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The [[Ser Jaramey Slizzard|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 [[Ser Jaramey Slizzard|Grand Knight-Convenor]] of ISDA’ s [[crack drafting squad|crack CDS drafting squad]] surveys the wreckage across the mead-hall. Exhausted ninjas — — 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.  
:{{script|Regolamento}}: Fine ninjas, knights and champions — <br>
:Brave chevaliers of our spidery art! Lay down your arms. <br>
:Though be you bruised and battered, soiled and scarred — <br>
:The meaty thrust and counterthrust that boiled within these cloisters <br>
:And lent heft to this most blasted of all [[The Wording|Wordings]] — <br>
:Is now done.<br>
:Triago, Herculio, Rise! We are at one.<br>
:Holster thy syntactic catapults; <br>
:Demob that giddy mace of outlandish sophistry! <br>
:Behold, clandestine league, anoint the golden hour! <br>
:Apply thy merry unguents: trhe wranglement is over. <br>


{{script|Grand Knight-Convenor}}: “Are we — are we ''done'', then? My brother, sister knights: are we ''done''?”
:{{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 ''{{script|Ser Jaramey Slizzard}}'', a young knight from the court of Milbank, stirs. He gets unsteadily to his feet. His countenance is dark.


{{script|Ser Jaramey}}: “[[As the case may be|As the case may]], [[for the time being]], be [[Deem|deemèd]] —”
:{{script|Ser Jaramey}}: Prithee, the conch.


Before he can take the conch, the Grand Knight-Convenor cuts him off.  
:{{script|Grand Knight-Convenor}}: Denied.


{{script|Grand Knight-Convenor}}: “No. This must stop now. The time for pedantry is over, Ser.”
:{{Script|Ser Jaramey}}: So be it, milord.Now, [[as the case may be|As the case may]], [[for the time being]], be [[Deem|deemèd]] —


But the young knight is hot blooded, wild. We can hear him mutter the [[Swappist Oath]],
:{{script|Grand Knight-Convenor}}: ''No''. This must stop now. The time for pedantry is over, Ser.


{{script|Ser Jaramey}}: “What is dull is never done.”
:''But the young knight is hot blooded, wild. We can hear him mutter the [[Swappist Oath]].''


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]]''.
:{{script|Ser Jaramey}}: What is dull is never done.
 
:{{script|Ser Jaramey}} ''draws, but the {{script|Aïessdiyé}} have seen all this before. They are faster. They anticipate his stroke and the watch commander, ''{{Script|Inclusivia Liberartardia}} ''cuts the young knight down with a blow to the back of the knees.''
 
:{{script|Ser Jaramey}} (buckling): Doth it befit our order, good lady knight <br>
:Our sainted equal guild of taker and of giver — <br>
:To strike so low a blow as that? <br>
 
:{{script|IInclusivia}}: ’Twas the cheapest to deliver.
 
:{{script|Ser Jaramey}} buckles and they escort him away to the ''[[Protocolia]]'' where he will serve a period of ''[[nettance]]''.

Revision as of 17:21, 21 June 2023

The Grand Knight-Convenor of ISDA’ s crack CDS drafting squad surveys the wreckage across the mead-hall. Exhausted ninjas — — 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.

Regolamento: Fine ninjas, knights and champions —
Brave chevaliers of our spidery art! Lay down your arms.
Though be you bruised and battered, soiled and scarred —
The meaty thrust and counterthrust that boiled within these cloisters
And lent heft to this most blasted of all Wordings —
Is now done.
Triago, Herculio, Rise! We are at one.
Holster thy syntactic catapults;
Demob that giddy mace of outlandish sophistry!
Behold, clandestine league, anoint the golden hour!
Apply thy merry unguents: trhe wranglement is over.
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.
Ser Jaramey: Prithee, the conch.
Grand Knight-Convenor: Denied.
Ser Jaramey: So be it, milord.Now, As the case may, for the time being, be deemèd —
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.
Ser Jaramey draws, but the Aïessdiyé have seen all this before. They are faster. They anticipate his stroke and the watch commander, Inclusivia Liberartardia cuts the young knight down with a blow to the back of the knees.
Ser Jaramey (buckling): Doth it befit our order, good lady knight
Our sainted equal guild of taker and of giver —
To strike so low a blow as that?
IInclusivia: ’Twas the cheapest to deliver.
Ser Jaramey buckles and they escort him away to the Protocolia where he will serve a period of nettance.
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