Ardchreag Einvigi II

By THLaird Colyne Stewart, June AS 50 (2015)

Konungr called

Skalds spread the call

War-born came

To high cliffs hall

Ox-cloak spread

Spear-din commenced

All fought all

In Freyja’s name

Blood-worms fed crows

Bold ring-rich fought

Feet firm set

Hel claiming dead

Hœnir wept

For Mjolnir-slain

But for one

Bjarn the untouched

Ardchreag Einvigi

By THLaird Colyne Stewart, June AS 50 (2015)

A squire to the tourney went,

Though arm was sore and élan spent,

For king had called for all to fight,

To show their strength and skill and might.

With token from his love, his life,

The squire went to tourney’s strife.

Long was the list of honoured foes

All blessing ‘round with mighty blows;

The squire found it hard to rise

But fought on with his trembling thighs;

The love of combat, love of king,

The love of household, all these things,

But most of all for love of her

His one true love was vigour’s spur.

‘Til finally, heralds halt the duels,

Award to winners sparkling jewels;

He, with few vic’tries to his name,

Before his lover kneels in shame,

And tries to hand her favour back,

With fingers numb and hanging slack;

She cups his face, he did her well,

For even spent he stayed the swell

Of combat, fought on, did not quit,

Earned her respect with every hit,

Squire, though victor next to none,

Then knew that he had truly won.

"With sword a fighter slays his foe"

Unto his Excellency, Baron Halfdan Blackanvil, from the Canton of Ardchreag,

Good Baron, I write to you this day in appreciation of the wooden heater blanks you donated to ‘the dojo’ that is currently training at Ardchreag’s fight practice. Members of the dojo will have the honour of bearing shields made from those blanks to the Debated Lands this August.

On behalf of the dojo and our canton we offer our humble thanks for your contribution to the war efforts of Ealdormere.

With sword a fighter slays his foe

But without a shield he takes a blow.

A scarlet shield with ursine white

Ensures the bearer lives ‘til night.

Illumination by Lady Nadja Kesali

Words by Laird Colyne Stewart

Calligraphy by Lady Thorfinna gra’feldr

"A killing blow the plate deflects"

Unto his Excellency, Count Sir Sarnac Bahadur, from the Canton of Ardchreag,

Good Count, I write to you this day in appreciation of the fine breastplate which you donated to the Daughters of the North raffle at Berus’ Bar and Bar Room Brawl. This item was won by a member of our canton who is busy training a unit of new fighters for the upcoming Pennsic War. This unit is affectionately known as ‘the dojo’, and is currently training at Ardchreag’s fight practice. One of the dojo members will have the honour of wearing the breastplate to the Debated Lands this August.

On behalf of the dojo and our canton we offer our humble thanks for your contribution to the war efforts of Ealdormere.

A killing blow the plate deflects,

Ealdormere steel the man protects.

Struck fighter lives throughout the fray

And with his sword is won the day.

Illumination by Lady Nadja Kesali

Words by Laird Colyne Stewart

Calligraphy by Lady Thorfinna gra’feldr

The A-Song

By Colyne Stewart and Thorfinna gra’feldr

(based on ‘Hey, Hey, the Wolves Will Bay’, better known as ‘The E-Song’, by Master Hector of the Black Height)

I’ll sing you one-o,

Hey, hey, the Chreaggers say,

What is your one-o?

One for the cliffs of Ardchreag that ever more shall be so.

I’ll sing you two-o,

Hey, hey, the Chreaggers say,

What is your two-o?

Two-two, myself and you, we wave our banner proudly

and one for the cliffs of Ardchreag that ever more shall be so.

I’ll sing you three-o,

Hey, hey, the Chreaggers say,

What is your three-o?

Three-three for our newbies (whoop!)

Two-two, myself and you, we wave our banner proudly

and one for the cliffs of Ardchreag that ever more shall be so.

I’ll sing you four-o,

Hey, hey, the Chreaggers say,

What is your four-o?

Four for our olde pharte veterans

Three-three for our newbies (whoop!)

Two-two, myself and you, we wave our banner proudly

and one for the cliffs of Ardchreag that ever more shall be so.

I’ll sing you five-o,

Hey, hey, the Chreaggers say,

What is your five-o?

Five for the green bison

Four for our olde pharte veterans

Three-three for our newbies (whoop!)

