Story

[miotas]

oh, well, i was trying to be kind of serious.

I'll try again tomorrow after a good night's sleep

[Megas Methuselah]

Three weeks since the first snow fell, and still the ground rose by a foot everyday. When the ground reached sky-high, the airplanes became grounded. All attempts to clear the snow had now ceased, it having been deemed wiser just to wait for the snow to stop falling. That would be nice, except it never stopped! In celebration, Megas Methuselah baked a cake. Megas was a foul man, a selfish old man who loved winter and hated the summer. He lived in a small cave in the hills, cackling and prancing madly to himself at the sight of all the snow. Megas was the archmage of the Council of Ice, and his mission was rid the world of all things good and warm, till all was as cold as his icy heart. People always saw him as the senile person, the lonely decrepit plotter, he was never taken seriously. Now was his chance to change the discriminative mind and views.

The fabled Vuk, who walked with giants and was a hero of old, rose from slumber to prominence in a bold attempt to recover his past glories and reverse these tragic turn of events. The ancient pack now broken, and their glory of old faded to a memory, Vuk now had to hunt alone. And then he pray to the God, to stop the blizzard from falling, so all the rest of the men would be free from the frozen jail. Alas, it was not to be; Rhyfelwyr of Wales, a renowned thief and vagabond, had steathily advanced towards Vuk as he knelt in prayer and, with a quick hand, snatched the fabled one's staff. No one knew why a Vuk -a wolf- would carry a staff, but Rhyf knew that it must be truely important, for Vuk would never do anything trivial or stupid. Indeed, despite the fact that the snarling Vuk had recently befriended Miotas the Sheep, Rhyfelwyr of Wales still had a stubborn belief in the wisdom of the fabled Vuk.

[Rhyfelwyr]

Three weeks since the first snow fell, and still the ground rose by a foot everyday. When the ground reached sky-high, the airplanes became grounded. All attempts to clear the snow had now ceased, it having been deemed wiser just to wait for the snow to stop falling. That would be nice, except it never stopped! In celebration, Megas Methuselah baked a cake. Megas was a foul man, a selfish old man who loved winter and hated the summer. He lived in a small cave in the hills, cackling and prancing madly to himself at the sight of all the snow. Megas was the archmage of the Council of Ice, and his mission was rid the world of all things good and warm, till all was as cold as his icy heart. People always saw him as the senile person, the lonely decrepit plotter, he was never taken seriously. Now was his chance to change the discriminative mind and views.

The fabled Vuk, who walked with giants and was a hero of old, rose from slumber to prominence in a bold attempt to recover his past glories and reverse these tragic turn of events. The ancient pack now broken, and their glory of old faded to a memory, Vuk now had to hunt alone. And then he pray to the God, to stop the blizzard from falling, so all the rest of the men would be free from the frozen jail. Alas, it was not to be; Rhyfelwyr of Wales, a renowned thief and vagabond, had steathily advanced towards Vuk as he knelt in prayer and, with a quick hand, snatched the fabled one's staff. No one knew why a Vuk -a wolf- would carry a staff, but Rhyf knew that it must be truely important, for Vuk would never do anything trivial or stupid. Indeed, despite the fact that the snarling Vuk had recently befriended Miotas the Sheep, Rhyfelwyr of Wales still had a stubborn belief in the wisdom of the fabled Vuk. Having fell and cracked his head off a rock, Rhyfelwyr remember that he is in fact not Welsh, but due to the ancient Brythonic languages of his Scottish homeland, had given himself a very unfortunate name, which led to much confusion over his nationality.

[Megas Methuselah]

Three weeks since the first snow fell, and still the ground rose by a foot everyday. When the ground reached sky-high, the airplanes became grounded. All attempts to clear the snow had now ceased, it having been deemed wiser just to wait for the snow to stop falling. That would be nice, except it never stopped! In celebration, Megas Methuselah baked a cake. Megas was a foul man, a selfish old man who loved winter and hated the summer. He lived in a small cave in the hills, cackling and prancing madly to himself at the sight of all the snow. Megas was the archmage of the Council of Ice, and his mission was rid the world of all things good and warm, till all was as cold as his icy heart. People always saw him as the senile person, the lonely decrepit plotter, he was never taken seriously. Now was his chance to change the discriminative mind and views.

