ragged man would have dwarfed him".
Arvin shook his head wonderingly.
"Sometimes his eyes almost seem to clear and he stands tall and proud.
Most of the time hes almost crouched as though he doesnt want to be noticed.
" He sighed. "I suppose the weight of such terrible memories,
whatever they may be, can bow the strongest back".
The small easterner nodded slowly,
Marak shook the thoughts from his head; he had more corporeal matters to attend to.
"Would I be able to lodge here Arvin?" he asked.
"A night in a real bed after so long on the road would be most welcome".
Arvin stood, picking up Maraks small pack as he did so. "Of course my friend"
he replied.
"The rooms are both small but Lena keeps them well cleaned.
Itll be two copper pieces for a night and that will include your meal this evening.
" He led Marak through the door behind the bar and through another door
on the immediate right.
This led to a cramped staircase that led a short way up to the guest rooms.
The innkeep chose the furthest door and motioned Marak into the room.
As Arvin had said it was small but clean and the large window
looked out onto the village street.
A table stood beneath the window, bearing a jar full of fresh mountain daisies.
Marak felt at home almost immediately.
He counted out two copper coins and handed them to Arvin, smiling his thanks.
Arvin nodded in return.
"If you go into the village you can expect a lot of questions my friend.
The last bit of excitement we had here was the ragged man
and youll cause almost as big a stir as he did,
seeing as how most of us here have never seen an easterner before".
Marak bowed slightly, grateful for the warning.
The bowmans voice stopped Arvin as he turned to leave.
"And do you have no questions of your own Arvin?"
he asked, eyebrows raised. Arvin pulled the blue kerchief from his head as he spoke.
"A few if Im honest" he admitted. "Firstly though Im an innkeeper.
Im here to make sure youre comfortable and happy here if you stay,
not to badger guests with questions".
He laughed as he left the room.
"And of course Im here to charge you for the privilege.
Dinner will be served an hour after sundown Marak, Ill see you then if not before."
The door closed leaving Marak alone with his thoughts. He moved to the window,
throwing it open to hear the sounds of the village children and the
hammering of the smithy.
Such sounds comforted the easterner, accustomed as he was to the sounds
of the bugle and horn,
the screams and shouts of too many battlefields.
Should the townsfolk ask him questions Marak thought they would be disappointed
with the simple answers he had to give them.
There was no mystery as to why he was here.
The northern highlands were simply one place he had never seen and so here he was.
His skill with a bow, far above the ordinary if truth were told,
had allowed him to wander as he wished,
mostly as part of some mercenary force but sometimes his money was won in tourneys.
On the whole Marak preferred to fire his arrows at straw rather than living targets.
Living targets simply paid better.
Marak moved the bed closer to the wall and sat cross-legged upon the floor,
allowing the everyday sounds of simple life to lull him into the dream state.
Perhaps here would come the elusive answer to the puzzle of the ragged man.
At sundown the easterner was still deep in the dream state.
Arvin had neglected to mention that today was the birthday of Kalliy Forswelds
three young daughters.
The triplets had been born eight winters ago, nearly coming into the world as orphans,
as the long labour exacted a terrible toll on poor Kalliy.
She had lived though and the villagers saw her three golden haired daughters
as a special gift from the All-Father.
As such their birthdays were a time of togetherness in the small village,
and the people gathered in the small square outside the inn to thank the Father
and make a fuss of the girls.
The noise of the gathering did not intrude into Maraks trance,
even when Arvin and Lena began distributing rounds of free ale,
as was their wont on this occasion.
Neither did the sound of hoof beats rouse him,
or the startled shouts of the villagers as the score of horsemen
enclosed them in a rough semi-circle.
They were all well armed but less well armoured.
The riders all had a hard look about them and a coldness in the eyes.
Their clothes, once well made, were now travel-worn and moth-eaten.
One of them, a broad shouldered man with an axe slung across his back
leapt from his horse as two others knocked arrows to their bows.
The leader of the men smiled nastily as he looked at the frightened
villagers before him.
These small hamlets were always the same he mused.
Never enough money or women in them to make it worthwhile really.
He smiled again. They were just so easy.
He unslung his axe and raised his voice so the assembled villagers could hear.
"Who we are doesnt matter,"
he said in a voice made harsh by strong drink and a meanness of soul.
"You know why we are here." He glanced around the frightened group,
satisfied that none would meet his eyes.
"What little money you have and maybe a woman or two and well be gone".
Behind him his men laughed quietly to each other, confident of another easy raid.
They hadnt even had to kill anyone for weeks.
They still did it of course and found it to be a much more pleasurable experience
when the victim wasnt trying to kill you in return.
To these men murder was a far better proposition than actual fighting.
The leader turned as Arvin walked towards him,
ignoring Lena's clutching arm and frightened look.
"What little we have we work hard for" he said,
surprised at the steadiness of his own voice.
"You will take nothing from us without a fight".
It looked as though Arvin was about to say more but the bandit leader
simply backhanded him across the face,
lifting the young man from his feet and pitching him into the dirt.
His expression never changed as he watched Arvin roll onto his back,
clutching at his shattered jaw.
The horsemen laughed again, louder this time.
The leader glanced toward the three pretty blonde girls
clutching at their mothers skirts and gazing with wide, fearful eyes.
"Choka, Tom, cover those girls".
The bowmen swung round to point their arrows at the triplets.
"If anyone else tries anything the young ones there will be the first to die."
The girls began to wail as Kalliy pulled them closer. "Not my babies!
" she screamed.
"Dont kill my little ones!" The bandit leader began to
walk towards the children,
pulling a knife from a scabbard with his free hand,
determined to show these idiot villagers he wouldnt balk
from the slaying of babes.
Everybody turned as one at the bloodcurdling scream that
sounded from behind the inn,
and in his room Maraks eyes flicked open, a name burning across his mind.
"The Ghosthammer,"
he whispered, just as all hell broke loose in the village square.
The ragged man had hidden as soon as the riders had appeared.
Dimly he remembered men such as these.
Cold men. Killers.
He cowered behind the inn almost gibbering in his unreasoning terror,
tears streaming down his face.