Two-two, myself and you, we wave our banner proudly

and one for the cliffs of Ardchreag that ever more shall be so.

I’ll sing you six-o,

Hey, hey, the Chreaggers say,

What is your six-o?

Six for the bread ball battles

Five for the green bison

Four for our olde pharte veterans

Three-three for our newbies (whoop!)

Two-two, myself and you, we wave our banner proudly

and one for the cliffs of Ardchreag that ever more shall be so.

I’ll sing you seven-o,

Hey, hey, the Chreaggers say,

What is your seven-o?

Seven for the flying turtles

Six for the bread ball battles

Five for the green bison

Four for our olde pharte veterans

Three-three for our newbies (whoop!)

Two-two, myself and you, we wave our banner proudly

and one for the cliffs of Ardchreag that ever more shall be so.

I’ll sing you eight-o,

Hey, hey, the Chreaggers say,

What is your eight-o?

Eight for the armour workshops

Seven for the flying turtles

Six for the bread ball battles

Five for the green bison

Four for our olde pharte veterans

Three-three for our newbies (whoop!)

Two-two, myself and you, we wave our banner proudly

and one for the cliffs of Ardchreag that ever more shall be so.

I’ll sing you nine-o,

Hey, hey, the Chreaggers say,

What is your nine-o?

Nine for our corps of archers

Eight for the armour workshops

Seven for the flying turtles

Six for the bread ball battles

Five for the green bison

Four for our olde pharte veterans

Three-three for our newbies (whoop!)

Two-two, myself and you, we wave our banner proudly

and one for the cliffs of Ardchreag that ever more shall be so.

I’ll sing you ten-o,

Hey, hey, the Chreaggers say,

What is your ten-o?

Ten for the Great Bonfire

Nine for our corps of archers

Eight for the armour workshops

Seven for the flying turtles

Six for the bread ball battles

Five for the green bison

Four for our olde pharte veterans

Three-three for our newbies (whoop!)

Two-two, myself and you, we wave our banner proudly

and one for the cliffs of Ardchreag that ever more shall be so.

St. Crispinus’ Day Speech

Colyne Stewart, Oct AS XXXVII (2002)

Today is the 2nd anniversary of the Glowering of Crispinus (Oct 25, AS
XXXV), a moment that was immortalized in the immortal play 'Henry the V I
am, I am" by the immortal Chreagger playwright Stephen of the Ink Stained
Fingers. To celebrate this fine holiday I would like to take this
opportunity to quote from Stephen's work:

The St. Crispinus' Day speech:

Seneschal:
"O that we had a holiday
upon this day, an excuse for sloth,
a reason not to work."

Crispinus:
"What ho, my lord, if I must call you so,
do you rail for reasons?
If we are wont to sloth, then we will do so,
and if we are asked to work we shall decline.
By the Turtle of the Cliffs I care not for gold,
but for the frothy amber of a pint
I may be inspired to raise my pick or hoe,
but once quaffed the lethargy returns
and tool sinks to the earth.
I tire, lord, if I must call you so,
of kings and laws when fun I want
and if the want of fun is sin
I am the most offending soul alive.
No, horror, ask not for work or law.
By the aardvark, I do not care for your rewards
You think the scroll an honour
(and mayhap it is) but an honour bought how?
With work? With toil? With blind following of laws?
Nay, I have no stomach for this fight
and shall depart these sylvan shores
to pay my passage home with coin
raised through foolery.
This day I leave you, my work done,
and this day may be a holiday
for call it the feast of St. Crispinus
for he (or she) that wakes this day may
take their break from toil
to travel to a local pub
and raise a glass of ale or stoat
and toast the memory of me,
the glowering jester of Ardchreag.
Blow the foam, sip the mead,
Sample from the finest brews:
Guinness, Rickard's, Whitbread, Bass,
These are my pantheon.
Do not forget to take some time
for fun, by gods, for fun and folly.
Frolic on the cliffs, our home,
work as work ye must,
but on this day I have named for me
take the time for thyself
drink and be merry, hold thy cup high,
and exclaim while speech remains with you,
"To our leisure we give thanks,
Upon this St. Crispinus' Day!"

(Please note: This is a work of fiction, based on Shakespeare's St.
Crispin's Day speech in Henry V. It is written purely in fun and in
remembrance of Crispinus Spellar, who plays our game no more. Today really
is St. Crispin's Day. And as true coincidences go, in the original speech, a
man is mentioned by the name of Talbot, which is Crispinus' mundane last
name.)

