On The Misspelling Of His Name
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- LordShard
On The Misspelling Of His Name
by LordShard » Thu Jan 06, 2005 7:52 pm
On The Misspelling Of His Name
Part I
You left out an O, my jobbernowled brother
The name's Sheogorath, Sheograth is another
A herder who lives with his family and his flock
In an adorable little cottage in north High Rock
His wife is fair and portly, still girlish for her age,
His older son lives elsewhere, an actor on the stage,
They get loving letters from him every single week
Which proud Sheograth reads though his literacy's weak.
A middle daughter and infant son complete the brood.
She is sweet and shy, with a talent for cooking food,
And though the tot is too young to have much personality
He's the cutest, mildest child in the High Rock principality.
They're happy if not rich in their modest little hovel,
'Til Sheograth, mad, bludgeons them all with a shovel.
Part II
Don't worry, young gascleramp, I don't care about the spelling,
'Twas an excuse to tell a bloody tale that's worth bloody telling
Many hiss my name in incoherent gibberings and squeaks,
Or wild-eyed tongueless faces who voicelessly speaks
Plenty screech my name in terror or croak it like a frog
I'll even come politely when people call for the daM doG.
Part I
You left out an O, my jobbernowled brother
The name's Sheogorath, Sheograth is another
A herder who lives with his family and his flock
In an adorable little cottage in north High Rock
His wife is fair and portly, still girlish for her age,
His older son lives elsewhere, an actor on the stage,
They get loving letters from him every single week
Which proud Sheograth reads though his literacy's weak.
A middle daughter and infant son complete the brood.
She is sweet and shy, with a talent for cooking food,
And though the tot is too young to have much personality
He's the cutest, mildest child in the High Rock principality.
They're happy if not rich in their modest little hovel,
'Til Sheograth, mad, bludgeons them all with a shovel.
Part II
Don't worry, young gascleramp, I don't care about the spelling,
'Twas an excuse to tell a bloody tale that's worth bloody telling
Many hiss my name in incoherent gibberings and squeaks,
Or wild-eyed tongueless faces who voicelessly speaks
Plenty screech my name in terror or croak it like a frog
I'll even come politely when people call for the daM doG.
- LordShard
by LordShard » Thu Jan 06, 2005 9:08 pm
Here is anouther fun one! Written by a kid who Summoned Sheogorath! 
"Wabbajack"
Little boys shouldn't summon up the forces of eternal darkness unless they have an adult supervising, I know, I know. But on that sunny night on the 5th of First Seed, I didn't want an adult. I wanted Hermaeus Mora, the daedra of knowledge, learning, gums, and varnishes. You see, I was told by a beautiful, large breasted man who lived under the library in my home town that the 5th of First Seed was Hermaeus Mora's night. And if I wanted the Oghma Infinium, the book of knowledge, I had to summon him. When you're the new king of Solitude, every bit of knowledge helps.
Normally, you need a witches coven, or a mages guild, or at least matching pillow case and sheets to invoke a prince of Oblivion. The Man Under the Library showed me how to do it myself. He told me to wait until the storm was at its height before shaving the cat. I've forgotten the rest of the ceremony. It doesn't matter.
Someone appeared who I thought was Hermaeus Mora. The only thing that made me somewhat suspicious was Hermaeus Mora, from what I read, was a big blobby multi-eyed clawed monstrosity, and this guy looked like a waistcoated banker. Also, he kept calling himself Sheogorath, not Hermaeus Mora. Still, I was so happy to have successfully summoned Hermaeus Mora, these inconsistencies did not bother me. He had me do some things that didn't make any sense to me (beyond the mortal scope, breadth, and ken, I suppose), and then his servant happily gave me something he called the Wabbajack. Wabbajack. Wabbajack. Wabbajack.
Wabbajack. Wabbajack. Wabbajack. Wabbajack. Wabbajack. Wabbajack.
Maybe the Wabbajack is the Book of Knowledge. Maybe I'm smarter because I know cats can be bats can be rats can be hats can be gnats can be thats can be thises. And that doors can be boars can be snores can be floors can be roars can be spores can be yours can be mine. I must be smart, for the interconnective system is very clear to me. Then why, or wherefore do people keep calling me mad?
Wabbajack. Wabbajack. Wabbajack.
"Wabbajack"
Little boys shouldn't summon up the forces of eternal darkness unless they have an adult supervising, I know, I know. But on that sunny night on the 5th of First Seed, I didn't want an adult. I wanted Hermaeus Mora, the daedra of knowledge, learning, gums, and varnishes. You see, I was told by a beautiful, large breasted man who lived under the library in my home town that the 5th of First Seed was Hermaeus Mora's night. And if I wanted the Oghma Infinium, the book of knowledge, I had to summon him. When you're the new king of Solitude, every bit of knowledge helps.
Normally, you need a witches coven, or a mages guild, or at least matching pillow case and sheets to invoke a prince of Oblivion. The Man Under the Library showed me how to do it myself. He told me to wait until the storm was at its height before shaving the cat. I've forgotten the rest of the ceremony. It doesn't matter.
Someone appeared who I thought was Hermaeus Mora. The only thing that made me somewhat suspicious was Hermaeus Mora, from what I read, was a big blobby multi-eyed clawed monstrosity, and this guy looked like a waistcoated banker. Also, he kept calling himself Sheogorath, not Hermaeus Mora. Still, I was so happy to have successfully summoned Hermaeus Mora, these inconsistencies did not bother me. He had me do some things that didn't make any sense to me (beyond the mortal scope, breadth, and ken, I suppose), and then his servant happily gave me something he called the Wabbajack. Wabbajack. Wabbajack. Wabbajack.
Wabbajack. Wabbajack. Wabbajack. Wabbajack. Wabbajack. Wabbajack.
Maybe the Wabbajack is the Book of Knowledge. Maybe I'm smarter because I know cats can be bats can be rats can be hats can be gnats can be thats can be thises. And that doors can be boars can be snores can be floors can be roars can be spores can be yours can be mine. I must be smart, for the interconnective system is very clear to me. Then why, or wherefore do people keep calling me mad?
Wabbajack. Wabbajack. Wabbajack.
- LordShard
by LordShard » Thu Jan 06, 2005 9:20 pm
Instead of the book of knowledge Sheogorath gave him the Wabbajack! A spear which does almost no damage, but drains the wielder's magic by 200 points per second. (Inother words, no magic to cast nearly instantly as long as you hold it)Originally posted by Sabres
You gotta be kidding me...
- LordShard
by LordShard » Thu Jan 06, 2005 9:23 pm
Oh yeah, Sabers, read the Wabbajack through a couple times! You will get the funny stuff after a couple pass bys.
Such as this.:
But on that sunny night
the daedra of knowledge, learning, gums, and varnishes.
I was told by a beautiful, large breasted man
He slips them in there very well! If you read it through to fast you'll miss the good stuff!
Such as this.:
But on that sunny night
the daedra of knowledge, learning, gums, and varnishes.
I was told by a beautiful, large breasted man
He slips them in there very well! If you read it through to fast you'll miss the good stuff!
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