Then he heard once more the screams of children,
and the voice "Dont kill my little ones!"
The screams tore into his mind like a hurricane and he fell to the earth,
hands over his ears, trying to block out the terrible sounds.
He could not escape them.
With the voices outside shut out he fell prey to the screams inside his head.
The screams of his own little ones as their lives were taken from them.
The ragged man screamed himself a shocking sound of pain and loss
and again something in his mind snapped.
This time it was the prison in which his old self had languished for so long,
driven there by his madness and grief.
His scream changed to one of rage, a fury denied for too long,
a fury that could cow the dark lady herself. The ragged man rose,
his tears stopping as his eyes cleared and he charged from behind the inn.
The bandit leader was hurled from his feet as the huge warrior,
no longer the ragged man but the Ghosthammer once more cannoned a
fist into his face.
The crunch of bone was clearly audible as his neck snapped under
the force of the assault.
As he fell the Ghosthammer plucked his axe from the air without slowing
and tore into the shocked horsemen like a black wind.
Two arrows slashed into the throats of the bowmen,
following so fast upon each other
that the villagers believed there were two bowmen in the inns front bedroom.
The Ghosthammer was moving with a speed that belied his great size.
In the midst of so many riders he should have been dead in the first charge.
His axe was a blur as it hacked and slashed into the now terrified bandits.
Arrows continued to rain down,
each one perfectly targeted, each one finding its mark in unprotected flesh.
The Ghosthammer slammed a backhand blow with his fist
into the face of a horse pressing in behind him.
The beast fell as if pole-axed, crushing its rider beneath it as it went down.
He dodged two slashes from a cavalry sabre,
disemboweling the wielder even as he plucked another rider from his
saddle with the other hand,
throwing him to the ground with crushing force.
Between the unceasing hail of death coming from the inn and the
savage attack of the huge warrior
what little nerve the bandits had broke
and those few that survived wheeled their mounts to escape.
Again showing uncanny speed for a man so large the Ghosthammer gave chase.
Marak felled another three,
one of his arrows punching through the back of a riders
skull and somersaulting him from his saddle.
The huge warrior hurled his shoulder into one horse,
pitching it from its feet.
The last rider had made too much ground to catch on foot.
The hurled axe cannoned into his back,
smashing his spine and tearing from his chest such was the
force with which it was thrown.
Now Ghosthammer towered over the last bandit
whose wide-eyed terror was like a soothing balm over his tortured soul.
"And now you die killer of children" he said, his voice low and chilling.
The Ghosthammer raised a huge foot and slammed it into the bandits skull,
crushing the life form him instantly.
He turned back to the village square to see the villagers looking at him in amazement.
Moments ago there had stood the ragged man. The weeping giant who was to be pitied.
Now there stood the man who had broken the ranks of the black priests
elite guard at the battle of Darkisle.
There stood the man who had stood over the fallen princess of Taramir,
killing the dozen men who had sought the young princess's life.
Here stood the unkillable. Here stood a legend. Here stood the Ghosthammer.
</big>
</div> Since we have the Evil Empire in the house here is a short poem they may like
<div style="text-align: center;"><big>Hear us ride,
Taste despair,
O bitter despair,
As we descend,
Hooves beating on your bones.
See our darkness,
Swirling around us,
Cloaking our steeds,
Our steeds from the depths,
The depths of Hell.
Feel the fear,
As its cold finger touches your heart,
Touches the core of your being,
Emanating from us,
Feel it freeze your soul.
Smell your death,
The freshly turned earth,
Atop your grave,
Its weight upon you,
Forever.
</big>
</div>
Now for the womens vote <span style="font-weight: bold;">*winks all around*
</span> <div style="text-align: center;"><big>The wind whispered
I heard the wind.
Today I heard the wind in the trees.
I heard it whisper your name.
and as I heard the wind whisper I was awed by you.
what you are inside humbles me.
when I think of you I see many things of great beauty about you.
I see your eyes with all the gentleness of a rose.
your voice that makes we think of the waves on the sea shore
and your skin soft and delicate like the clouds
your hair flowing and free in the wind
and most of all your spirit.
which is more beautifull than I could possibly imagine.
more beautifull than I could ever describe
and so beautifull that I can not help myself.
I want to know all about you.
all your hopes and your dreams.
your fears and desires.
</big>
</div>
Since me making next week is slim to none I leave you with one more
<div style="text-align: center;"><big>I am weary
Kiss me mother kiss your darlin'
Lay my head upon your breast
Throw your loving arms around me
I am weary let me rest
Seems the light is swiftly fading
Brighter scenes they do now show
I am standing by the river
Angels wait to take me home
Kiss me mother kiss your darlin'
See the pain upon my brow
While I'll soon be with the angels
Fate has doomed my future now
Through the years you've always loved me
And my life you've tried to save
But now I shall slumber sweetly
In a deep and lonely grave
Kiss me mother kiss your darlin'
Lay my head upon your breast
Throw your loving arms around me
I am weary let me rest </big>
</div>
</td> </tr> </tbody> </table> <div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">Thus ends another night at the Yew Merry Center for All. So many tales were told during my presents and they were still going strong when I left just before the bewitching hour here. [By now you all know I am two hours ahead of server time] So if you have nothing to do on Friday night or you are bored with Pvm or PvP, or just broke, try the YMCA on Friday night, if your tale is picked by all there as the best for the evening you may win 25k. Alas no winners were announced last night as all there felt they were all winners. Hope to see you next week people, till them have fun and be safe.
</div> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;"> <h1>Tales & Ale at YMCA</h1> </div> </td> <td>
Yew Merry Center for All. For you people that have no idea where, what is the Yew Cemetary is where it is. I am trying something new regarding the tales told last night. Instead of the order delivered I am trying to show them in alphabetical order of those that told them. Still this program I am using seems to think Gudrun needs to come after Jack & Maddwg. I am sure once I get the hang of it, it will get better.
I'm working with something new that fellow Reporter and News Manager Blind Otto of <a target="_blank" href=http://uo.stratics.com/news/SiegePerilous.shtml>Siege Perilous</a> recently made to help him with tales told on his shard. If you have seen some of his reports when they have story night on SP you will know what I speak of.
