Spindle

[!] The following would be obnoxiously pinned across all available flat surfaces - including all the various Almarian mothers. Netzhal Kazimira Othaman — ✠ — On a cold night in winter’s heart, A man came home and lit a spark; He forsook his boots, and sweater too, Then to his study, the man withdrew. Whereat he saw, a great big mark - Upon his walls was there an arc; Then he drew forward, and forward again, And lo, he regarded it then; A scrawl of text in black and blue, Who’s print was cold like frigid dew; Pronouncements not in words of men, Made clear in the umbral casted den. — ✠ — From The Author Should you wish to find me, I am currently residing in a great big wagon - machine, wooden walking contraption. [!] The following illustration was attached.

cap’s a t-word 220 Minas Spindle (Elaine)#7394

Viking!?!?

Pretty writing.

1 ticket please.

I was under the impression a place on the map had to go under a submission?

— ✠ — Of old was an age whereat the Maðrvindr inhabited the Störheim; a time in which the world was newborn and the heavens toiled in its making. Vacant was the land to which they voyaged and from an unroofed heaven did the gods gaze down upon them with gladness. Rotinnvængr Sigurdur Olafsson 1403 — ✠ — Erik of Bekkrheim Artist: Uhtred Hiiemäe Circa 1200 Far and forlorn in the southern reaches of the world is the island of Störheim situated. The geography of this place can be characterised by a domineering frigid climate that has made the scarce settlements principally spotting its glacial coastline resilient and strong. A winding vascularity of rivers circulating into deep ashen-shored inlets separates this coastline; at which point the lands further inward meet into mountains, pitching upwards into towering volcanic behemoths[5]. Bekkrheim Cresting the northernmost and coldest point of the Störheim is the capital Bekkrheim; for even the chiefest inhosbilities of the Störheim are no match for the sturdy spirit of the Maðrvindr people. Bekkrheim is the largest population centre of the island and can be distinguished by a particular divergent quality in its architecture. Maðrvindr Architetecture Against the surrounding diminution of wooden villages and isolated hovels, Bekkrheim possesses a grand spirit of stone-worked advancement. A circumfusion of vast bridges flow into a massing of balustrades, turrets, and pointed roofs that make up the keep. The keep is often regarded as the heart of Bekkrheim, where all forms of commerce, politics, and culture stem from. Bekkrheim Keep[6] Settlements outside the cultural cast of Bekkrheim are generally primitive in nature. Houses are often made with mudbrick or wood, or in some rare instances, foundations are laid with stone. Walled societies other than Bekkrheim exist, namely Shäelheim in the south - a fishing village loosely under the vassalage of Bekkrheim, and Jolslatra to the west - the chief enemy of Bekkrheim who has hitherto never been conquered. Shäelheim[7] Jolslatra Jolslatra is the westernmost hold of the Störheim famed for its vileness in appearance and prevalent practice of shamanism. This prevalence is attributed as the sole deflecting factor against the larger and more powerful Bekkrheim and is deeply engrained into Jolslatran culture. Regarding its vile appearance, Jolslatra is situated against the direct volcanic runoff of the nearby Vaarl Mountain leaving the earth gnarled and blackened and the sky sunless. Jolslatra Keep[9] — ✠ — The Maðrvindr are a homogenous species of highland humans yet the racial distinctions between them are dual: denizens adopt either the phenotypical appearance of Jolslatra or Bekkrheim. Other settlements on Störheim follow suit, where populations rarely intermingle and hybridize. Jolslatran Jolslatran people possess two distinct traits. Firstly is their eyes which are always limpid colours of white, blue, and green. It has been speculated that the poisonous fumes from the nearby mountain taint these inhabitants' eyes leading to their odd disposition. Other theories posit the afreksmaðr, or the evil touch; this theory suggests their prevalent reliance on shamanism has imbued some insipid form of cataract in the Jolslatran gene pool. This notion holds little credence in academic circles, where general consensus supports the prior theory of volcanic blight. The second discernable characteristic is the skin. Much like their limpid eyes, a Jolastran’s complexion is delineated by a noticeable lack of tone akin to a Mali’ker. Milky whites and greys comprise the complexion of the majority of the Jolslatran population and is due entirely to the shielding effects of volcanic ash. Jolslatra itself is known as the Sólaldauða - The Sunless Kingdom. Jolslatran Shaman[10] Bekkrheimn The phenotypical traits of the Bekkrheimn are generally true to the form of highlanders. A notable distinction however is the hair and eyes, which are marked by a monomorphic trait of blue eyes and blond hair. Deviations do arise although they are rare. A Bekkrheimn Berserkr — ✠ — Eartheater[11] Eartheaters Of all the beasts of Störheim, Eartheaters are perhaps the fiercest. Inhabiting the encompassing Bekkrheim mountains, Eartheaters terrorise surrounding farmers by eating livestock and damaging property with their elaborately carved dens. A common rite of passing of Bekkrheimn Wolfpacks is the slaying of such creatures, whereat their serpentine bodies are displayed through the capital during trophy parades. The average eartheater grows up to twenty feet long and seven feet wide, though larger and more monolithic sizes have been recorded[11]. Adult Molten Spitter[11] Molten Spitters Molten Spitters inhabit the volcanic regions of central and western Störheim. These regions are rarely treaded on account of their presence, however, similar to the relation of Eartheaters in Bekkrheim, Molten Spitters are hunted by Jolslatran shamans and Wolfpacks. Adult Molten Spitters have been documented to grow over sixty metres in some rare instances. Avirrins above the clouds[12] Avirrins Peering up to the skies of Störheim, one may have the privilege to set their eyes upon a group of Avirrins. These cnidarian creatures float above the clouds on account of their inflated bodies, their tentacles flowing in their wake like tenuous kite tassels. Avirrins migrate once every four years along ocean coasts at very high altitudes during the Deep Cold[12]. An Iron Ram[11] Iron Rams Iron rams inhabit