The Four Winds (unofficial)

The information in this article is from the fan game The Silver Lining and is therefore not canon.

For the classic issues see, The Four Winds (classic)

The Four Winds are a bit of fan fiction written by the team behind The Silver Lining.

It could be found at The Four Winds website, but the site has been down for a while. There are no archives or backups for most of the pages.

Mission:

The Four Winds is the accompanying blog to the The Silver Lining, Phoenix Online’s fan made game based on the King’s Quest series of the 90s. The content fills in the story gap between King’s Quest 8: Mask of Eternity and The Silver Lining. Content covers everything in the King’s Quest universe, from Serenia to Falderal, The Green Isles to the Land of the Dead. Nothing flies under our writers’ noses. And our talented artists also bring our stories to life with vivacity, animation and pride. Any feedback can be directed to editor.fourwinds@postudios.com.

We know which way the wind is blowing. Jul 04, 1819 D.C.

Weekly Advice

Always remember the popular haiku: Where thou finds bridge trolls/Seek thyself a goat or cart/Knock them off posthaste

Monthly Archives: January 1817

Volume 9, Issue #1 1817 DC

The Green Isles Celebrates its New Rulers

By Kurt Rayner For the first time in almost 30 years, the Green Isles are seeing the hefty responsibility of ruling and maintaining the lands change hands today, as our own beloved Cassima and her new husband, Alexander of Daventry, were officially and ceremoniously decreed the new King and Queen of the Land of the Green Isles. Public support was out in full force as Green Islanders made their way to the Castle of the Crown to witness the historic coronation, and even the Isle itself seemed to celebrating with a clear blue sky and the sun shining on the lush and lively island full of celebrants.

"It's a big day for all of us," commented Hakim, the owner of the local pawnshop, who reserved a front row seat for the occasion. "I feel like I'm a little boy all over again, sitting on the shoulders of my father so I can see the coronation! I was there for Caliphim and Allaria's, and I have every intention of being there for Cassima and Alexander's big day as well."

Along with Hakim, many of the Isle's other merchants and vendors were present, as well as numerous nobles, dignitaries, officials, and representatives of the other Isles.

"I remember when Alexander traded for one of my fine new lamps," a peddler commented shortly before the ceremony was to begin. "The old lamp I got had such a nice, traditional design. There was no genie in it, but it's a fine lamp nonetheless! I use it frequently to this day."

Of course, those closest to the new King and Queen were also in attendance for the big day: The King's mother and father, King Graham and Queen Valanice of Daventry, his sister Princess Rosella and her suitor Prince Edgar of Etheria. Queen Cassima’s parents, the now-former King Caliphim and Queen Allaria, were there as well of course, taking part in the ceremony as well the celebration.

"I'm very proud of him, he's grown so much," King Graham told the Four Winds. "When he was stolen from us as a baby, we never thought we'd ever see anything like this day. But here we are, and we couldn’t be prouder or happier for Alexander and Cassima.”

Security at the castle for the coronation "Not being in charge will take some getting used to," King Caliphim joked after the ceremony, in which the traditional crowns were passed to the new monarchs. "But Allaria and I are ready to retire quietly. We have complete confidence in our daughter and her husband to rule the Green Isles with the best interests of the land at heart. They are both intelligent, loyal, kind, and brave—they will do us proud.”

"Cassima has done quite well for herself, I must say," the Queen Mother commented, “Alexander has a good head on his shoulders, and he certainly doesn't back down from a challenge! He’s already done so much to repair the damage done by Alhazred.”

As always, however, there are those who are wary of the change of rule. "I am still quite skeptical about this new king," one Island official, who wished to remain anonymous, stated. "I mean, sure, he finds wonderful lumps of coal for people and his decision to keep the prominent display of red in the Castle of the Crown was simply genius, but what has he done for us lately? The only saving grace for me in this change of power is that Cassima will be there to provide stability and tradition to the Isles!" The statement was then followed up by an aristocratic upturn of the nose and an indignant and distinctly diagonal storming off.

Of all the individual Isle’s rulers, it seems that the King and Queen's largest supporter is Prince Cocteau the Thrice-Blessed, ruler of the Isle of the Beast. "Not only did King Alexander break the enchantment placed on me by that wicked witch, he introduced me to Beauty, my wonderful queen and the light that sets my heart on fire. Now that the King has found and returned my coat of arms, I have yet more reason to sing his praises and swear my loyalty to him. I have no doubt that his and Cassima's reign will be both fair and prosperous for the Green Isles."

We were unable to get interviews from any of the other Isles' representatives, but their attitudes at the ceremony seemed to be positive. All-in-all, public opinion about the Green Isles' new King and Queen appears to be very optimistic indeed, as the people are hopeful that this reign will be one of good will and happiness for the kingdom. For the first time in a long time, things in the Land of the Green Isles appear to be looking up.

"It is my greatest desire that the rule of King Alexander and Queen Cassima be noted in history as one that was kind, fair, and just," the new King stated in his coronation speech. "There is still some amount of distrust and unease from what the Green Isles have gone through recently. But with the return of the Isles’ stolen treasures, the imprisonment of Alhazred, the re-opening of the ferry and the trade routes, and the continued cooperation of you, the good people of this fine kingdom, we can assure that the Land of the Green Isles will once more thrive as a land of peace, prosperity, and good will."

"What we wish to do with our rule is to show great charity and love to you all," Queen Cassima said in her accompanying coronation address. "We want there to be a clear message that the bad times are over, that evil has been cast out from this place, and that the Green Isles stand once again, united in freedom, righteousness, and happiness."

Some Green Islanders, not blessed with the power of knowing what's going on, have no idea who their new king is. To rectify this predicament, this reporter has taken it upon himself to compile a history the Prince who is now King.

King Alexander was born to King Graham and Queen Valanice of Daventry twenty-one years ago in the land of Daventry along with his twin sister, Rosella. A year later, however, he was stolen from his crib by the evil wizard Manannan, and raised as a slave named Gwydion, knowing nothing of his true identity. Despite these circumstances, Alexander’s good nature and good sense were never dulled through the years, and it was no secret to him that his master was evil and untrustworthy. Alexander secretly made a study of magic on his own in the wizard’s house, and used the evil wizard's own magic to transform Manannan into a cat and escape! His travels thereafter revealed the truth of his birth, and he found his way back to Daventry. And with no time to lose! Alexander made his first mark as a hero and an adventurer by destroying a terrible three-headed dragon that held his homeland, as well as his sister Rosella, in its grip of terror, and was joyously reunited with his family.

"I knew when he returned to us that he would become a great man," his mother, Queen Valanice, told the Four Winds. "He's so much like his father: brave, adventurous, yet cautious, wise, kind, and with a heart of pure gold. I guess it's just in the blood. I am so proud of both of them!"

It was not long after this that Alexander found himself at the mercy of yet another dark wizard, a name quite well known to Green Isles: Mordack, the fiend who kidnapped our own Princess Cassima, and brother to Manannan. King Graham strove valiantly to free his family and defeat this evil wizard, and it was love at first sight when Alexander and Cassima met in the aftermath of their imprisonment. The noble King Graham made certain that Cassima was able to return to her own homeland, but when months passed and Alexander heard no word from her, he grew concerned. His family’s magic mirror showed him the way to our fair land, and brought him here in our hour of greatest need.

The tale of Alexander’s battle against Vizier, murderer, and usurper Abdul Alhazred is one that the Green Isles shall never forget. His cunning and bravery took him not only to our shores, but even to the Land of the Dead itself to save Cassima’s parents, bring them home, and in the end reveal the vile man for who he really was to one and all. What may have befallen our beloved home had it not been for Alexander? This reporter does not care to speculate on what that dark destiny may have been. Thankfully, Queen Valanice was quite proven quite right—her son is a great man, and he has proven this thoroughly to the Land of the Green Isles.

Welcome, King Alexander and Queen Cassima! Long may you live and reign!

Ferry is restored in the Land of the Green Isles

By Kurt Rayner

Old and new: The ferry in disrepair (left) and the ferry with repairs almost complete (right). Shamir also fixed up the dock and Hassan's office. The whole place looked brand new! Unfortunately, a small piece of land was lost in the process.

After years of being dry docked and falling into a sad state, the Green Isles Ferry is at long last being repaired. Aside from the use of magic, which is quite limited amongst the commonfolk of the kingdom, the ferry run by Isle of the Crown native Hassan was the only means of communication and transportation among the islands. The restoration began with Shamir Shamazel, genie to King Alexander, magically removing the rotting wood and replacing it with a magical and gifted wood that will remain impervious to such damage for the rest of the ferry’s days. The holes and weak spots in the hull are gone, new sails are being sewn, and all mildew, mold, and barnacles are being scrubbed clean from the ferry.

King Alexander ordered the restoration of the ferry shortly after his marriage to Queen Cassima. It has taken many months for the genie and his workers to make progress. Though Shamir has said he could have moved the process along quickly through magic, Captain Hassan insisted on overseeing the process from start to finish. “I helped my father build the last ferry and it served well for years. The new wood’s nice, don’t get me wrong, but a captain builds his boat and he does it right—by doing it himself,” Captain Hassan explained proudly.

“I’m excited that King Alexander has made such a grand effort to restore the ferry,” Hassan went on to say. “Alhazred was the reason we’d dry-docked the ferry in the first place when he was busy separating the islands. But now that traitor’s not in power, and the islands can get back to being friendly neighbors again.” Indeed, the ferry is greatly needed to facilitate trade between the islands, carrying loads that simply cannot be moved by magic maps, and its use in the kingdom goes back for generations.

“My father taught me to steer the ferry correctly and avoid the reefs and rocks before he died, just like his father taught him, and just like I plan to teach my son once he’s tall enough to reach the wheel. I was afraid that this old boat would no longer be seaworthy and that it would take years to build a new one, but I’m glad I was wrong about that. It’s important to get the old girl back out there, for everyone’s business and not just mine. With the Island Queen back in business, it’s starting to feel like old times again.”

The ferry’s captain was not the only one pleased with the restoration. His first mate was not available for comment, but the merchants from the village on the Isle of the Crown were happy to speak with us.

“My business will be booming once more,” said Hakim, the owner of the Pawn Shoppe. “Business in my store had slowed down considerably with the ferry was out of service. I could not receive goods from the other islands, and my merchandise just seemed to pile up with nothing getting sold. Additionally, I could not replenish my supply of complimentary mints! In fact, when I first met Alexander, my heart leaped at the sight of a foreign visitor. I was even happier when he spent his copper coin at my shop. King Alexander may be the best thing that ever washed up on our shores!”

Ali, the owner of the book store, also spoke with us. “I hope that the new monarchs will encourage reading throughout the land, especially among our young people. Reading stimulates the mind and feeds the soul, you know. And frankly I feel it's beginning to become a lost pastime on our younger generation. And I have heard that I am not the only book worm in the Land of the Green Isles, but that there is a literal one on the Isle of Wonder. I would give anything to see his collection of books!”

"Of course the ferry will help my business!" says the lamp peddler, whose real name he declined to reveal. "With more people coming to the Isle of the Crown from off-island, there are bound to be more people who need to buy lamps, and with lamps to trade! By the way, would any of your readers have any old lamps to trade for new ones? I'll be at the bazaar all day if they do, and sometimes all night too. You are going to print that right?"

The Isle of the Crown had anticipated the re-opening of the ferry would be beneficial, and had recently approved expansion of the main street to include new shops including a designer clothing shop, a candy shop and a map shop among other new businesses.

The restorations to the ferry and the dock are scheduled to be completed within a few weeks, and once the Island Queen has been given a proper test sail in the waters of the islands once again, Captain Hassan will be holding a grand re-opening of his business on the Isle of the Crown. The Four Winds eagerly awaits getting its distribution numbers back up and running as well!

While working on the ferry, Shamir also fixed up the dock and Hassan's office. The whole place looked brand new! When pressed, Hassan grudgingly agreed the lost land was no longer necessary with the ship out of dry-dock.

When asked to comment on the dock and ferry repairs, recovering mint addict Shamir responded "Oops. Sorry about that bit of land there. Hic!

Celebration to Honor Daventry's Hero

MacLyrr bestowed official title Guardian of the Realm By Linden Isadora Among the royal heroes of Daventry: King Graham, Queen Valanice and Princess Rosella

Castle Daventry was the setting for a much-needed celebration this past weekend, which marked the one-month anniversary of the restoration of the kingdom by Connor MacLyrr. Tens of thousands of celebrants came from all corners of the land to pay homage to their savior and to once again see the long-absent Princess Rosella, but mostly to enjoy good food and good fun courtesy of King Graham and Queen Valanice. The four-day long celebration began with Princess Rosella, recently returned from Etheria, honoring the new hero. “I am very grateful to Connor MacLyrr, as is the entire world. Had he not reassembled the Mask of Eternity, who can say what evil would have consumed other lands beyond Daventry?” After her speech, the Princess presented Connor with a golden shield bearing the royal insignia of Daventry. Though he could not be present for the ceremony, King Alexander of the Land of the Green Isles sent along his thanks to the man who saved his parents and his homeland.

“I’m so proud of him,” gushed MacLyrr’s fiancee Sarah. “I’ve always known what a wonderful man he is, and now the rest of Daventry knows, too.”

Merchants from many different kingdoms set up booths outside the castle, catering to the thousands unable to be inside the castle for the official ceremonies. A baker from Serenia had several custard pies which he advertised as “The Pie that Slayed the Yeti,” referring to King Graham’s adventures in the mountains of that region. At another booth, a well-to-do Woodsman was offering bowls of his wife’s famous “Never-ending Gruel,” and genuine pieces of a gingerbread cookie house that was long ago demolished. Pan and his lovely lute, making a rare appearance outside of Tamir at the personal request of Princess Rosella, provided music for the event.

The celebration was an occasion for many to relive previous episodes in Daventry’s history. One festival attendee, an old gnome with the strangest name, remarked, “I remember when Graham was first starting out in this world. Found all three magic treasures in no time, he did! He was quite the accomplished adventurer, as was his son Alexander. I can recognize a great adventurer when I see one. I’ll never forget when I saw Alexander emerge from that mountain cave with his sister by his side. Connor’s the same way, mark my words. We’ve seen our share of hard times in Daventry, and we’ll see plenty more, but with people like King Graham, King Alexander, and Connor MacLyrr, I’m none too worried.”

Underlining these sentiments was the ceremony in which King Graham named Connor MacLyrr the new Captain of the Guard. In the presence of some of Daventry’s most respected and prominent citizens, the King knighted MacLyrr and bestowed upon him the official title “Guardian of the Realm of Daventry.” It was a poignant ceremony, and recalled the days when the King was himself Daventry’s most respected and beloved knight. “Connor has proven himself to be a very resourceful young man,” the King said. “He showed great calm in the face of extraordinary circumstances, and he has demonstrated that he is both a skilled warrior and a crafty adventurer. The future holds great things for him. I am honored to have him serve in the highest position among my knights.”