<table border="1" width="100%"> <tbody> <tr>
<td align="center">
by
Dor </td> <td>
</td> </tr> </tbody>
</table>
<table border="1" width="100%"> <tbody> <tr> <td>
I've one, if folk wish to hear it. This is a song titled:
<div style="text-align: center;"><big><span style="font-weight: bold;">Happily Ever After </span>
In days that have long passed,
There lived a beautiful mahogony lass
An unmarried and virtous princess, alas,
She was brave, and strong, and bold.
One morning while riding, no guard around,
Armed with sword should trouble abound,
She heard the most horrible sound,
And her nose burned of sulpher.
The sky it darkened, gave her horse a fright.
A dragon swooped, as black as night,
Grabbed the princess then out of sight
Her horse ran frightened home.
The king cried, "All knights be sworn!
Kill the dragon with your swords
Return my daughter for this reward,
That you may marry her."
The bravest knight in all the realm,
Young, handsome, and vain as hell.
Declared the maid his holy grail
And rode off to rescue her.
The knight he climbed up rugged heights
Snagged a run in his pristine tights
At cavern's shaft, he saw no lights
And heard no sound inside.
The knight called the dragon out,
But only a lady's voice came back
"I killed the dragon!", the lady shout
And stepped into the sun.
The princess dressed in scraps of cloth,
Her mahogany hair was all burned off
At muddy face, the knight scoffed,
"Can you clean before we go?"
The princess still in clothes undone,
Told the knight, "I work alone"
The knight rode inot the setting sun,
And the princess was happy thereafter.</big>
</div>
</td> </tr> </tbody> </table> </td> </tr> </tbody> </table> <table border="1" width="100%"> <tbody> <tr> <td align="center">
by
Jack Tallow </td> <td>
</td> </tr> </tbody> </table> <table border="1" width="100%"> <tbody> <tr> <td>
<div style="text-align: center;"><big>T'me me hearties, and what's that ye ask?
"What is a pirate?!" ye say?
It's when laps are just benches
god gave us fer wenches
and a "sail" ain't a low price to pay!
When yer timbers are shivered
yer lillies be livered
and e'ery last buckle be swashed
We'll fill up the bars
with shipfulls of AARS!
and pound back grog til we're sloshed!
We can't keep this fun to ourselves, ye bet
We say Arr! and Aye! every man!
Don't got a good grasp of the alphabet
but a damned good retirement plan!
T'me me hearties and what's that ye ask?
"What is a Pirate?!" ye say?
When whatever's in fahsion is in fer a thrashin
When it's e'ery man's duty
to grab up his beauty
and let out a hearty
YO HO!
And if we offends you
hold yer breath as we sends you
to Davey Jone's Locker below!
We all yearn and hanker
to heave ho and weigh anchor
and buy rum wiht pieces of 8
We fight to be chosen
as first mate er Bosen
and the loser be Davey's first mate!
When we hoists Jolly Roger
the landlubbers dodge her!
we fills em with loathin and fear
WE plunder an pillage
those cities and village
well, at least we clean the tavern of beer!
So hoist up yer mainsail;
and shut down yer braincells
they;'d only get in the way!
Avast there me hearty,m come down to the party
on the docks of ole Skara Brae!
</big></div> <div style="text-align: center;">
</div> <div style="text-align: center;"><big>A long time ago
way back in history
when there was nothing to drink
exceopt for cups of tea
Along came a man by the name o' Charlie Mopps
Adn he had him a special brew and he made it out of hops!
A bucket of malt, a bushel of hops
you stir it atround with a stick
the kind of lubrication
that'll make my engine tick!
an' it only costs a ha'penny and one in six in tac!
The Drunken Rat, the Fife adn Drum, O'Rourkes down in the dell
you can bet yer arse on
it's Charlie's beer they sell!
so all ye lads and lasses,
at eleven o'clock ye stop
and take five short seconds to remember Charlie Mopps!
HEY!
HE musta been an admiral, a sultan or a King!
And to his praises we shall always sing!
Look at what he done for us!
HE filled us up with cheer!
God bless ole Charlie Mopps
the man who invented BEER! </big>
</div>
</td> </tr> </tbody> </table> <table border="1" width="100%"> <tbody> <tr> <td align="center">
by
Maddwg </td> <td>
</td> </tr> </tbody> </table> <table border="1" width="100%"> <tbody> <tr> <td>
<div style="text-align: center;"><big>Episode Twenty-Three: Drastic Measures
</big></div> <div style="text-align: center;"><big>If Brady Bunch Watching-Care Bear-PAS Loving-Cookie Eatin'
-Goody-Goody Knights giggled, I would have.
But they don't.
Teehee
[Umm, that was a snicker.]
Today was the day of the 'Challenge of the Kooks'.
Death robes at ten paces!
Hmm.
Hours to kill. .
I was all dressed up and no place to go.
I had the worst armor I could find and weapons that would make a mongbat laugh.
Since DragonSnack was unable to accompany me yesterday
and the Challenge was no place for him either,
I decided to kill some time with him.
Digging in me Chest-O'-Leet-Stuff,
I grabbed 'Boink', my uber-goody-Trammie katana.
Everyone knows Heroes name their favorite weapon.
So, DragonSnack and I headed to the Cyclopian Temple area.
With Boink, those Cyclopian Warriors and Titans are no menace
"A nice outing for DS."; I thought.
When we arrived, we ganked a cyclops and decide to enter the temple.
As soon as I entered the Temple I was swarmed by a titan
and four Cyclopian warriors.
Normally, no big deal. But....
I was guickly seeing gray and thinking "WTF?" which came out ooOOoo.
DragonSnack agreed or his ghost did.
My spirit drifted to the shrine and the gears in my brain worked overtime.
Nothing.
With Boink, I should have ruined their day. I didn't get it.
Yeah, I'm slow sometimes.
Cough, always the brave, took my confused self back to the temple.
Inside, I raced through the awaiting throng and lured them away from my body.
