Post by Silent Echo on May 22, 2007 15:20:58 GMT -5
Here is the May rollout article:
Ulgrim sat in the shade of the Smoking Axe Tavern of Ayan Baqur. He had a rapidly warming mug of stout by his side and a letter propped onto a writing tablet on his knees. It was unlike Ulgrim to leave a mug of stout untouched and at the mercy of the daytime heat of Ayan Baqur, but it was obvious that he was very intent on the letter he was writing.
He stopped to think about something, and drained the mug while he thought. Apparently inspired, he concluded his thoughts and signed the letter with a flourish.
... so in closing, I have considered your petition, my children, and I am prepared to consider the Sho beverage sake as a suitable replacement for beer if your local supplies have run out and you lack the holy water necessary for your observance of the high holy rituals of the Morning Chug and the Evening Pint. I add as a condition that if you wish to use sake in place of proper holy water, you must keep the sake cool, as warm sake or warm booze of any kind is an abomination in mine eyes. I am pleased with your deference in this matter and I will make all necessary arrangements to ensure you suffer no shortage of beer in the future.
Your beloved patron,
Angry Grandfather
His latest missive finished, he rolled it, sealed it, and stepped into the Smoking Axe Tavern with his sealed letter and the empty mug.
“Berkholt, you old rascal,” he called to the bartender as he entered, “when do you suppose we’ll have more scouts wandering through here on their way to those northeastern islands? I have a letter that needs to be delivered to Vissidal, along with a couple of casks of your finest stout.”
Berkholt shook his head. “Maybe not for a few days, Ulgrim. There’s been much unrest on the Vesayens and around Cragstone, not to mention our own local Banderling problems... Folks are busy. Not everyone’s headed to Vissidal these days, and those that would be heading there might not have the room for your casks.”
Ulgrim waved his hand in irritation. “None of these problems are the true problem,” he muttered. “These are all just test runs, best ignored. This is dross, not the true steel. Where’s Ardry anyway? He would have made this delivery for me without too much of a fuss.”
Berkholt shrugged. “I haven’t seen your nephew or cousin or however he’s related to you… Not in at least a week. What’s that you’re saying about true problems? People shouldn’t be worried about the siege of Cragstone?”
Ulgrim snorted as he sidled up to the bar. “Siege! Pour me a stout and I’ll tell you about that siege!”
Berkholt obliged and tapped another pint for the old man. “All right, Ulgrim, tell me about the siege.”
Ulgrim downed half the pint in one gulp. “So the Drudges are besieging Cragstone. Are we really spending our time worrying about Drudges, just because the little squeakers have figured out how to run in the same direction?” He downed the other half of the stout in one gulp and shoved the empty mug back at Berkholt with an imperious gesture.
Berkholt, used to Ulgrim’s wild stories and endless thirst, sighed and poured another mug. He’d found that pouring the mug was cheaper than having Ulgrim sit outside and whisper threatening nonsense at his paying customers.
The old man’s eyes lit up when he was given the second pint. He lifted the mug high, as if he intended to drain it again, but then seemed to change his mind. He took a modest sip, and continued his lecture. “No, to spend so much time mucking with the Drudges in Cragstone, or the Mosswarts on the Vesayens, or the Banderlings around here is to distract ourselves from the true threat!”
Berkholt nodded with the patience of a man who’s heard it all before. “So what’s the true threat?”
Ulgrim sipped some more stout, then looked around warily, checking to see that no unfriendlies would be around to hear his next words. He leaned in closer to Berkholt. “Virindi, of course. The true threat has always been the Virindi.”
Berkholt shook his head. “The Virindi were defeated years ago, Ulgrim. So you were right about their plans to take over the town. I gave you credit for that. Everyone acknowledged you were right about that – even though Claude and Leopold weren’t involved in that attack. But this sounds like just another incident in your strange fixation on Claude and Leopold.”
“Claude’s gone, barman!” Ulgrim spewed beer all over the counter in his vehemence to make his point. “He’s been gone a whole month! There’s something afoot with those two! And Leopold... He smiles at me when he sees me walk past that tent now! He smiles at me, like he knows he’ll be wearing my hide as a cloak not too long from now!”
Berkholt laughed. “Leopold smiles at you as you walk past? Have you any idea how insane that sounds? Leopold’s mask doesn’t even have a mouth on it! As for Claude, I’m not one to take the disappearance of a Virindi as a world-threatening event. This sounds just like the time you warned us about how Claude was actually Grael in disguise, or that Leopold was the one that kidnapped Asheron on Bur...”
Ulgrim threw up his hands in disgust. “There’s no reasoning with you. Just remember this when your brain gets turned to applesauce again! That is, if it ever got un-sauced from the first time!” He stormed out of the tavern, muttering angrily to himself. A moment later he came back inside, picked up the half-empty mug of stout, and drained it quickly. As he slammed the empty mug down on the bar, he fixed Berkholt with his crazy eyes. He let out a loud burp, then leaned in close to Berkholt and said, “Applesauce, I tell you! Applesauce!”
With that, he stormed out of the tavern once more, and Berkholt could only shake his head as he watched the temperamental old man go.