When asked to comment on the ceremony, Connor said “I am honored to accept this position, and humbled that my liege speaks so highly of me. I will continually strive to be worthy of his respect, and I will do my best to follow the example set by King Graham and his entire family.”

As the celebration began to wind down, villagers gossiped about the new Captain of the Guard and his fiancee. Rumors circulated that perhaps with both of the King’s children in foreign lands, the next ruler of Daventry would be found in a manner similar to King Graham himself. No one would comment on these rumors, but they provide a fitting end to a celebration honoring a hero.

Interview with Princess Rosella

A fascinating interview with the beloved princess of Daventry about the return to her homeland and its new hero Connor MacLyrr.

By Black Widow

Black Widow: (descending from a parapet) Excuse me, handsome. I'm here to see the princess.

Guard: Ah! Spider! (swings his sword at her, which she evades)

BW: Woah there, cowboy! Calm down, or I may have to put you down like I did my first through third husbands.

G: Excuse me?

BW: The name’s Black Widow, and I’m here to interview Princess Rosella. (sighs) The good-looking are just so rarely intelligent.

G: Oh—uh, right. Someone did tell me that. I just thought the name was a joke. Sorry, uh, ma’am.

BW: That’s better, cupcake. Now, the princess?

G: I’ll take you to her. (Black Widow settles onto his helmet and he takes her inside to a sitting room where the Princess sits at a table, puzzling over a chessboard by herself. He bows.)

G: Your Highness, your interviewer from The Four Winds is here.

Rosella: Excellent! Please show them in.

G: I am, Highness. She’s right here

R: Whatever do you—eek! A spider!

G: Exactly, Your Highness.

BW: Princess Rosella, it is wonderful to finally meet you. I’m Black Widow.

R: You…work for a newspaper?

BW: I’m the best gossip columnist they’ve ever had.

R: I see. You may leave us, guard, thank you. (The guard bows and exits.)

BW: So, Your Highness, now that it’s us girls, let’s get down to the juicy details.

R: Of course. I’m sure you want to know all about the Mask of Eternity and Connor—

BW: (laughs) Yes, yes, in good time, but I mean the real juicy stuff. What’s going on with you and Prince Edgar of Etheria exactly? Our readers are dying to know.

R: What? That’s—that’s none of your business, Ms. Widow. ….or is it Mrs?

BW: Miss, right now. And come now, Princess, you surely must know that there are rumors flying everywhere about you two. Don’t you want to set the record straight? Exclusively in my column?

R: There are always rumors. Why don’t we focus on the Mask of Eternity for now?

BW: Fine, fine. Have it your way. So, the Mask issue…?

R: (sigh) Yes, there was a "mask issue" as you so eloquently put it. My brother and I were not in Daventry when the disaster occurred, and so we were not directly affected by its curse.

BW: Care to elaborate? You surely weren’t unaffected by what happened.

R: It is my homeland, so of course I was more than a little concerned! And I was deeply worried for my father. Our family has passed through the fire many times before, so all we could do was hope that our luck would hold. Alexander and I didn’t know if the curse would affect us if we came back to Daventry, so we weren’t sure how we could help at first. More than anything else, my brother and I felt...powerless. It's a rare feeling for us, for our family. As royalty, of course, we deal in power. And even when we’ve been stripped of that -- as we have all been at some point or another -- we felt that our own resourcefulness was something that we could rely on. My father always taught us to be resourceful. But there was a lot more at stake here than our own lives. And there really was nothing that we could do.

BW: Mm-hm. But your luck did hold up, didn’t it? When Connor came on the scene?

R: It did indeed. All of Daventry is very lucky that Connor escaped the curse and was able to defeat Lucreto. Who knows what other harm he might’ve done beyond Daventry if he’d succeeded?

BW: So you mentioned in your speech. Daventry really is turning into quite the land of heroes, isn’t it?

R: We’re all very proud of who we are and what we’ve accomplished, if that’s what you mean.

BW: And you should be, sweetie, you should! It’s not every girl who can say she swooped in to save a man’s life not once but twice and kept him crawling back for more.

R: I beg your pardon!

BW: You know what I mean. Now come on, everyone knows the Mask of Eternity story. I’m looking for some real news to give our readers, and everyone loves a good romance—especially me. You, Edgar, what are we thinking? Wedding bells in the future?

R: Well, he has asked me to marry him….

BW: Oohh, I love a wedding!

R: …but that was a number of years ago and I said no.

BW: Oh drat! Old news!

R: Sorry, Ms. Widow. But I tell you what, if there are any weddings coming up for me, I promise I’ll let your paper run the first announcement about it.

BW: You’re more clever than you look, Princess. You’ve got a deal. Shake on it?

R: Thanks…I think. And no thank you, I’ve heard about your ex-husbands!

Volume 9, Issue #2 1817 DC

Checkmate! Grand Opening of Chessboard Land Cancelled Mid-Ceremony

By Kurt Rayner At the ceremony celebrating the official opening of the Isle of Wonder’s Chessboard Land to the public, a bitter quarrel between the Red and White Queens led to the disruption of the ceremony and the immediate re-closing of Chessboard Land.

At first, all seemed well at the ceremony. All of the citizens of the isle of Wonder were present, save for those of the foliage family who were too firmly rooted in the ground to move, as well as representatives from the other islands. A red and white ribbon stretched between the marble posts at the entrance to Chessboard Land, waiting to be cut to signify the opening. But the age-old rivalry of the two Queens reared its ugly head only moments in.

The Red Queen spoke first. "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here together to—"

"No, that's how weddings are supposed to start, that's not the right speech!" her sister the White Queen interrupted.

"Ahem, as I was saying before being so rudely interrupted, today is a day for great celebration in the Isle of Wonder, indeed, for all the islands of the Land of the Green Isles. Today is the grand opening of Chessboard Land. From this day forward, all will be welcome in our Red and White corner of the kingdom," the Red Queen continued.

The White Queen spoke up again. "You've had your moment in the spotlight, now it's my turn to make a speech, sister. And stop being red first! You know perfectly well that they will marvel at the beautiful color of white before they notice the garish red you keep insisting we put everywhere!”

A brief argument broke out between the queens, but their knights quickly calmed them both down before it got worse. The White Queen at last took her turn to give her speech.

The gates of the Isle of Wonder Chessboard Land closed...

"Loyal subjects of the Land of the Green Isles, today you will finally be able to witness the extraordinary beauty of Chessboard Land first hand. For a long time we were reluctant to allow humans to enter Chessboard Land, permitting only chess pieces in our homeland. But King Alexander and Queen Cassima have persuaded us that sharing is in the spirit of the kingdom, and so we have opened our doors to the public. As I cut this ribbon, Chessboard Land will become open to the public!”

However, just at the White Queen was about to cut the ribbon, the Red Queen jumped up in protest. "I am as much queen of this island as you are, and I demand that I be the one to cut the ribbon!"

"How typically selfish, as always! Not only do you get the singing stone, you think you should cut the ribbon as well! Well, you're not getting these shears!" The White Queen held the shears above her head, out of reach from the Red Queen.

"And you are just being childish as usual! Give me those shears!" The enraged Red Queen lunged at her sister, trying to snatch away the shears, while the crowd looked on in shock. The White Knight backed up the White Queen in her effort to hide the shears while the Red Knight came forward to help the Red Queen seize control over the shears. In the tussle that ensued, the shears were thrown in the air and the crowd tried to shield themselves from them as they fell. One Winged One was quite as lucky as the rest of the crowd, getting nicked on one of his wings and losing a few flight feathers to the sharp edges.

The representative from the Isle of the Crown, sent by King Alexander, tried to stop the fighting, but things only got worse as each Queen tried to get him to take her side. The White Queen was knocked down by the Red Queen at one point, but after she regained her balance, the White Queen threw the red and white cake, baked in honor of the opening, in the Red Queen's face. Both queens called in the pawns and other chessboard pieces, who jumped to attention and were soon herding the crowd away from the bridge and out the gates, which were locked up tight

behind them. Chessboard Land was re-closed before it had even been opened.

I spoke with some of the guests, and all of them were shocked at the Red and White Queens’ behavior.

"I never imagined that royalty could behave so disgracefully! I am fortunate to be able to fly again after being hit by those blasted shears. This revolting display is further proof that the other islands have not reached the fine pinnacle of civilization that we maintain on the Isle of the Sacred Mountain." said the Winged One visitor who had been injured. “This will certainly teach me to come down from my home ever again!”

"This is most disappointing." said the representative of the Isle of the Crown. "Alexander and Cassima had high hopes that a new era of open borders and cooperation could begin with their reign, but apparently the Red and White Queens aren't willing to cooperate. At least, not with each other!"

"I was looking forward to seeing Chessboard Land for the first time, but it seems that it will be a long time before the Queens are willing to let the public in. If they ever stop fighting at all, that is,” Prince Cocteau from the Isle of the Beast said to us.

This dispute is nothing new for the queens, who have fought since the day they were born. One must wonder if sibling rivalry is taken too far on the isle of Wonder. Rarely have the Queens come to blows, and one can only hope that the sisters will reconcile their differences and revisit the Grand Opening of Chessboard Land to the public.

Green Isles Takes Steps Towards Peace, Open Their Borders.

By Harold Fort

The Market on the Isle of the Crown celebration for its grand re-opening.

Under the new and much improved rule of King Alexander and Queen Cassima, the Land of the Green Isles has seen numerous changes for the better in the last few months. After years of hostility, animosity, and suspicion—all proven to be the work of ex-Vizier Abdul Alhazred—the Isles have begun making significant changes in their attitudes of late, leading to some developments of historic proportions. The restored ferry has lead to the re-opening of the marketplace on the Isle of the Crown; the Winged Ones are replacing the deadly Cliffs of Logic with an immense staircase; the gnome guardians of the Isle of Wonder are taking a long-overdue vacation; the Isle of the Beast is taking its own deadly traps; and the Isle of Mists has granted permission to all mapmakers to officially place it on kingdom maps.

With the ferry back in working order and the Isles at peace once again, the Isle of the Crown's bustling marketplace is bustling once again.

Years of slow-going and then dead trade routes brought the market to a grinding halt three years ago, leaving the pawnshop and the bookstore the only thriving businesses on the island. "Even so, my business was slow at best, and I may have been forced to close my shop if things hadn't turned around," said Hakim, owner of the pawnshop.

But now the citizens of the Isle of the Crown can again venture across the street from those storefronts to the Fountain Plaza and find merchants selling all manner of wares, from candy to maps to clothing. A local blacksmith has set up a small forge in the plaza, and the Crown Pint hotel has been re-opened now that there are visitors once again. One can even stop in at the newly remodeled Four Winds offices to pick up a paper or read our bulletin board of articles.

"Seeing the businesses hold their Grand Opening of the marketplace brought tears of joy to my eyes," said Queen Cassima. "I remember going there with my parents as a child, getting candy, asking for a new dress, and playing in the fountain! The Green Isles have been through so much, and it's wonderful to see the people progressing out from the dark days and into a bright future."

The Gnomes Take a Vacation

The Gnomes of the Isle of Wonder on vacation

Since the unrest reached its fullest fervor, the Isle of Wonder has enlisted the quintuplet "sense gnomes" as guardians of its shore. Each born with one overdeveloped sense, they served well to identify trespassers and rid the Isle of them when need be. Our own King Alexander had to deftly get around them when he first came to the kingdom.

However, with trust restored, the gnomes' services are no longer needed, and the five brothers are planning to head out into the world on an overdue vacation.

"I can't wait to taste Serenia's pies, even if they're blurry in my eyes!" said Grump-Frump, whose strong suit is his sense of taste.

"In Tamir, they've so much music to hear, I cannot wait to lend them my ear!" claimed Grovernor, who hears just about everything.

The brothers are packed and ready to go on forth and experience the smells, sights, sounds, tastes, and touches of the world. The Isle of Wonder monarchs, the Red and White Queens, are confident that their shores will be safe from trespassers who may mean their island harm, with King Alexander and Queen Cassima in charge. They both gave an emphatic "no comment!" when asked if there was a plan for a second go at the Grand Opening of Chessboard Land (see page 1 of this issue), however.

The Cliffs of Logic Come Down

For centuries, the Isle of the Sacred Mountain’s upper reaches have been barred to visitors by the fact that they are utterly unreachable except through magic. The Winged Ones’ have always only sent emissaries down to the human world to conduct official business, and staunchly refused to take down the Cliffs of Logic that barred those without magic or the power of flight from visiting their city.

This refusal stemmed from the Cliffs' involvement in an ancient prophecy, a representative of the Isle told the Four Winds. Once King Alexander proved to be the subject of said prophecy by conquering them, their purpose was served and they were no longer necessary. When asked if the removal had anything to do with the Crown's requests, the representative claimed that this was a matter of coincidence only.

In place of the potentially fatal questions, a grand and gorgeous staircase is being built into the cliff side. Winged One architects are personally overseeing and working on the construction. "We wouldn't trust the design and building of such a magnificent and important staircase to any one not from our island," said the foreman. Nor will they accept help from Shamir's magic.

The staircase is scheduled for completion within the next year. The Four Winds will continue their coverage of the construction, and we are working on securing an insider's tour of the Winged Ones city upon its completion.

Isle of the Beast Clears the Path

While under the enchantment that stole his human face from him, Prince Cocteau III of the Isle of the Beast was never bothered by the traps that kept visitors from his island—among them, a boiling hot pond, a deadly stone archer, and nigh-impassable foliage—as they both kept people out and maintained his isolation. Now that he is human again, literally a changed man and happily married, the Prince was among the first to open up his island to visitors.

The magical foliage that would bar entrance to the hedge maze that lay before his castle home has been disenchanted, and the boiling pond that covers the main path has s sturdy bridge across it now. As well, the stone archer with his deadly aim is being taken down from his traditional perch on the stone wall one passes through while walking towards the castle.

"My ancestors commissioned the archer and hunter statues on that wall generations ago, but since the archer has become a deadly menace, it's simply not safe to have him up there any longer," Cocteau said.

"The Isle of the Beast is a now a place of Beauty—figuratively and literally," the Prince continued, in a reference to his lovely bride. "And it should be open to visitors so that they, too, can see and enjoy it. I've been lonely and alone here too long."

The Prince is, however, keeping the hedge maze in place. His wife Beauty enjoys caring for the plants that make up the maze, and there are a number of enjoyable areas to be found within the maze that offer peace and solitude when one seeks it, Prince Cocteau tells us.

The Isle of Mists Is On the Map

The most mysterious of the islands in the Green Isle kingdom has long been the Isles of Mists. Only a few have been aware of its existence at all, and even fewer have ever visited. For these reasons, most maps of the kingdom have never had the island marked down, which has lead to some unfortunate ends for ships that attempted to travel through what was believed to be open water.

