While going about her duties, Seasone discovered that her laundry,
including all her underwear, was missing. The culprit soon proclaimed
himself: shouting annoying rhymes, the obormot capered through the
nearby Morgun forest and taunted Seasone and those searching for the
laundry alike. The madly capering creature left a trail of rat bones
behind him as he led his pursuers on a merry chase from the forest to
the Dakhota Hills.

It was then that Osifer Ryokus declared a challenge. The obormot agreed
to a rhyming duel and said he would meet the contestants in the Crystal
Leaf Inn. Having already been assaulted once, the creature refused to
appear in the flesh. Instead, he sent messages through the mouths of
others, created signs, and used sundry other means that he found
amusing. In the ensuing battle of wits, Osifer and Alita distinguished
themselves as skilled crafters of rhymes.

The obormot, however, was not so easily overcome. For his final
challenge, he proclaimed that the would-be poets would have to insult
Seasone. Some attempts at such hurtful lyrics were made, but much of the
gathered crowd, led by Reyshak Mirari and Vigil, was determined to fight
rather than heap abuse upon the woman they had assembled to help. The
rhymes became less and less frequent as angry words flew. At last, when
the fun had all bled away from the events, the obormot dropped Seasone's
basket. Relief was short-lived, however: instead of laundry, the basket
held only the corpses of rats.

The angered obormot then expressed his outrage at the absence of humor.
His harmless japes had been met with calls for violence. Willing to meet
the mob on its own terms, he appeared and engaged in combat. Though
vastly outnumbered, he seemed to care nothing for the blows dealt to
him. After slaying a few of his attackers, the obormot seemed overcome
with sadness and anger. No longer rhyming, he proclaimed laughter dead
and warned that his vengeance would come. His form vanished, and purple
lighting flared in the skies as the obormot delivered one last, ominous
rhyme promising unpleasantness for all of Aetolia.

Penned by my hand on the 3rd of Niuran, in the year 137 MA.