Hjolnai

Will you join the dance, the fatal dance, by the ring of steel accompanied? Will you join the song, the bloody song, the heavens quaking at our hatred? When your shield is splintered, when your spear is broken, when your sword is lost, when your mail is rent, when your knife slips from bloody fingers, will you howl your rage and fight on, to their deaths and yours? Then you are one of us. Next line: You are one of us.

Dusk and other deadly dances Echo through the darkened sky. With the dawn the music stops and those who live will wonder why. Leave the broken ground for now, Take your place within the air. And if danger rears its ugly head, depart this world without a care. Next line: Across the river, under the boughs

Wait... I slept through the Rapture? When the mountains broke, my slumber didn't? When the seas boiled, it was just a warmer blanket? The wails of sirens, no more than a lullaby? No, you're having me on. It can't be. I can't have missed it. It was scheduled for tomorrow. Maybe Sunday, yes, I'm sure of it. So where is everyone anyway? Next line: Next line.

The worst decision that turned out well Along the road to ring that bell Found a monster, found a mouse, found a friend in that strange house. With words it spoke, in a voice of stone, now I am welcome in its home. So let not your fears delay, with each step forge a brighter day. Next line: Too long, and yet too short.

Deaf - not being able to read would be... much worse. Reptiles: Lizard or turtle?

Book. Paper is more comfortable and more expendable. Steel or silver?

Time to sell the change in momentum per unit time; it is insufficient to derail the thread. Stringing bows with lye is like cleaning clothes with coal - unlimited in its inadequacy.

Well, one must always choose a feasible goal over an impossible one; hence I must say undersleep. Apple or singing?

Spades - if we do not dig good enough earthworks, all the courage in our hearts will not let us keep them. Fear or misery?

Health - better a good life than an eternity of wasting away. Folly or madness?

Oak. The sturdy oak does not bow to the wind so easily (though I could be mistaken there - we have few enough of both). When, or where?

I am never going to tell you the answer to five wavering riddles, no matter how many spoons turn orange.

Omnivore, for I shall consume all before me!... er, that is to say, I like a great deal of variety in my diet, and meat is part of so many dishes. Yesterday or tomorrow?

I refuse to confirm the inaccuracy of fish, for they are not ashamed. Anger and terror ganged up on the poor tree, which stood a head above the Captain's inspiration.

When Corid left the village behind, he left a number of bruises and even cracked bones. Though the training was harsh, the drills he had put the villagers through would leave them in better stead if they practiced regularly as he had admonished them. The satisfaction of finally having been able to hurt someone and ease his frustrations far outweighed the few bruises he himself carried, and it felt good to have everything he needed for his journey. As he rode, he idly wondered how such a village had come to be, so close to the town of Onaster and yet so poor and unconnected. Even on the borders most villages would have regular training of the young men, and there would be at least a few experienced fighters with mail armour - even when the levies had been called in time of war. He discarded the thought - it was none of his concern unless he could make use of it if he ever returned. He turned his thoughts to the road, since bandits could be behind any rock or tree. The days passed, and Corid met no one of significance on his lonely path. He found himself putting his losses behind him, and looking forward. He would find a baron or earl or duke, or even a King to serve, in the Geran lands before him, or turn further to the North and East, perhaps making his way to the Khitoi steppes and taking service there, where the backward barbarians would surely see the value in a proper knight. Wherever he went, surely he could make more of a name for himself than another might have, simply staying content with the lands of their father. Or perhaps he would become a famed tourney champion, not taking on the tasks of management of land for many years but being known through all the land? It was a pleasant fantasy, but he knew he was not such a champion. These thoughts and more occupied his mind as he travelled, and eventually made his way into Lower Gerania, in the lands of an independent duchy under the Redbridge family. (At some point I'll need to go through and come up with a more standardised naming theme, area by area - including country names).

The fire-toed weretable nonchalantly threw a molecule at invisible frogs, for they would not chair the heading. No treasonous quiescences have any Zulu palms for their yurts. Why should polynomials do the blue tango, if queries are defenestrated?

(Objective: Make up some interestingly nonsensical sentences. Try to avoid a coherent narrative, but also to maintain grammar. Post any you come up with.) (Reposted from Cbox:) So, how many existences can sit in a red tree? Whence cometh the sign of no return? A lyre eats the purple cat, and escapes into food. Thrace made a flying box in which to see lyres run. Endless green twisted pair cables span the quilt, nastily waving their sandpapered rulers. (New:) White calculators walk calmly but efficiently to the duct tape, which itself is not a fish.

