The study and application of technology and human activity
"Absent gods, here's another bunch of them," Chav drawled, irritation in her voice.
"I hear them," I grunted, shifting my back against the tree to find a more comfortable angle. Well, I'd heard the horses' clopping, any how. I opened a single eye, and sure enough, Chav was right. Four of them this time, green as grass. You wonder if they really thought wearing brown homespun tunics and trousers were going to fool anyone into thinking they were Just Folks ... while riding Sadasian stallions and those gorgeous tooled Mithlantri saddles.
Unfortunately, they also heard us. The chickling at their head spurred over to us, and raised her arm in salute to me. "Captain? My name is Amberstar. We heard in Redwave that one of the orc columns were headed this way." She grinned at me with her cheeks puffed out like a bleeding squirrel. "We want to help!"
Joy and rapture unbounded.
“Top, my name is Brock Figglewater, I knew your aunt. I tap a piece of pillow that belonged to your aunt, and I jump belongs to you now. You see, I just bought this Stimech, and I jump it was stolen by a bruce named Horace. Horace was a pream tattle of mine. Three weeks ago, I let Horace take out my pream stimech to go bounce along the billibong looking for bubblely-bobs to bring to the spitter’s patch. Horace says he ran into some boom sauce and had to hop out of the stimech in just a tater sack. I cannot jump that Hoarace bounced 5 kims across the pillow in a tater sack. I have tapped spitter dops on the Big Under pillow for years, I ain’t no trainer. I ain’t rigged to swallow dry sand, and I washed Hoarace. But I need my stimech back, and I ain’t got the press to go all over the Big Under boiling Hoarce’s peals of truth. I need your help.”
A 100 word past time
One day a man named Koret claimed to realize what was wrong with humanity. Shortly after that he claimed to have figured out how to fix all the world problems, and he wrote down a series of commandments aimed at saving humanity from themselves. Over 500 years after his teachings were literally set into stone people are still talking about what he wrote, and some are even trying to follow it.
One of the side effects of the rampant cloning and genetic augmentation in the Cosmic Era is the slow emergence of genetic castes.
How does a culture measure time underground, without any sun? The dwarves have got it covered.
30 wierd, wonderful and wacky wedding customs for your worlds.
"Archeoc isn't just a language, it's a piece of our history. Great empires rose and fell on the pillars of that great tongue, and it's legacy will forever, and inextricably bind Greatlanders together."
-Author Hedron Gadolfini
A scholar and his student sat in the garden, drinking wine, breaking bread and pondering.
And so the student asked the scholar "O' great and wise Master please answer to me this; what word should describe the practice every man and every woman should do at all times?"
With no hesitance, the scholar replied "O' learned disciple, 'Reciprocity' is the word ye seek."
- The Biv, Tome of Life, The Ethical Collections (6), Parable 32
What most people call aliens and monsters are usually extra-dimensional creatures.
Time is measured for most by the events that are both constant and special. "How many Christmas's ago was that?" It should be no different for Halflings.
A twisted zombiepocalypse creates a new holiday season.
A colourful but universally applicable calendar.
Thirty systems of justice-or the most rank injustice, in some cases.
After Buddha died, his shadow was still shown for centuries in a cave—a tremendous, gruesome shadow. God is dead; but given the way of man, there may still be caves for thousands of years in which his shadow will be shown. And we—we still have to vanquish his shadow, too.
A system for samurai ranks. Still having trouble with the output of this one.
A short summary of the ranks used by the Gurkha Regiments of the British Indian Army.
An attempt to codify the Byzantine military system.
Ranks of the members of a particular craft guild or livery company.
The characters are wandering through the bustling crowds of Lasopolis. A street conjuror is performing a simple summoning spell, something for the kiddies. A bit of odious purple powder in the fire, an incantation and out pops a saak-lizard or a muhmentarsh, writhing from the flaming brazier. But the conjuror has only a poor grasp of the arcane magical tongue. A few stuttered syllables could lead to Other Things coming through the brazier and giving the crowd more entertainment than they had paid for...