[News] Golden Unicorn Tales

Guest · Jul 5, 2006

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e were back in the Shire this week, our feet weary after the long walk back from Sonoma. Well, mine were. The others neglected to mention that they'd opened a moongate. Regardless, the Golden Unicorn Tavern's walls were bulging outwards last night, as people from far and wide tried to procure a seat!

Sandman, of UORadio fame, was present, together with many friends and helpers, all working their strange mysticsm that sends words travelling far and wide, without the aid of a pigeon. I am not certain I hold with this new magic, but it does seem to work.

I'd brought a tale with me, so, after Hoffs had done a fine job of welcoming everyone, I bumped my way through the horde to the stage, and began to tell is. Here then, is my tale of times now gone.

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he tales of the Mist Miners of Kendall Deep were well known in the halls of the Matewan, in Minoc. So, when the barkeep heard the grizzled old veterans of the town using them to scare yet another group of apprentice miners, he didn’t bat an eyelid. <o

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> Cleaning an ale tankard, ready for its next frothy filling, he called out “Last round, gents. Closing time’s in half an hour!” <o

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> The miners muttered and mumbled, annoyed that their carousing would come to an end – or, at the very least, have to move to one of the stills in the nearby gypsy camp. Still, they enjoyed the familiar halls while they could, and the tales continued, growing all the wilder as more ale was added. <o

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> “And sho, you sheee…” slurred one old miner “When the sea misht blowsh into the cavesh, thatsh when YOO laddie…” at this he stabbed his calloused finger firmly into a hapless apprentice’s chest “ YOO shtart runnin’ like … like… well, like shomefing rotten woz on yer tail. Coz THAT ish when the Misht Minersh will come and grabsh yer!” <o

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> “I think ye’ve had more than enough, Sam.” Said the barkeep, in that voice barkeeps have that tells customers “You’re drunk. You can admit you’re drunk, or take it up with my weapons chest.” <o

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> Sam glared, then sullenly agreed, and, dragging half a bottle with him, headed off towards the tents. <o

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> The apprentice rubbed his chest, and sneered. “Mist Miners? Is that the best you can come up with here? Ha! Go to Cove – THEY know how to tell ghost stories!” <o

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> Still laughing, he headed out into the night, a very drunk tavern maid on his arm. <o

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> <o

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> Sam glared into his now empty bottle. “Whoo doesh that liddle twerp fink ee ish, boysh?” he roared to the utterly inebriated group of miners around him. “I fink hish nay…nay… fing he’s called ish … hey you” commented an extremely grizzled old miner helpfully, from a nearby bedroll. <o

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> “We should teach im a lesshon!” said Sam. “WE should teach im not to MOCK our tradishonsh and folk talesh! Sho dere!” <o

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> “But ‘e already nowsh how ta do that” commented the sane miner equally helpfully. Sam glared at him. <o

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> “Nay, lads, nay” said a seemingly less drink-filled miner “We should show im what us real miners can do when we puts our minds to it. We should go up to them mines right now, and show Mr new boy on the rock what real miners can do when they got real tradishions and things ta inshpire them! We go up there – and we mine Kendall DRY! Then when Mr fancy new miner from Cove comes to dig in the morning – theresh NUFFING left fer im ta find! NUFFING!!!!! ARE YE WIV ME???” <o

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> A rousing chorus of “Aye! Nay! Maybe!” rang out from the drunken crew, but before too long, a motley crew of drunken men, who really shouldn’t have been allowed anywhere near picks, shovels, and canaries, was slouching uncertainly up the path to the mines. <o

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> “Ere – wot about the misht minersh?” asked one of them. <o

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> “Didn’t ye hear the lad? There’sh no such fing, Jake. Tis but a leggy-end fingy. The misht miners have all gorn ta Cove or summat.” <o

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> This seemed to be logical enough to the rest of them, so the continued onwards, and before long, the mines were filled with the sounds of miners digging, swinging pickaxes, and occasionally maiming each other. <o

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> The noise echoed out across the water, to the town. And, in his small shack, the lad who had unwittingly been the cause of all this, shoved the sleeping tavern maid aside, and went to the window, wondering what in the world would posess anyone to go mining at this hour. Pulling on some clothes, he crept towards the mines. <o

