The Marketing Beast and Gawain 713 - 784, Wyrms and Wolves

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Ok, we now return you to your usual broadcast.

..............................................................................................................................

Many cliffs he out-clambers in countries full-strange;
Flown far from his folk, friendless he rides.
At each warp-over-water where he wished he could cross
If he found no foe before him, a wonder it was
And one so foul and so fell that fight them he must.
So many marvels in mountains there the man finds,
It were too sore to tell of the tenth part.
Somewhile with wyrms he wars, and with wolves as well,
Somewhile with Woodwose who waited in stones,
Both with bulls and with bears, and boars otherwhile.
And Eoten that him attacked from the high fells;
If not grim and grit-hard and God he had served,
Doubtless he had been dead and dashed full ofte.
For war worried him not so much, that winter was worse,
When the cold clear water from the clouds shed,
And freeze ere it fall to the frail earth.
Near slain with the sleet he slept in his reins
Most nights in among the naked rocks,
There as clattered from the crest the cold-burning rains,
And hung high over his head in hard iisse-ikkles.
Thus in peril and pain and plight full-hard
The country carries this knight till Christmas-Eve,
          all alone.
The knight well that tide
To Mary made his moan,
That she would read his ride
And lead him to some home.

Book of hours, Bruges or Ghent 15th century Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library, MS 287, fol. 80r

By a mountain on the morn merrily he rides
Into a forest full deep, that fairly was wild,
High hills on each hand, and harsh woods under
Of hoar oaks full high a hundred together;
The hazel and the hawthorn were hooked in their tops,
With rough ragged moss ranging everywhere,
With many birds un-blithe upon bare twigs,
That piteously they piped for pain of the cold.
Gawain upon Gringolet glides them under,
Through many a mist and mire, a man alone,
Seeking for his soul, lest he fail should,
To see the service of that sire, that on that same night
Of a maiden was made, our madness to heal.
and therefore seeking he said, "I beseech thee lord,
And Mary, that is mildest mother so dear,
For some hearth near here where I might hear mass
And thy matins to-morrow, meekly I ask,
And thereto priestly I pray my Paternoster
           and Creed."
He rode in his prayer
And cried for his misdeed;
Made the lords sign with care
And said, "Christs Cross me speed!"

Gawain 670 - 712, Gawain exits like a Boss & crosses me in time & space.

He struck the steed* with the spurs and sprung away,
So swift that the stone-fire struck out thereafter.
All that saw that scene sighed in heart,
And each said softly the same script to the other,
Grieving for that gallant: "By Christ, it is shameful
that you, lord, shall be lost that are of life noble!
To find his equal on earth is not easy, in faith,
Wiser to be wary and more wit show,
And have his sisters-son deemed a duke
A lordly leader of legions, that sounds about right;
And would have better been that than beheaded,
Hacked off by an elvish man, for masculine pride.
Who knew ever any king such counsel to take
As knights catastrophic calculations in Christmas games!"
Well-much was the warm water that welterd from eyes
When that seemly sire slipped out from the gate
          that day.
He made no abode,
But swiftly went his way;
Many weird ways he rode,
The book as I heard say.


Now rides his rank through the realm of Logres,
Sir Gawain, in God's name, to him no game seemed.
Oft lordless, alone he lingered on nights
Where he found not before him the fayre that he liked.
Had he no friend but his foal by the forests and fells,
Nor no voice but God spoke to him on the road,
Till he nosed full nigh into the North Wales.
All the isles of Anglesay on left hand he held,
and fared over the fords by the furlong,
Over at the Holy Head, till he had hit earth
In the wilderness of Wirral; where there but few
That either God or Man with good heart loved.
And he asked as he fared of freaks that he met,
If they had heard any hail of a knight green,
In any ground hearabout, or the green chapel;
And all narked him with "nay", that never in life
They saw never no fellow that was of such hue
          of green.
The knight took gates strange
In many a realm condemned;
His cheer oft full-changed,
Ere that chapel he found.


(* Poor Gringolet.)

(Arthurs court here, played by every internet comments section ever.)

