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Showing posts from April, 2012

Adventures of Crab Asaan: Cake Edition!

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Readers know of our series mascot Crab Asaan, but not everyone is disposed to pay homage to his magnificence. This week, however, we had two surprises at the Commons, sent to us by two readers who felt it requisite to let the mighty Crab Asaan know of their fervent adulation. From England, the mighty Crab Asaan received a carrot cake whose top was engraved with his glorious image, and from Canada, a Pulla loaf made in the shape of his splendid form. Many thanks and dismissive waves of the claw to those who saw fit to magnify Crab Asaan's grace. May you be blessed with many complacent scowls!  

Story for the Day: Tailibhanach

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The term Spailpín Fánach is used to describe Irish farmhands who were forced to wander in search of employment. Tailibhanach, or land labourer in Old Frewyn, holds the same meaning. There aren't as many Tailibhanach in the kingdom now as there used to be during less affluent times, but those who still hire themselves out as such don't live the best of lives.
Beryn Dunhuram, fellow farmer and friend of the Donnegal family, was an only child, the last leaf on a particular bough of one of Frewyn oldest rural families. The name of Dunhuram was widespread across the kingdom as a name that belonged to poulterers, dairy farmers, and husbandmen, and though few of their daughters went to join trees of higher rank by way of a few imprudent matches, their consequence as one of Frewyn’s oldest clans never rose beyond their born class. There were those bearing the Dunhuram name who, due to the imprudence of post kings and queen, had been forced to sink lower than their class of yeoman migh…

Story for the Day: A Farmer's Wife Part 2

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As Calleen was turning her considerations elsewhere for present, Jaicobh had been walking the fields, rapt in the remorse of the question unasked, the aspiration unspoken, and the love recognized only too late. He had hoped that work and the glorious prospect of the rolling hills should placate his budding aggravations, but they served only as a constant torment: the wind came from the west and was howling toward the east, forcing him to look in the direction of the house that held all his happiness and all his discomfort. He had been used to think there could be a chance; the Mister could be ill as he had conjectured, Calleen could decide that she had married the wrong man, there could be difficulties in conception. These were not worthy ideas, but they gave him a something like consolation. She knew of his affection; there must be all his serenity, but even this moralization occasioned its due disquiet. The Mister being ill was his only true succour, though he regretted even conside…

Story for the Day: A Farmer's Wife

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Jaicobh MacDaede and Calleen Donnegal have a long history together. When Calleen was fifteen, her parents fell on hard times and were forced to give her up in hopes of her finding a better life elsewhere. Through a scheme of the Frewyn Church, Calleen met Jaicobh, who was living alone on his farmstead as landlord to nearly half of Tyfferim. He learned of her situation, got her an apprenticeship before the usual time, and made it his business to look after her. Fifteen years of monthly visits to the Donnegal farmstead and the two of them became friends. When Calleen at last got engaged to one of the younger Donnegals, Jaicobh was invited to the wedding where both of them recognized their love for one another only too late. This was the beginning of their secret attachment, one of which all three parties were well aware but were unwilling to acknowledge. Here is a piece from the book about their relationship. Enjoy.
A Farmer’s Wife                 As the gloaming skies dimmed with the ro…

Story for the Day: Coming of Spring

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Spring is upon us, and as such merits the requisite celebrations. The chief of Frewyn's holidays are commemorated in the autumn and winter months, but there is one holiday at the beginning of bring which Alasdair must be made to suffer: the Brennin birthdays.
 The end of the long Frewyn winter saw the beginning of its short spring, bringing with it all the subsequent holidays and celebrations that the melting frosts and early bloom of the trees could warrant. The queen and king’s birthdays soon to be commemorated, there was nothing to do but to wait in all the happy agony of blithesome anticipation: Aranabrennin must be made, the courtyard must be fitted up, the square must be heavily ornamented for such a grand and dual celebration; festivities must be planned, games and gaieties for the children must be contrived, and all the accoutrements requisite to venerate one of Frewyn’s most beloved holidays must be acquired.                 Such as a lavish celebration as the one that the…

Story for the Day: Balletrim

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Balletrim (Ba-lay-trim) is the northernmost country in the Triumvirate, situated directly below the Sahadin desert, seperating it from Lucentia. Although the land shares its government with Marridon and Sesterna, it shares none of its neighbors' consequence. Balletrim has been a meager fiefdom for hundreds of years, and while Marridon and Sesterna have accomplished much, Balletrim has done very little. When Alasdair is invited to visit the fiefdom on business, he is quite shocked at what he sees: 
The party were quickly approaching the Balletrim capital: they had little idea of being half so near their destination, for there had been no residences, no farms nor verdant downs, no branching roads nor slender passes to mark a distant municipality or any nearby village. Where Frewyn had plains of rippling wheat bowing and fawning under the power of the mountain gales, there was only desolace here: brown swards dotted with pale patches of dried grass, a thick grey mist billowing up from…

Haanta Series Zip-It!

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While Crab Asaan was at PAX, he was kind enough to bring me a souvenir: a word game called Zip-It, made by the creators of Bananagrams. I had played neither game before and was therefore most ready and happy to give Zip-It a try. The game can be played with one or two people. Each player received twelve block pieces, each of them with differing letters on the six faces. The goal of the game is to create a small crossword using all twelve blocks within a few seconds. The person who succeeds moves their allotted zipper colour up a notch, and the game begins again. The game is played in this style until one of the two players reaches ten. There are variations on the main rules that can be played, but making a crossword is the general way of going on.

If you're like Crab Asaan and abhor anyone endeavouring to trounce your unmitigated magnificence, the game can be played with one person. The object here is to give yourself an overall theme and use all twenty-four blocks to create a cros…

The Adventures of Crab Asaan

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I never go on vacation, mostly because I have no interest and partly because I have too much to write to be bothered with all the horrors of travel. Haanta Series mascot Crab Asaan, however, is an accomplished world traveler. This past weekend, he decided to troll PAX in Boston. At first, decided to hide himself with a clever disguise, but once he realized that he could use his reputation to his advantage, he gloried in being the mighty, the petulant, the terrific Crab Asaan. Here are the highlights of his visit:




After arriving at the hotel and eating a sparse crepe dinner, Crab Asaan went to his room for the night and played Zip-It to amuse himself. He succeeded in winning a match against himself by using every block as the name of a Frewyn municipality. Feeling rather proud of himself, he resigned himself to sleep whilst dreaming of all the impending shinnaniganary he must inflict.

He was feeling indulgent the next morning and thus decided to serve himself to flatter his vanity by mak…

Story for the Day: Rithea's Morning

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We all have mornings where we don't want to move. For me, that is very morning. For Rithea, it is whenever she and High Commander Bryeison are together. 
As the sun made its gradual ascent over Frewyn’s capital, the white rays of morning light flooded the bedchamber through the small window and roused Rithea from a most pleasurable slumber. The golden hints and subtle amber hues of the passing sun tinctured her sinuous skin and lighted the crevices of Bryeison’s scarred and hardened flesh. A stir, a moan of pleasance, and Rithea was curling within the auspices of the High Commander’s massive arms. Never had she slept so well, never had she gloried in the embrace of one so unexceptionable, and never had one granted her all the affection that his unmitigated attention could furnish. She felt a something like felicitous rapture, his chest making its rise and descent by slender gradations, the ebb and flow of his profound respirations rocking her into a partial sleep once more. She mus…