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> But, as he went, he caught slight movement out the corner of his eye, down near the water. Not enough for him to tell what it was, at first, in the dark, without a lantern. But, there was something. He stopped, unsure as to his own safety. <o

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> The mist rolled in off the waters. Down the paths of Minoc, round the wooden huts, and into the mines. <o

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> The drunken miners saw this, by the light of their lanterns, and began to panic. <o

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> “It’sh the misht minersh!!!” yelled Sam, reaching for a shovel “We’re all doooomed! Doooooomed, I tell ye! Dooooooooooomed!” and he began flailing aimlessly at the encroaching mist. <o

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> Outside, the young miner crouched in some bushes, realising that what he had seen was the mist. Quickly, he made his way back to his room, knowing how thick the mist could get. Besides, the lass waiting there was far more appealing than a bunch of crazy old drunk miners! And there, he wiled the rest of the night away. <o

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> Dawn broke, and he went to start his day’s labours, and find his foreman. <o

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> But, at the mines, a grim sight greeted him. <o

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> Down every tunnel, round nearly every bend, lay dead miners, many a wound visible, each clearly caused by pickaxes, shovels, and prospecting tools. And there, in the midst of the carnage, a pickaxe in each hand, driven utterly mad by the night’s events, stood Sam. Blood dripped from each pick, as he looked around the room wildly, crazed. <o

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> “They… they made me, lad! They made me do it!” He shrieked, when he caught sight of the apprentice. “Ye had to see it – ye had to! Ye can see, can’t ye? Ye’re not blind! Ye can see they forced me to it? Ye’ll tell the sherrif, won’t ye?” <o

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> “Wh…who?” <o

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> “Who? The Mist Miners! There were hundreds of em! Everywhere! They filled the caverns! I had to kill them, or they’d have killed me! I had to!” <o

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> The sheriff arrived, also alerted by reports of all the noise in the night, and, taking in the scene, quickly took Sam off to the cells. <o

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> And tongues, as they will, grew to wagging. And tales grew. <o

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> The young apprentice spent his life in the mines, mastering first the removal of ore, and later, the shaping thereof. <o

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> And so, some years later, an old miner sat around the table in the Matewan of Minoc, as a group of listeners gathered around. <o

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> “Aye, and so they came, the Mist Miners of Minoc, “ he said “ but poor Sam did not understand, and they drove him mad. He killed every one of them, did Sam. And, in the light of day, he came to see – the Mist Miners were not evil beasts, but had been, before his blows were struck so wildly in the night – had been – his friends. How do I know this? Tis easy, my friends. I was there. I alone survived his wrath, saved by a most courageous tavern wench!” <o

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> The crowd applauded. “Tell us another” asked a young one in the group “Tell us another tale? Ye’ve seen so much in life, Mr Otto.” <o

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></TD></TR></TABLE> 
Seen? Hm. Once. Still, that tale came to mind, most likely, because so many of us are prone to see beasts and foes, where there could truly stand a friend. Or perhaps a large, hungry dragon. One can never know, until one is avoiding being eaten!

Well, enough of my babble - here is someone else's babble.. *cough* Sorry, another fine tale by Angharad!
(what? Ow! Put down that sword!)

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midst a sea of ne'er-do-wells and men of evil mind,
And thieves and knaves and vagabonds and others of their kind,
We stand, a knightly order, set apart from all the rest,
Who clothe ourselves with Honor, and with Honor we are dressed.

When those we see around us are needy or afraid,
Compassion guides our hearts and we will gladly offer aid.
For kindness and Compassion like candles in us burn
Especially for those too poor to help us in return.

When wicked men cry "Havoc" and evil stalks the land,
Then Justice is our war cry and a sword is in our hand
If tyrants and oppressors come, then we will make them feel
The clashing and the shlashing and the bashing of our steel.

Though our country is beset around wi' false and foolish talk,
So perjurors and liars are as common as an orc
We devote ourselves to Honesty, and as the sky is blue,
We swear to tell no falsehood and to champion what is true.

Though we are knights and warriors, and form a mighty band,
We are also called to help the common folk of the land.
The hardest of the Virtues and the rarest one fo find:
Humility we offer to all sosarian kind.

