THE BALLAD OF BEAT-POT AELWRIN In the misty land of Aggar, where the woolly mammoths roam, Worked a kitchen-slave called Aelwrin who laboured all alone. Hes an exile from the Redlands, cross the Empire from his home,
In the regimental cookhouse of the Army.
One day he cried, Stuff this! (but not a turkey: he was rude!), My parents didnt fight these troops so I could cook their food: Ill rise again a rebel, fore my goose is truly stewed,
In this regimental cookhouse of the Army.
He hadnt got a breastplate for to ward away his foes, But he wore a leather apron that could shield him gainst their blows, And for his helm a cookpot that came sliding down his nose,
From the regimental cookhouse of the Army.
He wielded a cleaver which he swung in deadly chops: In his other hand a rolling-pin his foeman quickly drops: His standard was a kitchen-mop for sweeping out the slops
From the regimental cookhouse of the Army.
The soldiers came for breakfast: they were staggered when they saw This figure in his armour, like a hero out of yore, Whod give his life to stop these soldiers getting through the door
To the regimental cookhouse of the Army.
Now, military men with any learning always say That food is more important to their soldiers than their pay, For theyll fight upon their stomachs less theyre fed two times a day
By the regimental cookhouse of the Army.
So now there was a stand-off, for these soldiers all unfed They couldnt make no headway if theyd want to keep their head, For Aelwrin was riled, and he was like to strike them dead
At the regimental cookhouse of the Army.
Emerging from the tent now of the troops commander old Came a maiden young and tender, with her tresses all red-gold, Came Jar-eel the Razoress, that heroine so bold,
To the regimental cookhouse of the Army.
She said, Aelwrin, the way you swing that cleaver isnt proper: If you keep it up, when I fight you youll surely come acropper. But I could give you lessons now in how to wield your chopper
In the regimental cookhouse of the Army.
Now Aelwrin thought this offer one he surely couldnt lose, So he let her in the cookhouse for to teach him what shed choose, As the soldiers stood round hungrily, all waiting for some news
From the regimental cookhouse of the Army.
But the oddest sounds came from within as battle now was joined, For both combatants had mettle, full of ardour, lusty-loined, And the timbers they were creaking as they futtered and they foined
In the regimental cookhouse of the Army.
Till Aelwrin cried, Enough! For now my uprising is oer. In struggling with you Ive learned moves Id not known before, And my strength it has been spent down here upon the kitchen floor
In the regimental cookhouse of the Army.
So Jar-eel took in hand this strapping, spunky, stalwart youth, And whispered in his ears the blessed words of Lunar Truth, And Aelwrin converted soon as he had heard the proof
In the regimental cookhouse of the Army.
Now Aelwrins a general, and knives of steel hes got, For hes a Lunar Hero now, whose name wont be forgot. But to us hes got another name, for we call him Beat-Pot
In the regimental cookhouse of the Army.
So if you think the soldier-boys are getting all the praise To the detriment of scullions who labour nights and days, Just tell them how this kitchen-slave to glory he was raised
From the regimental cookhouse of the Army.
A while ago (V2#338), Erik wrote:
>> I suspect that there are elements of the Malkioni religion that are strongly >> opposed to the veneration of saints...
> I think some Rokari Wizard are of this view, and certainly the Brithini and
> Vadeli think so.
Oh, no: the Vadeli say they *are not worthy* to venerate Saints, or have any of their own. You lucky people, fortunate in having these marvellous magical people to help you get by, while the poor suffering Vadeli must make their own way in the world, struggling to make ends meet (speaking of which, would you be interested in these rather fine Ostrich feathers from Down Under?)...
> Orlanth has no missionaries (though apparently there _were_ Orlanthi
missionaries
> in the First Age).
I'd characterise those early Theyalan missionaries as *Lightbringer* rather than Orlanthi missionaries. They explained to the dazed and confused survivors of the Great Darkness how it was that Orlanth (who may already have been their chief god) and his newfound companions redeemed the world. Before the Dawn, there wasn't necessarily an association between some of the Lightbringer cults (certainly not as strong as at present), and as far as their worshippers knew, all of these deities had died and gone to hell.
I love the evolving take on the Boristi (prop. P.Metcalfe) and the Guild of Chaos Monks.
A Con report will follow: I have to dash to work just now...
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