Some of these short glimpses of the past, present, and future give insight into characters and events that shaped, or will shape the game world.  Others are just  amusing nonsense.  They may also be proverbs, quotes, rhymes, and what-have-you.  The bits and pieces here are not part of your characters' bank of knowledge, but sometimes they may contain hints that can fuel the characters' intuitions.

Heinrich stood to the right of the longship's massive bow, leaning against the sturdy haft of his prized greataxe.  A rough, cold, salty spray beat irregularly against his bare, sun darkened chest and face.  The sea's elements did not bother the impervious warchief in the least.  Instead, they emboldened him.  This would be the most glorious in a string of successful raids.  Perhaps they would even turn home after this raid if the spoils were rich enough.  The raids were important.  They brought much wealth, power, and new blood to the Triplefang.  But better perhaps than anyone, Heinrich knew not to stay out too long.  That was how his father has been lost.  His campaigns had grown longer and bolder until finally, none returned.

Warcraft was a delicate thing.  It took more than just strength.  You needed speed and strategy and wisdom and divine favor.  What you didn't need was an enemy.  In most of the attacks Heinrich led, he bore his opponents no particular ill will.  A nation that leaves its costal cities unguarded or under-protected should expect to have them raided.  It was as sure as the weather.  Bad weather was sure to strike eventually.  You just didn't know when.  He and hardened Triplefang warriors in their trusty longships, were Harix's hammer, and they would strike soon.  The strange part was that these new settlements - the newest blossoms of the ever-growing Empire really didn't expect it.  How could they not understand something as simple as the weather?

His navigator, Kirst, tapped him on the arm.  They were nearing shore.  How he knew this was beyond Heinrich.  He could see neither land nor tell-tale birds through the mist and surf, but Kirst with his strange tools and charts and extensive knowledge of the starfinder and sunstone, had gained Heinrich's trust on this, his very first voyage as head navigator.  It was time to split the ships into two groups.  Heinrich sounded the horn and shouted commands.  They would part here, landing to the SW and NW sides of the settlement.  With any luck it would be where the captives had said it would be, and the Triplefang would crush it between their two forces.
This message was last edited by the GM at 07:01, Tue 23 June 2009.

Foreman Warburton took a moment to just look over Rankor Height's Northern industrial quarter.  The river, the aqueducts, the waterwheels, streets, horses, wagons, people...  It was a common sight for him, but still a marvel.  There was nowhere in the world like Rankor Heights, he thought.  At least it was unlike anywhere he'd ever been.

"Sir, sir!" a young page ran up to the foreman.  "Come quickly.  Putnam Mill!"

The page was out of breathe.  He doubled over, hands on knees for a rest.

"What's the matter, son?"

"Trouble with the water.  You better come see for yourself."

Warburton followed the page back to Putnam Mill.  There had been more than the quarter's fair share of trouble lately.  A few mills had broken down to the point where they had to relocate the workers and business to one of the empty mills.  It's a good thing there were extras they could use while repairs were being made.  Repairs were slow.  There were only a couple good engineers in town with the skill to oversee these jobs.  The foreman sighed.  It was almost as bad as dealing with magicians.

When they arrived at the mill the workers were all standing (milling?) around outside.  The wheel wasn't turning.  Warburton pushed his way through the small crowd to get a look at the problem.  Instead of water, the wooden duct and waterwheel were all gummed up with a gooey purplish sludge.  He poked his fingers into the goop and smeared it around on his fingertips.  It wasn't like anything he'd ever seen before.

"What in the world...?" he said in confusion.

From the dark corners and edges of the mill came a snickering and cackling.   Warburton looked around wild-eyed.  Gremlins!

Kelney Sowell was inconsolable.  She wouldn't let them take her son Darsin's body to the mausoleum.  His body lay broken, still, and cold on his bed.  It wasn't fair!  She had miscarried so many times, but the sting of each had been numbed and soothed by the pride she felt in her firstborn.  Darsin was such a bright child and he showed sparks of arcane promise.  Magical powers were rare in males, but with two gifted parents Darsin had beaten the odds just like his father.  Now cruel fate had stolen even this child from her. She'd be damned if she would just sit here and accept it.

"I am the greatest enchantress in this land!" she shouted at the echoing, empty walls of the tower.  "I will find a way."

Kelney ran down the stairs and set about her lab with a maniacal focus.  She picked out a bottle of thrice distilled cider, a dark jewel, and a wren's heart.  She pieced together bits of other spells together in her mind.  It all fell neatly into place as if her thoughts and actions were guided by an unseen force.  It would work.  It had to work.  She would MAKE it work!

She gathered her materials and brought them to Darsin's bedside.  With newfound strength she pulled the bed to the center of the room and poured out the alcohol in a circle around it.  She lay the tiny heart of the bird on her child's chest and placed the gem in his mouth.  Kelney took a deep breath.  The moment was at hand.  She tried to relax, but a chill ran down her back.  A tiny voice inside her told her this was wrong.  She ignored it.