The long-reclusive druids are now allowing maps to be made of their island

But the Isle of Mists and its druid inhabitants are taking steps towards openly joining the kingdom of the Green Isles, and their first step has been informing mapmakers in the kingdom of their existence. New maps are being made and sold all over the Isles, particularly in the re-opened marketplace, that show the Isle of Mists at long last. "They are in a much better position to do so when they know we exist in the first place," the Arch Druid explained.

Though the Isle is not yet accepting unannounced visitors, much less tourists, this is an important and historic step for the reclusive druids and speaks volumes for their support of the new monarchs and their efforts.

All of the Isles have made their support quite clear, in fact. To some the steps taken may seem simple and obvious, but for a nation that has dealt with so much paranoia, mistrust, lies, and betrayal recently, they are indeed difficult steps to take. That they have been taken and that further plans are in the making points all the more to the dedicated leadership of Cassima and Alexander in healing the wounds of this land.

News in Brief

Captain to visit troops. Captain Saladin of the Royal Guard to deliver a brief speech to honor those troops that were injured during the conflict with Abdul Alhazred.

Tourism Increases. Tourism between islands in the Land of the Green Isles has increased dramatically over the past several months. Most islands are very welcoming to the increase in traffic with the exception of the Isle of the Mists. The island, which is inhabited by druids, has always been isolated and spokespersons for the island did not respond to our inquiries for comments before press time.

Daventry Imports. Due to newly established trade routes between the Land of the Green Isles and the Kingdom of Daventry shops are now stocking more and more imported items. The most popular items are elf-made shoes and hand-carved wooden owls.

New theatre season begins. The Isle of the Sacred Mountain Theatre Company has announced the start of it's latest season. Season highlights include "Othello" by William Shakespeare and the theatrical debut of "With All My Will" by the late Cynthia Cox.

More "grounded" development on the Isle of the Sacred Mountain? Talks have begun among developers for new developments on the Isle of the Sacred Mountain that would be more accessible to the recent surge of non-winged visitors to the island. Reception among the winged citizens have been mixed to the idea, with some believing it would be improper and completely driven by financial desires, while others believe it would help attract more visitors that would be willing to learn more about the island's history and culture.

New cache of books discovered on Isle of Wonder. Although he already possess thousands of tomes, the Bookworm is overjoyed at the discovery of dozens of new books at his home at Exclamation Point on the Isle of Wonder. "There are some real treasures in this new batch, I can't wait to devour them!" he said upon perusing his latest acquisitions.

Isle of the Dead expeditions planned. Despite numerous failed attempts, several intrepid explorers at the Isle of the Crown Historical Society are planning a new expedition to locate the mysterious black mountains of the Isle of the Dead. Previous ships that sought to discover the occasionally seen but never explored island have never returned.

Ask Crispin

This month, Crispin, renowned wizard and spellcaster, answers magical mysteries and casting quandaries. Magic wand on the fritz? Accidentally cast yourself into the middle of a hurricane? Ask Crispin!

Q. Dear Crispin,

My mother-in-law has been staying in our house since April, and she’s been driving me up a wall! I was recently reading the September issue of Shapeshifters Monthly, and I found a teleport spell that I could mix into her blackroot tea. I followed the instructions to the letter, and instead of teleporting her away, I only succeeded in turning her into a nanny goat. Now all she does is bleat at me all day long! In the next issue of Shapeshifters Monthly, they printed a retraction warning that there was a misprint in the teleport spell instructions! Now I’m stuck with a very angry wife and a mother-in-law who keeps head-butting me and eating my starched hose! What do I do?

I. Fudgdit

A. Dear Mr. Fudgdit,

I would suggest you read my newly-published book, Crispin’s Guide to Spellcasting, under Section B52, Article 7, Lines 54-72, under the heading “What to Do If You’re Trying to Teleport Your Mother-in-Law and Accidentally Turn Her Into a Goat.” Follow those instructions to the letter and your mother-in-law should be back to her good old ornery self in about six to eight weeks. In the meantime, you may want to put some newspaper down on the floors and pad those extra-sensitive areas against the head-butting. Just be glad you didn’t turn her into a very large carnivorous meat-eating bird with a sharp beak.

Ed. Note: Shortly after this article was published, an addendum was printed to Crispin’s Guide to Spellcasting, stating that there was a misprint in Section B52, Article 7, Lines 54-72, under the heading “What to Do if You’re Trying to Teleport Your Mother-in-Law and Accidentally Turn her Into a Goat.” According to the addendum, following the instructions would cause the intended target to be turned into a very large carnivorous meat-eating bird with a sharp beak. Our condolences to Mr. Fudgdit and the Fudgdit family.

Q. Dear Crispin,

I was walking by a stream the other day when I found a big old bullfrog sunning himself on a lily pad. I was thinking about the old fairytale and decided it might be nice to have a prince around, so I picked him up (it was no easy task, let me tell you) and took him home, where I planted a big fat kiss right on his nose. Not only did he NOT turn into a prince, but now I’ve got warts as well!! Do you have a spell I could use to turn the frog into a prince, and maybe something for my warts?

Princess Rubella

A. Dear Princess Rubella,

Have you ever heard the saying, “You can take the frog out of the pond, but you can’t take the pond out of the frog?” No? Hmm, yes, well, that’s probably why you’re stuck with an unhappy frog and warts on your hands. Did it ever occur to you that maybe the frog is a bit disappointed that you didn’t turn into a bullfrog when you kissed it? If I were you, Princess, I would start going out at dusk with a net and catching flies. As for your warts, you might want to consult Crispin’s Guide to Spellcasting, Section F13, Article 14a, Lines 26-44, under “What to Do If You Are Unsuccessful in Turning a Frog into a Prince.” In the meantime, be glad he didn’t turn into a prince. Just ask Princess Rosella.

Volume 9, Issue #3 1817 DC

Vizier found guilty, defense falls apart in the courtroom

By Paulan Jayse

King Alexander confronts Alhazred at the former vizier's trial.

Abdul Alhazred, former Vizier to King Caliphim of the Land of the Green Isles, was convicted today on two counts of murder in the first degree, one count of high treason, two counts of attempted murder, and several lesser crimes stemming from his service to the country. Deliberations lasted only one hour, unusually short for crimes of this magnitude. When the jury announced its verdict, Alhazred merely narrowed his eyes and glared menacingly at each juror. Cheers arose from the gallery, forcing the tribunal to call for order. After the verdict was read, the judge asked Alhazred if he had anything to say. The former vizier turned to King Alexander, the prosecuting attorney, and said, “You will rue the day that you crossed Abdul Alhazred. There is no prison that can hold me! One day soon you and all the world will be at my mercy!”

Following Alhazred’s statements, the tribunal announced a sentence of life imprisonment, and ordered Captain Saladin to remove the defendant from the courtroom. Alhazred will be held for a short time in his cell in the Castle of the Crown before being transferred to an undisclosed location for the remainder of his sentence.

King Caliphim and Queen Allaria were relieved that Alhazred was finally brought to justice. “I wish I had been more careful in who I trusted with such a position in my service,” Caliphim told the Four Winds. “I am relieved that my error in judgment has, in the end, been righted and not caused irreparable harm to this Kingdom, but even so, there are scars yet to heal here. With Alhazred found guilty and imprisoned, I feel this process will only be easier, however.”

Disregarding the old maxim that “a man who represents himself has a fool for a client,” Alhazred served as his own counsel in the proceedings. He argued to the court that he could not be found guilty of murdering two people who were still alive, and that sufficient evidence did not exist to prove that he was conspiring against the crown. He asserted that the gatekeeper from the Land of the Dead, one of the prosecution’s witnesses, was testifying based on hearsay, and ultimately tried to claim that he had been framed and impersonated by the genie Shamir Shamazel whom he accused of secretly serving some master other than himself. Shamir himself gave a particularly damning testimony of the former Vizier’s actions. When the genie testified against him, Alhazred additionally argued that the testimony was inadmissible, as the genie was under the control of King Alexander, who might very well control the genie’s answers. This claim was made despite the entire court witnessing King Alexander instructing Shamir to tell the uncolored truth in all of his answers. Alhazred also tried to shift some of his crimes onto Captain Saladin, who once served him willingly and even helped him detain Princess Cassima in her quarters.

Alhazred’s main strategy in the trial came down to attacking the credibility of as many prosecution witnesses as possible. Even the jury, consisting of many well respected individuals from the Land of the Green Isles, was not exempt from his accusations of bias and lack of credibility.

The tribunal ruled against the vast majority of Alhazred’s objections, as the Vizier had nothing in the way of proof of his claims. In contrast, the prosecution methodically laid out its case, calling witnesses from each of the Green Isles. King Alexander gave his own testimony, detailing what he discovered during his now famous initial journey through the kingdom. Included in this was a detailed description of a room in the castle which once only Alhazred could open. Held within were sacred treasures from all the isles, which Alhazred had taken to create infighting and spread discord across the land. Alhazred argued that Alexander did not have the proper warrant to search his private room, but the tribunal overruled him and admitted the King’s testimony.

Word of the verdict has quickly spread through the islands, and has been the cause of much celebrating. There were spontaneous sales in the Isle of the Crown marketplace and drinks at the Crown Pint were on the house for a full hour. The Winged Ones report that they celebrated in a much more dignified manner, toasting to the triumph of justice over evil in their banquet hall. “We all trusted Abdul Alhazred, assuming that he was a good man. In doing so, we allowed our kingdom to be plunged into chaos,” said Lady Ariel of the Winged Ones. “He is guilty not only of treason, but of basic moral bankruptcy. He certainly is a poor ambassador for the human species. Flawed though they may be, he is simply the worst of the race entirely.”

The Crown has been evasive about inquiries about where Alhazred’s full sentence of life imprisonment is to be carried out. Captain Saladin has stated that Alhazred is considered too dangerous to be kept in the castle’s small dungeon, and it has been deemed safer that the ultimate location of his prison be kept a Crown secret, as past known associates of the former Vizier were both quite powerful and underhanded indeed.

Queen Cassima

Speaking as a representative of both the tribunal and the royal family, Queen Cassima stressed that now is not the time to blame Alhazred, but to make sure that those like him never rise to power again. “Abdul Alhazred abused the trust of a vast number of people. We must never allow this to happen again. He will be sent to jail as an example to others, but the burden rests on the citizens of the Land of the Green Isles to set a good example. We must all live our lives to inspire others, and we must be wary of those whose motives appear to be suspect. This is our nation, our home, and we must be ever watchful that it does not fall into the wrong hands again.”

New Hot Air Balloon Service to Open on Isle of the Sacred Mountain

by Hoddin Hocks

The Mountgo Brothers floating over the Isle of the Crown

The Isle of the Sacred Mountain has long been a secluded one, what with the fact that one must actually fly to get there. For people with wings, it’s no problem at all. But for “mere humans” it’s a far different story. That’s why the Mountgo Brothers Hot Air Balloon Service plans on changing that.

“We’ve always had a fascination with the sky,” the older of the two brothers, Amar, told the Four Winds. “Ever since we were little, we always looked to the heavens for guidance.”

And looked to the heavens they have. Amar and his brother Ryoo Mountgo are on the verge of opening a hot air balloon service that will tour the Isle of the Sacred Mountain and believe they will turn a significant profit. Natives of the Isle of the Crown, the two brothers grew up learning everything about aviation that they could. Amar has dedicated his life to trying to bring man to the clouds, studying birds and what literature there was on the Winged Ones to learn what made it possible for them to fly. "The secret, you see, is that the bones of birds are Mountgo brothers (Amar, left, and Ryoo, right) are excited to launch their business and their first balloon.

hollow. They are so light, it takes much less effort for them to lift themselves into the air than you might imagine! But as men, we do not have this advantage." Realizing this, he tried studying magic carpets, but found them unreliable. "For every one that will fly you into the sky, you will find at least ten that are duds, fakes, or faulty. Magic is an erratic thing!"

Ryoo, the younger of the two, has made the study of science his goal, from the weather and winds to what he calls 'aerodynamics.' Well-traveled for a young man, Ryoo told the Four Winds that he first saw balloons like the one he and his brother have made in far-off lands. "It was stunning to see! With these balloons, they could lift into the air, see the world the way only birds do! I learned everything I could about how it was done."

Ryoo gave the Four Winds a detailed explanation of how it all works, using words that this reporter admits to having some trouble following. In layman's terms, he then explained that the air used to fill the balloon makes it rise up, even when its load is heavy. Then the winds are used to guide the balloon along its path. When asked about the unpredictability of the winds, Ryoo laughed and confidently replied that the winds are more reliable and predictable than most people think. The brothers are more focused on trying to predict what their customer base will look like--although on that note, too, they have a fair amount of confidence.

“We expect both foreigners and natives alike will be excited to see the isle,” Ryoo stated. “The Winged Ones don’t take kindly to visitors, but we think we found a way to allow people to see the Isle the way it was meant to be seen.”

When asked directly what the Winged Ones think of the Mountgo Brothers’ business, a representative replied with the following statement, “As with all businesses seeking to commerce on our island, we are allowing the Mountgo Brothers to proceed but on a probationary basis. An official approval from Lord Azure is pending following a full review and inspection of the facilities.” Despite this, the Mountgo Brothers are not worried. “We believe that Lord Azure will fully sanction our business once he sees it in action.” Our sources, however, tell us that Lord Azure is only allowing the business to operate for the time being because of a personal request from His Majesty, King Alexander.

The inaugural flight will take place two weeks from now, and big names are already attached. The brothers recently provided us with a list of confirmed visitors, and it appears that almost all of the isles are sending representatives. Among them are Prince Cocteau III and his wife Beauty from the Isle of the Beast, an unnamed representative from the Isle of the Sacred Mountain, and the Red and White Queens from the Isle of Wonder.

“I’m very much looking forward to seeing the Isle of the Sacred Mountain from a bird’s eye perspective,” the Red Queen stated in an exclusive interview. “After all, I received a personal invitation from the Mountgo Brothers themselves.”

The White Queen, on the other hand, had something different to say, “That Red Queen stole MY personal invitation! I will of course be attending regardless, as a chess piece of my stature should always make an appearance at such functions.”

In addition to these names, there have been growing rumors that King Alexander and Queen Cassima will themselves attend. The Crown would neither confirm nor deny these claims. Captain Saladin provided the following statement: “At this time, we cannot say who will be representing the Crown at the inaugural flight, but rest assured there will be a representative on hand for the occasion.”

The Four Winds has a reporter lined up for the inaugural flight as well, and a full review of the experience and the service will be forthcoming in a future issue. Plans for an exclusive Four Winds tour of the Isle of the Sacred Mountain via balloon are also in the works and should enable us to provide our readership with an unprecedented feature article on this reclusive island. The Mountgo brothers are even hopeful that their business will pave the way for more open and friendly relations between the Winged Ones and the other Green Isles citizens; in Amar's own words: "With the increased exposure and admiration of their lovely city, the Winged Ones will surely begin to consider opening their gates to foot traffic as well!"

