User:Dryhavich

Shun not the mead, but drink in measure; Speak to the point or be still; For rudeness none shall rightly blame thee If soon thy bed thou seekest.

About Dryhavich
Welcome, visitor, to my humble Edge of Perspective wiki page. I bring some odd areas of historical interest with me to my roleplaying!

Perhaps, oh reader who visits my page, you shall check out some of the writing I've done for this wiki? I really do like to write short stories and epic poetry.

Poetry and Musings
One should fear not of forgotten things, For in life, it is not what you take with you, But what you leave behind.

If you begin to think that the ways of your ancestors are things to be forgotten, think back on that thought for a while. You are here right now because of an innumerable amount of genetic combinations and dice-rolls, and have survived because the deeds of those before you have allowed you to be birthed. Not only that, but you have made a variety of momentous decisions to keep yourself sustained and alive. Now, let us look back upon some words that Livy once championed - we read about the history of our ancestors and those who have come before us, and select from them the virtues and values that we see as good, while leaving values that may have been mistaken behind. This is not a call to blindly follow the deeds of one's own ancestors, but at the same time, not to disregard where they have taken you. Your genetic material is the result of passing human DNA down from generation to generation - it bears with it the resilience that your ancestors built up via genetic expression. So, think of that the next time you do not want to participate in a family gathering or even a simple religious ceremony. Keep the good names of the ones who have earned in the past alive by continuing to do virtuous deeds - such individuals would have seen fit that your name would not have been lost to time.

A Spell against Goats
See them cast themselves through the vast field, see their debauchery of a thousand winters! Oh god of thunder, god of my fathers... strike them down for what they have done!

I call to the forest, I drum towards the ground. I hear the plodding of paw, the bushy thread.

Oh spirits, I am the Ursine one, send formemost of thine honey-eaters upon this happening.

Thou who wavers not, thou who bears the cold of winter! Teeth gnashing thither, strong bodies cast upon the forest itself!

May thy claws be fire-brands of Heaven, may thy jaws be those of Surma! Hear these words of mine, thou who art in caves and forest!

Abominations under the sun they are, make them cry out for their forebears!

Leave nothing, nothing upon the silvery dusting!

I INVOKE THEE, OH GREAT ONES!