those intermediary areas between volcanic mountains and glacial coastlines - the rocky hills at the feet of great volcanoes. These resilient creatures are often used as guard animals in farming communities due to their curved horns, speed, and power. Iron Rams possess a particular aggressive spirit, oftentimes choosing to run right towards any perceived threat or predator[11]. Direwolves These giant wolves inhabit the loosely forested coastal steps of Störheim and are the progenitors of the Berserkr Wolfpack identity. Structurally, direwolves[13] resemble that of ordinary wolves, their distinction lies in their scale. They are generally twice the size of ordinary wolves. The Mimsy Cat[14] Mimsy Cats OOC Note: Can be removed if Mimsy Cat submission is denied Mimsy Cats congregate only in areas of large magical communion, segregating them to Jolslatra. While they are clearly cat-like in appearance, Mimsy Cats do not differ in variety. Black hair and yellow eyes are their only form. Further, populations of Mimsy Cats suffer from a prevailing female monomorphism and as a result, the rate in which they breed is greatly diminished. The Temperament of Mimsy Cats differs as a result of the characters that surround it. Regarding mundane folk, Mimsy Cats behave with a peculiar mischievous spirit. Being where they are not supposed to be. Prodding at things not meant to be prodded. Among the shamans of Maðrvindr, this mischievous spirit does not depart, however, a Mimsy Cat would additionally act with a warmness uncharacteristic of even domestic cats. Frequent offerings of misplaced items, birds, mice, and other little creatures are often made by Mimsy Cats to these occult proponents and are typical of their behaviour[14]. Locustas[15] Locustas Locustas populate the glacial coast of Störheim. Their structure resembles that of a giant lobster, ladened with a thick carapace spotted with poisonous marine bacteria like little limits to a rock. Further, Locusts possess two spindly antennae protruding out from the top of its head and powerful spiny arms that are capable of easily tearing apart animals it may deem a threat. This creature resides in caverns or holes of an ocean, large lakes, or the farthest depths - swimming to the surface in order to soak up sunlight[15]. — ✠ — OOC Note: This is a work of fiction In the beginning there was Arümé, who in other lands is named The Creator; and from his mind’s eye he wrought the first beings of the world, the Yoüie, holy beings fashioned in his likeness. Numerous were they, and not all of fair spirit or countenance; yet Arümé loved them all equally, for they were all his children and he was pleased. And after their making he called upon them, teaching them all he knew in skill of hand and mind, and ever as he spoke they harkened dearly. Therein, in tones of implacable ardour Arümé propounded to them: ‘Hark to mine words and muse; muse! O scion of Imyuniuléo- for thy soul hast been wrought from mine, this last vestige of mine spirit, which I shalt now bestoweth upon thee all!’ Then the voice of Arümé went silent, and his eyes were set ablaze with the souls of countless suns, yet the hearts of the Yoüie did not cower, and for a long while they sat before him, enwreathed in their father's brilliance. Then the Yoüie were hallowed, and for ever as they sat, Arümé wove into them his being, and he fashioned for some a holy form. Highest among the Yoüie was lnloléüna, and Arümé lofted his right hand, bestowing upon her the form of a vole, and she was glad. And Arümé then called upon Aüyeúun, and he was bestowed the form of his second children, who hitherto occupied naught in the mind of Arümé, yet he was also glad. Then the Yoüie arose, and upon seeing the mighty forms of their brethren, allowed jealousy to seize them. And for a time discord befell the dwelling of Arümé, and above all others, plagued the mind of Áelin chiefly. Then in mockery of Arümé, Áelin toiled ever to the wishes of his father, fashioning himself the form of a winged lizard, and he too was glad. In the midst of this variance, whereat the place of the Yoüie resounded with their discord, ire arose in the voice of Arümé and he spoke for a second time: ‘O Áelin, child of mine thought, must thy jealousy carry thee to such lengths? Must thy jealousy consume thee so?’ And numerous were the other things Arümé spoke to the Yoüie at that time, and from his words they came to understanding; a form wrought in the likeness of Áelin, shall henceforth, cease to disgrace the halls of Arümé’s dwelling. And so it came to pass that in that dwelling where ought else was made, Arümé once more gathered together the ranks of the Yoüie into his halls, and amid the splendour of its greatness he spoke a third time: ‘For thou strife, I shalt invoke penance and alloweth: that thee may venture forth from this place of dwelling, and beseech mine will upon what cometh. And for this I shalt giveth all a form made holy!’ Then the vastness of Arümé’s voice coalesced into form, and with a roar that filled the ears of his children, that place of his dwelling was filled with great and wonderful light - that of which would never grace the hold of Arümé thereafter. And while the Yoüie were yet gazing upon Arümé’s greatness and were enamoured with it, Arümé wove for them all forms hallowed by his hand and mind[4]. Histories of the Lalaüin ARetelling of the Maðrvindr Creation Myth V.E. Constantine 1763 The Maðrvindr Berserkr The Kjölr Wolfpack Woe to the Berserkr: The vile Slatran thought! With stone in hand strike him, Then spite him. Loose upon them Vængr, King of Gustr and Myrr; Lord of Hreidmar’s great halls. Know him well. Felagi Olaf Gjörð 1127 The Maðrvindr Berserkr - a vicious and brutal warrior renowned for their thoughtless violence, are the primary warfighters of Bekkrheim. Children from a young age are brought under this fierce cast of martial spirit and are taught the two primary forms of Berserk combat, the first of which is the Angrkharn. The Angrkharn employs all variants of close-quarter combat tools, primarily swords from small to long, battleaxes, warhammers, and shields. Shields under the Angrkharn are invariably bucklers, those shields of a round and small quality; this is due to the Berserkr’s reliance on battle brothers who comprise a larger collective that is denoted as a Wolfpack. The second form is the Veikr. The Veikr comprises all forms of ranged combat, however, chief in focus