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Posted (edited)

On the eleventh day of winmas, my true win gave to me

Eleven Inquisitors

Ten honorblades

Nine talking swords

Eight aons flashing

Seven coloured Breaths

Six soupy Kandra

FIVE OOOO-KA-LAS

Four calling chickens 

Three Honorspren,

Two winning Ooklas, 

And an Ookla in a winning tree


 

 
Edited by Ookla the Imperial
Posted

On the twelfth day of Winmas, my true win gave to me: 

Twelve pages of winning 

Eleven Inquisitors 

Ten Honorblades 

Nine talking swords 

Eight Aons flashing 

Seven colored Breaths 

Six soupy Kandra 

FIVE OOOO-KA-LAS 

Four calling chickens 

Three honorspren 

Two winning Ooklas 

And an Ookla in a winning tree! 

Posted
1 minute ago, Ookla the Imperial said:

I kinda want to frame those lyrics

Do it :P 

Posted
40 minutes ago, Ookla the Imperial said:

I kinda want to frame those lyrics

38 minutes ago, Ookla the Roleplayer said:

Do it :P 

Agreed. That is the perfect way to celebrate winmas. I think that you meant 11 on the previous page not 10.

 

Posted
1 minute ago, Ookla the Sesquipedalian said:

On the thirteenth day of winnas my true win gave to me: 

the win

Not now.

Posted (edited)

‘Twas the night before the last post,

And all through the thread,

not a sharper was stirring, 

not even a Nathanking.

Though the house bundles of knobweed did hang everywhere,

In the hope that St. Sanderson would come and remove all despair.

Edited by Nathrangking
Posted
56 minutes ago, Nathrangking said:

‘Twas the night before the last post,

And all through the thread,

not a sharper was stirring, 

not even a Nathanking.

Though the house bundles of knobweed did hang everywhere,

In the hope that St. Sanderson would come and remove all despair.

The sharders were nestled all snug in the thread

While visions of joyspren danced in their heads;

And mamma in her havah, and I in my cap,

Had just settled down for a long highstorm's nap,

Posted
Spoiler

'Twas the night before the last post,

And all through the thread,

not a sharper was stirring, 

not even a Nathanking.

 

Though the house bundles of knobweed did hang everywhere,

In the hope that St. Sanderson would come and remove all despair.

The sharders were nestled all snug in the thread

While visions of joyspren danced in their heads;

And mamma in her havah, and I in my cap,

Had just settled down for a long highstorm's nap,

 

When out on the plains there was such a clatter

I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter

Lashed to the window, flying like a flash

Soulcast the shutters, throw up the sash.

Posted

And then the royal magic truthtelling thing said: "אוקלה הבלתי משתנה הוא זה שניצח באשכול" 

And everyone said okay, he won.

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