It's here that Gawain and I cross paths in space and time. Both in 'the wilderness of Wirral' and both half way between Halloween and Christmas.

Gawain 619 - 669, The Meaning of the Pentangle

Then they showed him the shield, that was of sheer Gules
With the pentangle painted in pure gold hues.
He seizes it by the strap, about his shoulders sets,
That beseemed the chevalier seemly and fair.
And why the pentangle appends to that noble prince
I am intent to tell you, though tarry it me it should:
It is a sign that Solomon set somewhile
In betokening of Truth, by title that it has,
For it is a figure that holds five points,
And each line overlaps and locks with another,
And everywhere it is endless; the English it call
Overall, as I hear, the endless knot.
So forth it accords to this knight and to his clear arms;
For faithful five ways, and five times each,
Gawain was for good known, and as gold purified,
Voided of each villainy, with virtues purged,
evils antidote.
For this the pentangle new
He bears on shield and coat,
A friend of faith most true
And gentlest knight of note.


First he was found faultless in his five wits,
And the fighter never failed in his fingers five,
And all his faith on this sphere was in the five wounds
That were cut into Christ on the cross, as the creed tells.
And were-so-ever this man in melee was stood,
His whole heart was in that, nothing higher,
Than all his force he infused from the five joys
that the high heaven-queen had of her child;
At this cause the knight carefully had
In the inner half of his shield her image painted,
When he met that queens gaze his blade never failed.
The fifth five that I find the fellow had
Was Franchise and Fellowship before all things,
His Cleaness and Courtesy crooked were never,
And Pity, that passes all points, these pure five
Were harder hasped in that horse-lord than any other.
Now all these five virtues, verily, were fettled in this knight,
And each hooped in another, that no end they had,
And fixed upon five points that failed never,
Neither ever intersecting, nor sundered neither,
Without an end at any nook my finger could find,
Wherever the game began or came to an end.
Therefore on his shining shield shaped was the knot
Royally with red gold upon red Gules,
That is the pure pentangle named by people who
have lore.
Now girded is Gawain gay,
And last his lance right bore,
And gave them all 'good day -
He thought for evermore.

Gawain 536 - 639, Gawain declares his quest, then locks and loads.

Yet he stays with Arthur till All-Saints-day;
Who made a feast on that festival for his sad fighters sake,
With much rich revelry of the Round Table.
Knights full-courteous and comely ladies
All for love of that lad in longing they were,
Nevertheless, with death looming, they leavened nothing but mirth
Many joys for that gentle child they made.
For after meat, near in mourning, he meets with his king,
And speaks of his passage and politely he says,
"Now, liege lord of my life, leave I you ask.
You know the cause of this case, keep I no more
To tell you the troubles thereof, trifles merely;
But I am bound to the blow, which must be returned,
To search out the green chevalier, as God will me guide."
Then the cream of the castle came together,
Ywain, and Erik, and others full many,
Sir Dodinel de Savage, the Duke of Clarence,
Lancelot, and Lionel, and Lucan the good,
Sir Bors and Sir Bedivere, big men both,
And many other eminents, with Mador de la Port.
All this company of court came the king near
For to counsel the knight, with care in their heart.
There was such secret sorrow in their eyes
That one so worthy as Gawain should wind his way to doom
To brave a brutal blow, and bestow none of
          his own.
The knight made all good cheer
And said, "Why should I groan?
Of destinies dark and dear
What may we reap but what's sown?"*1


He dwells there all that day, and dresses on the morn,
Asks early his arms, and all were they brought.
First a clean carpet was cast on the floor,
And much was the gilded gear that gleamed  therefore.
The staunch man steps thereon, and the steel handles,
Dressed in a doublet of dear Tars cloth,
And also a crafty Capados*2, closed aloft,
That a pearl-white pelt the periphery rimmed.
Then set they the Sabatons upon the sires feet,
His legs lapped in steel with lovely Greaves,
With Poleyn placed thereto, polished full clean,
About his knees, knapped with knots of gold;
Cold-forged Cuisse then, elegantly encasing
His thick thrawn thighs, with thongs so attached;
And then the hasped Habergeon of bright steel rings
Enveloped Gawain, obscuring his clothes,
And well burnished Braces upon his arms both,
With good gay Cubitieres, and gloves of plate,
And all the goodly gear that him gain should
          that tide;
With rich coat-armor,
His gold spurs set with pride,
Girded with a brand full sure
With silk sash upon his side.


