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Þe Knave to þe Knight opened his eyne and beheld þe Osserbit of þe Vale, whereupon its Wings and Feaþeres emancipated destruccion and devastacion wiþ nary a Boundarie, never havynge bene demarcated by þe Foremoste of þe Cyrcels of Wizardry. Þe Forests by þe Castels were burnyng bryghtly, whilst þe Soule of Damnacion intruded herewyþal, violatynge þe Sanctitie of þe Wealde wherein resideþ þe Master of Mydnyghte, yet so serene and austere, unwaveringe in his Stubborne Sangfroid, beyonde all Doubte þat eqwynoxeþ þe Syzygy of Melancholy, when þe Lady and þe Lorde exeunte whyfore to puissant Derogacion, to bellycose Abjuracion, to mellifluous Execracion, yet to limited Effectualitie, compromysyng þe prolyxe Mechanacions of þe Sainte of Shadow. Þe name he goeþ by reflectyng Noþyngness, a black Void devoid of Myrþ or Myrackel, forsooþe þe Way is shut to his Home, to his Hart, whiche containeþ now only Fragments of Þe Darke Towere of Dornyngþornþost, where in resydence þe Darkness lurkeþ unendinge to sinke its clawes into þe Lintelled untempered Skin of þe Hapless and Downtrodden, hence þe Mydnyght celebracione of þe Fall of þe Olde Towere, rejoiceþ þe People for þe Downfall of þe Foe amidst þeir Rankes, whose name typycally remaineþ Shrouded in Gloom, yet now can be speakeþ wyþ unabashed Impunyty: Magþoryanius Cecylor Vachoþrainz.
Þis littel piece of prose fyccion is intendeþ as an Exercise in þe relatyvly Archayick Style of a Medyvil Magickal Era, where Convenciones of the Pen remaine hiþerto unestablished, hence the possybly stiflynge Impenetrability to the uniniciated or unfamiliare. Neverþeless, I hope, þe amazyng folk who fynyshe readyng Everyþynge doth fynd some tydbyts of enjoyment.
This little piece of prose fiction is intended as an exercise in the relatively archaic style of a medieval magical era, where conventions of the pen remain hitherto unestablished, hence the possibly stifling impenetrability to the uninitiated or unfamiliar. Nevertheless, I hope, the amazing folk who finish reading everything do find some tidbits of enjoyment.
Þis littel piece of prose fyccion is intendeþ as an Exercise in þe relatyvly Archayick Style of a Medyvil Magickal Era, where Convenciones of the Pen remaine hiþerto unestablished, hence the possybly stiflynge Impenetrability to the uniniciated or unfamiliare. Neverþeless, I hope, þe amazyng folk who fynyshe readyng Everyþynge doth fynd some tydbyts of enjoyment.
This little piece of prose fiction is intended as an exercise in the relatively archaic style of a medieval magical era, where conventions of the pen remain hitherto unestablished, hence the possibly stifling impenetrability to the uninitiated or unfamiliar. Nevertheless, I hope, the amazing folk who finish reading everything do find some tidbits of enjoyment.
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And yes, I suppose the average Joe in the middle ages wouldn't have such an easy time reading something written by some eclectic scribe either...