The fabled Vuk, who walked with giants and was a hero of old, rose from slumber to prominence in a bold attempt to recover his past glories and reverse these tragic turn of events. The ancient pack now broken, and their glory of old faded to a memory, Vuk now had to hunt alone. And then he pray to the God, to stop the blizzard from falling, so all the rest of the men would be free from the frozen jail. Alas, it was not to be; Rhyfelwyr of Wales, a renowned thief and vagabond, had steathily advanced towards Vuk as he knelt in prayer and, with a quick hand, snatched the fabled one's staff. No one knew why a Vuk -a wolf- would carry a staff, but Rhyf knew that it must be truely important, for Vuk would never do anything trivial or stupid. Indeed, despite the fact that the snarling Vuk had recently befriended Miotas the Sheep, Rhyfelwyr of Wales still had a stubborn belief in the wisdom of the fabled Vuk. Having fell and cracked his head off a rock, Rhyfelwyr remember that he is in fact not Welsh, but due to the ancient Brythonic languages of his Scottish homeland, had given himself a very unfortunate name, which led to much confusion over his nationality. In the end, Rhyfelwyr of Wales had come to the conclusion that he was, in fact, Cornish.

[Vuk]

So you all know, I am posting the completed story along with a list of contributers in the Mead Hall once it is finished, so do your best to make it a serious, good read. (or as serious as we can salvage out of this :P)




Three weeks since the first snow fell, and still the ground rose by a foot everyday. When the ground reached sky-high, the airplanes became grounded. All attempts to clear the snow had now ceased, it having been deemed wiser just to wait for the snow to stop falling. That would be nice, except it never stopped! In celebration, Megas Methuselah baked a cake. Megas was a foul man, a selfish old man who loved winter and hated the summer. He lived in a small cave in the hills, cackling and prancing madly to himself at the sight of all the snow. Megas was the archmage of the Council of Ice, and his mission was rid the world of all things good and warm, till all was as cold as his icy heart. People always saw him as the senile person, the lonely decrepit plotter, he was never taken seriously. Now was his chance to change the discriminative mind and views.

The fabled Vuk, who walked with giants and was a hero of old, rose from slumber to prominence in a bold attempt to recover his past glories and reverse these tragic turn of events. The ancient pack now broken, and their glory of old faded to a memory, Vuk now had to hunt alone. And then he pray to the God, to stop the blizzard from falling, so all the rest of the men would be free from the frozen jail. Alas, it was not to be; Rhyfelwyr of Wales, a renowned thief and vagabond, had steathily advanced towards Vuk as he knelt in prayer and, with a quick hand, snatched the fabled one's staff. No one knew why a Vuk -a wolf- would carry a staff, but Rhyf knew that it must be truely important, for Vuk would never do anything trivial or stupid. Indeed, despite the fact that the snarling Vuk had recently befriended Miotas the Sheep, Rhyfelwyr of Wales still had a stubborn belief in the wisdom of the fabled Vuk. Having fell and cracked his head off a rock, Rhyfelwyr remember that he is in fact not Welsh, but due to the ancient Brythonic languages of his Scottish homeland, had given himself a very unfortunate name, which led to much confusion over his nationality. In the end, Rhyfelwyr of Wales had come to the conclusion that he was, in fact, Cornish.

The hunt had begun, for Vuk knew that if he was to save humanity from the menacing old Megas, he would need the powers of the shadow staff that the foul taffer had stolen.

[Megas Methuselah]

Three weeks since the first snow fell, and still the ground rose by a foot everyday. When the ground reached sky-high, the airplanes became grounded. All attempts to clear the snow had now ceased, it having been deemed wiser just to wait for the snow to stop falling. That would be nice, except it never stopped! In celebration, Megas Methuselah baked a cake. Megas was a foul man, a selfish old man who loved winter and hated the summer. He lived in a small cave in the hills, cackling and prancing madly to himself at the sight of all the snow. Megas was the archmage of the Council of Ice, and his mission was rid the world of all things good and warm, till all was as cold as his icy heart. People always saw him as the senile person, the lonely decrepit plotter, he was never taken seriously. Now was his chance to change the discriminative mind and views.

