Moonshaean Musings

Character Biographies, Journals, and Stories

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MasterSilke
Posts: 209
Joined: Wed Jul 15, 2009 3:21 pm
Location: Minnesota

Moonshaean Musings

Unread post by MasterSilke » Thu Aug 15, 2019 10:22 pm

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[A leather-bound book with a triquetra imprinted on the cover; the words Truth, Nature, and Knowledge etched near each of the three points. Most of the writings are done in both Waelan and Common, transcribed side-by-side]

Moonshaean Triads

Three candles that illumine every darkness: truth, nature, and knowledge.

Three things which are not hidden: a straw in the shoe, an awl in a bag, and a harlot in a crowd.

Three keys that unlock thoughts: drunkenness, trustfulness, and love.

Three things that must be united before good can come of them: thinking well, speaking well, and acting well.

Three things not easy to trust: a drover's oath, a paramour's promises, and a hunter's word about his dog.

Three ways to know a person: by their discourse, their conduct, and their companions.

Three measuring-rods of every person: their dreams, their fears, and their unconcern.

Three things hard for any to do: cool the fire, dry the water, and please the Realms.

Three things necessary to one who enters an inn: a strong head, a tough stomach, and a heavy purse.

There are three things without which one is not whole: a mate, a home, and a craft.

Three things fitting for one when they are at home: their mate laying with them, their cushion in their chair, and their harp in tune.

Three unfailing remedies in every disease and sickness: nature, time, and patience.

Three things better as servants and worse as masters: labor, money, and kings.

Three things on which every person should reflect: whence they come, where they are, and whither they shall go.

Three things a person cannot conceal: great love, great hate, and great wealth.

Three kinds of knowledge : the nature of each thing, the cause of each thing, the influence of each thing.

There are three springs of knowledge: reason, phenomenon, and necessity.

There are three foundations of wisdom: discretion in learning, memory in retaining, and eloquence in telling.

Three followers of wisdom: imagination, purpose, and endeavor.

Three who it is wise not to believe: the stranger about their possessions, an old person praising the day that was of yore, and one who boasts of their wisdom.

The three foundations of happiness: contentment, hope, and belief.
Emrys Kerr - Reader of Candlekeep

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MasterSilke
Posts: 209
Joined: Wed Jul 15, 2009 3:21 pm
Location: Minnesota

Re: Moonshaean Musings

Unread post by MasterSilke » Tue Aug 20, 2019 8:04 pm

Thomas Wanderer

Out in shaded woodspan,
Dwelt the murderous beast,
Eating on the sack-for-homes,
Gorge-laden with his feast,
Stalking ‘tween the leafen glade,
Preying upon the weak,
Glutting the hardy and the poor,
Even dining on the meek.
And not there was, that brave the wood,
Not amidst the sword-handy and the good,
Except a gallant Knight from far Fenton,
Who rode along to lay sword on.
And young Thomas Wanderer,
Ignored his mother’s tongue,
For Thomas he listened none,
Much so for child young,
He hitched up his wooden horse,
Waving wooden sword,
And skipped out to the woodspan,
Foot-stepping Fenton Lord.
The sniveling Fool pranced at the bridge,
And cry cackle at the boy,
“Go skipping not with Beast of Teeth,
You'll not spill blood with some toy.”
But he was the Fool and none to mind,
And Thomas heeded not,
Slung himself on wooden horse
And went West at a trot.
Young Thomas spied the girthen oak
And tarried there a while,
Then instead of heading back again,
Tom rid another mile.
He cleft the black leaf shrubbery
And swaying blood-daubed vine,
Carefree took forth his luncheon-food
And settled there to dine.
The woodsman found young Thomas there,
Thrice struck him on the ear
“Be fangs and claws for you, my kid,
If sunfall shrouds you here.”
With axe-haft pushing young boy’s hide,
The woodsman bade Tom home,
But Thomas was a stubborn kid,
And so he bid to roam.
Onwards and inwards,
Through clustered trunks and threshy twine,
Thomas goaded stick-horse on,
As ruddy sun wed pale moonshine,
And there amidst the prickly bush,
He spied the lair of the brute,
Stepped out brightly upon his steed,
Through groping branch and scraping root.
And there red-eyed the gruesome Beast,
All bloodied horns and claws and fangs,
Yet brisky Thomas ventured on,
He couched no dread, nor homeward pangs.
Though brave Knight bidden to the grave,
With wooden sword aloft
Plucky Tom brandished at the Beast,
Who marred him with a scoff.
“What mires you here, young smoothskin-born?
Did not your mother about me warn?”
“I have no fear!” Tom cried aloud,
Horsing forward ‘til Beast he growled.
“I shall eat your flesh and snap your bones,
Sack your folkland burn their homes.
For mocking kid to dare my rage,
Your jibe it traps me like a cage.
The unclaimed ones must dread my kind,
Can never squander fear behind.”
So Thomas Wanderer was no more,
Who never did no good,
So remember poor Thomas,
And roam not in the wood.
Emrys Kerr - Reader of Candlekeep

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