The Druids Comes Out of the Mists

by Kurt Rayner

The Isle of the Mists from the bow of the ferry

It was early morning, and a thick, heavy mist had set itself upon the waters surrounding the ferry as it sat, seemingly in the middle of nowhere, about thirty nautical miles off the coast of the Isle of the Crown. By personal invitation, I was accompanying King Alexander, a small contingent of guard dogs, a few dignitaries, and a strange unidentifiable animal from the Isle of Wonder that had reportedly stowed away on the one o'clock stop the previous week and refused to get off since. We stood uneasily aboard the ferry, gazing out at…nothing but the mist, actually.

"Try not to fidget, Mr. Rayner," the king said to me in his commanding yet compassionate voice, "I promise you, it will appear." My attempts to inquire further into our journey here were met with stoic silence.

"Before the ferry was shut down, I used to run trips here sometimes," the ferryman confessed. "I remember King Caliphim made a point to visit at least twice a month. No one outside of the highest court officials were supposed to know. But see, that's how this place became myth and legend. A few blokes who couldn't remember their head when they got into their cups, talkin’ mysteriously about ‘privileged information,’ and the next thing you know there’s whispers all over the Isles. Seems like that’s how these folk wanted it, though.”

The hour wore on and I was beginning to get a little skeptical. Just as I began to suspect that I, or possibly all of us, was the butt of a joke seriously lacking in humor, something changed. The mists began to move.

Every single particle, even those that had soaked into to my clothing, stirred in the air around us and rushed straight out over the port bow at an incredible speed—but there was no wind! Hurrying to the side of the ship, I eagerly looked out over the horizon. Suddenly, I found myself the wide-eyed youth of yore at my grandfather's knee being told the legends of the land. My skeptical reporter's mind had long since dismissed most of these stories as nothing more than words to scare children, but today I found one of those stories to be true: the Isle of Mists.

The mists concentrated themselves together in one spot on the horizon and then, as if breaking under pressure, erupted in an eerily silent, outward explosion. The great white light that followed was so intense that I had to avert my eyes. When I opened them once again, I saw to my amazement that the mists had thinned out to a much less dense covering, though still thick by normal standards, hovering about what was, without question, a small and previously undetectable island. I was so astounded that I could not tear my eyes from the mysterious isle as the ferry began moving closer through the waters.

Despite all the legends built up about the island and its inhabitants, the druids of the Isle of Mist are a very simple people. Their small village consists of a few modest homes surrounding a central fire pit a short walk from the shore. The homes themselves are actually built into the trunks of large oak trees, the doorways often nestled between larger roots that both flank the entrance and serve as a front porch. I learned from one of the druids that oak trees are sacred to the druids of the isle; they believe that living in the oaks brings them closer to Mother Nature, whom they worship and revere above all else. To the east of the village is a peculiar circle of stone structures that seems to have been there since the time of the Ancient Ones. This sacred circle is a ceremonial ground, where the druids will often congregate as a community, as well as being the place where they perform their most important rituals. King Alexander, it seems, has some experience with the profound power of this place, as I could not help but notice that he seemed wary of the circle and stepping inside it. I asked our king the reason for this, but a murmur about “fire and rain” was the only answer. Were the druids always as friendly towards our king as they seem to be now?

The meeting itself was to discuss the opening of the Isle of Mist to the rest of the kingdom as well as whatever other visitors come to the Green Isles' shores who are of a friendly disposition. King Alexander deliberated with the Arch Druid, the leader of the druids, and the ferryman for a few hours about the addition of the Isle of Mist to the regular ferry route that goes around the kingdom weekly (for the new schedule, see the Travel section of The Four Winds, or inquire at the ferry office on the Isle of the Crown, or with Captain Hassan directly at any of the official docks during his routes). There was also discussion of revising the current, and apparently hidden, trade routes for supplies going in and out of the Isle of Mist, among other mundane matters pertaining the opening of the Isle. During these deliberations, I was allowed to explore certain portions of the island. Though the Druids are a very humble, they are also a very xenophobic people. The Isle of Mists has reportedly existed since the creation of the kingdom itself, its existence acknowledged in a secret section of the Green Isles charter. The Druids decided to live a secretive life away from the other islands such that, in their words, they would not be “tainted by the ideas of others and so that we might become closer to the spirit of Mother Nature.” This reclusive outlook of their religion caused the druids to continue to favor secrecy over openness, and the Crown has agreed throughout the years to not betray their wishes to remain undisturbed, so long as their loyalty was true.

The Arch Druid One druid was quick to state to me the situation as it exists now. “We still want nothing to do with you,” he told me flatly. “Just because we have revealed our island, it does not mean we will tolerate your presence here! Our secrets are our own and that is just the way they will stay!” Apparently, not every druid is happy about this new policy of opening their borders to the rest of civilization.

As interesting a place the Isle of Mist is, I cannot be certain it lives up to the myths and legends we’ve all heard. Though lovely and emanating a sense of peace I’ve seldom personally experienced, and with some mysteries yet remaining to it—there were parts of the island I was strongly advised to not investigate, and I was given only vaguely-worded, but chilling, warnings when I inquired as to why—it was not the fantastical place I’d heard of as a child, full of awesome displays of magic, trees that will devour trespassers, animals that spoke, and so forth. The druids are simple, and I cannot say I saw any particularly impressive magic while I was on its shores. Indeed, I cannot say I saw any magic being used.

However, should the borders be opened to one and all, it will gives the rest of the Green Islanders a unique chance to learn more about this reclusive nature-worshiping culture that is as important a part of our kingdom as any other of the Isles. So far, while the Isle has been added to the trade routes, the druids are not yet willing or perhaps not yet ready to allow visitors to come freely to their home. Or maybe they believe it is we who are not ready? The men and women of the druids are the true mystery, make no mistake, and I believe it shall be some time yet before we know all of their secrets, if indeed we ever reach that point.

Interview with Queen Valanice

by Black Widow

In the third installment of Black Widow’s interview series, the Four Winds’ arachnid reporter met with Queen Valanice of Daventry in the Queen’s lovely and intimate rose garden.

Black Widow: (settling onto a rose) Queen Valanice, I have to say—this garden is simply amazing.

Queen Valanice: Thank you, Ms. Widow. I take pride and pleasure in tending to my roses.

BW: Yes, those are nice, too.

QV: I’m not sure I follow?

BW: The bugs here are so well-fed; it’s delicious! I’m stuffed! I haven’t been this full since Husband Number 3. He was a big one.

QV: I…see. Shall we, ah, continue to the interview, then?

BW: Of course. So, Queen Valanice—tell me about yourself. Where are you from?

QV: I grew up on the island of Kolyma.

BW: Kolyma? I’ve heard of it, but I don’t know much about it. What details can you divulge, Your Highness?

QV: It’s a lovely land, not very crowded, but there are some good people there. We had our share of problems like any other land, of course--for a time, Count Dracula and his vampires terrorized our people. That was a frightful time...everyone was afraid to go out after dark, and suspicions ran high when anyone acted strangely, often even when they were acting perfectly normal. My grandfather, the King, had his knights hunt down the vampires, but the Count eluded them for years. Eventually, Graham killed the Count when he journeyed there to rescue me.

BW: Rescue you?

QV: Yes, I was imprisoned in a magical land that was only accessible through three locked doors in Kolyma, in a tall tower made of quartz. A witch named Hagatha locked me up there.

Queen Valanice of Daventry

BW: Really? Why was that? …there wasn't an evil vizier planning to marry you to take over a kingdom, too, was there?

QV: (laughs) No, it wasn’t quite like that. Hagatha was jealous of my beauty, she said, so she locked me up where no one could see me or find me. It was Graham who rescued me from spending the rest of my life there; he saw a vision of me in the Magic Mirror. He says he fell in love with me at first sight that very moment.

QV: As I said, the Magic Mirror showed me to him, and he went through many trials in Kolyma to find and rescue me. When he came through that door…I knew it, too, then. It really was love at first sight. We met and I felt I’d known him all my life. We were married before we even left Kolyma for Daventry.

BW: Love at first bite, mmm, I know what that's like.

QV: I believe I said first sight, Ms. Widow.

BW: Ah, yes. Yes, of course. What was life like in the tower?

QV: Lonely, mostly. Hagatha would visit on a rare occasion, mostly to torment me. It was strange -every time she came, I asked her why she was keeping me there. She said because she wanted my beauty to be hers, and if she couldn't have it, then she would keep the world from seeing it. But she never cast any spells on me, or did anything to steal my appearance that I know of.

BW: That does seem odd. Pardon my being blunt, Your Highness, but in that case, why did she keep you alive at all?

QV: I'm not sure. I was convinced for the longest time she would kill me, and then I wondered why she hadn't yet. I was starting to suspect there was some other reason why she had me there in the first place, but that was about the time Graham rescued me.

BW: Your family must have been glad that you were rescued, even if your handsome King did sweep you off to his kingdom afterwards?

QV: Yes, they were quite relieved and happy I was saved. My parents still live there, and I visit when I can, but we're all rather busy. My father is now King Cedric of Kolyma, and my mother, Coignice, was once a miller's daughter. My grandfather was still the King when I was growing up there. And though I shall always love Kolyma, I'm afraid after my kidnapping and imprisonment, my childhood home was bittersweet for me at best. I was ready to live in Daventry and start my new life.

BW: What a hero indeed! I see where King Alexander gets it from. Sailing off to a foreign land, killing the villain, saving the girl in the tower and living happily ever after. The apple doesn't fall too far from the tree, does it? for it.

QV: My children do both get their bravery and sense of adventure from their father, but violence is not something they've ever taken to, nor have we encouraged it. Don't forget, my son didn't kill Alhazred, and Graham didn’t kill Hagatha, either. But we never heard from or of her again. Maybe she ceased feeling jealous of me when I became a married woman -- who knows? I try not to dwell on it, to tell you the truth. Of the many difficulties my family has faced, what Hagatha did pales in comparison, and thinking about it would only cause grief and paranoia that I have no answers for. And after all, in the end, all she did was lock me in a tower. It could have been far worse.

Map of Daventry, The Green Isles and Kolyma

BW: I can imagine. Your son’s kidnapping must certainly have been more traumatic.

QV: That…that was the most horrible thing I’ve ever been through -- that any of us have been through. Years of not knowing, searching and finding nothing…I could never accept that he was dead, but things looked so hopeless for so long.

BW: And then the dragon began terrorizing your country.

QV: Yes…that was even harder than when Count Dracula terrorized my homeland. The three-headed dragon ravaged its way across the countryside of Serenia and after years of rumors and horrible stories from other lands that suffered at its hands. We tried to help, but there wasn't much we could do for anyone else, and then it finally came to Daventry...and there it stayed, making a ruin of our beautiful home. I often wondered whether we could've done more before it reached us, helped our neighbors more than we had and perhaps it could've been defeated years before. So many innocents died, both from the destruction it caused and from the sacrifices it demanded of it.

BW: Sacrifices?

QV: Yes...one maiden every year. It pained us so to give in, but what else could we do? Every knight who went after it never returned, even when they went forth in great numbers. One life saved hundreds each year... but what we chose still haunts us both. And then our daughter, Rosella, was almost lost to us at the dragon's demands. She's such a brave girl, she always was--even then, she held her head high and went towards her fate with pride. She told us then and afterwards that she knew somehow it would all work out for the best. I never could tell if she said that to make us feel better, or because she truly believed it. It seemed so hopeless, after all, but she's always been one to believe in adventures, fairy tales, and happy endings. Still...the day she was taken from us and brought to the dragon was when I finally came close to breaking. If I had heard word that she was gone, too…I’m not sure how I would’ve survived that.

BW: You’re quite a strong woman to go through all that without giving up. But luckily your brave, handsome son came to everyone’s rescue.

QV: And the darkest day of our lives became the brightest…for a time.

BW: Yes, your husband’s heart attack interrupted the celebration, I understand? I’m surprised, from what I’ve heard, he’s quite spry indeed for an older man. Lucky you, landing a catch like that!

QV: That has a lot to do with how Rosella saved him, but thank you. She traveled to Tamir and found a magical fruit that saved his life and gave him the health and vigor of a man ten years younger at least. Then at last we could finally celebrate properly and welcome home both our son and daughter.

BW: My, my. I don’t envy you your many trials, Queen Valanice, but I am impressed at how you've come through them.

QV: Thank you, Ms. Widow. There have been hardships, true, but I am happy; I have a family that I love more than anything, and we’ve come through those trying times only to be stronger.

BW: And speaking of family and love, what about those rumors about your daughter and her prince charming tying the knot? QV: (laughs) There've been no big questions asked that I'm aware of, but I do have a good feeling about those two. Rosella has always had a hard time even sitting still, but Edgar is quite patient and adores her so much. However long it takes, I am certain he'll happily wait until she's ready.

The Port Town of Bruce Builds a Bright Future

by Harold Fort

Visiting the small port town of Bruce in the country of Llewdor today, it’s hard to believe that until a few years ago it was a community that lived in fear. The only testament to those days is the looming old house on top of the mountain that rises nearby, with one long and dangerously swerving road leading up to it. Today, the town is growing as word of its freedom spreads and it is on its way to becoming quite a bustling port on the eastern coast of the continent of Tanalore.

“Sometimes I would go months without being able to restock my shelves,” says Robert, the shopkeeper of the general store. An older man and lifelong bachelor, he’s lived in Bruce for years with just his dog Kenny for company, and recently bought the neighboring tavern. “And more often than not I would have to turn a blind eye to the fact my new stores were coming from pirates. It was impossible to keep an honest business running.

Even then, keeping my profits up was hard, too. That nasty old wizard was a harsh bargainer and he’d never pay a penny more than he believed the goods were worth. Which, let me tell you, was far less than I’d have preferred! Still, with power like that and his temper, it was best to just smile and nod and not risk it.”

The shopkeeper isn’t the only one who remembers the temper of the old wizard. A lovely young barmaid, who gave her name as Sheela, told the Four Winds more. “He wasn’t much for talking, or even drinking, really. But when he was in town, oh, everyone knew right fast about it! Word spread quick, and even if it didn’t, you’d know by how the town just got real quiet-like. The days he was calm, it was nice and over quickly, but the days when his temper was on the rise, those were bad days. The sky'd rumble and he’d scream at anyone who had the bad luck to get in his path. One of those days, a few of the bandits who used to live here, they’d had a few and decided they’d show him who was in charge around here. Never did see those two again, and they were regulars.”

Now imprisoned in the town’s jail, the other two members of a former gang of bandits who once plagued the town confirmed the story. They could give no further details of the fate of their former cohorts, but they haven’t seen them since the confrontation years back.

