In a land far away called Bizan, the ruler was called the Shan. Not many folks have heard of the Shan of Bizan. This is because the unfortunate Shan had been subject to bouts of epilepsy since youth, and his family kept it all quiet.
It would have been a disasterous embarrasment to the family if the Shan's ailment had become public knowledge, so if anyone were present when he was struck by an attack of epilepsy, the palace guards had standing orders that those people must be killed immediately.
Now, it came to pass that a grand party was thrown by the Shan to celebrate his wedding day, with many many guests in attendance. Yet cruel fate was not to be denied, and in the middle of the party the Shan was struck by another epileptic seizure.
Some of the guests, having heard rumors of people mysteriously disappearing when with the Shan, realized what would come next and made immediately for the door, and a few actually escaped before the palace guards gained control of the crowd.
The next day, when one of those who had escaped noticed someone else he'd seen at the party. He walked over and asked discreetly,
"I say, where were you when the fit hit the Shan?"
There was once a very influential farmer in a remote part of Therengia, who had a problem. His chickens were losing their feathers and dying. He sought the counsel of the two wisest Elothians in town, Hing, who was scientist, and Ming, who was a Moon Mage.
Hing, who has had many advanced course hours in poultry science, consults the classic text in poultry disease, "Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Diseases of Chickens, But Were Afraid to Ask."
In the book Hing finds a reference to the report of a study showing that feeding the chickens with an infusion of gum tree leaves is often a remedy for chickens losing their feathers.
Meanwhile Ming reads obscure writings of ancient wise men, he meditates, and he reads divination bones. Getting no inspiration he uses his old standby, reading tea leaves. In a spark of discovery, it comes to him that an infusion of gum tree leaves is the cure.
So the two wise men report back to the influential Therengian farmer. Ming says, "As gum sticks to tables and chairs, so shall an infusion of gum tree leaves make feathers stick to chickens." Hing agrees, saying "Studies show that infusions of gum tree leaves alleviate feather loss in chickens." The influential Therengian farmer is ecstatic, for the two wisest men in town are of a single mind. He decides to follow their recommendation. It does not work!
Moral of the Story:
"All of Hing's courses and all of Ming's ken couldn't get gum tea to feather a hen.
In a kingdom far far away, and a long long time ago, a party was being given. To this party the king had invited everyone in the kingdom to his castle. And everyone was having a grand time. The wine was flowing, the tables were overflowing with food, and the dancing was beautiful.
Suddenly, out of thin air a gnarled old man appeared. His hands clutched in tight fists by his body, smoke streaming from his shoulders, he walked up to the king and said, "How dare you have a party and not invite your own court wizard! For this insult I curse this castle with the dreaded Curse of the Fingers. Anyone who attempts to leave here will be rendered limb from limb by huge disembodied fingers!"
The wizard waved his bony arms about and shouted in a guttural unknown language. "There! It's done.", he said and vanished.
The people of the kingdom looked to their king. What would he do? How could he save them. The king pursed his lips and looked about him.
Finally, he turned to his knights and asked for a volunteer to ride to the next kingdom and plead with their wizard to remove the curse. Of course all of the knights wished to go. The king selected the knight with the greatest seniority and sent him on his way.
The knight gathered up all his weapons, put on his best suit of armor and headed out. As soon as his foot stepped off of the drawbridge, gigantic yellow fingers appeared from nowhere and ripped him limb from limb.
One after another, each knight attempted to ride out of the castle, each one in turn was ripped to shreds by the yellow fingers. Finally, no knights were left.
The king looked about him. "Is there anyone else who would brave the fingers and rescue us from this horrible curse?", he said.
"I will, sir!", said a small boy who had been serving one of the knights before he died. The small boy packed up his belongings and provisions for the journey. Since he was a poor serving boy, and had no horse, he knew he would have to walk. But he was determined to succeed.
As soon as he crossed the drawbridge, the yellow fingers appeared and tried to rip him apart. They couldn't! Each time the tried to grab him, the boy wriggled free and continued on his journey!
Several days later, the boy was back at the castle with the neighboring kingdom's wizard. The wizard said some magic words and instantly, the fingers were gone.
The king called the boy to him and asked,; ;"How did you escape from those monstrous fingers? All my knights couldn't get past them and they were killed. How could you do it?"
The boy looked up at the king and replied, "Your majesty, it occurred to me as the last knight was being killed that the only way to escape this curse was to......LET YOUR PAIGES DO THE WALKING THROUGH THE YELLOW FINGERS."
An Empath couple was captured by some decidedly unfriendly gargoyles,tied together with a long piece of leather and left dangling over a large cliff.
That evening, the gargoyles danced and chanted around the campfire and as each member passed the leather strap holding the unfortunate Empaths, he gave it a whack with a stick, causing it to weaken a bit more.