is the use of short spears. Short spears are generally used in the Veikr for short-ranged throws insofar as the Berserkr can retrieve it swiftly for subsequent use. These two combat forms are used in tandem whereat practitioners fluidly shift between forms depending on the range of their opponent. Nurturing this warrior spirit is the belief of the Väki - an unseen force of lingering death in which the spirits of passed Berserkrs blur the boundaries between the corporeal and immaterial realms, possessing the hearts of these living warriors. An epidemic frenzy of power has been said to come from the Väki and various traditions of battle have sprouted to invoke its effects[3]. Raðligr, or the death chant is a symptom of this belief. As the name suggests, the Raðligr is sung before an ensuing battle whereat a Wolfpack forms into a single rank and chants the following: Hræddr - æva / Nær - andlät / Dauði - kærr / Oäran - æva Maðrvindr Shamanism Sigurdsson of Vaarl Sammœðr - sauðr / Gjallarbrú - gjósa / Norrœnn - nýra Sammœðr - sauðr / Gjallarbrú - gjósa / Norrœnn - nýra Hlórriði - hlæja / Iðjumaðr - inn / Stjórna - stokkr Hlórriði - hlæja / Iðjumaðr - inn / Stjórna - stokkr An Aspirant’s Rite of Passage The shamanic practice of the Maðrvindr is deep-rooted in its cultural spirit, with its mystical cast differing only in heritage. - Shamanism in Störheim functions under the same mechanical as the existing Shamanism lore[16] - Variances in Maðrvindr shamanism arise in the names of its subtypes. They are as follows: Farseers are known as Forstjóri, Lutaumans are known as Langfeðgar, Witch Doctors are known as Fála, and Elementalists are known as Fjǫlkunnigr. Regarding the many corresponding spirits, their names are the same. From an early age are children of Störheim weaned to the influence of shamanic belief. These children are distinguished as Fjǫðr - aspirants, who fall under the tutelage of the Nauðugr. The Nauðugr are a particular caste of shamans dedicated to the teaching and upholding of shamanic customs and traditions. Realised aspirants who have graduated the teaching of a Nauðugr are then able to practice on their own or become Nauðugr themselves. This intermediary stage is known as Sauðr. While shamanism is practised all across the island, the heart of its use presides in Jolslatra. Jolslatran shamans are distinguishable in the way in which they take on Fjǫðr. Aspirants are taken in only once in adulthood as there is a belief of diminished spiritual communion in children. — ✠ — The First Age The First Age, or the Stýra Ulmo by some, was an age characterised by the emergence of Störheim from the sea. An age unthreaded by the soon-to-come Maðrvindr. An age of fire and ice. Deep volcanic rumblings beneath the tides came first, then fountains of molten lava spewed upwards, tempering into hardened rock. These rumblings resounded upon imperceptible ears, however, what was left was a land of blankness, a land soon to be inhabited by the venturous spirit of man. The Second Age Drawn upon such an island was a band of early sailors. These settlers of the Maðrvindr are now known as the Stýrimaðr, the early ones or the ones who come first. Proclaiming the new-found land of Störheim as his own, the captain of these sailors, who was later known as Erik of Bekkrheim, founded the first city aptly entitled Bekkrheim. Thereat a great deal of time passed; a time when all was well and the people were glad. However, this time of peace was soon to end as a shaman named Sigurdsson of Vaarl split from the Stýrimaðr, founding the nation of Jolslatra. The Vandliga Jolslatra and Bekkrheim soon came to quarrel, at which in great avarice Sigurdsson took the vassal state of Vallandheim for himself, enslaving its people and drawing Bekkrheim to conflict. This conflict was later titled the Vandliga and was concluded after Bekkrheim was decisively defeated in the Uthran Fields. A treaty was soon wrought and Jolslatra became the domineering power of the land. The Third Age As the Vandliga marked the end of the Second Age, a sharp shift in attitude gripped those of Bekkrheim. A silent warrior spirit was drawn to the forefront of Bekkrheimn culture and what was to come of the Berserkr revealed its canine head. Boys were taught from an early age in the arts of combat. An art called the Angrkharn and Veikr. Quietly Bekkrheim amassed in power until the hegemony of Jolslatra was disturbed; no longer was Jolslatra sovereign in rule and at which point the Second Vandliga began. The SecondVandliga Violence hitherto seen in Störheim ensued as both kingdoms were left ruined and the men who survived were far-and-few. Yet one clear victor remained - Bekkrheim. The treaty of Vaarkan was signed and the lands of Vallandheim were returned, and then once again peace graced the lands. The Fourth Age The Fourth Age of which is the current age has been characterised thus far by a sense of nervous unease. The defeated Jolsltrans, much like the Bekkrheimn in the third age, have gradually increased their eminence, taking major settlements such as Nildheim under their cultural shadow. Of the other settlements of Störheim, their hope of independence is fanciful. Vassaldom to either major power is seemingly the only route of subsistence to these smaller populations and a cultural standoff is the looming zeitgeist of the era. References Tolkien, J. R. R., & Tolkien, C. (2009). The legend of Sigurd and Gudrún (p. 45). London: HarperCollins. Ahola, J., Frog, & Kalevalaseura. (2021). Folklore and Old Norse mythology. Kalevala Society. Ahola, J. (2011). Viikinkiaika Suomessa – Viking Age in Finland [Review of Viikinkiaika Suomessa – Viking Age in Finland]. University of Helsinki. Tolkien, J. R. R. (1991). The Silmarillion. HarperCollins. Muir, T. S. (1915). The physical geography of Iceland. Scottish Geographical Magazine, 31(5), 254-257. k04sk. (n.d.). Castle by k04sk [Review of Castle by k04sk]. DeviantArt. https://br.pinterest.com/pin/181269953731405541/ Roberts, T. (n.d.). Viking Village [Review of Viking Village]. ArtStation. https://www.pinterest.com.au/pin/608267493407331108/ Tolley, C. (2009). Shamanism in Norse myth and magic (No. 296). Academia Scientiarum Fennica. Patel, H. (n.d.). Viking Village [Review of Viking Village]. ArtStation. https://www.pinterest.com.au/pin/2d--476959416760925561/ Szade, R. A. (n.d.). Cuckoo [Review of Cuckoo]. ArtStation. https://www.pinterest.com.au/pin/592645632197212721/

