Every week we settle down for a family games night. This week was a game called £GREED , which is a variation on the long established dice game 5000 . It's a favourite in this household, as it is a precarious balance between tactics and gambling. Caesar's famous remark that "the die is cast" as he crossed the Rubicon, shows that he knew and acknowledged this balance. Dice are amongst the oldest continually used form of gaming. They have a long history in every single continent, although not always as the cubes we recognise today. Early forms of dice were made from bone, wood, or stones such as agate or marble. They did not always show numbers, but could also be used for fortune telling, with pictures and letters inscribed on them. As a player of Warhammer Fantasy Roleplay , I have always known that dice cannot be held at face value. They are regularly used in fantasy stories and situations to denote the power of luck and the ability to hold control over the realms of...
Continuing from last week's post which explored Artwork as Inspiration (the starting point for Proof of the Old Faith) I'm sticking with Norse culture. Here is The Weave of the Norns, a poem I wrote a few years ago about these three frightening women.
Enjoy!
The Norns by Arthur Rackham
Beneath the threat of utter doom
he sought them at their fabled loom.
The king searched on until he found
them on the morrow’s battleground.
The tallest worked the wheel alone;
the next, a shuttle made of bone;
the shortest bore a silver sword
with which she severed each loose cord.
What pattern spun these women three,
dictating mankind’s victory!
“I come to beg you demonstrate
a gentle weaving of our fate.”
“Then know you this, oh man of peace,
we weave the thread and cannot cease.”
“Weave us an ending to this war
and grant us threads of peace once more.”
“What cost would such a wise man pay
for us to change our weave this way?”
And now he saw the bloody thread,
time’s fabric dripping crimson red.
As though she took him in her hand
he felt her pull aside one strand.
“You have forgone your chance to leave.
Your life is foretold in the weave.”
The sword cut clear, the thread hung down,
the mediator lost his crown.
For Fate demands a sacrifice
to cast aside her weighted dice.
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