“ AutoMedon A mechanical poet of renown not for his vast catalog of poetry, but for his complete lack of anything written or spoken, having had no output in his programmed profession. His creator is unknown or at least unaccredited, and there are those in great number in the artistic world who wonder and marvel at his inability to produce poetry, crediting that flaw to his creator who is unknown or at least un-credited. There is also a small faction of scholars who believe that when he finally, finally speaks, it will be the most beautiful or sorrowful verse ever spoke or will ever be spoken. Whether his creator is among either group or dead is unknown. AutoMedon sits alone under a tin roofed enclosure, upon a stone chair, with his gaze off in the distant as if thinking.
'It's strange to look at this mechanical man and think what thoughts are working through its' workings or even if the damn thing is' Aralis of Qurim, poet and pottery salesman”
“ 'Yn these landes, theye do ryde upone greate flowtinge beastes alike as those thate ye fyshermen do calle nawtilus; Ande these beastes, callede 'pyky-pyky' because of ye noises thate the beastes make, are troubelsome ande beastlye mountes, withe fowle temperes.' -Telliamed ap Ynris, 'Ye Westerne Landes'.
(A levitating giant nautilus that makes a noise like 'piki-piki' and is thus called a Great Piki-piki.)”
“ Swords form a bond to their wielder. A symbol on the grip that is absorbed through the user's hand and appears on the back of the hand. Maybe only visible to them or others that have the abilities. Could give unique powers depending on when it happened and what they did to get it. It takes a specially made sword that only few can receive and made by a certain race. Then they must do something really heroic to unleash the swords power. Once unleashed it is theirs till they die then the sword goes dormant again till another accomplishes another feat.”