One problem: The "Death Pen" skin does not show boxes around quotes for me. That makes some discussions rather confusing.

"M-my lord? What brings you to our humble village?" A promising start with the village Elder. "I am on a quest to regain my family honour, after a conflict with my Liege - Duke Brennor of Onaster - has left us with no fiefs or service." Enough of that was true, if politically stated. A partial truth might also protect him from accusations of treason (at least in the minds of the peasantry of this meaningless little hamlet). "Well, my Lord, if you don't mind me asking, what did you fight over?" "That is not your business, peasant." The last word had been a slip, but a little arrogance might keep him safer. He continued. "While I am here, there are a number of supplies I will need. Feed for my horse, some honey, wax, food to last at least ten days. A crossbow, if there is one in this backwater village, and a shield." "My Lord, it would be an honour to provide these things, but we have been through hard times. Perhaps you could help us in return?" Asking this clearly made the Elder nervous. "I have some coin. That is enough." "Yes, my Lord, but if you could see fit to train some of our men to fight properly it would be a great favour to us. Bandits and raiders threaten our very existence! That will also give us time to gather what you need." "Hmm... Very well, I'll put them through some basic drills. But in the morning, not now as it fades into twilight." Corid was pleased at the opportunity, though he did not show it. He would gain status in the village, which might be helpful if he ever returned to reclaim his ancestral lands. The conversation continued, and Corid knew his position in the village was safe. As was his right, he was given the best room for the night - the Elder found somewhere else to sleep. A young woman, who he had not even seen before, slipped into the room (no doubt drawn by an idealised view of knights, or even sent), but he turned her away, knowing that to leave a child behind would destroy his credibility in the village. The sun rose, and with it the village became a bustle of activity. OOC: And now we have actual names for the town and its lord - they took me long enough to come up with... There is one problem with writing anything actually good - once you've worked out how to do it, people want more (and I have been neglecting it far too much). Also, this is probably the longest conversation I have yet written.

Hmm... Worth considering, but the existing version has the same number of syllables in the first and third lines of the verse - cutting one may not work, though a full rewording could work better. Admittedly I'm not too strict about syllables elsewhere, including the second and fourth lines of the same verse. Three times draw Savador's rune (...) Floor must be scraped with bent spoon or Floor is bent with a scraped spoon (Suggesting something else entirely). No, I can't think of anything right at the moment. Perhaps if I try again later a better wording will come.

Quills, iron and raw fish, four dozen pike staves and many nails, A quartermaster's work is never done. I see him handle surprises with not even a twitch; broken cart wheels, recent arrivals, raised prices and news of distant events. And this man, this epitome of competence, is my enemy. I must tread carefully if I am to make progress. Unknown, present, tread.

I foresee something going terribly, terribly wrong in this spellcasting. Ah well, the chaos of malformed power is most decidedly more interesting than a successful ritual...

Thankyou. I shall endeavour to repeat this performance soon.

The village was clearly not a peaceful place. The men, and some of the women, were clearly hardened and carried simple weapons even as they went about their business within the walls of the settlement. Some were scarred or walked with a limp. Even so, the people were drawn to the sight of a nobleman, deeply contrasted to them with his heavy armour and noble's longsword. There was an uneasy tension, and Corid knew he had to forge the fear into respect rather than hatred - with their numbers he could not fight his way out. At least the peasants did not directly question him as he led his horse (another clear symbol of difference - a healthy, expensive beast fed more on grain than grass) to the hall he had seen earlier. It would be easier to convince them of his benevolence through conversing with whoever passed for leadership in this backward settlement than through awkwardly addressing the growing crowd around him. He studiously ignored them, and counted it as a good sign that none barred his path or dared raise angry voices.

Care must be taken with the names of ancient sages. I would be hesitant to use a rune named Salvador's, unless it can be ascertained that the different spelling is merely a translation issue. The consequences of using the wrong rune in any ritual cannot be overstated; anything could happen. A forked tongue is a feature of some reptiles, and could be the meaning of "two-tongued"; it is then a matter of finding a species which has both that and the third eye. The poem is unclear on its use, but perhaps that becomes apparent later. I had thought to continue studying the tome myself, but it seems your need is greater. I shall send it immediately.