As the chanting grew louder and louder, the husband looked at his wife romantically and said,
"Listen darling. They're fraying our thong!"
Many years ago, one of the great joys of the nobility was to watch races. Since each nobleman tried to be more original than the others in order to raise his own status, some pretty strange events evolved.
One of the stranger events ever to develop during this time was a competition between Gnomes. They would dress in armor, adopt a name like "Sir Vival of the Phittest" and ride on the backs of St. Bernards around a track. The sport grew in popularity until it became a Provincial event.
It was the end of the racing season, and people from all over the Province had come to see the big race. This was the ultimate. Betting was fierce and the crowds were thick.
On the day before the big race, the Zoluren champion and favorite for this year's wreath was out walking his St. Bernard. He stopped to admire a fruit peddler's wares for just a moment, and *wham*, his St. Bernard was run over by a passing caravan and was killed.
In a panic, the gnome ran to the place of business of a man who bred racing St. Bernards. "I've got to have a dog!", he panted, out of breath.
"Sorry, I don't have any. It's the day before the big race!", said the breeder. "But you don't understand! People have bet their life's savings on me! If I don't show up, I'll be lynched!", said the gnome.
The breeder really felt for the guy, and said, "Wellllll, I *do* have this one dog, but..."
"I'll take it!", shouted the gnome.
"I can't do that. This dog is really the runt of the litter, and I'm not even sure he could hold you up." He pondered for a moment and said, "No. Definitely not, I'm sorry but you'd be embarrassed and you might kill the animal."
"Look", said the gnome, "I've *got* to go out there tomorrow. You're the only breeder in town, tell me how much for this animal and I'll pay it."
"I'm sorry", said the breeder, "but you just don't understand...."
"I wouldn't send a knight out on a dog like this."
The clavichord upstairs in the Bards' Guild Conservatory, is a magnificant instrument. The inside of the lid is decorated with a deeply wooded scene depicting the edge of the Dragon's Breath Forest. The keys are shaped from smooth ivory and ebony, and veined with mother-of-pearl. But occasionally it goes out of tune.
When it happened a few years back, Silvyrfrost was too busy to tune it herself. So she decided to let another bard of some repute tune the clavichord for her. This bard, by the name of Oppaknockaty, did an excellent job. Silvyrfrost was indeed pleased with his work.
It was a year later that the clavichord was once again in need of a tuning, due to the fact that so many novice bards insisted on trying to play the fragile instrument, and ended up just pounding on the keys. Silvyrfrost once again decided to employ the services of the bard Oppaknockaty. Unfortunately, when she asked him, he refused saying,
"Ahh, Lady Silvyrfrost, don't you know? Oppaknockaty only tunes once?"
Once upon a time there was a young entreprenuer named Tates who wanted to go into business for himself. He decided that he would mass produce an adventurer's compass.
Being on a limited budget, Tates figured he would be able to make more money if he spent most of his budget on advertising and only a minimal amount on the compass production.
His idea worked--all adventurers in the land were buying his inexpensive compass. After a few months, however, the compasses started to break because of the poor quality. This led to the following Elanthian slogan:
"He who has a Tates is lost."
A farmer had several horses of which he was very proud. He spent a great deal of Platinum Kronar attending to their well being and appearance. One day, a flock of birds flew onto the property, and built their nests in the horse's manes. Before too long, the horses began to look worn and ragged, as the cacaphony of chirping and whirring was driving them crazy.
The farmer tried everything to get rid of the birds, but to no avail. Finally, in desperation, he sought the advice of a noted Ranger, who was very knowledgable when it came to horses. The expert said, "No problem! Simply weave some ordinary cooking yeast under the horse's manes, and the birds will leave, never to return!"
The farmer thought this strange, but decided to follow the expert's advice. Sure enough, within a week the birds were gone and never returned. The moral of the story, of course, is that.......
Yeast is yeast, and nest is nest, and ne'er the mane shall tweet.
The Cleric at the Temple who was in charge of the bell tower needed someone to ring the bell. His only applicant was a Gor'Tog with no arms. The cleric didn't believe a Tog with no arms had applied for the job, but let him try anyway.
'Okay', the Cleric said,'Ring the bell, if you can'. The Tog looked at the bell and ran full speed toward it. At the last minute, he jumped and smashed his face *SMACK* into the bell. It rang with a beautiful sound.
The cleric stared in disbelief as the Tog stood up, looked at the bell once more and ran full speed toward the bell. Once again, he jumped at the bell and *SMACK* he smashed his face into the bell. Once again, it rang with a beautiful sound.
The third time, the Tog ran full force at the bell and jumped. This time, he missed the bell completely and fell off the edge of the bell tower to his death on the ground far below.
The cleric ran down the stairs to where the Tog lay dead. A crowd had gathered around the body of the unfortunate Tog. "Who was he?", they asked the cleric. The cleric shrugged his shoulders and replied...