Like food and beer and horses, and how to find a wife,
We contemplate the higher things and wisdom strain to see,
And in every way we strive to raise our Spirituality.

If service to our order should demand the highest price,
Then all stand primed and willing to offer Sacrifice.
Our knights are true and loyal, and noble to the end,
And will always give unstintingly to a brother or a friend.

Though titans fight against us and murderers swarm near,
Though nameless horrors prowl the land and fill our hearts wi' fear,
Though madness, hate and chaos seek to tear us all to shreds,
Valor is the helmet that we wear upon out heads.

Though the Guardian himself should come and try to steal our souls,
We will never be distracted from allegiance to our goals.
For we'll never be defeated, nor ever put to shame,
If we're loyal to the Virtues and the ever-burning Flame.
</TD> </TR> </TABLE> And fresh from a recent tour of Sonoma, was Crystal's sick note! Employers I've known tend to raise an eyebrow if the same reason for absence is given twice, but I've never known anyone complain that someone made them laugh too much.
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ear sir I write this note to you to tell you of my plight,
For at the time of writing it, I'm not a pretty sight,
My body is all black & blue, my face a deathly grey,
And I write this note to say why I am not at work today.

While working on Lord garets keep some bricks I had to clear,
But tossing them down from such a height, was not a good idea,
The foreman wasn't very pleased, he is an awkward sod,
and he said I had to cart them down the ladders in me hod.

Well clearing all these bricks by hand, it was so very slow,
So I hoisted up a barrel and secured a rope below.
But in me haste to do the job, I was too blind to see,
That a barrel full of building bricks was heavier than me.

And so when I untied the rope, the barrel fell like lead,
And clinging tightly to the rope, I started up instead.
I shot up like a rocket, and to my dismay I found
That halfway up I met the bloody barrel coming down.

Well, the barrel broke me shoulder as to the ground it sped,
And when I reached the top, I banged the pulley with me head.
But I clung on tightly, numb with shock, from this almighty blow,
While the barrel spilled out half its bricks some fourteen floors below.

Now when these bricks had fallen from the barrel to the floor,
I then outweighed the barrel & so started down once more.
But I clung on tightly to the rope, me body wracked with pain,
And halfway down I met the bloody barrel once again.

The force of this collision halfway down the castle block,
Caused multiple abrasions and a nasty case of shock,
But I clung on tightly to the rope as I fell towards the ground,
And I landed on the broken bricks the barrel had scattered round.

Well as I lay there on the floor I thought I'd passed the worst,
But the barrel hit the pulley wheel & then the bottom burst.
A shower of bricks rained down on me; I didn't have a hope.
As I lay there bleeding on the ground I LET GO the bloody rope!

The barrel now being heavier, it started down once more.
It landed right across me as I lay there on the floor.
It broke three ribs and my left arm, and I can only say,
"I hope you'll understand why I am not at work today." </TD> </TR> </TABLE> 
That grows more painful with each hearing of it! Vile foreman!

Next, was some advice to any in the land who fancies himself a Ladies Man.... <TABLE width=100 align=left border=1> <TR> <TD>

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 <TABLE width="100%" align=center border=1> <TR> <TD>Now the deadly widow spider eats the mate that doesn't flee
As does the praying mantis if she's ourted carelessly
Don't be fooled by fragile beauty, for thereby hangs my tale:
That the ladies in Sosaria are deadly as the male!

Now, you'll see a lovely lady with clothes of black and red
Court her ginergerly and carefully, or else you'll wind up dead!
Don't muck about with Red lasses, you're better off in jail
For the ladies in Sosaria are deadly as the male!

See that sweet and fragile lady, see that lissome little miss
Treads the dance with grace and beauty, drops a curtsey, trades a kiss...
And she also puts on armor, lays about with shield and flail1
For the ladies in Sosaria are deadly as the male!

There are sharp and shining longswords, there are battleaxes bright,
There are bodice-knives and hatpins, there is poison in the night
But their tongue's their sharpest weapon, over that you can't prevail
For the ladies in Sosaria are more deadly than the male!
</TD></TR></TABLE> There was a lull in the tale telling, and, not liking lulls, I filled it with a repeat of this work.

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he battle was lost,
it had to flee,
the might of men was great!
And so the dragon turned and rose,
to avoid a ghastly fate.