Gregor Newville, the new sheriff of Bruce, speaks to the brighter days the town has come into. “No one knows what happened to the wizard, but we know he’s gone and it’s quite enough for us. We’ve begun looking forward now that we don’t live in fear. Why since he disappeared, we’ve established this jail and I’ve stepped in as sheriff, and we’ve a new portmaster to keep the docks running properly as well. Bruce is finally seeing happier days, and it’s about time.”

Portmaster Haden agrees. “It took hard work to oust the bandits and pirates, but we’ve managed. We’ve got two full docks now, and regular shipping is being established. Our trade routes with Tamir were the quickest to be established, and the fairy Genesta has been a great friend to Bruce. It goes to show you, it’s not magic that makes a person bad, it’s the person that makes the magic bad. And that Manannan, now, he was as bad a person as they come.”

No one could completely confirm the rumors that over the many years he oversaw Bruce and the nearby countryside, that Manannan had kept a number of boy slaves who met unknown but dire fates. “My momma used to tell me if I wasn’t good, the wizard would come take me in the night and make me a slave! She said she knew a boy once who was mean to his mother and he was stolen by the wizard, and no one ever heard from him again,” said a young boy of the village. “And everyone knows the story about how he would turn people who go up the mountain into animals, and then kill them and eat them for dinner!”

King Alexander’s story is well known to the readers of the Four Winds and citizens of the Green Isles; he has been very frank and honest about his meager beginnings in this town and in the wizard’s stern house. Nor has he been shy in his claims that the wizard was a murderer many times over. But it seems his full story was not well known amongst the villagers of Bruce. None of the villagers were entirely surprised at hearing these rumors about the wizard and his demise, however.

“Some of the villagers have said they thought the wizard may have met his end at the hands of one of his slaves,” Portmaster Haden said. “I’m glad to hear it confirmed and that the boy has found his fortune!”

Sheela and Robert in the Port Town of Bruce

"That skinny boy who came in once or twice! Aye, I remember him,” Sheela told us. “He was a young one, but handsome, if he’d been able to eat a little better. A king now, you say? Is he married?”

“Polite boy, yes, I remember him now. I believe he said his name was Gwydion at the time,” Robert recalled after seeing a picture of the King. “I had thought he might’ve met his end at the wizard’s hands. I’m glad to hear he’s alive and well. He was quite nice to Kenny, too.”

Though the sheriff never met Alexander, the bandits in the jail did grumble about the slave-turned-King and claimed he stole from them. Sheriff Newville contends Alexander probably just took back what was taken from him in the first place.

Attempts were made to traverse the mountain and investigate the wizard’s old home—which has, supposedly, a new resident, a researcher of sorts—but the dangerous path was too treacherous to climb with any guarantee of safety.

Even without seeing the wizard-less home, it is clear to see that it is a happier time for the port of Bruce, and an even brighter future lies ahead. The town is having its first mayoral election next year, and is in the process of establishing trade routes that stretch as far as the shores of Daventry and Serenia.

Ask Crispin

his month, Crispin, renowned wizard and spellcaster, answers magical mysteries and casting quandaries. Magic wand on the fritz? Accidentally cast yourself into the middle of a hurricane? Ask Crispin!

Q. Dear Mr Crispin,

I have a problem with my son. Now, before you pass this off as an entirely non-magic related question, hear me out. You see, I am a dragon. My son is a talented mage. I love my son, but he has a habit of getting into such mischief with his talents, and there's not a darn thing I can do about it. Just last night he shrunk me to the size of a hatchling!

At first, I just grinned and endured it. I wanted to encourage him to use his talents, after all. But what begun as a fun family bonding activity has since become quite a nuisance. Although I never believed myself to be at all skilled at magic - whereas my son is a mage, I have always been a warrior - I have heard from multiple sources that all dragons have some form of innate magic. My question is, is there any way I could use this to my advantage, and end my son's shenanigans?

-Arix

A. Dear Mr. Arix,

In my recently published book, Crispin’s Guide to Spellcasting: Updated and Revised Edition, under A33, Article 10, Lines 30-45, under the heading, “How to Harness Innate Magical Abilities In a Dragon,” you will find helpful instructions for how to awaken your own natural abilities. After you have harnessed that power, become an authoritative figure--speak in a loud voice and be clear in your requests and demands! In order to

master this, look under section A55, Article 66, Lines 21-42, under the heading, “How to Teach Your Offspring to Use Magic More Responsibly.” Following my precise directions will end his shenanigans and also teach him proper use of Magic in no time!

If this still doesn’t solve the issue, I fully recommend you enroll him at once to Crispin’s School of Spellcasting and Charms. There is a very rigorous curriculum there, and each student learns how to control their powers in a responsible manner. Although I do ask you give them some forewarning about your son’s enrollment--I’m not sure there are dragon-sized rooms just yet!

-Crispin

Ed. Note: Shortly after publication of Crispin’s Guide to Spellcasting: Updated and Revised Edition, an error was found under section A33, Article 10, Lines 30-45, under the heading, “How to Harness Innate Magical Abilities In a Dragon.” Specifically, it appears the previous version, Crispin’s Guide to Spellcasting, has the correct directions. Unfortunately, that edition has been discontinued, and all remaining copies have been magically returned to the manufacturer to be updated. Following the latest volume will instead result in amplifying the powers of a dragon’s offspring. We apologize to Mr. Arix and his family for the inconvenience, and will be sending them a corrected and signed copy once it is available.

Q. Dear Crispin,

I come from a very far-away land in the sky and I’ve recently become stranded in the Kingdom of Daventry. My “magic sky ship” has been damaged beyond repair, and I am having no luck at all getting a job as a janitor member of the cleaning staff at this castle or any other! Please help find a way to get back to my “sky kingdom” so I can get out of here!

Sincerely, R.W.

story continued on page 13

A. Dear Mr. R.W.,

There is a way for you to return, but the longer the distance, the less likely it is to work. First, you must find a Phoenix Feather and an article of clothing from your homeland. Once you have obtained the Phoenix Feather and the aforementioned garment, you must light a fire. Burn the Phoenix Feather directly in the center of the fire. Then, burn your article of clothing. While the clothing is burning, you must recite the following exactly as it is written, and repeat twenty times in rapid succession. “Feathery flint, feathery flight; fly me home facetiously fast tonight.” If recited correctly, the fire should turn green. Step into the fire and let it whisk you away! If your homeland is within range, you will be brought to a fireplace somewhere within your land. If your homeland is not in range, you will be redirected to the Phoenix’s nest from whence you obtained the feather. I strongly advise against returning there; mother Phoenix’s are notorious for protecting their kin by any means necessary!

-Crispin

Q. Dear Mr. Crispin,

I have been experimenting with potions lately, trying to combine the “fizziness” of a potion with the refreshing taste of a drink. Unfortunately, all of my attempts end in any number of side effects, including the disappearance of a test subject, never-ending hiccups, and spontaneous fire-breathing. I believe my idea may be very marketable, but with it having so many issues, I can’t get it just right. Can you give me any advice on how to make these side effects stop?

- C. Ola

A. Dear Mr. Ola,

I advise that you first replace water with a syrupy substance, which will help to suppress the hiccups. If the hiccups still do not subside, take a spoonful of peanut butter. That always does the trick for me. The reason for the disappearing test subjects is likely because you are using ingredients found in an invisibility spell. And disappearing customers are no good for business, so skip the cactus juice in your next batch! In order to obtain the best “fizziness,” pop a portion of storm cloud essence in there. And to cut back on the spontaneous fire-breathing, slip a dragon’s scale into your concoction. Dragon’s scales are magically enchanted to absorb fire and are heat-resistant--that’s why they don’t set themselves on fire! Clever beasties! It also adds a good strong kick to your drink and enhances the taste at the same time! (But don’t overdo this one, or you’ll end up with some deadly Dragon’s Breath.)

-Crispin

Got a magical question for Crispin? Send it in to the Four Winds! Your question may be featured in next issue's Ask Crispin!

Volume 9, Issue #4 1817 DC

Inaugural Flight of the Mountgo Brothers Hot Air Balloon Service Moderately Successful

By Paulan Jayse

Mountgo Brothers Balloon The Mountgo Brothers' inaugural hot air balloon flight.

The Mountgo Brothers, Amar and Ryoo, recently held the inaugural flight of their hot air balloon service and the affair went by somewhat smoothly. Despite a minor incident during the flight, which they insist “should not affect the overall business or day to day operations”, the premiere tour was a raving success.

Among the attendees were the Red and White Queens representing The Isle of Wonder, Beauty and Prince Cocteau III representing the Isle of The Beast, a guard by the name of Theseon from the Isle of The Sacred Mountain, and King Alexander and Queen Cassima. Unfortunately, the Isle of the Mists declined to send a

representative. Their only statement as to why was, “When man is meant to fly, Mother Nature will give us wings.”

The Red and White Queens were very outspoken in their opinions, leaving no bit of criticism unsaid.

“The Isle of the Sacred Mountain is a very beautiful one,” noted the Red Queen, “but there is a lack of order and stability among the isle itself. For heaven’s sake, there’s no pattern to determine where you should go! Whoever heard of such a silly thing?” story continued on page 2

The White Queen, on the other hand, had a very different opinion from her sister. “Considering this isle is not intended for chess pieces, there is a very orderly approach to things. Not all walks of life use chess boards to determine how to move, after all. But the buildings are so... How do you put it? Tacky? Yes, that’s it. The buildings are so tacky and uninspired. There’s no creativity in them. It’s all straight lines and blah! My castle was built by one of the most creative chess pieces in all the Green Isles.” Unfortunately, the Four Winds was unable to get any more statements from the two queens as of press time due to an argument over the architecture of the buildings and the design of their own castles.

Leading up to the inaugural flight, there have been rumors that King Alexander and Queen Cassima would themselves attend. Not only did they attend, but they also gave an exclusive statement to the Four Winds.

“Having once journeyed to this Isle myself upon arriving in the kingdom, I find it fascinating to finally see it from the air,” stated King Alexander. “My own visit was limited in its scope, and there is far more to the Winged Ones’ city than I had guessed. Most of my subjects do not possess the unique ability to fly, naturally, but now, thanks to the genius of the Mountgo Brothers, all of my subjects can see this isle for the first time, in the way it was meant to be seen, no less.”

Queen Cassima admits she has never seen the City of the Winged Ones herself, but after hearing so many stories of it from her husband and years of curiosity, she was eager to finally take the airborne tour.

“Alexander has told me over and over again about the beauties of this isle. He has recalled his time climbing the infamous Cliffs of Logic and his fated encounter with The Oracle. But above all else, he wished I were there to share the sights with him. Once we heard about the inaugural flight, we knew we had to attend.” The Cliffs of Logic have been replaced by a grand staircase, and the face of the Cliffs are displayed elsewhere on the island to preserve their memory as a part of the island’s history.

Prince Cocteau III and his wife, Beauty, stated they were “very impressed” with the city of the Winged Ones.

“Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined myself flying over this magnificent city. I went from a fair maiden to a beautiful princess in one day, and now, only a short time later, I am flying over the City of the Winged Ones,” stated Beauty.

The City of the Winged Ones also has a massive wall that has been dubbed the “Wall of Omnipotence” which goes beyond the eye sight of any being. According to King Alexander, “The wall is by far the biggest wall I’ve ever lay witness to. No matter how high the balloon flew, we would never see the end

The Mountgo Bros

The Mountgo Brothers

of it. It goes on seemingly forever, far above the clouds. Only the wind itself could possibly have seen the top!”

Unfortunately, the flight didn’t go entirely as planned. Following a miscalculation of the weight that the balloon could handle, the balloon flew lower than the rulers of the Isle had approved and tipped unexpectedly on some turns. No damage or injuries resulted, and Amar Mountgo insists that this is “a minor and temporary issue” and that “a fix is in the works.”* The Mountgo Brothers also plan to give the Four Winds an exclusive tour of the Isle of the Sacred Mountain soon. The hot air balloon service is expected to open publicly in a matter of weeks.

• Editors Note: Shortly after this article was written, more information has come to light. Unfortunately, the miscalculation mentioned previously has forced the Mountgo Brothers to close their business. The unnamed representative of the Isle of the Sacred Mountain was later revealed to be a safety inspector dispatched by Lord Azure personally. His review of the experience and the balloon itself were less than soaring. There are, however, rumors that this Safety Inspector was given orders to sabotage the flight. The Four Winds was unable to verify the validity of these claims, but is pursuing their research into the matter.

Beauty and the Beast: Prince Cocteau Marries His Lady Love

By Millie Maestro

Beauty and the Beast feast Prince Cocteau the Thrice-Blessed and his bride with King Alexander and his family

On the Isle of the Beast, Prince Cocteau the Thrice-Blessed, formerly the titular Beast of his island, married his lady love and the savior of his humanity, the lovely and gentle-hearted Lady Beauty. The couple invited the rulers of the other islands, as well as various dignitaries such as the former monarchs King Caliphim and Queen Allaria, and of course, King Alexander and Queen Cassima, who the happy couple invited to stand with them as best man and maid of honor.

“I owe my life to Alexander,” Prince Cocteau said during the reception. “After I was transformed into a beast by an evil witch, and my home transported here by her magic, I became bitter and angry about the loss of my humanity.

Alexander reminded me of what it meant to be human, and he helped break that spell by introducing me to the love of my life, my bride, my Beauty.”

The Prince’s demure new wife also had some words to share with the guests. “I was but a poor servant girl when I met my prince, but when I heard the sad tale of the Beast, my dear Cocteau, I knew I had to help him. Thanks to the love we found at first sight, Cocteau is now human again, and we have never been happier. I never dreamed my life would turn out like this, and I am so very grateful that it has.”

story continued on page 4

The Isle of the Beast, a lovely, peaceful island covered in a lush, green forest, features an idyllic path through the thick wood that once held many deadly dangers to all visitors to the island. Now, however, it leads to a mystifying but verdant hedge maze one must navigate to reach the grand manor that is the former Beast’s home. It is in the setting of his beautiful rose garden, in the interior courtyard, that the wedding was held. The ceremony was held under a latticework archway covered in white rose vines, the flowers in full bloom around the happy couple.

Musicians from the Land of the Green Isles performed their finest songs as the Isles’ royalty feasted on a sumptuous meal. The castle chefs prepared quite a feast of gastronomic delights: fresh white bread and perfectly seasoned meats were served along with meat pastries and spicy soups. Delicious seafood from the islands was offered for those who crave shellfish. King Alexander looked relieved that no oysters were among the seafood items.

As the day grew into evening, torches were lit in the garden and the dishes and tables were cleared away after the last course had been served. An open space was cleared in the garden for dancing. Prince Cocteau held his beloved bride in his arms as they danced in the moonlight, opening the dance floor and creating a wonderful romantic atmosphere. Other couples joined them, including our recently crowned King and Queen, to the sweet music, a perfect ending to the wedding celebrations, and to this joyous new day in the history of the Isle.

