I have been asked to tell you the legend of the sword that has been lost. This is my attempt to do so. My own knowledge of the legend comes from stories told in the taverns by men who were there and who have since gone to the afterlife. It is not an official history, but it will be as close to the truth as can be known. I hope you enjoy this story.
My name is Kjelleren. My people are farmers in the north, on the coast, near the mountains. I live with my wife, my daughter, and our son on a farm that is owned by my family for generations.
My wife's name is Sigrun, though she goes by her nickname of Sigrin, which means 'sun' in a language that no longer exists.
Our greatest heirloom is a strange tablet with a list of fifteen incomprehensible entries in a strange language nobody has been able to decipher. Word for word, the list goes ...
Robots will help Jack in the Box employees spend more time with customers. Yay?
Canada is ready to enforce Space Law.
The US Army is finally answering for its worst war crime: stealing a birthday cake.
A senate candidate gave a speech in the throes of labor pains.
A man that desperately needs a hug can no longer talk to his hologram wife.
Millions of bees died when their shipment was rerouted.
A British MP is resigning for watching porn in Parliament.
The police are citing school children for vaping and putting them into the legal system.
Couple steals Lego sets, forgets they have a bomb in their backseat.
A pile of human bones was just part of ritual sacrifice, nothing to see here.
A man stacked 7 M&ms.
Nothing comes between Australians and their kebabs.
Bears found the crawl space under one home not too stiff, not too soft, but just right.
Police in LA ignored crimes to catch Pokemon.
A panel of all white hosts led to a Juneteenth festival being canceled.