And now the News from the Hill Cantons...
“Addled”Aldo, that most
insane of caravel captains, is booking “leisure tours” of the
so-called Misty Isles of the Eld in the Persimmon Sea. “Hoi'i, the
many-tongued, copper-toned, devil-patron of self-promotion and real
estate, called to me in a dream most vivid,” Aldo added as way of
explanation. “Take ye this link. It explains all, yar.”
The sudden sharp shock of the so-called
Red Rye Rebellion is rocking Ostrovo Canton. Armed
bands of peasants, sporting red rye badges, have been gathering
through the villages and “halushkying” (a time-honored
traditional humiliation of dipping a public official in white gravy
and then spreading curds and dumplings on them) tax collectors of the
Overking. Special assessments levied to support the continued
presence of the Black Army in the canton have not been worn well by
tenant farmers already suffering from the privations of the recent
kozak horde sacking of the area. “The peasants are revolting,”
stated an anonymous source close to the cantonal council.
Fomo, the rooster-headed skald
is again touring the frontier holdings of the Feral Shore. A rather
cryptic ballad is proving to be a widely-requested song among rough
laborers. Make of it what you will:
No one dares
tooo sip from the sweet naughty
hairs
that give air
tooo swimming down theres.
A fabulous artifact prize
a rod piece that lies.
Below the waves of a city drowned
a city drowned.
Perhaps an allusion to the underwater
ruins east of Kezmarok? Hard saying, not knowing.
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