This in and itself is noteworthy, as the history of the Isle of the Beast has not seen such a happy occasion for quite some time. Once known as the Isle of the Forest, it was a largely uninhabited nature reserve where the King would enjoy their hunts. More than one hundred years ago, however, during the reign of King Aliphim, strange lights and magical activity were observed overnight. When the king’s knights were sent to investigate, the forest had grown immensely thick, and the path leading towards the center of the isle was now beset with deadly traps, and the hollowing of a fell beast filled their ears. The knights who returned to the King informed him, and the name of the island was soon changed to warn off other travelers.

The truth remained a mystery for over a century, until King Alexander made his way past the traps and met the long-suffering and quite terrifying Beast—the bewitched Prince Cocteau himself.

“Much of this island—my castle, the hedge and the lush forest—was ripped away from my original homeland when

Beauty and the Beast 2

The prince and his new bride

the witch cursed me. Not only did she twist my form, but took me from my homeland and gave me a long life in which I found only suffering. Until, of course, I met Beauty and she freed me,” the Prince told the Four Winds in an exclusive interview. “I have had word that the land I once lived in and ruled over has changed greatly since then. They have a new monarch now, a distant cousin of my own family, and they are well-served by him. I have no wish to return there and disrupt their lives; besides, I have found all I need to be happy here, and I am glad that together Beauty and I can make this island more habitable and welcoming to others now.”

The Isle has no other residents currently, but the Prince has said that he and his wife are planning to begin opening up some of the land so that houses may be built. They do intend to meet and approve anyone wishing to move to their island home when it is ready for newcomers, as they wish to have a small but close community living there with them.

Tamir Rebuilds for the Modern Day Traveler

By Cassandra Monte Carlo

Genesta, Faerie ruler of Tamir

After a tyrant’s downfall, no sign of evil lurks in the land of Tamir.

Normalcy and peace have returned at last. The sea roars from the west, birds chirp in the elm trees, and the local unicorn gallops freely about the meadows: the background music to the picturesque greenery of this lovely land, occupying the Western half of the continent of Tanalore.

Tamir had been under the conflicting rules two powerful fairies: Lolotte of the Impossible Mountains and Genesta, Faerie ruler of Tamir. To demonstrate her spiteful character, Lolette stole Genesta’s talisman while the latter was walking in the forest without warning. Soon after Princess Rosella arrived via Daventry’s magic mirror on her own quest while also saving Tamir in the process.

story continued on page 6

The former Gothic Castle

The removal of the imposing regime has had varying effects on the current and former citizens.

Tamir has become more populated since Lolotte’s defeat at the hands of the Daventrian princess. The diamond trade is picking up the pace and news of Lolotte’s downfall are making travelers eager to experience to Tamir firsthand once more.

One noticeable change is the remodeling of the former Gothic castle into a hotel for travelers. Genesta restored the evil fairy’s servants, once disfigured monkey-bat hybrids, to their rightful human forms. Particularly gifted in the magical fields of transfiguration and memory alteration, Lolotte wiped their minds of their previous lives before servitude. Regardless, the former slaves are happy with their current life.

“I’m glad Lolotte has been defeated. That woman didn’t have an iota of kindness in her,” Tira, one of the former slaves said. “Even though we were supposed to be her most loyal servants, she didn’t treat us with any respect.”

Tira served as one of the throne room guards along with a bloke named Finch. This was the highest and most coveted position within the castle.

“She told us we should be lucky she chose us as her personal guards,” Finch said sardonically. “It was more like being tortured. She threatened to curse us if we even put one toe out of place. Whenever she was awake, her eyes were always on us.”

Finch and Tira do not want to want to dwell much on their time under her rule.

The Sense Gnomes stopped in at the Unicorn

“It’s over and done with. I want to focus on this new job now. You can’t dwell over bad sections of your life or it will drive you to madness,” Finch said.

Tira described their new establishment, named The Unicorn.

“It’s a beautiful hotel. It’s decorated in bright colors such as oranges, yellows and green to emote a welcoming atmosphere. We have five exquisite suites for guests to enjoy as well as a full dining room for community bonding. It’s aimed toward the traveler who wants to be away from the hustle and bustle but still be close to the attractions.”

While designing the establishment, Tira took inspiration from Genesta’s castle. She wanted ivory but realized it was too expensive and unethical. Instead, the exterior is built with Tagua, a similar substance to animal ivory.

“I didn’t want to kill any animals while designing and building this,” she said. “I don’t want to inflict pain on them just because I want something they have. I don’t want to be like Lolotte.”

With Genesta’s magic, the castle was completely remodeled within a week. Tira decided to name the hotel after the magical horned horse that roams the land but often eludes sight.

“I was fond on that unicorn. She was gorgeous. Sadly, I haven’t seen her again since she was released from the stable,” she lamented.

Finch, on the other hand, works more with the business aspect of the hotel.

“I manage the money and make sure this place has enough to keep open. I don’t see any reason why not. Word is spreading around about Tamir. We get visitors of all types,” he said. The dangers of Tamir, including the haunted house, ogres, and three witches haven’t fazed visitors.

“I had a guy come in here a few days ago that wanted to see the ogre,” Finch said. “I laughed and told him good luck coming back in one piece. He didn’t believe me. Later that night, he looked like he got into a fight with a yeti. He gave me a murderous look so I decided against saying ‘I told you so.’ “

The dwarfs, who are seven brothers, have not only returned to normal, but their business has flourished with Lolotte gone. “Lolotte was the greediest piece of work I ever laid my eyes on,” Harold, the mine owner and oldest, said. “She would come to the mine and demand we give her some of our diamonds.”

The dwarf paused to light a cigar before continuing on.

“She threatened to curse me if I didn’t give her any. I tried to bargain with her, offered to give her a set amount if she would leave us alone. Well, naturally she wanted a larger amount. It was more than I was willing to give, but I had no choice. We knew what kind of person she was, and if we didn’t agree, I don’t think there’d still be seven of us. Quite good of that Rosella to take care of her, although I’m still pretty shocked to hear that pretty little thing took her down.”

Indeed, Rosella has told the story of her own encounter with the dwarves, including the infamous mess she tried to help them clean up in their tree-house home. Since Rosella’s cleanliness rampage, however, the mess came back in like an old friend.

“Eh, we aren’t supposed to do house work. That’s a woman’s job. We’re too busy mining all day to care about how the house looks,” Wilfred, the second oldest, said.

Another dwarf voiced a dissenting opinion.

“I actually miss when it was clean. You could breathe in there since no dust was in sight,” Hagar, the middle son, said. “I sneeze all the time at home, but my brothers don’t pay any mind.”

Harold attributed the mess to lack of time.

“We work twelve hour days at the mine every day. We don’t

have time to clean. More important things need to be accomplished,” he said. Speculation has surrounded what the net worth of the dwarfs’ finances. It’s a heavily guarded secret, as none of them would answer any questions.

“We do not reveal such things,” Wilfred said. “It is no one’s beeswax and we’d be swamped with people asking us for money.”

Even with the mining surplus, the dwarves have not changed their lifestyle.

“We lead a straightforward life,” Harold added. “We get up, go to work, eat simple meals and get up and repeat the same thing the next day. My father did the same thing and we will pass on the tradition to our offspring. A dwarf’s life in Tamir will never change.”

Also due to Rosella’s generosity, an older Tamir couple has relocated to live their retirement at leisurely pace.

Jerry and Millie Fishback moved to Antiquas, a resort island off the coast of Serenia. They decided to take the leisurely route after a hard working life.

“I’ve worked all my life. I’m also not as nimble as my younger years,” Jerry said. “I’ve been fishing for 30 years both to provide income and food for my wife and I.”

Millie agreed and thought a reward was warranted.

“We have been a modest couple,” she said. “We never spent money on frivolity. And we got by just fine that way.”

Despite their simple beginnings, both enjoy their new life on the beach.

“I figured, why not?” Millie said. “We haven’t treated ourselves. We deserve to relax.”

“I’m thankful for the luxury of not having to worry anymore,” Jerry said. “I worried about Millie. If something would have happened to me, she would have been in danger for two reasons. Number one, I wouldn’t be there to protect and provide for her and number two, Lolotte was at large. Luckily I don’t have to worry about either anymore.”

Antiquas is an ideal retirement place. The quiet atmosphere lures those who desire a slower pace in life. The golden sands and aqua sea make a for picturesque location. Only ten couples can

story continued on page 8

ive on the island at one time. Each villa overlooks the sea and the salty breeze can be tasted from the doorstep. Activities include horseback riding, golf and a health spa.

Jerry and Millie also befriended a couple residing next door who has been a beneficiary of the Royal Family’s generosity. Lon and Lolita Shoemaker received elven shoes from King Graham during his quest to rescue his family from Mordack.

“Lon and I like to go on the golf course. It’s beautiful, with the emerald grass and open view of the seas. The breeze blows in your face,” he paused, smiling. “There’s nothing better than that.”

“Lolita and I like to sit out on the front porch and drink tea.” Millie said. “It’s wonderful. And it wouldn’t be possible without Rosella and Graham’s generosity. I can’t express how grateful we are.”

Genesta is thrilled to see her domain restored to its former glory.

“It’s fantastic,” she said. “I do not like to argue or deal with evil beings. I want the good souls to come out of the shadows and live in harmony together.”

The fairy has increased security on her castle due to her ordeal.

“I haven’t wanted to. I like to believe good exists in everyone, but I have learned that is not always the case. I have put extra spells around my castle to guard against intruders. Anyone in Tamir is still welcome in my home, though. I can’t completely shut myself out from my country.”

Genesta also has eight fairies in her castle to keep order. Two of those eight, Bonita and Flora, travel with her when she greets her subjects daily.

“I like to keep contact with everyone who visits and lives here,” Genesta said. “A true ruler must serve the public, not vice versa. Unfortunately I have seen the latter far too many times.”

The fairies also have their own language, Florian. Genesta admits talking in a foreign tongue can be annoying to other beings around her.

“One of my girls will ask me a question and then it ends up being a twenty minute conversation with them,” she laughs. “I do like to talk a lot. I think that’s why people like me.”

The castle isn’t quiet either. Gigi, the golden egg laying hen, is constantly chased by Genesta’s snow leopard companion, Snow. The fairies attempt to stop the chase but are never successful.

“Those two have been doing that for years,” Genesta says with a smile. “It provides a break from all the seriousness. I don’t get worried Snow will eat Gigi. Gigi is too fast for her!”

Genesta, like the Antiquas couples, has respect for the Royal Family.

“I owe my life to Rosella,” Genesta said. “I wouldn’t be here without her. I admire her courage to come into a land she knew nothing about, to save not only her father but my kingdom as well.”

Editor’s Note: Attempts to reach the ogre and his wife suffered the same fate as the unknown traveler. Our reporter visited their house to get an interview. The ogre answered the door and threw her about 50 feet west. He then slammed the door with a thundering thud. Fortunately, she only suffered minor cuts and bruises from the incident.

Ask Crispin

This month, Crispin, renowned wizard and spellcaster, answers magical mysteries and casting quandaries. Magic wand on the fritz? Accidentally cast yourself into the middle of a hurricane? Ask Crispin!

Q. Dear Crispin,

I’ve been trying to make my own wand but I can’t find a decent material to craft the wand out of, or a high quality spell casting apparatus anywhere. Wood bases are great and conduct magic well, but one fire spell and it’s toast; metal wands rust very easily, and rubber wands are just plain silly. Can you give me any advice on how to make my own wand? I hate buying pre-made ones at local retailers and I feel I can make a more powerful one for less gold.

Sincerely, George

A. Dear George,

Making your own wand requires skill, practice, and a full stomach. First, make sure you have quick access to food; I suggest buying lots of snack food. It is not only quick to digest, but it also provides a delicious taste! Next, a good resource for magic supply parts is Phoenix Egg Incorporated. They provide the latest and greatest magic wand parts for cheap. Finally, most tutorials will get you nowhere. Few are written by experienced and skilled wizards such as myself. In order to make a high quality wand for cheap, you need simply follow the directions in my latest book, “Crispin’s Wand Making Guide for Novices”. Not only is it full of in-depth knowledge of wand making, but it is also published by a new company; all of my previous books have contained various misprints and whatnot that I simply had to

switch! Please note, however, that Crispin’s Wand Making Guide for Novices is the first book to come out under my new publisher. My previous literary works are still privy to misprints.

-Crispin

Editor’s Note: Crispin’s new publisher was bought out by his previous publisher shortly before this article went to print. The following statement was given in regards to the acquisition: "We are thrilled to be able to add the publishing and editing professionals of Ooga Booga Publishing Inc. to our family. We hope to improve our editing division beyond it’s current standards with this acquisition. We believe our customers will notice a difference in quality and we could not be more excited.”

Q. Dear Crispin,

I am finally able to go to my first ball, but my parents are going to be there as well! If I am ever to have a shot at becoming queen, I cannot be embarrassed. What could be more embarrassing than your parents doing out of date dance steps?! Please help! -Desperate Princess Gina

A. Dear Princess Gina,

Oh my. You certainly are in a pickle now, aren’t you? I would give your parents a swig (and only a swig! Anything more and you’ll have a serious case of river dancing!) of Insta-Dance: Ballroom Edition potion. It is guaranteed to make your parents dance so light on their feet, people will think they’re flying!

-Crispin

Editor’s note: The Insta-Potion corporation, responsible for the popular Insta-Dance line of potions, has discovered a labeling misprint with their Insta-Dance: Ballroom Edition potion. It appears that the labels for Insta-Dance: Ballroom Edition and Insta-Dance: Street Performer Edition have

story continued on page 10

been switched. Drinking the Insta-Dance: Ballroom Edition potion will result in mastery of the street performer style of dancing, complete with flips and acrobatic styles. They offer their apologies for the inconvenience and will send along a properly labeled Ballroom Edition potion once it is available.

Q. Crispin,

For years I have been trying to learn a second language but never could pick it up until I met this traveling salesman with a potion called "Languages In A Bottle: No Side Effects." I took it and suddenly I knew 40 languages. However, I am suddenly having this strange uncontrollable urge for pickles. Do you have a cure? -waltz

A. Dear waltz,

What a pickle indeed. If you look in Crispin’s Guide to Spellcasting: Updated and Revised 2nd Edition, under section D55, Article 22, lines 13-30, under the heading “How To Get Rid Of An Uncontrollable Urge For Pickles,” you will find detailed instructions on how to focus your appetite on other food. It has also come to my attention that my various spell-casting books have contained numerous errors that have resulted in occasional miscasts of spells. If there are any errors in my latest book then I encourage you to utilize a brand new spell at the end of every copy of my Guide to Spellcasting: Universal Spell-Reversal! Guaranteed to reverse any spell!

