Template:The Wording: Difference between revisions
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The Grand Knight-Convenor of ISDA’ s [[crack drafting squad|crack CDS drafting squad]] surveys the scene. Exhausted ninjas — bruised, battered, soiled, scarred and punctured during the savage thrust and counterthrust that goes on within those august cloisters when [[The Wording]] is upon them — this is all speculation, for the proceedings of this society are mortally secret, but surely this phrasing is wrought by martial combat, isn’t it? No-one could perpetrate such syntax with a sound mind and from a state of peaceable reflection — but at last, the hall falls silent. Echoed scuffles, bootfall and clankèd chainmail sublimate into the musty vaulted beams — perhaps a saucepan lid lazily circles. A curl of incense wafts up, the chimney smokes white and before the exhausted combatants there lies, upon a table, this careful calligraphic parchment. | The Grand Knight-Convenor of ISDA’ s [[crack drafting squad|crack CDS drafting squad]] surveys the scene. Exhausted ninjas — bruised, battered, soiled, scarred and punctured during the savage thrust and counterthrust that goes on within those august cloisters when [[The Wording]] is upon them — this is all speculation, for the proceedings of this society are mortally secret, but surely this phrasing is wrought by martial combat, isn’t it? No-one could perpetrate such syntax with a sound mind and from a state of peaceable reflection — but at last, the hall falls silent. Echoed scuffles, bootfall and clankèd chainmail sublimate into the musty vaulted beams — perhaps a saucepan lid lazily circles. A curl of incense wafts up, the chimney smokes white and before the exhausted combatants there lies, upon a table, this careful calligraphic parchment. | ||
The Grand Knight-Convenor surveys the wreckage. “Are we — are we ''done then''? My brother, sister knights: are we ''done''?” | The Grand Knight-Convenor surveys the wreckage. | ||
{{script|Grand Knight-Convenor}}: “Are we — are we ''done then''? My brother, sister knights: are we ''done''?” | |||
The rambunctious [[Ser Jaramey Slizzard]], a young knight from the court of Milbank, stirs. He gets unsteadily to his feet. His countenance is dark. He reaches for the conch. | The rambunctious [[Ser Jaramey Slizzard]], a young knight from the court of Milbank, stirs. He gets unsteadily to his feet. His countenance is dark. He reaches for the conch. | ||
“[[As the case may be|As the case may]], [[for the time being]], be [[Deem|deemèd]] —” | {{script|Ser Jaramey}}: “[[As the case may be|As the case may]], [[for the time being]], be [[Deem|deemèd]] —” | ||
Before he can take the conch, the Grand Knight-Convenor cuts him off. | |||
{{script|Grand Knight-Convenor}}: “No. This must stop now. The time for pedantry is over, Ser.” | |||
But the young knight is hot blooded, wild. We can hear him mutter the [[Swappist Oath]], | |||
{{script|Ser Jaramey}}: “What is dull is never done.” | |||
The young knight draws from his scabbard — but the {{script|Aïessdiyé}} have seen all this before. They are faster. They anticipate his stroke and {{script|Ser Jaramey}} is cut down with a blow to the back of the knees. He buckles and they escort him away to the ''[[Protocolia]]'' where he will serve a period of ''[[nettance]]''. | |||
Revision as of 15:32, 21 June 2023
The Grand Knight-Convenor of ISDA’ s crack CDS drafting squad surveys the scene. Exhausted ninjas — bruised, battered, soiled, scarred and punctured during the savage thrust and counterthrust that goes on within those august cloisters when The Wording is upon them — this is all speculation, for the proceedings of this society are mortally secret, but surely this phrasing is wrought by martial combat, isn’t it? No-one could perpetrate such syntax with a sound mind and from a state of peaceable reflection — but at last, the hall falls silent. Echoed scuffles, bootfall and clankèd chainmail sublimate into the musty vaulted beams — perhaps a saucepan lid lazily circles. A curl of incense wafts up, the chimney smokes white and before the exhausted combatants there lies, upon a table, this careful calligraphic parchment.
The Grand Knight-Convenor surveys the wreckage.
Grand Knight-Convenor: “Are we — are we done then? My brother, sister knights: are we done?”
The rambunctious Ser Jaramey Slizzard, a young knight from the court of Milbank, stirs. He gets unsteadily to his feet. His countenance is dark. He reaches for the conch.
Ser Jaramey: “As the case may, for the time being, be deemèd —”
Before he can take the conch, the Grand Knight-Convenor cuts him off.
Grand Knight-Convenor: “No. This must stop now. The time for pedantry is over, Ser.”
But the young knight is hot blooded, wild. We can hear him mutter the Swappist Oath,
Ser Jaramey: “What is dull is never done.”
The young knight draws from his scabbard — but the Aïessdiyé have seen all this before. They are faster. They anticipate his stroke and Ser Jaramey is cut down with a blow to the back of the knees. He buckles and they escort him away to the Protocolia where he will serve a period of nettance.