We have similar taste! Personally I wouldn't.

I should probably get onto reading it. I hear the narrative style is weird. One of the rare American authors I enjoy. The Alchemist seems like a common trend in this thread. I really did not enjoy it.

The Silmarillion was a major slog for me. Read it twice but still cannot say I'm a fan. As for Sanderson, he did well with finishing The Wheel of Time and I enjoyed The Way of Kings, but the longer the series goes the worse it gets. Put the fourth book down after a few chapters.

Yes. What did you think?

Ursula Le Guin's prose are the best fantasy has to offer in my opinion Added to the list!

Hello. Perhaps it's not my place to be composing threads on topics that I may not grasp in their entirety - seeing as I have only been scampering around this community for such a short time. However, during my stint here it appears that with every refresh, or after albeit the now very rare instances I take a little break, there's a new post about the many failings and “problems” with Lotc. I don’t think I will ever shake this newfound association that the string of words “the problems with…” evokes. With that being said, this is me shining a light into this decrepit demi-monde in hopes of maybe airing out some cobwebs and dust. Before I start rambling, this thread was inspired by @un-w So I like books. I figured you people do too. A book club thread seemed like a fun little way to break up the avalanche that is this: Nothing against you hun @Slorbin So don’t be shy! Go ahead and share whatever you’re reading or whatever you want to read. Format (go ahead and copy this) Favourite book or author? The Sound of Waves by Yukio Mishima The first book you read, or the first one you remember reading? The first book I can confidently say I can remember reading was Rowan of Rin. A pretty eccentric one but it was a big thing over here in Australia, especially in the 90s. My parents read me a plethora of books when my brain was like a smooth marble. As a result, my childhood amnesia prohibits me from remembering anything about them. The hobbit was a pretty big one, which I later revisited like a lot of the other ones I had read to me. Another was a terrible translation of the odyssey. Honestly no clue why my dad thought it was a good idea to read this to a toddler. Books you want to read but haven’t got around to? Fables by Jean de La Fontaine List some others you have read and talk about them: So I’m either going to give something a star rating if I have nothing to say about them, or I’ll write a little line about why you should read it. These are my most memorable ones. The Great Gatsby - 4 stars The Odyssey - 5 stars (You need to make sure the translation is good. Really hit or miss) Heart of Darkness - 4.5 stars (Conrad is astounding. Prose are unreal. And English was not even his first language) Pride and Prejudice - 4 stars The Divine Comedy - 5 stars (It’s a prerequisite. You just gotta) Arabian Nights - ??? (Cutest bedtime stories ever) The Dream of a Ridiculous Man - 4 stars Rashōmon - 4 stars Zadig & Candide - 5 stars (Two books but you have to read both) The Metamorphosis - 4 stars The Count of Monte Cristo - 3.5 stars I Am a Cat - 4 stars (Mimsy cat inspiration. Seriously good and a prerequisite for Japanese lit) No Longer Human - 3 stars (Japanese Dostoyevsky) The Old Man and the Sea - 4 stars (Hemmingway was just a straight version of Mishima) Faust - 4 stars (Might not count but all you spooky players should be reading/watching this) A Wizard of Earthsea - 4 stars (The peak before the cesspool of modern fantasy. How’s it feel all you Patrick Rothfuss fans. The Princess and the Goblin - 3.5 stars Notes From Underground - 4 stars Dead Souls - 4 stars (Grandad of Russian lit) Keep being cool, Spindle/Elaine

Edited 14/07/22 (Developed upon Vaseek lore) - Credit to @Tentoa for the concept bootleg.

