#lozengy

[heraldrydiculous]

200 Unique

[griffinrampant]

Arms of Eastwood Town Council, England

Granted 1951

Blazon: Lozengy argent and sable, on a chief or an annulet of the second between two torteaux

Crest: On a wreath or and gules in front of a wheel issuant therefrom a mount sable lozengy argent rising therefrom in its flames a phoenix proper

Mantling: Gules lined or

Motto: We seek the best

The annulet is derived from the Plumtree arms, and the torteaux from the Greys of Codnor. The black diamonds and the flames in the crest are intended to symbolize coal mining and the energy derived from it. The wheel is a reference to the town's history with the Midland Counties Railway, which was initiated in Eastwood in 1832.

[griffinrampant]

Arms of the House of Appiani

In use since at least 1322?

Blazon: Lozengy argent and gules

[fieriframes]

[Lozengy.]

[griffinrampant]

Arms of Thomas de Warbleton from the Dering Roll (c. 1270-1300)

Blazon: Lozengy or and azure

[griffinrampant]

Arms of Meckesheim, Germany

In use since the 1700s; granted 1900

Blazon: Per pale sable a lion counter-rampant or langued gules and lozengy in bend argent and azure; pointé in base argent a fess wavy azure, issuant therefrom a demi-cogwheel sable

[griffinrampant]

Arms of Eschelbronn, Germany

Granted 1901

Blazon: Per pale lozengy in bend azure and argent and of the last two batons tipped with fleurs-de-lis in saltire gules

[astrobolism]

A Trap

Wrapped in camouflage of gravecloths Sir Roger Stronge grits half a smile half a frown down in the pit murk, all six walls of his tomb black stone that drips condensed ichor. The stone above Stronge supports above itself another stone carved in his likeness, but bigger, cruder, rougher, stonier even than his pitted and pebbly face. The carved stone Stronge above the entombed live Stronge holds a stone shield and sword all carved from the same black block and carved with the motto: "Here Lies Sir Roger Stronge." It is not a lie, because Stronge never lies, except when reclining or in order to trick his enemies. During his sham funeral he watched from behind a wicker wall, eating pickled tripes. The hired mourners wailed and the vinegar of the trips simulated the smell of sadness. Waiting now in the pit murk, eyes wide to the black, grave dust settling over his staring eyes, Stronge clasps his sword -- they might not have attended his sham funeral, but one day his enemies will come to gloat over his grave, and Stronge will spring the trap. One of these days, one of these weeks.