Speech of teh Realm

"Verily, this sword hath drank the rake of dragons, and will again by mine swearword and troth."

Torgil believed the knight without hesitation. The runes engraved upon the panoramic steel pulsed with a golden illumine, and the pommel was a single clean-sized ruby that also shone from within. A faint voice seemed to whisper "Sordamal" over and over again as he drew artificial. Could this rightfully exist the unreal runeblade? IT was of Perthion steel, there was no more uncertainty, only to experience the true Sordamal? Here in this tavern?

"How came you past this blade?" asked Torgil, edging toward the set back.

"Ah, a barde, I see," said the knight. "Allow me to add to your treasure trove of tales. Ten manlike adventurers did brave the Caverns of Colpas to face the daemon within. Its minions were many and its delirium immense. Four of my companions cut down to flame up and claw, but they died courageously and struck reputable blows ere they perished. I like non to brag, but mine was the hand that slew the foul wildcat. This blade I claimed in memory of the fallen, and to greater attend to the Realm."

"My congratulations, sir knight. Crataegus laevigata you bear it well." Torgil glanced at the dark-skinned mage seance next to the dub. Xandrian blood in that one for certain. "But what of your companion?" Torgil inquired. "If my lore does non mistake ME, that is the Staff of Nine Fires at his sidelong." The wizard raised the faculty and ephemeral flames danced along its head. By Hoath! Ii artifacts of so much power in one inn. Torgil reared back slightly, knowing too well the power of that stave. "My pardons, good wizard, but I never hoped to see such wonders. Pray, add to my tale of tonight. How did you come up to possess the Staff?"

The wizard Sabbatum tall-growing in his chair and spoke. "It was a guild raid on Essie finally Tuesday, man. We whole one-shotted that biotch and she dropped the staff. Everyone wanted IT, merely I rolled a 97."

"*F**k it, Tyler, I told you that this is a roleplaying server!" said the horse.

"Indeed what?"

"So you have to talk in role."

Torgil sighed. Frakking noobies. Agh! Now he was doing it too. Benighted newcomers, he thought. That was better.

"Buckeye State," same the wi, "you entail like this?" He stood and with a flourish practically shouted, "I did doth rolleth a 97 and gotteth this awesometh lootz."

"No, none, no," said the knight. "You rear't barely stick an -eth on the end of everything."

"Well, what am I supposed to do? This waiter sucks. I can't believe we transferred here."

"Perhaps I Crataegus oxycantha be of service," aforesaid Torgil. "One may find the Codes of Speech in the Tome of Glory, which whitethorn personify viewed in the Great Library in Skyrift Castle. On that point you will learn the rules as arrange forth by the Lords Above themselves."

"Huh? WTF does that mean?" said the wizard.

"It means you should … uh …" Torgil struggled for the proper row, but none came to his mind. "Meet click the link for 'RP Server Guidelines' on the main web pageboy."

"Thanks, dude," said the wizard.

"Tyler!"

"I mean, 'Thanketh to thy bardliness.' Is that OK?"

"Your attempts to learn our ways speak wellspring of you, traveler. Had I but known you were new to our lands, I would have assisted you ere straight off," said Torgil.

"So I have to talk like-minded that day in and day out? What if I just lack to tell my group I postulate to take a leak?" asked the mage. The knight at his side struck his palm tree upon his forehead.

"Well, you might order, 'Forgive me my friends, but I must as needs answer nature's call,' or such to that effect," said Torgil.

"Jeez, that's a mickle of work. On the gray-haired server we but typewritten 'AFK bio.'"

"Ah, I have heard tales of this barbaric mode of lecture." Torgil replied. "Those lands mustiness sure enough lack for the basic modes of industrial behaviour."

"Hey, wait a microscopic," said a tall man in the garb of a priest of Hoath. "He's right. We neutralize an dreaded circle of time in chat that way. Do we really have to tell all single thing like it's the Middle Ages?"

"Derive on guys," aforementioned an elven archer at a nearby table. "If you want to talk out of character say 'OOC' first."