When he was hasped in arms, his harness was rich:
The last lace or loop had luster of gold.
So harnessed as he was he hearkens to mass,
Offered and honored at the high alter.
Calmly he comes to the king and to his court-folk,
Takes lightly his leave of the ladies and lords,
And they him kissed and conveyed, commended to Christ.
By then was Gryngolet groomed and girded with a saddle
That gleamed full gaily with many gold fringes,
Its nail-tacks full new made, that none be richer;
The bridle barred about, with bright gold bands;
The pommel-apparel and all the proud skirts.
The crupper and the cantle, corded with the saddle-bows;
And all was railed on red with rich gold nails,
That glittered and a glinted as gleams of the sun,
Then hefts he the helm, and hastily it kisses,
That was stapled staunchly, and stuffed within.
It sits high on his head, held behind,
With a handy band of bold silk attached to the mail,
Embroided and bounded with the best gems
On a broad silken border, and birds on the seams,
As parrots painted between periwinkle plants,
Turtle-doves and true-love blooms entangled so thick
A womans winter work each bird, the whole a life
          to set down.
The circlet was more of prize
That enclasped his crown,
More diamonds than spiders eyes,
That both were bright and brown.

Gawain 491 - 535, Gawain gets a year to think about how he screwed up.

The curled calendar to the king gave his gift,
The heralded adventure he had wished so to hear.
Though his words waned when they went to sit down,
Now they engage in employment, emptying plates.
Gawain was glad to begin those games in hall,
But that the end be regrettable have you no wonder;
For though men may be merry in mind when have they main-drink,
A year swings its pendulum, and perfectly sees,
The first to the finish, rarely resembles.
Fast this yule expires, and the year after,
And each season so leaps after each other,
After Christmas comes the crabbed lent-time,
That frets flesh with the fish and food more simple;
But then the weather of the world with the winter it wars,
Cold collapsing down, clouds up-lifting,
Shedding the shining rain in showers full warm,
Falling on the fair flats, flowers there showing,
Both grounds and the groves green are there clothed,
Birds briskly to build, and brightly sing
For solace of the soft summer that arrives soon
          as it could;
And blossoms burgeon to bloom
In rows rich and good,
Then notes and noble tunes
Are heard in lovely wood.


After the season of summer with the soft winds,
When Zepherus sighs himself on seeds and herbs,
Wonderful and wild is what waxes thereof,
When the burnished dew drips from the leaves,
To bide a lustful blush of the bright sun,
Then Winters herald warns them to be about their work;
He drives with drought the dust for to rise,
From the face of the field to fly full high;
Wrathful wind in sky's workshop wrestles with the sun,
The leaves leap from the linden and light on the ground,
And all grays the grass that green was before;
Then all ripens and rots that rose up first,
And thus yields the year in yesterdays many,
And winter winds its clock, as the world stops
          its making,
Till Michaelmas morn
Was come, with winter waiting.
Then thinks Gawain full-soon
Of his dark undertaking.

Gawain 491 - 535 Gawain Feasts... AND SO DO YOU.. ON PDF'S!!!!!!

Before your Daily Gawain I'm going to needle you with fucking marketing. As a reward, here's some doggerel.

"The time came then for capitalism,
For bargains and blunders,
And files digital full-many,
A page set rightly, and bundled with the best,
Platters paraded, with PDF's piled,
The format most fine, some say."

"Yn Goddes namen thys fyles diggatal taste full-cleann yt sweetn."