I raced back down and grabbed my gear.
That first death was just a fluke, right?
I charged that pack of overgrown thugs, again.
I got in a couple of hits and ooOOoo.
As I ran back to the shrine, my brain finally connected the dots.
I was wearing my "Oh please kill me" set of junk armor.
Once Cough and I got back to the Temple, I applied the tactics of a coward,
luring one beast at a time to his doom. Only dying two more times!
Damn, I'm good!
With a backpack full of trinkets and the ghost of DragonSnack in tow,
I headed to the Haven Bank.
On my arrival, Parker walked over and checked out DragonSnack.
"Again?", was all he had to say.
He asked me to follow him and we went to a home. He had a friend that could rez.
While we waited, he explained how many things had disappeared from his home.
This got my attention, many things have disappeared from the lovely Karyn's home too.
She has been quite upset at what we had thought was the doing of "Glitch".
Now I wonder if it is that lowlife "Hacker". The fiendish putz.
Blossom Dom (E^E) arrived and rezzed DS.
Blossom asked me to go to Bucs Den in Fel and speak to Rambler.
Now, my spidey senses tingled.
Hahahaha. Yeah right.
I've known Rambler through my son. Rambler needed help, I was going.
He has always proven to be a man of honor.
I was right. No trap. He needed help. I gave it.
I will do so again if he needs. Money is nothing.
Honor and respect is everything. Well fun and humor count in there, too.
My wrist-hour-glass announced mere minutes to the challenge.
I dashed to the Fel Brit Bank to await that devious thief, Jack Tallow.
"Argh, Jack Tallow, I shall ruin thy day." I said.
Jack wasn't here. I banked Boink and waited. Ten minutes until we start.
As I wait, I contemplate what to do with DragonSnack.
I already have that one warning from the ASPCA. Another would be bad.
I hate putting him in the stables. I dismount and pace.
Oh, bandages. I'm out of those. I run to the tailor shop and cut pretty patterns from the cloth.
Pleased with my deft scissor use, I return to the bank and a happy DS on its roof.
Okay, that works. I mounted the roof and put him in charge. He was giddy.
Hmm, 7:02. Where is that incorrigble Jack? I'm anxious to put him in his place.
I wait a few more minutes before jumping on Cough and racing toward the Gate.
As I near the gate I see many 'blues' and 'reds' dashing hither and therether.
I race in singing.
Zap, poke, poke, zap, and I'm dead.
A fluke, I think as I race to a healer. I race back into the crowd.
Barnee Phife (S1N) says, "Hey Mad, wanna duel. You promised."
Duh, you bet. We agree to meet at Jhelom gate. He recalls away.
As I began to journey, smack, bang, zap, ooOOoo. Scarekrow missed my singing.
Awww, how sweet. Don't worry Scarekrow, I'll be back.
I run back to the healer and gate to Jhelom.
Barnee meets me there and we go to the farms.
We were joined by Lady Giggles (S1N) who watched on, very impressed I'm sure.
We dueled for a while, leaving me dead four times.
While we were dueling, I received word that Jack was cowering in Haven.
Begging my leave, I journeyed to that city.
I raced around in my calculated 'Chicken with it's head cut off' pattern.
Until I was calmly stopped by that heel, Jack.
We Exchanged the proper insults and went back to the Britain Bank.
We agreed to a thirty minute time limit and charged toward the gate.
The Challenge was on. Who could collect the most death robes!
We both arrived at the fight. I was barely able to get one line of a song out
and BAM, zoink, ping, ooOOoo.
I raced to the healer and back to the fight. One line of a song and crunch, ooOOoo.
You can die a lot faster if you don't heal and have no armor! (Make a note of that.)
I repeated this process and as I returned, someone questioned why
I was riding around naked.
"Cuz armor slows down getting killed, duh."
Bang, ping, ooOOoo.
And so it continued until time was up. I raced to the bank and laid out ten
deathrobes. Poof, they disappear. Sack-a-frackin-frikin timers!
hmm, where is Jack? It's braggin time.
I go back to the gate and find him hiding there. He lays out twelve death robes.
DOH!
I have been defeated by that scalawag, vagabond, thief!
Now I owe him twelve ales.
<span style="font-weight: bold;">*sighs*</span>
I still did get twenty robes in one day and sixteen in seventy-five minutes!
Har dee har har.
Stay tuned for the next Kookfest.
</big></div> <div style="text-align: center;">
</div> Thank you.
<div style="text-align: center;"><big><span style="font-weight: bold;">A dragon!</span>
eep
A dragon has come to our village today.
We've asked him to leave, but he won't go away.
Now he's talked to our king and they worked out a deal.
No homes will he burn and no crops will he steal.
Now there is but one catch, we dislike it a bunch.
Twice a year he invites him a virgin to lunch.
Well, we've no other choice, so the deal we'll respect.
But we can't help but wonder and pause to reflect.
Do virgins taste better than those who are not?
Are they salty, or sweeter, more juicy or what?
Do you savor them slowly? Gulp them down on the spot?
Do virgins taste better than those who are not?
Now we'd like to be shed you, and many have tried.
But no one can get through your thick scaly hide.
We hope that some day, some brave knight will come by.
'Cause we can't wait around 'til you're too fat to fly.
Now you have such good taste in your women for sure,
They always are pretty, they always are pure.
But your notion of dining, it makes us all flinch,
For your favorite entree is barbecued wench.
Now we've found a solution, it works out so neat,
If you insist on nothing but virgins to eat.
No more will our number ever grow small,
We'll simply make sure there's no virgins at all!
<span style="font-weight: bold;">The Dragon's Retort </span>
Now, I am a dragon. Please listen to me.
For I'm misunderstood to a dreadful degree.
This ecology needs me and I know my place.
But I'm fighting extinction with all of my race.
Well, I came to this village to better my health
Which is ever so poor, despite all my wealth.
But I get no assistance and no sympathy,
Just impertinent questioning shouted at me.
Yes, virgins taste better than those who are not.
But my favorite snack mixed with peril is fraught.
For my teeth will decay and my trim go to pot.