The Mimsy Cat Purpose The intention behind this piece is to expand on the trope of the witch’s cat. Lo! What self-respecting witch would employ such a mundane thing as a house cat? Therefore, this rendition of the idea, the Mimsy Cat, is my interpretation. I first want to acknowledge my many references, chief amongst which is Robert Jordan’s “The Wheel of Time” from which the original idea of a mystically enticed cat arose. Now, I feel it necessary to discuss the inspiration behind this lore entry. Foreword: On Bestial Myths, Cats, & Culture In the fifth century B.C.E., Greek historian Herodotus noted in the Histories[1] of the aiélouros cat, or the “waving ones.” He was of course referring to the oscillating quality of their tails, yet this seemingly mundane observation accurately characterised the mystical notion of the cat in mythos and culture[2]: Their whimsy impermanence. Darnton (1984), attributes this impermanence[3] to “an indefinable je ne sais quoi about cats, a mysterious something that has fascinated mankind.” In broader culture, there appear similar rich stories and myths pertaining to this idea of the aiélouros cat. Ancient Egypt and the Bastet. Europe and the black cat, Cat-sìth, and the witch’s cat. Islam and Muezza. The cats of such stories often share a common undomestication. A ferality not subdued or in mimicary of human behaviour or action[4]. In Rudyard Kipling’s The Cat Who Walked By Itself, the reader is presented with the “independent dependence,”[4] and the uncaring character of the domestic cat. Similarly, Natsume Souseki’s I am a cat, reminds us of their pussyfooted guile - “If whiskers establish sauciness, every cat is impudent.”[5] Under the looming cast of the Christian zeitgeist, the cat took on an increasing evil element. An association with the spirit of the devil. The cat soon became a companion of the witch and bonfire and an aura of hilarious witch-hunting was the spirit of the time. Mystical consensus predicated that witches could turn into cats and cats could become witches.[6] Therefore the torture of cats sprouted as a seemingly amusing pastime in early modern Europe. Literature of the time reinforces this notion - Hogarth's depiction of the stages of cruelty and Cervantes’s Don Quixote illustrate the practice of hanging cats and burnings alongside witches. Lawrence (2003), posits this to be a difference in cultural perception.[6] The symbolism attached to an animal naturally differs from one cultural context to another. Despite this fact, some form of lingering ***** tone remains: The distrust of cats and their whimsy impermanence. Creature Lore: The Mimsy Cat Padfoot The Mimsy, Padfoot The Mimsy; Coat like thistle and tail all flimsy. Padfoot The Mimsy Cat On Almarian Bestiary C. E. Dantes 1766 Introduction The Mimsy Cat is an animal of a puzzling quality. Were it possible to ignore the mystical nature of the creature, its character would seem indistinguishable to that of any other black-furred cat. Yet it is in that mystical nature that its puzzling quality has been observed and discerned from the domestic cat. In legend, if one was to believe in such things, an agreement between a witch and the daemon Vaasek created what was to become of the first Mimsy Cat. In her dark dabblings, this particular witch of an untold origin brought upon herself the anger of a neighbouring village. As it is so common, the occupants of the neighbouring village caught wind of her mischief and forced her before the township to burn. At her time of definite peril, Vaasek offered aid in the form of turning the witch into a black cat, whereat she hastily escaped and was forever indebted to the daemon. It is believed thereafter, that the witch and subsequent Mimsy Cats aid Vaasek as spies, lurking in all the dingy and decrepit shadows, imparting what little information they can gather to the lord of anxiety and fallacy.[9] Whether or not this legend is true, it has been observed among populations of Mimsy Cat’s that a certain fondness for the magical presides. Highest in order of this fondness is that of the Voidal and dark practitioner. Mimsy Cat’s are drawn to these characters like moths to a flame through use of their Sìth Sense, with the largest populations of Mimsy Cats having been observed about places of high Voidal and dark communion. In the case of deific magics, other than those of Vaasek’s relation who are characterised by the same magnetism of Mimsy Cats, the reaction of Mimsy Cats has been noted to have a certain despondent distrust. Among the populations of mundane people, Mimsy Cats behave like that of any other cat, if not for perhaps a slight significance in their rarity. Appearance While it was stated of their cat-like appearance, Mimsy Cats do not differ in variety. Black hair and yellow eyes are their only form. Further, populations of Mimsy Cats suffer from a prevailing female monomorphism[10] and as a result, the rate in which they breed is greatly diminished. Mimsy Culture Prevalent beliefs surrounding Mimsy Cats differ between cultural groups and peoples. In those northern dwellings of men, namely the Kingdoms of Norland and Hanseti-Ruska, the tales of the unlucky cat or the Cait Sidhe, pass through generations of children epidemically. It is said in these frigid lands that the Cait Sidhe claims the souls of the dead, possessed by the festering spirit of Vaasek and damning all those unlucky souls to an eternity of pain and suffering. Therefore the practice of what is called 'Feill Fadalach' or ‘The Late Wake," is performed among all those lingering believers of the unlucky cat, whereat bundles of indigenous herbs are burned around the body to ward off the Cait Sidhe from claiming the deceased’s soul. Among the land’s elves, whom some note a more civilised system of beliefs in regards to the Mimsy Cat, it is customary to leave out a saucer of milk for any stray black cats Mimsy or otherwise.