I don't like or even trust PDF's,

I have a terror of my work being downloaded a million times, sitting on a million hard-drives, neatly arranged with a million others, being un-read a million times and un-played a million times. That's why the price for a PDF of Deep Carbon Observatory is the same as the hardcopy and why its free if you buy the hardcopy,that's part of the reason that Fire on the Velvet Horizon will never have a PDF.


BUT

Having ploughed through the presumably-less-good offerings of the OSR, the Bundle of Holding people have finally got to the meat, we might say to the piquant quick of our questionable counter-revolution. Just like in a YA post apocalypse film they have seized upon the most lithe, charismatic and brilliant of us and bundled us together in the bleeding-edge technology of PDF. A bunch of bearded white guys will enter, but perhaps slightly less than a bunch will leave!

Which means you can get a PDF of DCO for $8,95!

That mean's, if you like me, you can help fund me going to Gen-Con and possibly meeting Scrap Princess for the first time, and if you fucking hate me you can SHIT IN MY MOUTH by getting DCO for One Dollar Five Cents less than the Real and Eternal price of 10 dollars.


PATRICK WHAT'S IN THIS BUNDLE I CAN'T WAIT TO FIND OUT

It's right here!!!!


I


LITERALLY


CAN'T


BE


BOTHERED


GOOGLING


THOSE



WORDS



Then read on!

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>>>The One Page Dungeon Compediums for 2013, 2016 AND 2015!<<<

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>>>Yoon-Suin by David McGrogan!<<<

Which I reviewed!

And about which I said this:

"Yoon-Suin is about beauty. All of the sights in it are picturesque. Very like an orientalist painting. Even the very horrible locations are a little more ripe than harsh. And the culture depicted in Yoon-Suin is about luxury and about beauty. Its relaxed instead of tight, slow instead of quick, warm rather than cold, lit rather than dark, sad rather than grim, opium not cocaine. Some RPG settings are created, in the manner of Apocalypse world, on a kind of energetic tilt so that whatever the PC's do when they wander into it will have deep ramifications, the world will spin around them. One gets the sense that, no matter how the DM constructs it, the world of Yoon-Suin is not going to change very much regardless of what the players do. The opium barges will still drift down the Yellow River, the slaves will still have rubbish lives, the Slug Men are not going to be deposed from the Yellow City. (Who would bother to? And who would replace the Slug Men? Calm down and have some tea.) The politics of the Hundred Kingdoms will always be chaotic and the chaos will never change. The PC's are simply moving through this world like everyone else."

Misty Isles of the Eld by Chris Kutalik/Hydra Co-Op!

AND

>>>Chthonic Codex by Paolo Greco<<<

Which I reviewed here, here, here and here!

And about which I said this:

"Our worlds betray their makers pretty quickly. You can't create freely and relentlessly for long enough to fill out a book without exposing some weird aspect of who you are. Zak is a godless warren of snow and decadence. Noisms is an opium dream of a distant east, Scrap is full of life and wild animals, I am an endless network of caverns full of cannibalism and madness.

Paolo is Renaissance-Chthonic rather than just Chtnonic. The Codex and the hypogea it describes is powered by strange energies leaking upwards from an inner world. But the caverns aren't totally dark, they are open to the sky much of the time and the stuff leaking in isn't black, its bright.

The book, like the setting, and by my own questionable logic given above, presumably like the man, is about deep energies interacting with the human world, not just our world but specific human beings."


PLEASE


CHRIST


LET


THAT


BE


ALL


But that isn't all!

If you yes YOU are the highest contributor to the bundle you will get a FREE. BOXED. SET. from Paolo Greco.

Or at least a free box.


WHATS


IN


THE


BOX


PATRICK


IS


IT


GWINNETH


PALTROWS


HEAD


Almost as good as that!!

We don't know yet!! But probably something good! A hardcopy of my book for certain, a bunch of other guys are contributing stuff, it will be unique!

The OSR Bundle of Holding Four! It literally has all the maps, dungeons, adventures and whatever you could ever need or want!