Yes, virgins taste better than those who are not.
Well, I'm really quite kind almost all through the year.
Vegetarian ways are now mine out of fear.
But a birthday needs sweets as I'm sure you'll agree.
And barbecued wench tastes like candy to me
As it happens our interests are almost the same.
You see I'm really quite skillful at managing game.
If I ate just your men, would your excess decline?
Of course not, the rest would just make better time.
Now, the number of babies a woman can bear
Has limits, and that's why my prunings done there.
And an orphan's a sad sight and so when I munch.
I'm careful to eat only virgins for lunch </big>
</div>
</td> </tr> </tbody> </table> <table border="1" width="100%"> <tbody> <tr> <td align="center">
by
Gudrun
</td> <td>
</td> </tr> </tbody> </table> <table border="1" width="100%"> <tbody> <tr> <td>
a song from the old country ;
<div style="text-align: center;"><big>It was on a fine summer's morning,
When the birds sweetly tuned on each bough;
I heard a fair maid sing most charming
As she sat a-milking her cow;
Her voice, it was chanting melodious,
She left me scarce able to go;
My heart it is soothed in solace,
My Cailn deas crite na mb.
With courtesy I did salute her,
Good-morrow, most amiable maid,
I'm your captive slave for the future.
Kind sir, do not banter, she said,
I'm not such a precious rare jewel,
That I should enamour you so;
I am but a plain country girl,
Says Cailn deas crite na mb.
The Indies afford no such jewel,
So precious and transparently fair,
Oh! do not to my flame add fuel,
But consent for to love me, my dear;
Take pity and grant my desire,
And leave me no longer in woe;
Oh! love me or else I'll expire,
Sweet Cailn deas crite na mb.
Or had I the wealth of great Damer,
Or all on the African shore,
Or had I great Devonshire treasure,
Or had I ten thousand times more,
Or had I the lamp of Alladin,
Or had I his genie also,
I'd rather live poor on a mountain,
With Cailn deas crite na mb.
I beg you'll withdraw and don't tease me;
I cannot consent unto thee.
I like to live single and airy,
Till more of the world I do see.
New cares they would me embarrass,
Besides, sir, my fortune is low,
Until I get rich I'll not marry,
Says Cailn deas crite na mb.
An old maid is like an old almanack,
Quite useless when once out of date;
If her ware is not sold in the morning
At noon it must fall to low rate.
The fragrance of May is soon over,
The rose loses its beauty, you know;
All bloom is consumed in October,
Sweet Cailn deas crite na mb.
A young maid is like a ship sailing,
There's no knowing how long she may steer,
For with every blast she's in danger;
Oh! consent, love, and banish all care.
For riches I care not a farthing,
Your affection I want and no more;
In comfort I'd wish to enjoy you,
My Cailn deas crite na mb.. </big>
</div> <div style="text-align: center;">
</div> Ok, A song from me old days
<div style="text-align: center;"><big>I'm Scotch and I'm married, two things I can't help,
I'm married - but I have no wife -
For she bolted and left me - but that's nothing new,
It happens sae often in life.
So I journeyed tae London, for that's where she'd gone
With her lover to hide her disgrace.
And though London's a big town I swore I'd not rest
Till I'd searched every street in the place.
And I tramped - how I tramped - weary mile upon mile
Till exhausted and ready ta drop.
I would not give in, so I climbed on a coach,
And took a front seat on the top.
We came to a halt in a brightly lit square
To my joy, there ma lassie I spied,
Looking weary and worn, but thank heaven - ALONE
From my heart -'Maggie - Maggie' I cried.
She gasped with delight as I rose from ma seat,
But a harrowing thought made me wince,
I couldna get off - for I'd just paid ma fare,
AND I'VE NEVER CAUGHT SIGHT OF HER SINCE. </big>
</div> <div style="text-align: center;">
</div> a song about.... Woad...
<div style="text-align: center;"><big>Whats the use of wearing braces
vests and pants and boots with laces
spats or hats you buy in places
down on brompton road
Whats the use of shirts of cotton
studs that always get forgotten
these affairs are simply rotten
better far is woad
Woad's the stuff to show them
woad to scare your foemen
boil it to, a brill-iant hue
and rub it on your back and your ab-do-men
Ancient briton never hit on
anything as good as woad to fit on
neck or knees or where you sit on
tailors you be blowed
Romans came across the channel
all dressed up in tin and flannel
half a pint of woad per man'll
dress us more than these
Saxons you can waste your stitches
building beds for bugs in britches
we have woad to clothe us which is
not a nest for fleas
Romans keep your armor
saxons your pyjama
hairy coats were meant for goats
gorillas, yaks, retriever dogs and llama
Tramp up snowdon with your woad on
never mind if we get rained or snowed on
never want a button sewed on
go it like ancient Britons </big>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div> a song for men on the go...
<div style="text-align: center;"><big>I gazed at her body, an' what did I see </big>
<big>Keepin me from where I wanna be </big>
<big>That cruel contraption lookin' back at me </big>
<big>Where did he hide that key! </big>
<big>Come free, damned chastity belt </big>
<big>Keepin' me from where I wanna go </big>
<big>Come free, damned chastity belt </big>
<big>Quick before her husband comes home </big>
<big>I searched high and low for that damned key </big>
<big>where in the hell could it be? </big>
<big>I've got a hard on stiff as a tree </big>
<big>I've got to get that damned thing free!! </big>
<big>Come free, damned chastity belt </big>
<big>Keepin' me from where I wanna go </big>
<big>Come free, damned chastity belt </big>
<big>Quick before her husband comes home </big>
<big>I looked out the window and over the lea </big>
<big>Past the cliff out leagues three </big>
<big>Her husbands vessel comin' in from sea </big>
<big>Pretty soon I'll have to flee </big>
<big>Come free, damned chastity belt </big>
<big>Keepin' me from where I wanna go </big>
<big>Come free, damned chastity belt </big>
<big>Quick before her husband comes home </big>
</div>
</td> </tr> </tbody> </table> <table border="1" width="100%"> <tbody> <tr> <td align="center">
by
Rumil of Lorain </td> <td>
</td> </tr> </tbody> </table> <table border="1" width="100%"> <tbody> <tr> <td>
the tale I tell tonight is called The Ragged Man
<div style="text-align: center;"><big>The ragged man dreamed. He knew he was dreaming.