'I don't know his name, but his face sure rings a bell!'
The next day, the same Cleric gets a visit from the dead Gor'Togs brother. He doesn't have any arms either. The Gor'Tog tells the cleric that he also wants the job of bell ringer. The cleric stares in disbelief, but lets the armless Tog try.
The Tog looks at the bell, runs full force toward the bell and at the last minute, jumps at the bell. His face hits the bell and *SMACK*, the bell rings with a beautiful sound.
The cleric stares in disbelief as the Tog stands up, looks at the bell once more and runs full speed toward the bell. Once again, he jumps at the bell and *SMACK* he smashes his face into the bell. Once again, it rings with a beautiful sound.
The third time, the Tog runs full force at the bell and jumps. This time, just like his brother, he misses the bell completely and falls off the edge of the bell tower to his death on the ground far below.
The cleric runs down the stairs to where the Tog lies dead. A crowd gatheres around the body of the unfortunate Tog. "Who was he?", they ask the cleric. The cleric scratches his head and replies...
'I don't know his name...but he's a dead ringer for his brother!
This happened a long, long time ago, when the cedar, the fir, and the pine still had needles that yellowed and dropped in the fall instead of staying green all winter.
Once in those olden times a Human went out into the woods to hunt. He walked and walked, and he came farther than any hunter had ever dared to go. He saw a bog so vast that no beast could have crossed it, no bird could have flown across.
And the Human said to himself: "If our animals can't run across this bog, and our birds cannot fly across it, what kinds of animals and birds live on the other side?"
The more he thought about it, the more curious he became. "I must find out," he said to himself. "Whatever happens, I must get there. And so he took a good running start, and leaped right clear across the bog.
He looked around: the same earth, the same grass, the same trees.
"Silly!" he said. "There was no need to jump."
Suddenly his mouth dropped open with wonder. In a little clearing stood seven harnessed rabbits. They stood quietly, waiting. Then seven people came out of seven burrows in the earth, exactly like all people, only tiny. When the rabbits flattened their ears, the people were taller than the rabbits. When the rabbits' ears stood up, the people were smaller than the rabbits.
"Who are you?" asked the Human. "We are immortal people," said the tiny men. "We wash ourselves in living water, and we never die of old age. And who are you?"
"I am a hunter."
The little men clapped their hands with joy. "Oh, good! Oh, good!" they cried in chorus.
And one of them, the eldest, with white hair and a long white beard, came forward and said, "A terrible, huge beast has come into our land. We don't know where it came from. The other day it caught one of our people and killed him. We are immortal, we never die of natural causes ourselves, but this beast killed one of us. You are a hunter---can you help us in this trouble? Can you hunt down the beast?"
"Why not?" answered the Human, but to himself he wondered: "Will I be able to kill such a frightful beast?"
However, he went out to track the beast. He looked and he looked, but could find nothing except rabbits' footprints. Suddenly, among the rabbit prints he noticed the track of a sable.
"Oh, that's too fine a quarry to miss," he said. "First I will get the sable, and then I'll go on looking for the terrible, huge beast."
He found the sable and killed it. Then he skinned it and went on with his search. He walked the length and breadth of the little people's land, but could not find any trace of the beast.
So he came back to the little people and said to them: "I could not find your terrible, huge beast. All I have found was this sable." And he showed them the little sable skin.
"That's it, that's it!" they cried. "Oo-h, what a huge skin, what thick paws, what terrible, sharp claws!" And the eldest of the little men said to the Human, "You have saved us and our people! And we shall pay for your kindness with kindness. Wait for us. We'll come to visit you and bring you living water. You'll wash in it and will become immortal too."
The Human jumped back across the bog and went back to his valley and told his people about the little men. And the Humans began to wait for their guests, the immortal little men.
They waited one day, two days, three days, many, many days. But the guests did not come, and the Humans forgot about them and their promise.
Winter came. Everything around was frozen. And the bog was covered with a coat of ice. One day the village women went to the woods to gather firewood. Suddenly they saw a little herd of rabbits galloping their way. They looked again, and saw that every rabbit was saddled, and in every saddle sat a tiny man with a little pitcher in his hands. The women burst out laughing at the sight.
"Look, look!" they cried to one another. "They are riding on rabbits!"
"And look at the little men, how funny!"
"Oh, what a joke!"
"Oh, I'll die laughing!"
Now, the immortal people were a proud race. They took offense at this reception. The one in front, with white hair and a long beard, shouted something to the others, and all of them spilled out the contents of their pitchers onto the ground. Then the rabbits turned and hopped away so fast that you could only see their white tails flicker.
And so the Humans never got the living water. It went instead to the pine, the cedar, and the fir. And this is why they are fresh and green all through the year. Their needles never die.