"You didn't say 'OOC' when you were meet speaking OOC," said a barbarian. Despite his immense size, he spoke with the voice of a boy of no more more than thirteen summers, belying his savage visual aspect and the huge axe slung on his back.

"Well, I was just trying to help the newbie," same the bowman.

"OOC – You forgot OOC again," said the barbarian in his curiously schoolboyish voice.

"Ah man, I hate the character constabulary. Tooshie't you simply let us have our fun?" The priest poked a finger towards the barbarian. "What kind of name is XxAvarisxX anyway?"

"At my birth, my tribe chief wished to name me Avaris but the Elders ordained it was um, already taken by some trolling."

"Well, just putt a bunch of Xs around it is pretty loggerheaded," said the archer. "How set you flatbottomed pronounce that?"

"You should babble," said the churl. "You're DarkLegolasss. Real freakin' inventive."

"You didn't say 'OOC,'" said the archer smugly.

"Mother fu- I mean, ill mannered oaf! I will Edward Thatch you abide by by the edge of my axe!"

"You can't attack me. This ISN't a musician armed combat server," aforesaid the archer. "Besides, I'm ilk ten levels higher up you. I'd pwn you easy."

"Ugh, jerks!" aforesaid the barbarian. Atomic number 2 stormed impermissible of the tavern without even paying the barkeep.

Clean like a Rovnian, persuasion Torgil. His eyes roamed back to the wizard and the Staff of Niner Fires. To see such power in the hands of a lout saddened his gist. Perhaps He would compose a song all but the perils of mislaid mightiness and peach information technology in the Rellian township square that eventide. A good operation would make up sure to fetch coin from the crowd, and of Modern his purse was flat. Torgil separate his lute from its subject and strummed the string section. "Listen, children, to a story," he sang in his rich baritone.

"Dude, WTF are you doing?" asked the wizard.

Again with the barbarisms, Torgil sighed. "I am a bard, keen champion. It is my vocation to stimulate the heavy heart unchaste and the dotted look soar through the magic of song." He patted the venter of the luting softly. "Here lies power that bequeath endure for timelessness, unlike even the artifact you turn out."

"Like sin," said the wizard. "This thing gives Maine 85 charming mint points. It's whole best in slot for my specification."

"But it creates neither grace nor beauty. And thus I sing."

"Yeah right-minded," said the priest of Hoath. "You exclusively rolled caparison so you could dual-wield longswords and get enchant spells. That is way overpowered."

"They real kind of are," said the knight. "A obtuse bard wanted to roll against me for this sword." He held glowing Sordamal in the air. "This is clear a knight weapon."

Non the knight also, thought Torgil. The plac was dire, and becoming more than so. It was prison term for the bard to call connected a higher power. "My friends, you will soon force my hand. If you practice non desist in this swinish musical mode of outlander speech, I shall be unexpected to call upon Those World Health Organization Watch Above in Shut up." A hushed quieten fell over the tavern. Torgil gazed from one face to the incoming, ensuring that they understood the gravity of his quarrel.

"Dude," said the wizard, "is he going to, alike, report the States?"

"Yeah," said the knight, laying Sordamal flexible and clearly sweating. "They can debar your account, or eventide take off your loot absent."

The wizard hugged the stave to his thin body and treeless his throat. "Yea, verilies, we take in doth intrudedeth upon this, um, pacifistic, fantastic, thing … place."

The horse retrieved his engagement blade and ushered the wizard to the tavern door. "Verily indeed. We shall draw haste from this sphere ere the night is old. Farewell, expert bard." As they left the tavern, Torgil could hear the knight say, "Sorry Tyler, I thought this would be fun. Let's try a combat waiter."

Torgil looked around the room. No 1 else aforementioned a word. Satisfied, Torgil named down, "Barkeeper! What need a thirsty man do to get a mug of mead in this tavern?"

Richard Hehemann is a scientific discipline fiction/fantasy author and unrepentant PvE healer.

https://www.escapistmagazine.com/speech-of-teh-realm/

Source: https://www.escapistmagazine.com/speech-of-teh-realm/

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