The fabled Vuk, who walked with giants and was a hero of old, rose from slumber to prominence in a bold attempt to recover his past glories and reverse these tragic turn of events. The ancient pack now broken, and their glory of old faded to a memory, Vuk now had to hunt alone. And then he pray to the God, to stop the blizzard from falling, so all the rest of the men would be free from the frozen jail. Alas, it was not to be; Rhyfelwyr of Wales, a renowned thief and vagabond, had steathily advanced towards Vuk as he knelt in prayer and, with a quick hand, snatched the fabled one's staff. No one knew why a Vuk -a wolf- would carry a staff, but Rhyf knew that it must be truely important, for Vuk would never do anything trivial or stupid. Indeed, despite the fact that the snarling Vuk had recently befriended Miotas the Sheep, Rhyfelwyr of Wales still had a stubborn belief in the wisdom of the fabled Vuk. Having fell and cracked his head off a rock, Rhyfelwyr remember that he is in fact not Welsh, but due to the ancient Brythonic languages of his Scottish homeland, had given himself a very unfortunate name, which led to much confusion over his nationality. In the end, Rhyfelwyr of Wales had come to the conclusion that he was, in fact, Cornish.

The hunt had begun, for Vuk knew that if he was to save humanity from the menacing old Megas, he would need the powers of the shadow staff that the foul taffer had stolen. In response, the aged and despised Megas Methuselah, archmage of the Council of Ice, drafted together a strike force of Finnish conscripts; it was their goal to capture Rhyfelwyr of Cornwall and enact brute torture upon the thief before stealing his stolen staff and returning it to their lords and masters in the Council of Ice.

[Vuk]

Three weeks since the first snow fell, and still the ground rose by a foot everyday. When the ground reached sky-high, the airplanes became grounded. All attempts to clear the snow had now ceased, it having been deemed wiser just to wait for the snow to stop falling. That would be nice, except it never stopped! In celebration, Megas Methuselah baked a cake. Megas was a foul man, a selfish old man who loved winter and hated the summer. He lived in a small cave in the hills, cackling and prancing madly to himself at the sight of all the snow. Megas was the archmage of the Council of Ice, and his mission was rid the world of all things good and warm, till all was as cold as his icy heart. People always saw him as the senile person, the lonely decrepit plotter, he was never taken seriously. Now was his chance to change the discriminative mind and views.

The fabled Vuk, who walked with giants and was a hero of old, rose from slumber to prominence in a bold attempt to recover his past glories and reverse these tragic turn of events. The ancient pack now broken, and their glory of old faded to a memory, Vuk now had to hunt alone. And then he pray to the God, to stop the blizzard from falling, so all the rest of the men would be free from the frozen jail. Alas, it was not to be; Rhyfelwyr of Wales, a renowned thief and vagabond, had steathily advanced towards Vuk as he knelt in prayer and, with a quick hand, snatched the fabled one's staff. No one knew why a Vuk -a wolf- would carry a staff, but Rhyf knew that it must be truely important, for Vuk would never do anything trivial or stupid. Indeed, despite the fact that the snarling Vuk had recently befriended Miotas the Sheep, Rhyfelwyr of Wales still had a stubborn belief in the wisdom of the fabled Vuk. Having fell and cracked his head off a rock, Rhyfelwyr remember that he is in fact not Welsh, but due to the ancient Brythonic languages of his Scottish homeland, had given himself a very unfortunate name, which led to much confusion over his nationality. In the end, Rhyfelwyr of Wales had come to the conclusion that he was, in fact, Cornish.

The hunt had begun, for Vuk knew that if he was to save humanity from the menacing old Megas, he would need the powers of the shadow staff that the foul taffer had stolen. In response, the aged and despised Megas Methuselah, archmage of the Council of Ice, drafted together a strike force of Finnish conscripts; it was their goal to capture Rhyfelwyr of Cornwall and enact brute torture upon the thief before stealing his stolen staff and returning it to their lords and masters in the Council of Ice. It was now a race to see who could find the crafty thief first.