Down into it's lair it fled,
along twisting paths it scurried,
down away from the source of pain
Down into the darkness cool and safe,
to heal, and strike again.

Down into the depths it fled,
Fear and anger flood it's thoughts,
Shrieks of pain did abound
Away, away from the knight's blade,
and those archers, all around.

It rested there, the great wyrm,
greenish blood tricking down,
with many a battle scarred mark,
revenge festering within it's breast,
plotting evil in a heart of dark.

How long the beast rested there,
regaining strength and might,
knows no man or sage.
but when the last bone did knit,
It rose, still filled with rage.

Up, up, thundering towards the surface,
up, up, seeking light,
it's mind clouded with hate,
seeking out the world of man,
plotting a terrible fate.

But the world of man moved on since then,
it's attackers were long gone -
and of the exit there was no trace.
For where once were fields and pleasant streams,
now stood a gargantuan market place!

The beast could not pass the foundation of stone,
iron girders and stone hemmed it in,
and man's designs stymied it - cruel fate!
it could not get out of it's hole,
the blockage would not burn or break.

The beast, trapped beneath this "mall",
trapped under tons of steel and stone,
slunk back down, cursing life so hard,
there to dream of revenge on man,
or perhaps, to apply for a credit card. </TD></TR></TABLE>

A visitor to our fair lands, accompanying the sandy one, then stepped forwards, and spoke thusly:

"This is a tale I once heard in a tavern, from a young bard singing songs of the future.
A future that all of us a fears
A future
without magic.
It is the tale of the last dragon "

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he old beast awoke from a century's nap. Stretched forth his wings to give them a flap
The sound of the ocean, the air from the sea. Made the heart of the dragon flutter with glee.
He plodded out slowly from the cave he lived in. Ancient and eager to take flight once again

Cautious and careful the old dragon crept. To rouse not soul, in the lighthouse that slept
A shaft of white light, shone bright in a clash. Meeting the moons beam on waves as they crash
The damp craggy rock of his home were a glist. as the old one took flight out into the mist

He soared over shire, hill, dale and glen. Sojourning forth, released from his den
Hidden by mist, and a blanket of cloud. The joy of the beast bellowed aloud
No more knights in bright armor, to beleuguer his kind. Nor damsels in distress that folk lore could find

Dismissed as legend the dragon was free. to explore the world and all he could see
With dawn breaking now, he returns to his cave. Hidden from royals, gentry and knave
Immersed in the tales of poets and bards. He returns safely to rest, His prescence to guard

Tomorrow at dusk, Again, they'll exist. The magnifient creature. Aflight in the mist!
</TD> </TR> </TABLE> That fine piece won the prize for the best work of the eve! Well done, Pepsi.
Of course, as ye were no doubt told, the prize check was cursed, and by accepting it, ye are forever bound to Siege. The only means by which the curse can be broken is to spend the next five decades exploring the lands of Siege, and presenting more fine tales at Story Night. Of course, every check you win will be cursed....

<TABLE width="100%" border=0> <TR> <TD>Many thanks to all who attended, and congratulations to Pepsi! Next week, we'll be travelling around Siege again - details to appear soon! </TD></TR></TABLE> 
 
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Guest · Jul 5, 2006

And, I have just realised that I omitted a line from Angharad's fine work, "The Knights".

Since the curse of NewsPro still afflicts we reporters, I cannot add it... but here is what SHOULD have appeared:

<blockquote><hr>

Though we are knights and warriors, and form a mighty band,
We are also called to help the common folk of the land.
The hardest of the Virtues and the rarest one to find:
Humility we offer to all Sosarian kind.

While most men think exclusively of the baser things in life,
Like food and beer and horses, and how to find a wife,
We contemplate the higher things and wisdom strain to see,
And in every way we strive to raise our Spirituality.

[/ QUOTE ]

My humble apologies to Angharad.

Ginsu-SP · Jul 5, 2006

Last night was great... lot's of people, and good stories. Was good to see so
many new faces.

Cheers!

Guest · Jul 5, 2006

Glad to see the Story Night ball is still rolling... I haven't been able to make it and really participate in a few weeks but hope to be back real soon. Keep it up.

[News] Golden Unicorn Tales

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