[11] Within the central kingdoms of men and dwarves, the magical intimacy of the Mimsy Cat is understood to varying degrees. If it was observed in the kingdoms of a heightened degree of black-coloured cats, the assumption of a magical lingering is more than likely to be posited. Temperament The Temperament of Mimsy Cats differs as a result of the characters that surround it. Regarding mundane folk, Mimsy Cats behave with a peculiar mischievous spirit. Being where they are not supposed to be. Prodding at things not meant to be prodded. Among Voidal and dark magic users this mischievous spirit does not depart, however, a Mimsy Cat would additionally act with a warmness uncharacteristic of even domestic cats. Frequent offerings of misplaced items, birds, mice, and other little creatures are often made by Mimsy Cats to these occult proponents and are typical of their behaviour. As for users of deific powers, all previous characteristics vanish and are replaced with wariness. Ability: The Sìth Sense The only variance of Mimsy Cats to that of a mundane cat is the ability of the Sìth Sense. The Sìth pertains to the sensation of magic; a sensation within, i.e. the mana within a person of which the Mimsy Cat has a sensibility, and the mana suspended in the air which is used by various practitioners, e.g. Kani.[12] This ability of the Mimsy Cat requires no direct sight of the target/s as it relates to a lingering quality like smell, therefore, obstacles such as walls, trees, or any form of obstruction merely dampen the sensation without entirely erasing it. The Sìth Sense has a radial range of ten (10), blocks from the Mimsy Cat, and requires the use of two (2), emotes to be activated. The Ability once activated can last indefinitely. A Mimsy Cat within 10 blocks of a character with an appropriate MA in a Voidal, dark, or deific magic are acutely aware of their presence. Does not require direct sight. Cannot be obstructed by walls, trees, or any other objects. requires the use of 2 emotes to be activated. Once activated can last for an entire encounter. Mimsy Cats are untamable by ordinary players and are primarily only usable as wild, feral creatures or under the employment of Event NPCs. The Mimsy Language The uncanny attributes of the Mimsy Cat allow for an equally uncanny apparatus of communication. The Mimsy language differs from any other form of phonemic or lexical systems, consequently, any form of replication by a creature other than a Mimsy Cat is hitherto impossible. To the ears of those not a Mimsy Cat, padding, prodding, and purring are the only decipherable symptoms of communication.[7] The Mimsy language cannot be spoken by any other playable/non-playable entities. Padding, prodding, and purring are the only decipherable symptoms of communication. Grammatical Outline Credits to ImStuckInHell for support and the grammatical outline. The Mimsy language is a language of lexical stress, following a basic SVO (Subject-Verb-Object) structure. Gendered nouns, adjectives, and verbs are not employed. Adjectives and adverbs bind after nouns and verbs through the use of a hyphen (-). Further, articles attach themselves at the end of the previous word with a singular quotation (‘), regardless of it being a noun, verb, or adjective. If an article begins a sentence, the apostrophe should be omitted. Plurality in the Mimsy Language has a single form; denoted by a tilde “~”. In the case of a conjoined adjective or article, plurality is denoted after the adjective. Diminutives and augmentatives do not appear in the Mimsy lexis. Acknowledgements @ImStuckInHell - Suggestions @Gustando - Editing & Suggestions @shartings - Editing & Suggestions @Tentoa - Feedback & Additions References Herodotus. (n.d.). Histories. Benediction Classics. McNeill, L. S. (2007). Cats, Folklore, and the Experiential Source Hypothesis. What are the animals to us?: approaches from science, religion, folklore, literature, and art, 5. Darnton, Robert. (1984). The great cat massacre and other episodes in French cultural history. New York: Basic Books. Matthews, J., & Matthews, C. (2009). The Element encyclopedia of magical creatures: the ultimate A-Z of fantastic beings from myth and magic. Harper Element Soseki Natsume. (n.d.). I am a cat. アイビーシーパブリッシング 日本洋書販売. Lawrence, E. A. (2003). Feline Fortunes: Contrasting Views of Cats in Popular Culture. The Journal of Popular Culture, 36(3), 623–635. @TojoTime @Sporadichttps://www.lordofthecraft.net/forums/topic/19254-recovering-the-ancient-tongue-of-the-elves/ @Zarsies @Gamma Deborah MacGillivray. (2012). Cait Sidhe. Web.archive.org. https://web.archive.org/web/20120821034420/https://deborahmacgillivray.co.uk/scotlore_caitsidhe.html @shartings

