Ode to the writings Here we are, back as before, walking in, a little sore, to have to see, in little plight, an argument, no wait, a fight.

But what is this, upon the wall, someone's mouth, is standing tall, for strong they speak, oh little man, stand up to this, oh yes you can.

Pointless is, as pointless does, he's written this, he says because, he wants to show you, from his side, yet from the shadows, he will hide.

They jump and bound, the little men, out they come, to write and then, they off they go, with step and twist, your argument has, quite nicely missed.

But back they come, at the next day, to write again, all what they say, no face have these, the hidden scribes, but write they must, they have no lives.

And back I go, to sleep I must, I hope but you, will really trust, words not made, out from the blue, not that's here, is really true.

Anon

King of dirt. A little poem is attached to a few bulletins for all to read

We fail to build, a simple door, to protect the weak, and the poor. For we won't spend, our prescious gold, but we will lie, about the Hold.

They've been here long, the men of stone, don't turn your eye, from their home. Standing true, for many year, The life brought back, is very dear.

But Dungal has, his hero's heart, he cut it from, one at the start. When he was young, and hiding not, he killed a man, thats what he got.

He wants to be, king of the town, and if you shout, he'll put you down. For sword he has, and axe he'll bring, for death he is, none saw a thing.

If you don't stand, he won't be beat, he'll take your home, from beneath your feet. Remove his mask, and take a peep, the smile he has, is only skin deep.

For you he'll come, oh yes he will, Don't get the door, pretend you're ill. With silver tongue and pocket lined, Vote Toboerski, if you are blind.

The addition is Unsigned

Valiant Knights More poems are added to the posters

Knights Toboerski, here we stand, we know you see, what's in our hand. The sword thats held, right by our side, will cut you down, and skin your hide.

Join today, love you we do, if you don't, we'll run you through. Honour we have, and we will save, to sing and dance, upon your grave.

Can you do, oh what we ask, and kill a man, for every task? Women we hate, they take your life, If you don't join us, we'll gut your wife.

They scorn and shout, since they are thick, Ladies go home, you have no brains. We are men, and we are proud, Big and strong, and very loud.

But stupid we are, knights of a kind, no heros but us, as we are blind. None before, have stood up strong, we think we do, but we are wrong.

Humble and kind, most others are, work hard they do, and they have gone far. But we are the knights, and here we stand, ready to kill, sword in our hand.

Knights untrue, you should join, but only if, you've got a groin. Ready we are, and ready we'll see, come today, if you want to be

A knight of dishonor, what do you fear? Invade your house? we're already here. Noone will stand, up and say no, Lose your head, if you don't go.

See the skulls, upon our board, They're men and babe, who dislike our Lord. Two there are, options to chose, Join us now, as that's what you'll lose.

The additions are unsigned

*Priavte Runehammer roughly scribes the poems into a small notebook, he is then seen heading to the Scrivener*