The Long Road of Power

Odyssey - Finbar Page Eight
The Brevoy Comma

Thanks to Catheshal, I am now at the stage where I start refining my writing. And it’s not always easy, I can assure you. Today, I am coming to gripps with the importance of the Brevoy Comma. Cathy says this is often left out by poor writers, thus causing strange misundrstandings at times.

Basically, it is the comma that is placed in a list of three things before the last item. The example she gave is:

“I love my parents, Droskar and Helga.”

Now without the Brevoy Comma, one could easily misundrstand the sentance above as meaning that I love my parents AND my parents are Droskar and Helga. As you know, this is not the case, so placing the Brevoy Comma:

“I love my parents, Droskar, and Helga.”

See? Confusion removed. I don’t know how true the statement is though. Actually, I hate my parents, quite like Helga and revere Droskar.

Nuff Said!

Odyssey - Finbar Page Nine

“Temper, temper!”

That’s what Finbar’s mother had used to say when he was very young. Before she sold him to the dwarves, that is. Warcleric Ragnor had helped him with that. Long excercises of meditations and discipline had not been easy for Finbar. But he had endured. Spirit Ranger Floki had also helped him. And generally, it was only around giants and trolls that he still completely “LOST IT”. But a baby owl bear?

To be true to himself, Finbar didn’t really care about owl bears, and it always seemed better to have less of them in the world than more. He wasn’t as sentimental as the humans about babies. A hunting wolf will go for the weakest in the pack, will it not? But it was the quick temper that was worrying Finbar. He had to keep it under control.

So, he felt quite proud of his own restraint in dealing with the stinking hulking horrible stupid hill giant. Even Ragnor would have been surprised. But these defilers of Droskar….. NO! NO! NO! Not Droskar! Beloved God! How could they? Luckily, Harkon was a man of justice. And a man who also seemed to like a good hot cross pun.

Actually, Finbar didn’t like having to break the finger of his officer. The officer had been doing well in most other things, and it wasn’t HIS fault that the drunken guard was discovered. But Finbar had learned through the Dwarves of Golushkin that discipline must be enforced. So Helga would have some help in the forge for a while. But hopefully the guard would never drink on duty again. And the officer would be extra vigilant.

“Just keep it reel, Finbar!” he thought to himself. “Keep calm…and carry on!” Thank the flaming fires of Droskar that Catheshal had kept him in check. Yes, justice must prevail! But less of the temper, he mused. The Hot Cross Sons of Droskar served better than the lethal leprosy of veridian glass cutting off heads in fury. There was a lesson to be learned there.

Nuff said.

Big Wiggie don't play Sitaar

One day down at the Veldenhalm Barracks captained by Iorlov, new conscript, McTavish enters the room to find his mentor Tristan furiously polishing a lower button on his military jacket.

McTavish: You sure you got enough shine on that, Mate?
Tristan: Actually, no. Still more work to do.
McTavish: Mate, I was only joking. Take a break. It’s only inpsection.
Tristan: Only inspection? Tomorrow’s inspection isn’t just your Captain Iorlov strolling past with a “tuck in that shirt”, you know….
McTavish: What do you mean?
Tristan: Big Wiggie’s taking the inspection.
McTavish: Who’s Big Wiggie?
Tristan: Shelyn’s knuckles, Mate, you better shape up and shape up quick! The Big Boss. General Garess!
McTavish: And he likes shiny buttons, does he?
Tristan: He don’t like dull buttons, Mate, and if you got any of them on YOUR shirt, YOU don’t want HIM not liking them.
McTavish: Okay, I get it. I’ll get mine a gleaming too. Hey, why do you call him Big Wiggie?
Tristan: He’s the “BIG WIG”, isn’t he?
McTavish: Yeah, so…..?
Tristan: The Big EAR Wig!
McTavish: What’s with the EAR?
Tristan: Gosh, you don’t know nuthin’, do ya? Last time he visited the barracks he was questioning some citizen and didn’t like the answers he got, so he takes the geezer aside and rips his ear off with his hand.
McTavish: With his hand?
Tristan: And he’s very particular about buttons.
McTavish: Okay, I’m polishing. I’m polishing!


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