The spell was quick and simple to cast, taking only a few seconds.  When she spoke the final word "Arise!" Darsin sat up.  Her heart filled with joy.  She had done it!  She brought her son back to life.  She leapt onto the bed to give him a big hug.  Something was wrong.  His flesh was still cold to the touch.

"Are you alright, dear Darsin?" she asked, concerned.

There was no response, the boy just stared blankly at her.

"You have had a great shock, but don't worry, you are better now."

The child was not really better.  Though he went on to walk the earth for many more years, poor Darsin never again spoke or cast spells or so much as even thought for himself.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the GM at 20:22, Fri 15 June 2012.

I know not why I was there dat night.  I look around to see friends and neighbors with torches and hooks.  Some wore masks, but I know dem.  Did I wear one mask too?  I remember not.  In my hands were shovel and bar.  Moonless night. Dark but for stars and torches.  Each flickered and danced.  We danced too, but we knew not yet.

There was one himself, clear of eyes and mind.  Dupuis.  No mask.  He knew where he takes us all.  To the yard where dead hold court.  The yard is no place I fear in light of sun or dark of no moon, but tonight I have fear.  Fear of going to the yard.   Fear of not going to the yard.  We all follow.  Walking slow and thinking slow.  One wooden box Dupuis carry.  I know dat box. Thibideau's box.  Dupuis is his man, but Thibideau is dead.  Dead exactly one year.  I get more fear. I know we go to pay respects.  Thibideau been no friend of mine, but the fear make me follow.  Follow Dupuis.

Dupuis takes us to one simple mausoleum.  Built simple one year ago to hold one.  Small.  Only Dupuis and me and two others stand inside.  Dupuis takes pipes right from dat box.  He plays song was there all along, but we heard it not with ears until now.  I use the bar.  We pull open the stone casket.  There lie just bones and nothing else.  For two times I have less fear.  Dem bones peaceful.  Everything peaceful, but sound of pipes and song.  Maybe I go back and sleep in bed tonight.

Then dey move!  Dem bones move with the song.  Gather up and dance to dat song right ahead of my eyes.  I did just stare first.  Thibideau's dancing bones all come together to be a man.  I believed it not even if I dreamt it.  I stood frozen, but not long.  Soon I danced too.  Others danced inside and out.  We must dance.  Thibideau took the pipes.  Dupuis place a cloak around the shoulders of Thibideau.  A man of just bones played and danced and laughed.  Every day of my life I remember dat laugh.

Entry 41 • It seems Tyrascus has brought forth two, perhaps three new abomination to plague us in this war.  As I mentioned before, we have fought what can only be trolls in one of our recent battles.  These huge monsters are a match for a score of our best men.  They tower sometimes twenty feet tall and swing axes too large for us to wield, knocking warriors asunder.  Their wounds heal days worth as you watch.  Their blood is poisonous and should be disposed of in fire, as it seems everything must be these days lest it be used against us.  The second monster I have only today heard stories of.  Great lumbering creatures not as tall as the trolls but stronger.  They are possibly less dangerous, since I've heard no stories of strange powers.  When killed these brutes stay dead.  Though I have not witnessed them myself, Slex and Betra are keen observers and their tales I consider totally reliable.  The third new terror may or may not be real.  Rumors swirl about large mindless zombies sewn together from the bodies of the dead.  While this is certainly in keeping with the powers I have witnessed from the vile priests of Kramishir, I suspect there is equal chance that these rumors are mere exaggerations of the slow brittle zombies we dispatch with regularity.

Entry 44 • ...asked me yesterday about The Libre Clavicula, so I told her what I knew.  This fabled book contains secrets said to regard nullifying, canceling, and dispelling magix of the Gods.  I can see why such a book would be sought at this time.  Has it been found?  If so, can it be read?  The songs say it was sealed shut for Man should not tamper with spells a God saw fit to grant.

Entry 59 • It has been over two weeks since our supplies of fresh food have been destroyed.  Goblins burn crops and steal foodstocks more often than they battle us this month.  Captain Friess sent scouts to find what we now call Gruel Pits.  I don't know if it is goblin magic or the Magix of Kramishir (most likely the latter), but the goblins possess the power to create fountains of nutrients from the ground.  They eat this gruel directly from the pits and use it to feed their fast growing fungi.  I've tasted this gruel.  It is not good, but we're all hungry.  Even by harsh rationing we will be in no shape to fight in mere days if we do not find a new source of food.  The gruel also makes some men ill, but I believe the Brothers of Sunlight among us can counteract the sicknesses...

"Its branches spread out over all the lands and extend across the sky.  Its roots penetrate deep into the spiritual  Three of the tree's roots support it and reach very far indeed.  One is among the Aesir, the second among the frost-giants, where Ginnungagap one was.  The third extends over Niflheim, which is the source of all that is cold and grim.  Yggdrasil always was and is and will be."