There his children laughed and played in the rose garden.
Here his wife smiled at him, the love in her eyes like the touch of the Sun.
Gone were the blood and the screams. Gone was the rage,
pain and fear as they staked him down and forced him to watch
the savage torments they inflicted
on those he loved more than life itself
While he dreamed like this he was sane again and happy for a while.
Sometimes the dreams were darker
Sleep was an enemy then.
A betrayer unimpressed with the screams of his children haunting his every waking hour,
allowing the agony to intrude into his fortress of dreams.
Rarer still were those times when he watched the tragedy unfold disp*$$ionately,
a mere observer watching with a curious detachment.
In these dreams he could see the point when the screams snapped his mind
and his old self fled deeper and deeper into the false sanctuary of madness.
There almost seemed to be another watcher in those dreams.
railing impotently at him, at what hed become.
This others voice was always quiet as though shouting from a distance.
The ragged man ignored it.
One thing was constant. Whenever the ragged man awoke he wished he hadnt.
His first waking act of every day for the past few months,
had been to sob like a child,
curled wherever he had lain the night before.
The villagers were kind enough and gave him food in exchange for odd jobs.
Mad he may have been but the ragged man was strong as an ox.
There was always some work simple enough for him to do,
usually work that would have taken two or three of the stout village men to accomplish.
Marak knew none of this as he paused in the act of opening the small tavern door.
He looked at the huge,
rag-clothed man sobbing at the side of the street,
and a sense of almost recognition touched him.
He let the door fall shut and turned towards the ragged man for a better look.
As soon as he moved the ragged man looked up,
eyes wild with fear and fled down the single street
"He never takes to strangers that one" came a voice.
Marak turned to regard the speaker and saw a slim young man standing
in the now open door of the tavern.
Wisps of blonde hair had struggled free of the dark blue kerchief that covered his head.
His green eyes, rare this far north,
regarded the short gray haired bowman before him intently.
It was a small enough village that strangers were always a source of interest,
and often of suspicion.
Marak inclined his head. "Strange to see so large a man so frightened"
he said his eastern origin making the northern tongue suddenly musical.
"The ragged man isnt quite right in the head" replied the youth.
He stepped back into the doorway,
making room for Marak to enter the inn. "Im Arvin," he continued.
"Please come in and we can talk inside.
Ill wager the dust of the trail is still coating your mouth".
Marak bowed deeper this time, moving his arms clear of his body,
palms facing the young innkeep.
"I am Marak of Briarwood and I thank you for your invitation and your trust".
He stepped smoothly past Arvin who was impressed despite himself at the strangers courtesy.
The inn was a small but well kept place with large windows that
let in the pale northern sun.
A large oak table ran along the western wall
with a single long bench on either side for the patrons to seat themselves.
Smaller tables dotted the rest of the floor and a sturdy looking bar
ran along the southern wall,
pitted and scored from years of use but still polished and clean.
A small doorway led from behind the bar,
probably to the kitchens guessed Marak.
Indeed a plump young woman was peeping round the frame at the sound of voices.
Marak looked at her pretty round face with approval.
He rarely admitted it, even to himself,
but one of the reasons for traveling so far from Fort Briarwood,
was that the women there were too delicate for his taste.
Arvin noticed her to and a smile broke out on his face.
"Lena my dove this is Marak, come from Briarwood of all places".
Marak bowed again as Lena smiled warmly at him.
"Welcome to you Marak" she said, smiling at the sound of his name.
"Would you like some tea?
You strike me as a man who has the decency to let the sun awaken properly
before his thirst for ale does."
She looked pointedly at Arvin as she spoke and he rolled his eyes,
Obviously this was a conversation often heard in this household.
The small bowman found himself warming to the young couple.
"A glass of water would see me in your debt good lady" he replied.
"I do not drink." He smiled apologetically at Arvin,
knowing his wife would probably add this to her store of arguments against his drinking.
Lena grinned at Marak as if she shared the same thought
and moved back through the small door.
Arvin motioned Marak to a chair and they both sat at one of the small tables.
"So our ragged man interests you does he?" asked Arvin, eyebrows raised.
"I would have thought that a man as traveled as yourself
would have seen many things more interesting than that poor soul."
Marak divested himself of his unstrung bow and placed the weapon and quiver
onto an adjoining table,
"He seemed familiar to me," replied the easterner.
"Would you have time to tell me how he came to be here?"
Lena arrived back in the taproom and handed Marak a large clay cup full of cool water.
Marak raised the cup to her in thanks and turned his attention back to Arvin.
The innkeep shrugged. "Little enough to tell my friend" he said.
"He arrived here one night some months back, red eyed and wailing like a child.
Arvins eyes took on a far away look as he thought back.
"Naked he was and covered in wounds,
the skin around his ankles and wrists were black with blood".
He stood and moved behind the bar,
casting a guilty glance towards the kitchens as he poured himself
a small measure of ale.
"I can hear you well enough Arvin" came Lenas voice from the doorway.
"Make sure thats your one and only before tonight, theres work to be done".
Her voice carried an undertone of amusement and Marak guessed Arvins
drinking was no real problem,
merely a vehicle for some good-natured wrangling between husband and wife.
Arvin grinned like a naughty child as he sat back at the table.
"Caused quite a stir he did,
" he continued. "No-one knew what to make of him at first".
Arvin took a small sip of ale,
licking the froth from his lips with obvious relish.
"Some wanted him driven away in case whatever had wounded him so followed him here".
Arvin smiled and looked again to the kitchens as he spoke. "Others, my Lena among them,
would hear nothing of such an action.
They bathed him and treated his wounds as best they could.
" The inkeeps smile fell. "Sobbed the whole time he did, rocking back and forth.
Nothing we could say seemed to get through to him. Wherever he was that
night his spirit is there still".
He locked eyes with Marak's.