[!] The following would be obnoxiously pinned across all available flat surfaces - including all the various Almarian mothers. Netzhal Kazimira Othaman: the subterranean scamp, wanter of wenches, calamitous cretin, and correspondent of the third-person wishes to mingle with all those principal patrons and esoteric enjoyers of literature and knowledge. Should you fit into these aforementioned categories, seek the smelly tavern situated in the Orenian undercity. Worst regards [!] The following incomplete manuscript would also be attached. Narbith - Netzhal Kazimira Othaman

[!] The following incomplete manuscript would make its way around all those shabby circles of literates and literacy. Or perhaps it was found on a certain abnormal advertisement. Narbith Netzhal Kazimira Othaman A Castle of Peculiar Consitution Narbith: A castle of peculiar constitution, cast its shadow evilly over an encasing forest teaming with all the fell things that inhabited the world. The main massing of stone, that is, the original dwelling of House Creak, jutted out like a lone candelabra, gnarled and clinging to a circumfusion of floating balusters, the stone perpetually thawing with a stalactitic quality of melting wax. Skein-like dwellings clung about this assemblage of unnatural stone like molluscs to a rock, the lacunas hollowed by the denizens of these dwellings crept fungally, up, and up, seemingly appearing of themselves, or so the Duke of Castle Narbith would Groan. Equally cretinous characters comprised the swarming architecture nestled snuggly at the foot of the castle, enshaded in the umbral cast of the towering stone and thick-limbed trees. Little imparting was made between the castle proper and the decrepit denizens of the encompassing village Skëorn, although it could be concluded that the sprouting of those clinging dwellings was the doing of these substraten residents. I Cast away in the infesting sprawl of the Skëorn, a forlorn hovel of no discernable feature was presided over by the occupant Spindle, a man unsightly in figure and cantankerous in spirit. One dark afternoon, whose noonday gloom would appear uncanny to those unfamiliar with the nature of Castle Narbith, the man Spindle pranced about his dilapidated abode, chattering to himself in a truculent fashion. Spindle’s words seemed to carry easily in this particular nondescript recess of the Skëorn, aided by a half-fathom of water that pooled to his boney knees, echoing his babble with a dialogic quality. “Yesh the gate! Yesh,” Spindle barked, “That vill do, yesh, yesh indeed it vill!” “But vat of the Bunyans, yesh and the Gimblehawksh, the Goblintrollsh too, and the Onion Eatersh” “Do not forget the Rotary Robinsh of a Rakishh Reputation,” he replied with a cackle. “Bah! ish it imposshible? Ish it? I think not.” “It ish not…” “Then it vill be done. Ve jump shaid gate, then up, up, up, and up again to the very top of the cashtle, perhapsh we pay the Duke a vishit, eh? Eh!” Spindle said, his spidery arms clung about what little figure of his was left consolingly, “Are ye not up for it? Are you not? I did not take ye for a coward… But alash, what can be done, eh?” Thereupon Spindle outstretched, his form unravelling outwards like the skeletal structure of a kite bound together with patchworked rags. His two beady eyes, if you could call them that, were glazed with an ineffectual milken hue, yet the manner in which he carried himself, and the manner in which he gangled, betrayed any semblance of sightlessness. “Fine!” he barked, donning a brightly embroidered eye cover of a similar ragged patchwork, “Good heavensh, I can shee now, oh how good it ish, oh yesh!” Having concluded his false dialogue and having solved his equally false unsight, Spindle scuttled out of the forlorn hovel of no discernable feature, moving along the well-hidden pathways of slopping earth that only a truly wretched denizen of the Skëorn would employ. II Beneath a massing of time-gnawed turrets and up through endless aged stoneworked passages and manifolds, upon the seven-hundredth-and-fifty-second floor of the Castle Narbith, past the forty-second preceding archway with a moon-leaking embrasure, lived a boy named Guile. A boy of sound mind yet plain countenance. He was clad in fine raiments of sea silk, wrought from the fillaments of metre-long molluscs native to the eastern shores, and were it not for its flayed fringes and its sheer overdrapery the thing would be considered elegant. His chin was smooth, for he was not of the age to consider shaving. His eyes were shadowed by an overbearing brow. His neck mired with epidemic spots, blazened and angry. The boy sat musingly. His legs splayed about the chill floor in a hollowed out chamber devoid of any clutter, his sole companion a solitary door of heavy wood. This particular door was left ajar whereat a cool breeze crept through, superimposing itself over the floor and adding to its bitting. A ***** rapping resounded at the door, and then another softer rap, or perhaps it was a tap, and then a third. The rapping was an odd thing, for a massing of dirty rags pitched over a spindly frame, clutered up the entirety of the doorframe in clear view of the boy, unobstructed and unneeded. “The kitchen, vhere ish it?” the figure paused, gazing about the empty room with veiled eyes clad in some colourful patchwork, “Veird place eh, empty, very empty, and cold!” “I do not think so,” Guile replied awkwardly, following the figure’s odd gaze, “Follow the hall up the stairs, and then down, and down again, spin on the spot, take a right by the moon-leaking embrasure, and then a left past the cat with one eye, up another flight of stairs, and it is on your left.” “Many thanksh,” the figure replied, darting out as quickly as it appeared. A question rankled Guile, for the halls upon the seven-hundredth-and-fifty-second floor past the forty-second preceding archway with a moon-leaking embrasure were entirely forgotten and untreaded, hidden amongst countless identical turnoffs, alleys, and doors of the castle. An unfamiliar shuffle resounded once again outside Guile’s hitherto quiet dwelling. A lingering of padded feet and a flapping of matted fur sealed this unfamiliar gait until it came into sight of the boy. Before Guile stood a Bunyan. Darkly furred with the quality of thistle. A rictus