Friday, October 16, 2009

Feastologist Babin Tibideaux Discovers Feast Runestones in Terrebonne Parish, Louisiana

The following passage was translated from runic tablets unearthed by noted feastologist Babin Tibideaux in south Louisiana. A startling find, the tomes have only begun to be translated and promise a wellspring of insight. Our knowledge of Feastory will be forever changed! Carbon dating has been inconclusive, but most estimates range from really old to anc-ient. Feastlator Jean-Fran├žois Tomkyns is credited with the translation, and if feasthropologists are accurate in their understanding of the feastilects of the time, then the English translation should read as follows:

"’Twas to be a merry affair that day, as we feasters surged with momentum after vanquishing the Succubus who had nearly drained our fellow feaster, Einarr Einmannvitsbrekkaskald [1]. The creature, although bewitching, was no match for our relentless mirth. Joyless hag! 'Now', we bellowed, 'we can concentrate on our clever coven of skaldic rhapsodes [2], Gourds of Destruction!' Thrilled with the prospect of wooing nymphs with our spectacular display of musical fusion, we readied our feast.

The usual amenities were as abundant as our wayward clan was apt, and natives from all over the strange land matriculated to our gathering, cautious yet inquisitive. 'Plenty of feast for all!' we said, as our newfound neighbors looked on, awestruck at the incredible bounty. The Gourds and I struck up a brisk tune, as our revitalized companion, Einnar, slew onlookers with his
vivacious melodic creations which were fiercely staccato in righteous indignation. As he recovered his taste for feast nectar with much jovial howling and fanfare, Einnar shone with a luminence that would humble cruel Surtr himself, but with a grand benevolence worthy only of the world of FEAST!

Alas, there were a petulant few who would not partake. Intransigently they stood beyond the youthful flickering of our glorious pyre, ominously portending struggle anew. We lamented the scarcity of our kind and implored the great gods to fill the world with feasters, but soon realized we were a chosen elite.

Just as the feast's embers cast a crepuscular hue, a
jolly panjandrum materialized, livid. 'Hark! This feast will see no abatement! Stoke the flames! Add sweet smelling sage! [2] Let us cast flickering shadows with the jubilance of our unprecedented exultations! Undulate with glee as we raise our chalices!' With that he disappeared, and our shame was replaced by a resolve to cavort with consummate glee. We grabbed our string-ed gourds [2] and crooned to an infectious incantation. In the distance the churlish sentinels were silenced at last, transfixed with wonderment..."

[1] - A combination of two nicknames: skald (norse bard) and mannvitsbrekka (hill of man's wit, paragon of virtue).
[2] - Clear evidence of cultural interchange between the clan and peoples met on voyage; although the extent of which is unclear, due to widely known evidence of knowledge passed down through secret feaster lore (which is nearly ubiquitious and omnipresent).

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