"You dont need to be a priest or a thaumist to know wherever he is its somewhere bad".
The eastern bowman looked somber as he heard the tale and shook his head,
wondering anew at the cruelty that the world allowed to crawl across her skin.
Arvin moved his cup and leant his elbows on the table.
"Now he does the odd job around the village for food and shelter in barns and the like.
He was no beggar before he came here thats for certain".
Marak also leant forward, his interest piqued. "How so?" he asked.
"Youve seen the size of the man," he said. "Its not simple bulk.
Hes muscled like Ive rarely seen.
My own father was a bear of a man and the ragged man would have dwarfed him".
Arvin shook his head wonderingly.
"Sometimes his eyes almost seem to clear and he stands tall and proud.
Most of the time hes almost crouched as though he doesnt want to be noticed.
" He sighed. "I suppose the weight of such terrible memories,
whatever they may be, can bow the strongest back".
The small easterner nodded slowly,
Marak shook the thoughts from his head; he had more corporeal matters to attend to.
"Would I be able to lodge here Arvin?" he asked.
"A night in a real bed after so long on the road would be most welcome".
Arvin stood, picking up Maraks small pack as he did so. "Of course my friend"
he replied.
"The rooms are both small but Lena keeps them well cleaned.
Itll be two copper pieces for a night and that will include your meal this evening.
" He led Marak through the door behind the bar and through another door
on the immediate right.
This led to a cramped staircase that led a short way up to the guest rooms.
The innkeep chose the furthest door and motioned Marak into the room.
As Arvin had said it was small but clean and the large window
looked out onto the village street.
A table stood beneath the window, bearing a jar full of fresh mountain daisies.
Marak felt at home almost immediately.
He counted out two copper coins and handed them to Arvin, smiling his thanks.
Arvin nodded in return.
"If you go into the village you can expect a lot of questions my friend.
The last bit of excitement we had here was the ragged man
and youll cause almost as big a stir as he did,
seeing as how most of us here have never seen an easterner before".
Marak bowed slightly, grateful for the warning.
The bowmans voice stopped Arvin as he turned to leave.
"And do you have no questions of your own Arvin?"
he asked, eyebrows raised. Arvin pulled the blue kerchief from his head as he spoke.
"A few if Im honest" he admitted. "Firstly though Im an innkeeper.
Im here to make sure youre comfortable and happy here if you stay,
not to badger guests with questions".
He laughed as he left the room.
"And of course Im here to charge you for the privilege.
Dinner will be served an hour after sundown Marak, Ill see you then if not before."
The door closed leaving Marak alone with his thoughts. He moved to the window,
throwing it open to hear the sounds of the village children and the
hammering of the smithy.
Such sounds comforted the easterner, accustomed as he was to the sounds
of the bugle and horn,
the screams and shouts of too many battlefields.
Should the townsfolk ask him questions Marak thought they would be disappointed
with the simple answers he had to give them.
There was no mystery as to why he was here.
The northern highlands were simply one place he had never seen and so here he was.
His skill with a bow, far above the ordinary if truth were told,
had allowed him to wander as he wished,
mostly as part of some mercenary force but sometimes his money was won in tourneys.
On the whole Marak preferred to fire his arrows at straw rather than living targets.
Living targets simply paid better.
Marak moved the bed closer to the wall and sat cross-legged upon the floor,
allowing the everyday sounds of simple life to lull him into the dream state.
Perhaps here would come the elusive answer to the puzzle of the ragged man.
At sundown the easterner was still deep in the dream state.
Arvin had neglected to mention that today was the birthday of Kalliy Forswelds
three young daughters.
The triplets had been born eight winters ago, nearly coming into the world as orphans,
as the long labour exacted a terrible toll on poor Kalliy.
She had lived though and the villagers saw her three golden haired daughters
as a special gift from the All-Father.
As such their birthdays were a time of togetherness in the small village,
and the people gathered in the small square outside the inn to thank the Father
and make a fuss of the girls.
The noise of the gathering did not intrude into Maraks trance,
even when Arvin and Lena began distributing rounds of free ale,
as was their wont on this occasion.
Neither did the sound of hoof beats rouse him,
or the startled shouts of the villagers as the score of horsemen
enclosed them in a rough semi-circle.
They were all well armed but less well armoured.
The riders all had a hard look about them and a coldness in the eyes.
Their clothes, once well made, were now travel-worn and moth-eaten.
One of them, a broad shouldered man with an axe slung across his back
leapt from his horse as two others knocked arrows to their bows.
The leader of the men smiled nastily as he looked at the frightened
villagers before him.
These small hamlets were always the same he mused.
Never enough money or women in them to make it worthwhile really.
He smiled again. They were just so easy.
He unslung his axe and raised his voice so the assembled villagers could hear.
"Who we are doesnt matter,"
he said in a voice made harsh by strong drink and a meanness of soul.
"You know why we are here." He glanced around the frightened group,
satisfied that none would meet his eyes.
"What little money you have and maybe a woman or two and well be gone".
Behind him his men laughed quietly to each other, confident of another easy raid.
They hadnt even had to kill anyone for weeks.
They still did it of course and found it to be a much more pleasurable experience
when the victim wasnt trying to kill you in return.
To these men murder was a far better proposition than actual fighting.
The leader turned as Arvin walked towards him,
ignoring Lena's clutching arm and frightened look.
"What little we have we work hard for" he said,
surprised at the steadiness of his own voice.
"You will take nothing from us without a fight".
It looked as though Arvin was about to say more but the bandit leader
simply backhanded him across the face,
lifting the young man from his feet and pitching him into the dirt.
His expression never changed as he watched Arvin roll onto his back,
clutching at his shattered jaw.
The horsemen laughed again, louder this time.
The leader glanced toward the three pretty blonde girls
clutching at their mothers skirts and gazing with wide, fearful eyes.
"Choka, Tom, cover those girls".
The bowmen swung round to point their arrows at the triplets.
"If anyone else tries anything the young ones there will be the first to die."
The girls began to wail as Kalliy pulled them closer. "Not my babies!
" she screamed.