snarl revealing wicked teeth plastered over a bestial skull of the shape of a great ape. Stout in stature and menacing four spans above the floor. The boy would have cowered ought it not for a familiarity with the nature of Bunyans - as all subjects of Narbith were, and a sharp transformation of mood seized him. “A creature of the forest now calls to visit. In the wake of another his stop’s explicit.” It did not seem that such a zoic thing could usher any utterance, yet as the boy’s words left his mouth and danced upon his lips with exceedingly poetic spirit the Bunyan returned in a gnomey tone: “An iamb, and hexametre too; Thou ought to have heard the Bunyan’s game. Perhaps thou knows of the riddles fame? Answer me wrong and thy flesh I’ll stew!” “Four jolly men sat down to play, and played all night till break of day. They played for gold and not for fun, with separate scores for every one. Yet when they came to square accounts, they all had made quite fair amounts! Can you the paradox explain? If no one lost, how could all gain?” The riddle tumbled in his mind’s ear. Gnawing, festering for a time, repeating and bubbling into images commuting to the facilities of the mind’s eye. As Guile sat before the Bunyan in his cold recess high atop the strange gathering of stone called Narbith, a sole thought flashed in his head: The answer. “Musicians. The players were musicians,” he hummed jovially, permitting a smile to wash over his face. The Manifold of Duke Creak A lone marble dais presided over an encompassing sea of stone that was the manifold of Duke Creak. Lone and crested by a throne of a similar gilded marble. Lone like a conical lump of wax bathing in the gentle lustre of its solitude. A lone dais like a single peak And an empty chamber. Lone and raised like the castle itself. The manifold was of pristine condition, an oddity against the cluttered apparatus that was Narbith with its branching halls of aged stone. The Duke sat atop this particular assemblage of marble, cast in the silent brooding of those men familiar with an esteemed stationage. His hair was of a messy brown. His body, boyishly gangly and clad in silk raiments of a haar-like quality, sheer and unobstructive of his lank. The expanse that was the empty stone bellow the Duke’s seating stretched outwards and to his sides a hundred spans, wherein a looming arched door vacillated between open-and-shut to administer a flock of attendees and servants. They scurried about, and about, until the snapping character of the Duke announced itself: “Intruders, and then a Bunyan! wandering my halls for all of three days. And you all teem about me with your nonsense. Your nonsense tasks, and nonsense hushed utterances… like I am in need of your attendance. Begone with you all. Vacate my sight and find me these annoyances at once!” And with that, they scattered epidemically, pervading through the sole outlet of the manifold and into the winding stone vascularity of the castle’s many corridors. The Duke became lost again in his solitude. What thoughts penetrated his mind. What thoughts contributed to his silent brooding. It would have been impossible to know. He watched as an idle lump of wax dripped from an overhanging candelabrum onto the floor, tempering as it struck into stone and interrupted the silence of the room. And then again was the sanctitude of the Duke’s chamber interrupted as a loud rapping resounded at the door. His eyes took on the cast of ire. His hands gripped at the throne’s cold steel rails. A solitary vein writhing under the hand's skin marked his displeasure. “What,” the Duke demanded when so suddenly the door was blasted asunder, violently swinging on too-old metal hinges, and with those movements emitting an aged screech and a fat voluminous figure into the manifold. “Thire,” a teetering blob of a man panted, his sickening figure forced into an all-too-small shirt of a navy fabric, amassing at the mighty buttons that contained his girth. His tortoise-like head protruded smally from the cavernous folds of his neck and was topped with a peaked cap - denoting him the warden of Castle Narbith. A lumpy wooden baton swayed from a suspected belt-fastened anchorage, hidden under the undulating mass of the wardens overhanging belly. The effect this creature produced was in spite of all that was the manifold of Duke Creak. This wretch that drew itself before the Duke pained his gaze and sullied his surroundings. And he was chiefest amongst his attendees. “Thire,” the warden continued, “We ought be r’warded for thith. We ought be r’warded for our ‘ard work. We found ‘em walthing abouts we did, up near tha theven-hundredth-and-fifty-thecond floor, past tha forty-thecond precedin archway with a moon-leakin embrajure.” A boney figure like an immense spider was brought before the Duke. His wrists only ceremonially bound on account of their slender nature and for all the world he would appear sightless, his eyes characterised by the limpid white so often seen with the blind. “Spindle,” the Duke announced. “Shpindle I am. Shpindling around and about. Shpindly in configuration. A Shpindler!,” the boney man cried, jumping a few inches into the air in spite of his assultive utterance. A funny little dance proceeded that jumpy display, whereat his weedy knees fluttered to a silent rhythm and shuttled up his torso like a wind caught banner. The extremities of the head, arms, feet, and hands caught up with no hurry, lagging behind the main massing of patchworked cloth and flapped about flaccidly to his ***** jig. “Oh how ve did missh you Shire, oh yesh ve did mish you very much. Had to shpend shome time down in the Shkëorn - that vas all. “So it was you? Entering unannounced. The cause of the alarm?” the Duke asked. “Oh yesh, although it vash not jusht ush. Another trailed in behind. A Bunyan, yesh.” “And you brough it in with you, hm?” “Yesh,” the lanky man returned. “So not only does my retainer journey off on some nonsense escapade, he makes sure to let in whatever cretinous wildlife scurried after him? Nonsense! It is all just nonsense! Come Spindle, you will aid me in ridding the grounds of this thing. You are a man of rhythm? A man of metre and feet. Of lexical stress and all that other nonsense. Well you proclaim yourself to be, no? Come now! Off we go.”

Oh joy! He writes well.