Menhir
And in Spring of Year 2, a Menhir fell from the sky in Marverni. And he did bounce around, and crush some werewolves, and crush some more werewolves, and crush yet even more werewolves.
And the werewolves fled from the Menhir, and he did bounce around some more. And as the werewolves fled, so were they crushed. And so the battle went on, with the Menhir hardly scratched, and the werewolves running away.
But then the Menhir flew off, when there were only 6 werewolves left on the field of battle.
Oh Menhir, what the heck are you doing???? Don't go!
Marverni will honor our pledges to deliver the pendants to the Ermor nations. Our item crafters got drunk celebrating the victory against the werewolves, and have not woken up yet. We will inform the nations of Perpetuality when there are new offers to pledge war on Midgard and get a shiny Pendant.
Midgard is welcome to return to the fort of Marverni and be squished by our Menhir some more.
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Whether he submitted the post, or whether he did not, made no difference. The Thought Police would get him just the same. He had committed— would still have committed, even if he had never set pen to paper— the essential crime that contained all others in itself. Thoughtcrime, they called it. Thoughtcrime was not a thing that could be concealed forever.
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