"Dont kill my little ones!" The bandit leader began to
walk towards the children,
pulling a knife from a scabbard with his free hand,
determined to show these idiot villagers he wouldnt balk
from the slaying of babes.
Everybody turned as one at the bloodcurdling scream that
sounded from behind the inn,
and in his room Maraks eyes flicked open, a name burning across his mind.
"The Ghosthammer,"
he whispered, just as all hell broke loose in the village square.
The ragged man had hidden as soon as the riders had appeared.
Dimly he remembered men such as these.
Cold men. Killers.
He cowered behind the inn almost gibbering in his unreasoning terror,
tears streaming down his face.
Then he heard once more the screams of children,
and the voice "Dont kill my little ones!"
The screams tore into his mind like a hurricane and he fell to the earth,
hands over his ears, trying to block out the terrible sounds.
He could not escape them.
With the voices outside shut out he fell prey to the screams inside his head.
The screams of his own little ones as their lives were taken from them.
The ragged man screamed himself a shocking sound of pain and loss
and again something in his mind snapped.
This time it was the prison in which his old self had languished for so long,
driven there by his madness and grief.
His scream changed to one of rage, a fury denied for too long,
a fury that could cow the dark lady herself. The ragged man rose,
his tears stopping as his eyes cleared and he charged from behind the inn.
The bandit leader was hurled from his feet as the huge warrior,
no longer the ragged man but the Ghosthammer once more cannoned a
fist into his face.
The crunch of bone was clearly audible as his neck snapped under
the force of the assault.
As he fell the Ghosthammer plucked his axe from the air without slowing
and tore into the shocked horsemen like a black wind.
Two arrows slashed into the throats of the bowmen,
following so fast upon each other
that the villagers believed there were two bowmen in the inns front bedroom.
The Ghosthammer was moving with a speed that belied his great size.
In the midst of so many riders he should have been dead in the first charge.
His axe was a blur as it hacked and slashed into the now terrified bandits.
Arrows continued to rain down,
each one perfectly targeted, each one finding its mark in unprotected flesh.
The Ghosthammer slammed a backhand blow with his fist
into the face of a horse pressing in behind him.
The beast fell as if pole-axed, crushing its rider beneath it as it went down.
He dodged two slashes from a cavalry sabre,
disemboweling the wielder even as he plucked another rider from his
saddle with the other hand,
throwing him to the ground with crushing force.
Between the unceasing hail of death coming from the inn and the
savage attack of the huge warrior
what little nerve the bandits had broke
and those few that survived wheeled their mounts to escape.
Again showing uncanny speed for a man so large the Ghosthammer gave chase.
Marak felled another three,
one of his arrows punching through the back of a riders
skull and somersaulting him from his saddle.
The huge warrior hurled his shoulder into one horse,
pitching it from its feet.
The last rider had made too much ground to catch on foot.
The hurled axe cannoned into his back,
smashing his spine and tearing from his chest such was the
force with which it was thrown.
Now Ghosthammer towered over the last bandit
whose wide-eyed terror was like a soothing balm over his tortured soul.
"And now you die killer of children" he said, his voice low and chilling.
The Ghosthammer raised a huge foot and slammed it into the bandits skull,
crushing the life form him instantly.
He turned back to the village square to see the villagers looking at him in amazement.
Moments ago there had stood the ragged man. The weeping giant who was to be pitied.
Now there stood the man who had broken the ranks of the black priests
elite guard at the battle of Darkisle.
There stood the man who had stood over the fallen princess of Taramir,
killing the dozen men who had sought the young princess's life.
Here stood the unkillable. Here stood a legend. Here stood the Ghosthammer.
</big>
</div> Since we have the Evil Empire in the house here is a short poem they may like
<div style="text-align: center;"><big>Hear us ride,
Taste despair,
O bitter despair,
As we descend,
Hooves beating on your bones.
See our darkness,
Swirling around us,
Cloaking our steeds,
Our steeds from the depths,
The depths of Hell.
Feel the fear,
As its cold finger touches your heart,
Touches the core of your being,
Emanating from us,
Feel it freeze your soul.
Smell your death,
The freshly turned earth,
Atop your grave,
Its weight upon you,
Forever.
</big>
</div>
Now for the womens vote <span style="font-weight: bold;">*winks all around*
</span> <div style="text-align: center;"><big>The wind whispered
I heard the wind.
Today I heard the wind in the trees.
I heard it whisper your name.
and as I heard the wind whisper I was awed by you.
what you are inside humbles me.
when I think of you I see many things of great beauty about you.
I see your eyes with all the gentleness of a rose.
your voice that makes we think of the waves on the sea shore
and your skin soft and delicate like the clouds
your hair flowing and free in the wind
and most of all your spirit.
which is more beautifull than I could possibly imagine.
more beautifull than I could ever describe
and so beautifull that I can not help myself.
I want to know all about you.
all your hopes and your dreams.
your fears and desires.
</big>
</div>
Since me making next week is slim to none I leave you with one more
<div style="text-align: center;"><big>I am weary
Kiss me mother kiss your darlin'
Lay my head upon your breast
Throw your loving arms around me
I am weary let me rest
Seems the light is swiftly fading
Brighter scenes they do now show
I am standing by the river
Angels wait to take me home
Kiss me mother kiss your darlin'
See the pain upon my brow
While I'll soon be with the angels
Fate has doomed my future now
Through the years you've always loved me
And my life you've tried to save
But now I shall slumber sweetly
In a deep and lonely grave
Kiss me mother kiss your darlin'
Lay my head upon your breast
Throw your loving arms around me
I am weary let me rest </big>
</div>
</td> </tr> </tbody> </table> <div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">Thus ends another night at the Yew Merry Center for All. So many tales were told during my presents and they were still going strong when I left just before the bewitching hour here. [By now you all know I am two hours ahead of server time] So if you have nothing to do on Friday night or you are bored with Pvm or PvP, or just broke, try the YMCA on Friday night, if your tale is picked by all there as the best for the evening you may win 25k. Alas no winners were announced last night as all there felt they were all winners. Hope to see you next week people, till them have fun and be safe.
</div> </div>