-Crispin

Editor’s note: Unfortunately, another minor error has been found in “Crispin’s Guide to Spellcasting: Updated and Revised 2nd Edition.” Specifically, it appears that Universal Spell-Reversal does not work on anything pickle related. Should any spells involving pickles need to be reversed, you will be placed on a waiting list to receive a free updated copy and a year’s subscription to Crispin’s Magic Monthly Magazine as an apology for the inconvenience.

Dear Crispin,

I bought my 5-year old son Crispin’s Wand Kit for Children, but it seems that he’s proven to be too formidable of a wizard for his age. Granted, he’s only been making the vegetables I try to feed him turn into bacon, but it’s very unnerving trying to feed him. Wizards need their vegetables, and he simply refuses to eat them! Please help!

Sincerely, A Concerned Mother Dear A Concerned Mother,

Children can be very tough to deal with, especially when you give them a wand at such an early age. By the sound of it, I would say your son is a prodigy in the making. I would buy one of my old, but still very useful, books: Crispin’s Guide to Raising a Child Prodigy. Unfortunately, it has been out of print for several centuries, but I’m quite sure you can find it used at any respectable book peddler. I hope this book is helpful for you.

-Crispin

Editors Note: It appears that Crispin’s age has gotten the better of him; Crispin’s Guide to Raising a Child Prodigy was actually banned in many kingdoms for it’s unorthodox methods of raising a prodigy. The methods are out of date for the current century. The Four Winds apologizes for this inconvenience.

Got a magical question for Crispin? Send it in to the Four Winds! Your question may be featured in next issue's Ask Crispin!

A Whirlwind Tour: The Isle of the Sacred Mountain

By Kurt Rayner

A grand staircase rose before me where once I would have faced the trials of the Cliffs of Logic in order to gain access to the City of the Winged Ones, high atop the Isle of the Sacred Mountain. Relieved that my life was not held in the balance by my mental prowess, I began my ascent of the majestic stairs, pleased to see that the Winged Ones had become a bit more human-friendly since the quest of Prince—now King—Alexander through the Land of the Green Isles.

And while this reporter climbed (and climb I did! That’s one tall mountain), I prepared my list of questions for Lord Azure and Lady Ariel, rulers of the Island. Finally reaching the top, the guards lowered their spears to ward me off from the door. Not exactly the reception I’d been expecting, but this reporter prepared some suave words to gain entrance. I was also expected.

“What business brings you to the City of the Winged Ones, human?” asked one guard with clear disdain.

Presenting ye olde presse passe, I assured the guards that the Lord and Lady were expecting me today. They exchanged a glance and asked me to prove my identity.

After several minutes of hard looking between the picture and myself upon my insistence, they huddled, discussed, shot me a few disgusted looks and finally answered.

“There’s a resemblance. I suppose. All you humans look alike to us. We’ll take you to the Royal Hall.”

Affixing my belongings, I waited to see how this would work, thinking perhaps they would open the gates and lead me in, or maybe some variety of grand winged chariot would see me into the fabled city. Once the two had roughly seized me under the arms, however, I realized I was going to be taking the back seat of this rough buggy ride, as it were.

Having heard of the skillful flight of which the Winged Artists Boulevard

The Artists' Boulevard

Ones take great pride in, I voiced my concerns about the bumpy escort, but only received a short answer about air currents at this time of year. “The North Wind, and the South Wind, you see. They are quite mischievous.”

story continued on page 12

Looking about me, I did indeed see Borasco, the North Wind who carried a drum, and Sirocco, the South Wind, blowing merrily on a horn. As I called a greeting to both winds, one guard leaned down to scratch at his leg and this reporter quickly plunged towards the City.

And a beautiful city it was! As I plummeted towards the raised domiciles of the inhabitants, I could not help but be impressed by the architecture, the notes of music that floated up to me (or perhaps I was floating down to them…), and noticed an immense wall rising at one end of the city, so amazing in its height, one can only imagine the wind would be able to climb such a height!

Lucky for this reporter, I dropped directly into a decorative pool of water in the ‘yard’ of this lovely house, my very life saved by this house’s designer and owners. After a good deal of sputtering, I pulled myself out to the surface and out of the pool, intending to thank the young Winged One nearby.

“MOMMA! MOMMA! IT’S GOT NO WINGS!” The little girl was distraught by my obvious humanness.

Explanations were cut off by a very protective and maternal woman swatting me with a broom and saying something to the affect of, “Off of my house, you heathen ugly human!”

Having little other choice, I was again pushed off into the air and left to my own flying devices. Of which, I am sad to say, dear reader, I had none. Poor preparation on my part. But as luck would have it, a passing giant eagle took pity on my plight of flight, swooped in, saved my life and deposited this well-roved reporter on the famed Artist Boulevard! What a morning this was indeed!

And, ah, the wonders of the Artisans of the Winged Ones! Surrounded by poets, some lost in their search for inspiration, others scribbling madly, having found theirs; musicians strummed and beat and blew their instruments in a cacophony of melody; painters studied their works, made adjustments, and measured their models. Merchants abounded, so attempts were made to uncover information on the economy and lifestyle of the sellers. The expedition uncovered a few choice quotes:

Jewelry merchant: “Your money’s no good here, human!” Fabric merchant: “Do not touch! You soil! Leave now!” Food merchant: “Your smell! It is a-stinking up-a my food! You leave-a now!”

Also brought to attention were my ungainly anatomy, my lack of intelligence, my wretched and wet state of dress, and how I generally constituted a source of great amusement. It must be mentioned that one passer-by tossed me a coin and expressed his pity. Undaunted, this reporter pressed onward:

Mother and Daughter

A protective winged mother

such a lovely and rich city, after all, well-deserved description and exploration!

To one side, three muses sat by themselves, unearthly in both their beauty and ability, as they played a harmony more enchanting than that of the ogre’s golden harp (or so I’ve heard). Stopping to hear them play, the enchantment of the tune refreshed all who listened, wings or none. They smiled pleasantly upon me and for once, I found no harsh words to greet my presence.

At the end of the wide road rose an enormous and magnificent stage, the likes of which have never been seen in Daventry! The seats rose up from the circular stage below, allowing a splendid view from any spot. A backdrop behind the stage was tastefully decorated, as a few Winged Ones tailored costumes and scenery off to one side, while others ran lines. I discovered they were beginning rehearsals for Othello, and was informed it would be going up for performance in a few months, but don’t bother coming back for the show, please, thank you, goodbye, get out, guards, please deal with this insolent land-bound creature.

story continued on page 13

'I wasn’t in that much danger, really.' - Lady Celeste

“I wasn’t in that much danger, really.” - Lady Celeste

My rough escort returned and now hastened my arrival to the Royal Hall. Which was more than worth the lengthy, arduous, and often humiliating journey.

The throne room itself was everything King Alexander had described: a rotunda lined with pillars of delicate detail. The room itself conveyed all the intelligence, expertise, ancient wisdom, beauty and pride of the race of the Winged Ones. Upon their respective thrones resided Lord Azure and Lady Ariel, stoic and wise rulers of the Isle. To the side, on a slightly smaller chair, was their daughter Lady Celeste, a while ago rescued from the dreaded Minotaur by Daventry’s favorite Prince, looking terribly bored with the audiences, yet remarkably interested in her pretty pink fingernails.

When asked about the replacement of the Cliffs of Logic with the expansive stairway, Lord Azure replied that, “With the peace and settlements that followed the discovery of Alhazred’s treachery and deceit, and the crowning of Alexander and Cassima, we felt that perhaps it was time to show a bit more hospitality to the humans. Especially since most of you would never be able to decipher the puzzles the Cliffs held. And there may have been some complaints about falling bodies.”

Fair enough! I asked Lady Ariel what had become of the catacombs since the defeat of the Minotaur.

“Few of our race are eager to re-enter, and so most of the catacombs have been shut off from entry at this time. We have

future plans to explore our ancestors’ tombs, however.

We are most grateful to King Alexander for his rescue of Celeste, of course.”

Lady Celeste felt it necessary to interject. “I wasn’t in that much danger, really.”

When asked further about the Minotaur and her captivity, Celeste declined to answer after receiving a stern look from her mother.

Could they tell us something about the Artists Boulevard?

“The Artists Boulevard and the Theatre are two of the greatest collections of talent, intelligent and pride among the Winged Ones. Few humans have ever been so fortunate as to see and explore the Boulevard in full. You should consider yourself quite lucky.” I assured Lord Azure that I did, and proceeded to inform them of the reaction of the Winged Ones in both market and home to my presence.

“Could you truly expect less? We may have opened our borders more, but we cannot change how the people think of humans. If you were to drop into my pool unannounced, I admit I may very well have reacted in a similar manner,” Lady Ariel explained. Celeste echoed her mother’s sentiments.

“I’d have pushed you off myself.” I thanked her for the honesty.

When asked about the enormous wall near the City, the rulers declined to give a detailed answer. “It is there for a very specific reason, you may trust in that, human. Beyond that, you need not know its purpose.”

Then informed of another audience they had waiting, the rulers dismissed me. “You understand, of course. If the civilians were to hear that we were granting more time to a human dirt-digger than we were to our own people, there would be quite an uproar,” Lady Ariel detailed.

Despite my protests that I was a reporter and not a dirt-digger and had only been in the Hall itself for maybe ten minutes, I was rushed out by my previous escort and given a hasty return flight to the gates, where I unceremoniously dumped on the ground. Though my request for a lift to the shoreline was scoffed at heartily, I was informed that there were faster ways to the ground than the stairs; for example, jumping and flapping my arms.

And so my tour of the Isle of the Sacred Mountain ended there, as I trudged down the majestic stairway, undoubtedly leaving footprints of water and sand behind me, my notebook ruined, my dignity barely intact, and but a single coin to my name. But what a marvelous and whirlwind tour it was!

News in Brief

Mints Recalled Across the Land

The Light Hearted Candy Company has recalled its line of signature mints because of a series of unusual incidents, all curiously having to do with Genies. There have been reports of Genies from as far away as Agrabah experiencing a loss of motor control and being visually impaired for a short period of time. Their speech has been found to have been slurred and their judgement impaired. Anonymous tipsters have also reported seeing the Green Isle’s own Genie, Shamir Shamazzle, under the influence of said mints. To avoid any further incidents, all the mints have been recalled and will undergo further testing and will be re-released when the issue has been identified and resolved.

UPDATE: The issue with the mints has been identified, but could not be fixed. The Light Hearted Candy Company released the following statement: “Unfortunately, we were unable to fix the issue. After extensive testing, it has been concluded that Genies react differently to various herbs, including mint, because of the magic they possess. When said magic mixes with the herbs, an intoxicated-like state occurs. Because of this, we urge that Genies across the land not use our product. We are working extensively to find a mint that is safe for consumption for all of our customers, but are presently unable to cater to our most loyal ones. We apologize for the inconvenience, and will begin shipping our mints out again soon for distribution.”

Heroic Owl’s Words of Caution Save Three Lives in Serenia

Cedric the Owl receives medal for saving three lives

In Serenia, the quick words of warning from a local owl saved a farmer and his two children from suffering potentially fatal bites by a snake.

While taking his two children for a walk, Jeremy Flaxenwheat was startled by the call of an unfamiliar voice, beckoning him to watch where he was going. “I was surprised when he told me to look out--especially when I saw it was an owl speaking!--but then I looked ahead on the path and sure enough there really was a poisonous snake there. This owl saved my life, and my children’s lives!”

When interviewed, Cedric the Owl had this to say, “Ooohh, I was just trying to help. You can never be tooooo careful with those pooooisonous snakes around! Some people just don’t listen, but this man has a good head on his shoulders.”

After telling the local townsfolk of Cedric’s deed, the owl was honored by the mayor of Serenia with a medal of honor. “We could use more owls and folk like him, looking out for each other!”

“My advice,” said the bespectacled owl at the ceremony, “is to watch your step, and don’t go traveling anywhere that looks unsavory! I always avoid strange forests, seedy inns, the desert to the West, the icy mountains to North--I had a bad experience there once--and I never go out when it’s dark, or getting dark. Even though I am an owl, it’s better to stay safe indoors!”

Nightingale

Posted on February 23, 1817 D.C. by Sylver

I’ve long wondered still, what was it when I looked at you? But now I have its name. A word caught in a spiderweb, the answer to a riddle my mind jumbled and frayed and worried apart. One word, one lyric in something permeating, something everlasting, a song that gives direction to our paths, meaning to our trials. The melody in a key that makes the shredded pages fit together, the disparate threads weave into a life that makes sense - And I’m home.

I turned a metal key and a cool, clockwork toy in my hand came alive,

A small, fragile, flickering, feathered thing perched in the corner of my eye.

A tinny song from little gears and delicate mechanisms became a symphony, a sweet messenger on a breeze delivering hope and guiding notes

I followed through mists and cemetery underworlds.

Your song is a beacon, a lighthouse on a jagged shore, a string tied around my finger in a labyrinth.

My Girl in the Tower reached down and pulled me from its shadow, still she leans down and breathes life into me.

I’m still reaching out, but now there’s a hand in mine.

The tower has crumbled but still you raise me, and call me to ascend past stone steps and azure shores on borrowed wings.

All my life has been a gradual homecoming.

You understand when I speak words others cannot grasp – they try, they listen and sympathize, but you feel the scars

Of youth in chains, abduction, abandonment, slavery and abuse; you cried the same tears and now we dry them together.

In stages, in slow steps I’ve picked up the pieces.

A family, a home, more love than I imagined in the most fantastic fever-dreams, the wildest opiate hallucinations.

Nothing compares to your song when my voice, faint and raw and healing, joins the chorus.

My journey is over; our melody goes on.

Common Sense Triumphs

Posted on February 24, 1817 D.C. by Derek Karlavaegen

Appeal Denied

A surprising sight greeted me upon entering the Four Winds offices this morning. Cro and Black Widow were singing over a bottle of champagne (I don’t fancy his chances); Gigi Stongmen was throwing darts at our standard Alhazred mug shot. Paulan Jayse was running up and down the stairs whooping loudly, but that’s not unusual.

I asked Crispin what was going on. “Well my boy, y’know it’s the darnedest thing. The very darnedest of things, y’know.” As is his adorable wont, the beloved gentleman took some time circumlocuting the issue, but finally pointed me towards a letter – much worn by this point – lying on the chief editor’s desk.

To all Green Islander,

It is our pleasure to announce that the legal appeal of the former vizier, Abdul Alhazred, has been categorically and unanimously DENIED. Mr. Alhazred will not be indulged in this matter any further than he has been already.

It is the opinion of the royal court and crown judges that Mr. Alhazred deserves nothing but condemnation; his one (and only, you may be assured) trial revealed the level of treachery to which the appellant was willing to stoop.

