Enter Friedrich the Idiot, rudely late and apparently heavily intoxicated, chortling and humming a drunkard's tone. he is a nord student of arcane philosophy and a famed skald in his native province and just returned from a local tarven, barely in time to attend of the lecture of Seht, the greatest master of mysteries of the east, along with other students of the order of psijiic.
The master is holding aloft an odd orb of uncertain make, in the middle of the circle of his students, and he spoke..
''What, eager and expectant ye students and seekers of the mystery of stars,
Always retain in thy inmost heart, a query most relevant and pressing in mortals' fate.
For from truth, and light and destiny, death's solemn veil all mortal prying eys bars,
The answer to Why? Why? Why is it? T'is ever life and philosophy's freight.''
.....
''And lo, what rests in my grip, a mystery of yore,
Ti's an orb, but not only an orb, for made of naught but unknowns,
now begs ye to solve, to the increment of the universe's lore.''
And then immediately know those devoted scholars of the worldly and outworldly knowledge, that they must delve in the silent sea made of the tears of the stars, to see the tumultous deluge of tin a cup, and
rise and fall of the states and empires of mortals and gods as but the wafting and wandering of wisps of mist. An ennervating and sorrow-bearing spell of reflection and finality has overstridden the congregation as if all are drifitng and drowning in lament for the eternal wheel of birth and death that leaves behind its path nothing but tears. But then an exclamation, frivolous and bold, has broken the silence of the congregation.
''A ball! Aye, I know it, t'is but a ball!''
Thus addresses Seht the arch-foe of his mute congregation of seekers of sorrow in ashen fire subdued. That for all his work to shed light upon mortals grave destiny, must have been interrupted by anything but an idiot.
'' And in the name of triune mysteries that g