Ulgrim sat in the shade of the Smoking Axe Tavern of Ayan Baqur. He had a rapidly warming mug of stout by his side and a letter propped onto a writing tablet on his knees. It was unlike Ulgrim to leave a mug of stout untouched and at the mercy of the daytime heat of Ayan Baqur, but it was obvious that he was very intent on the letter he was writing.
He stopped to think about something, and drained the mug while he thought. Apparently inspired, he concluded his thoughts and signed the letter with a flourish.
... so in closing, I have considered your petition, my children, and I am prepared to consider the Sho beverage sake as a suitable replacement for beer if your local supplies have run out and you lack the holy water necessary for your observance of the high holy rituals of the Morning Chug and the Evening Pint. I add as a condition that if you wish to use sake in place of proper holy water, you must keep the sake cool, as warm sake or warm booze of any kind is an abomination in mine eyes. I am pleased with your deference in this matter and I will make all necessary arrangements to ensure you suffer no shortage of beer in the future.
Your beloved patron,
Angry Grandfather
His latest missive finished, he rolled it, sealed it, and stepped into the Smoking Axe Tavern with his sealed letter and the empty mug.
“Berkholt, you old rascal,” he called to the bartender as he entered, “when do you suppose we’ll have more scouts wandering through here on their way to those northeastern islands? I have a letter that needs to be delivered to Vissidal, along with a couple of casks of your finest stout.”
Berkholt shook his head. “Maybe not for a few days, Ulgrim. There’s been much unrest on the Vesayens and around Cragstone, not to mention our own local Banderling problems... Folks are busy. Not everyone’s headed to Vissidal these days, and those that would be heading there might not have the room for your casks.”
Ulgrim waved his hand in irritation. “None of these problems are the true problem,” he muttered. “These are all just test runs, best ignored. This is dross, not the true steel. Where’s Ardry anyway? He would have made this delivery for me without too much of a fuss.”
Berkholt shrugged. “I haven’t seen your nephew or cousin or however he’s related to you… Not in at least a week. What’s that you’re saying about true problems? People shouldn’t be worried about the siege of Cragstone?”
Ulgrim snorted as he sidled up to the bar. “Siege! Pour me a stout and I’ll tell you about that siege!”
Berkholt obliged and tapped another pint for the old man. “All right, Ulgrim, tell me about the siege.”
Ulgrim downed half the pint in one gulp. “So the Drudges are besieging Cragstone. Are we really spending our time worrying about Drudges, just because the little squeakers have figured out how to run in the same direction?” He downed the other half of the stout in one gulp and shoved the empty mug back at Berkholt with an imperious gesture.
Berkholt, used to Ulgrim’s wild stories and endless thirst, sighed and poured another mug. He’d found that pouring the mug was cheaper than having Ulgrim sit outside and whisper threatening nonsense at his paying customers.
The old man’s eyes lit up when he was given the second pint. He lifted the mug high, as if he intended to drain it again, but then seemed to change his mind. He took a modest sip, and continued his lecture. “No, to spend so much time mucking with the Drudges in Cragstone, or the Mosswarts on the Vesayens, or the Banderlings around here is to distract ourselves from the true threat!”
Berkholt nodded with the patience of a man who’s heard it all before. “So what’s the true threat?”
Ulgrim sipped some more stout, then looked around warily, checking to see that no unfriendlies would be around to hear his next words. He leaned in closer to Berkholt. “Virindi, of course. The true threat has always been the Virindi.”
Berkholt shook his head. “The Virindi were defeated years ago, Ulgrim. So you were right about their plans to take over the town. I gave you credit for that. Everyone acknowledged you were right about that – even though Claude and Leopold weren’t involved in that attack. But this sounds like just another incident in your strange fixation on Claude and Leopold.”
“Claude’s gone, barman!” Ulgrim spewed beer all over the counter in his vehemence to make his point. “He’s been gone a whole month! There’s something afoot with those two! And Leopold... He smiles at me when he sees me walk past that tent now! He smiles at me, like he knows he’ll be wearing my hide as a cloak not too long from now!”
Berkholt laughed. “Leopold smiles at you as you walk past? Have you any idea how insane that sounds? Leopold’s mask doesn’t even have a mouth on it! As for Claude, I’m not one to take the disappearance of a Virindi as a world-threatening event. This sounds just like the time you warned us about how Claude was actually Grael in disguise, or that Leopold was the one that kidnapped Asheron on Bur...”
Ulgrim threw up his hands in disgust. “There’s no reasoning with you. Just remember this when your brain gets turned to applesauce again! That is, if it ever got un-sauced from the first time!” He stormed out of the tavern, muttering angrily to himself. A moment later he came back inside, picked up the half-empty mug of stout, and drained it quickly. As he slammed the empty mug down on the bar, he fixed Berkholt with his crazy eyes. He let out a loud burp, then leaned in close to Berkholt and said, “Applesauce, I tell you! Applesauce!”
With that, he stormed out of the tavern once more, and Berkholt could only shake his head as he watched the temperamental old man go.