We Now Return You To Your Regular (Non-Digital) Feast

(of words)

Then king Arthur stored his wonders in his heart.
He let no semblance be seen, but said full high
To the comely queen with courteous speech,
"My darling, do not be to-day dismayed;
Well becomes such craft upon Christs-mass,
Flutes interluding, to laugh and to sing,
Are right kind carols of ladies and knights,
Nevertheless to my meat I may me well dress,
For I have witnessed a wonder, I cannot deny."
He glanced upon Sir Gawain, and gently he said.
"Now sir, hang up thy axe, that has enough hewn."
It was tied above the high table,on tapestries hung
That all men for marvel might on it look,
And by the true title therof to tell the wonder.
Then they bent to a board these bro's together,*
The king and the good knight, and keen men them served
Of all dishes double, as is decent and right.
With all manner of meat and minstrally both,
With a well will they sent that day, till sun sank
under land.
Now don't shrink sir Gawain,
Act like you don't understand,
Or this adventure distain
That you have taken on hand.


*"Thenne they bozed to a board thise burnes togeder,"

Gawain lines 417 - 466 The Beheading

The green knight on the ground, gravely he kneels:
A little lift of the head, he discloses his skin;
His lovely long locks he lays over his crown,
Lets the naked neck to the knight show.
Gawain gripped his axe guardedly, heaved it on high,
Shifted his left foot forward, set it before,
Dropped it down lightly on the dermis bare,
That the braggarts own blade burst open his bones,
And sliced through the sweet meat, and spliced it in twain,
See the bit of the bright steel bite into the ground.
The fair head from the shoulders it span to the earth,
And knocked around rolling, courtiers kicked it away;
The blood burst from the body and blackened on the green.
And neither faltered the fell freak, nor tipped,
But started and sprinted forth upon strong shanks,
And running he reached out among the standing ranks,
Leapt to his lovely head, and lifts it up quick;
And turning boldly to his bronco, the bridle he catches
Steps into the stirrup and strides aloft,
And his head by the hair in his hand holds;
The sire sitting neatly in his saddle seat
As if no mishap he had, though headless now
          instead.
He bent his bulk about,
That ugly body that bled;
Many of him had some doubt,
But that his reasons be read.


For he actually held up the head in his hand,
At the princes on the podium he pointed the face,
And it lifted the eye-lids and looked full broad,
And emitted this much from his mouth, as you may now hear:
"Remember, Gawain, be ready to ride as you promised you would
And look as long as you need till you find me my lord,
As you have sworn in this citadel, in sight of these knights.
To the green chapel travel, I charge you to take
Such damage you dealt - deserve you well
To be meticulously indemnified on New Years Morn.
The knight of the green chapel, many men know me;
If you fiercely seek for me you shall not fail.
Therefore come, or claim a cowards name in this world."
With a terse twitch he turned his reins,
And hauled out the hall door, his head in his hand,
That the fire of the flint flared from his foals hooves.
To what kin he belonged knew none there,
Never more than they knew from what country he came.
          What then?
The King and Gawain there
At that green they laugh and grin;
Yet most held it full bare
A marvel among those men.

.............................................................................................................

What I found remarkable when translating this is the fluid understatement of the violent act. Everything has been building towards this, Gawain, Arthur and the knight describe and re-describe exactly whats going to happen, the buildup is intense, then, at the final moment Gawain simply shifts his foot a little and the poem reads:

"Let hit doun lygtly lygt on the naked,"

(Those aren't 'g's in the poem.)
(Also my D for L transposition really makes it a little too harsh and sharp, he only 'lets it down lightly, not 'drop it down'

Instead of rising to a percussive and exclamatory point, the strangeness and horror just flows smoothly, with a sense of rising amazement and growing dissonance, keeping the mood and feel of the piece somewhere between a horror story and a joke.

Then at the end:

"He brayde his bulk aboute,
Pat vgly bodi pat bledde;
Moni on of hym had doute,
Bi pat his resounz were redde."

I know "doute" doesn't have the same feel or precise meaning as 'doubt' but its still a glorious and deranged, willful understatement, which will carry over into Arthur and Gawain's reaction in the next stanza and the gradual unfolding of the feeling of threat.

"What then?" indeed.