Hail to Thee, o’ Ardchreag

Colyne Stewart, May A. S. XXXVI (MKA Todd Fischer, May 2001)

Hail to thee, o’ Ardchreag

To the Canton-Upon-the-Cliffs

Hail to thee, o’ true Craigger born

Hail, o’ hail to thee.

Hail to the Royalty you have spawned

To the Duchess and Barony

Hail to thee, o’ Royals born

Hail, o’ hail to thee.

Hail to the Marshals of our brood

Of the Scout and of the Horse

Hail to thee, o’ leaders born

Hail, o’ hail to thee.

Hail to the Fighters who battle for us

As Baronial Guard and more

Hail to thee, o’ true Bear born

Hail, o’ hail to thee.

Hail to our Craftsmen, and Women too

Those with exquisite skill

Hail to thee, o’ Peerage born

Hail, o’ hail to thee.

Hail to thee, o’ Ardchreag

Boldest of Ealdormere

Hail to thee, o’ true Wolf born

Hail, o’ hail to thee.

For Wat of Sarum (Pennsic XXXI)

Colyne Stewart, Aug. AS XXXVII (2003)

From the Cliffs of Ardchreag

Comes Wat of Sarum

His white robes stained red

With his life’s blood

And that of his enemies.

Not expected at War he came

And stood with the Isen.

White bear roaring on his chest,

He fought in every battle

Partook in every melee,

Fought with bravery and courage

And a ready smile.

On the bridge he was THE might of Septentria

Fighting on his own for us all,

Fighting with the strength of seven men.

All this, and more, he did for us.

All this he did, though he was not oath-sworn.

When War was done Wat was called to court,

He swore as Isengesitha,

Was given an armband by Cynred,

Given a Bear’s Claw by Gaerwen.

Wat, the bravest of us all.

Children’s Rhyme Ten

Colyne Stewart

Sep AS XXXVII (2003)

There is a canton on the cliffs,

Called Ardchreag by name,

Where flying turtles soar in the air

And people play at games.

Things to see, if you go there,

Include the bison green,

The giant Wolf, the monkey-man,

The bubbling tureen.

Don’t mock the goblins in the dens

Along the precipice,

Nor the trolls that lumber ‘bout

White knuckles on their fists.

Stick to the towns and smell the smells

Of cooking, baking bread.

Listen to the carpenters who

Craft a Viking bed.

Watch the fighters hit each other

In humour and good form

Listen to the singing bards

Who can out shout the storm.

Ardchreag’s a bustling place,

And all the Chreaggers say,

To visit is divine but please,

Next time come to stay!

"At the crack of dawn, my Baron bends..."

aka I Bask in the Sunlight of my Baron’s Behind

Colyne Stewart, May AS 38 (2003)

At the crack of dawn

    my Baron bends.

A shaft of light

    there then descends.

A morning moon,

    a gentle wind;

My Baron bent

    in beardy grin.

No barony is as bless'd as mine,

From whom's Baron's arse the sun does shine.

(The author places partial blame for this on the Lady Thorfinna gra'feldr and Countess Marion FitzWilliam for coming up with certain analogies whilst within earshot.)

Ardchreag, my home

Laird Colyne Stewart

Jan AS XL (2006)

For many a year I’ve lived on the Cliffs

In Ardchreag I roam

In this land of emerald and argent

I have made my home

I’ve toiled with the woodward in the flora

And worn the Cliffguard horn

I’ve bent a bow with the yeomen

To defend where I was born

I’ve sailed in the Red Arrow

As a sailor and marine

I’ve fought down at Pennsic

My blood is white and green

I’ve ridden with the cavalry

Charging ‘cross the glen

I’ve even been a pirate

Without the Widow’s ken

I’ve lived in the bogs and the forests

In the hills and in the dales

In the border forts I’ve lingered

Drinking local ales

I’ve done the holy pilgrimage

To all of Crispy’s shrines

I’ve drunk with the green bison

And seen the turtles flyin’

I have been to foreign lands

To the south and to the east

They all have their glamour, lured

Their traditions and their feasts

But for the cliffs of white and red

Where tall trees grow so green

My heart calls out, my soul it yearns

For Ardchreag my home

Ardchreag the emerald land

The arrows are my heart

Ardchreag, the cliffs so grand

The arrows are my hear