Now that all legal proceedings involving Mr. Alhazred have come to a definitive close, he will, as planned, be relocated to a secure and undisclosed location for the safety of all concerned.

The Crown is of the opinion that this is a matter of greatest moment for the public; a copy of this letter has been sent to all places of public interest. King Alexander and Queen Cassima personally request you make this information publically known, a task to which we know you are most able.

Faithfully,

Captain Saladin, Office of the Crown

And so, fine people of the Green Isles, here is the Four Winds doing just that. (Incidentally, I like “Mr. Alhazred” – subtly patronising.)

Naturally, the Winds staff will be back to its usual hard-working self in a matter of hours. But give us a short window to celebrate; this Alhazred business has been hanging over everyone. We humbly suggest our readers celebrate along with us.

Alhazred Escapes!

Posted on March 2, 1817 D.C. by Derek Karlavaegen

Captain Saladin inspects the cell

I’ll get right down to it. Alhazred has escaped from the castle dungeons. This article is not scare mongering and my aim in reporting this is not to increase circulation. Quite simply, the castle guards do not know where Alhazred, a dangerous man who has shown himself to be ruthless, manipulative and desperate, has gone. You may be in danger. This is not the time for finger-pointing, this is the time for making sure you and your loved ones are safe.

Now that the warning’s been issued – and be assured, I of all people hope it’s unnecessary – we can back up a little. I was deeply shocked to hear this news, though I can’t say it came as a complete surprise: my experience with Alhazred has shown him to be slippery at best. I discovered the secret quite unexpectedly, summoned to the castle by Captain Saladin who claimed the King’s authority in this matter. Puzzled, I hurried to court and was escorted into the captain’s stateroom.

“Mr. Karlavaegan,” he growled slowly, bent over a miasma of reports and papers. “I am given to understand you conducted an interview with Mr… Alhazred… less than a fortnight ago.”

I made it clear that, yes, I had done so and actually, yes, Saladin himself had been there, thank you for not remembering.

Saladin bristled and stared at me silently. I was not sure my jibe had gone down well. “And have you ever,” he muttered, “ever, had any contact with that person outside the confines of that cell?” There was the trial, of course, but everyone had been there. And Alhazred had said he’d read my guidebook – “Your guidebook?” Yes, I explained. Surely he was aware of it. I was given to understand it was quite influential. Saladin made a note on a paper in front of him; the quill snapped and he seemed to tighten at the noise. After a moment he placed it to one side and blotted the spurt of ink. “And beyond these you have had absolutely no contact?” No. I didn’t have much in common with megalomaniacs. “Mm.” A noncommittal sound.

“I wonder, captain, if you’d mind telling me what this is all about.”

Saladin’s posture hardly changed, but there was something – a near-silent sigh, a tiny slump of the shoulders, a pleading in the eyes… He seemed broken, as though a part of him had been lost. “I’m afraid that information is classified for public safety.”

“He’s escaped.” The captain hardened again. The atmosphere seemed to darken. Broken or not, he was still more than capable of putting up a rock-solid defence. “The office of the crown is not at liberty to discuss the matter at hand. A statement will be made–”

“He’s escaped, and you haven’t even told anyone.” Saladin moved to speak – but fell back again, silent. Finally, he resumed writing. “You must be very busy, Mr. Karlavaegan. I wouldn’t want to keep you.”

Enraged, I stormed out of his office, neglecting to retrieve my hat which I had put aside as I entered. I marched into the corridor, down the great staircase, across the foyer, my footfalls ringing like sword-strikes on the marble as I flung open the main doors and froze. The guard dogs outside studied me as I stood frozen on the threshold, clutching each of the double doors with outstretched arms like some dazed showman.

“I’ve just remembered,” I intoned: “Forgot my hat. I’ll be out in a moment.” They shrugged; I closed the doors.

So of course my first order of business was to ease open the dungeon door, slip down the steps, whip out my notebook and skip along over to the cell. I may be an honest journalist, but that doesn’t mean I tell the truth.

One of the last images of Alhazred before his escape

The cell door hung open, the spider web of locks and chains dangling limply. The magical ward daubed beneath them had been scratched through and smelled faintly of aniseed. A “Do not cross” rope had been suspended over the threshold. Dutiful to my personal sense of integrity, I crossed it.

I got a sense of déjà vu as I stepped inside. It was eerie to enter a cell with Alhazred’s imprint on the straw mattress but no Alhazred. The aniseed smell was stronger here and mixed with a whiff of burned oak, clustered around a circle of seed pods placed in the middle of the cell. They were white and felt vaguely waxy.

From the corner of my eye I caught something poking out of the mattress. I prised it out; it was a fragment of paper. “Tonight. Brant will take you to the shore. Meet you there.” I wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. I’m still not sure if making this note – specifically, the name on it – public is a wise or humane decision. But given what’s at stake here, given that a tyrant and murderer is loose, I feel justified in doing so.

“You will not find your hat in here,” said Captain Saladin.

I turned. Saladin stood beyond the doorway. As I stared at him he leaned forward slowly and rested both palms on either side of the door frame. “I presume you got lost and happened, quite by accident, to find your way to the dungeons.”

I folded my arms. “There is a dangerous criminal – captain, a murderer on the loose, and you keep quiet.”

“It is our hope to apprehend him by taking him and any accomplices by surprise. If they knew–”

“If they knew that you knew he had escaped? He is the number one enemy of the state, they know that you’ve noticed by now.”

“The only way we are going to catch this man is by lulling him into a false sense of security. He may not even have left the island–”

“So use the people of the Green Isles! Let them know that their lives are in danger, and they’ll be on the lookout. As it is – what if somebody’s hurt? He must be desperate, he’ll do anything to keep his freedom.”

Saladin’s eyes travelled to my right hand, and narrowed. “What,” he intoned, staring at the note, “is that?”

“I found it in the mattress.” I handed it over; he scanned it and growled. “We did not notice this before.” I pointed out that things can be missed, especially in such a stressful and emotional case. He was silent for a moment; finally he sighed and tucked the note away. “You are free to go. We have nothing further to discuss.”

As I turned the corner he called out. “You understand the importance of secrecy in this matter, Mr. Karlavaegan?”

I bowed slightly. “I know exactly how important it is here,” I called back.

Globe Trekker – Daventry

Posted on March 12, 1817 D.C. by Alexandra McCormic

Daventry is a place on wonder, mystery and magic. For years people have tried to find the source of the kingdom’s magic, but nothing has ever come to light. The focal point of this kingdom is none other than the wonderful Castle of Daventry where the royal family has ruled from since the kingdom’s founding. Currently it is home to King Graham and his wife Valanice who have ruled together for nearly twenty one years.

Daventry is located on the large Continent of Serenia, near the southern most point. The northern border of the kingdom is protected by the Great Mountains, which even the most experience traveler could have problems with. It is said that the Prince Alexander scaled these mountains alone as he made his way home but none have been able to do since, as it is rumored a terrible creature guards the pass. The only way into the kingdom is by boat, which makes regular stops to its ally in the north.

The people here are very hospitable and open with strangers and it isn’t hard to find a warm bed and hot meal from some family wishing to put you up for the night. This nation is so peaceful, the royal family walks about the town and talks with the people to make sure their needs are met! With this kind of support coming from the palace directly, it could only strengthen the unity this kingdom has as they work for the betterment of the community whether it is with home repairs, food distribution or checking in on people who need it. But Daventry wasn’t always like this.

Before Graham came to power, Daventry was a poor kingdom with no real prospects and the people cowered in fear from anything that moved about. The late king, whom people still love, lost the three treasures that protect the kingdom from poverty, war and famine. These treasures are: A wooden chest that is always filled with gold keeping trade with the kingdom strong, a magic mirror that foretold anything the viewer wished and warned farmers of incoming rain and of upcoming disasters, there is the magic shield, the only weapon the kingdom needed against any invasion force as it had the power to defend and keep the kingdom safe providing a rich and vibrant history.

Located in the center of town, remains a statue to King Edward the Benevolent. He cared a great deal for his people and when he lost the treasures, he suffered along with them. His life wasn’t the same after the death of his wife and they actually praise the lost of the treasures as it brought them yet another great and caring leader.

As you walk around the kingdom, it would appear to be an ordinary land; however, high above the physical ground lays a realm of wonder and mystery. Only a handful of people have ventured to this realm and the stories they return with are just as magical. This is the realm of the clouds. This is not to be confused with the Realm of the Sun which is located even higher. To reach this part of Daventry, there are only two ways, both which have since been destroyed. One was a beanstalk, destroyed not long after Graham became king, in fear that the beast which lived up there might come down seeking its treasure. The second path is a long staircase deep within the mountains that crumbled not long after Alexander and Rosella returned.

While venturing around, one must be careful for the dark woods are filled with creatures and people that long to bring fear and disruptions to this happy kingdom. It is debated whether or not the vile witch was destroyed or not but King Graham is quite confident that she is dead and that the woods are once again safe but there is still a caution about the people to go in and search for the candy house she lived in.

Just as there is life up in the clouds, there is life also down below the surface of Daventry where it can be heard on a very quite night, a fiddle melody sweeping up. Not much is known about the life under the kingdom except that on his great quest, King Graham was able to visit in order to save this kingdom but none have made it back since.

Daventry is a kingdom filled a wonderful traditions and a long rich history. It would be interesting to see what Daventry will become in the future as its people expand outward; the culture deepens and as the magic grows stronger. This is Daventry!

---

Confessions and Betrayal

Posted on March 12, 1817 D.C. by Derek Karlavaegen

The mystery of Alhazred’s break-out became a little clearer yesterday as Sergeant Brant of the castle guard dogs confessed to aiding in the escape.

But before we reach for the torches and pitchforks, I would ask that we don’t condemn Sergeant Brant too hastily. He helped only under the greatest duress, when “my daughter, my darling pup Dara” had been snatched away from him and held to ransom. I was allowed a brief interview with Brant in which he showed me a picture of his daughter, before gazing at it himself for a long, awful moment. Brant is a tough dog, a puggle with his share of battle scars, but with a deep sense of moral conviction. He is fiercely protective of his family and is consumed, he says, with the regret that he has “done wrong by them.” Clearly affected by his experience, he stopped his account several times to collect himself, at one point overcome with tears.

Eventually, he composed himself and was able to give an account of his misfortunes. It seems fairest to let him tell his own story, in his own words, and so I make no excuse for quoting him verbatim.

“My partner and I, we’d… put Dara to sleep in her kennel one night. We woke up must’ve been only a few hours later: thought we heard a noise downstairs. Might have been somebody sneakin’ about, so down we went.

“At first I couldn’t make nothing out. In the dark I saw her, saw Dara from across the room, standin’ flat ‘gainst the wall. But then my eyes got used to the dark, something seemed odd: she was taller or something, couldn’ put my finger on it. So’s I lit a candle and took a deep breath and told myself it was nothing to worry about, everything’s fine, and I took a closer look.

“Dara was nowhere to be seen. We searched the house later but she was just… she was gone. But, somebody–” He stops, and takes a breath. When he speaks it is without emotion, as though he cannot bear to listen to himself. “It wasn’t Dara I’d seen in the dark. Someone’d nailed her clothes to the wall with eight-inch spikes. Nailed ‘em so hard they’d gone right through the wall. And they left a note.” He hands me the crumpled paper without looking at it, and quotes it verbatim, as though he’s memorised it from many readings. “‘Next time, we will not stop at her clothes. You will do as we say.’”

Fearing for the life of his daughter, not to mention his own safety and that of his mate, Brant had no choice but to obey completely,

"We searched the house later but she was just... she was gone."

receiving the kidnappers’ demands in the form of notes. “Some they told me to read, then pass to ‘Hazred. Some they’d sealed, I had to pass them on to him without lookin’ in ‘em. They told me to burn ‘em all afterward, destroy the evidence like. It was, I tell you it was a living hell, a nightmare; I’d go through the motions, scared inside but more terrified, shakin’ right to the quick, just terrified to show it in case somebody clocked me. And, you know, I didn’t understand half the things they asked for. It was the strangest thing, they told me to get two dozen seeds from the Yngvis tree. Didn’t know what an Yngvis was, did I? But I did as they said, I got them their bloody seeds. I had to, no two ways about it. Couldn’ let her down.

“So. On the night of the escape I was scheduled to go on guard duty. Before I’d even got up to get ready for the night shift, though, I’m woken up by this tapping, just this tap – tap – tap on the floor. And I shake m’self awake and blow me down there’s this man in a cloak sittin’ on the end of the bed, not six feet from me, just rappin’ and rappin’ on the floor with this big wooden staff. He was just sat, starin’ away from the bed, barely knew we were there it seemed. And this staff that’s going up and down, up and down, it’s the height of a man with a long, curved blade on the end, like a curved sword, like a scimitar or something, just sort of gleamin’ in the blackness.

“My partner – now I want to keep my partner out of this, I’ve done what I’ve done but I won’t have people I love dragged into it. You can keep your nose out of our business. My partner was awake by now and none too happy there’s this kidnappin’ tappin’ housebreakin’ son of a… Well, you can imagine. But before we could open our mouths he opened his. He said, ‘I have your daughter. If you help me, you will have her in your arms before morning.’ Those were his very words, I still remember ‘em. And he turned to face me at last, he hadn’t looked at me till now, but I couldn’t make him out under the hood. He told me to come with him, and bring the seeds I’d got.

“So we head off to the castle, after I’ve reassured my mate I’d be careful like, an’ bring Dara back–” Brant paused here for a moment, clearly overcome. It took him a moment to compose himself.

“So. The man and I. We head out and make for the crossroads. He hands me his staff and a bundle of things he’s got with him. He tells me carefully, specifically-like, what I’ve got to do, and then he heads south, toward the beach. An’ I make for the castle.

“I started my shift and took the keys from the last guard. Once he’d left, once I’d heard the door shut and couldn’ hear his footsteps, I got right to it. I practically tore off those chains an’ locks an’ I hated, hated myself for it, an’ I opened the door.

“‘Hazred was sat on the bed, looked up as I came in. He murmured something like ‘Took your time,’ and I just threw him the bundle and dropped the staff on the floor. He looked slowly from me to the bundle like he was sizing us up. He unwrapped it, slowly. I saw there were the Yngvis seed pods in there, and a magic wand and a folded bit of paper. He just smiled, ‘Hazred did.

“He took a seed and cut it with the curved blade from the staff, and ran the seed all down the edge. He stepped outside and gouged a big ol’ line through the red symbol on the door, it’s a like a charm we put on the door to stop any magic happnin’ in the cell.

“Then he took the seeds and put them in a ring. He kneeled inside the circle an’ read something off the paper and he was wavin’ the wand an’ everything. Can’t remember the words for the life of me but ‘Hazred just knelt there, his eyes shut, breathing slow for a minute. Some sort’a ritual’d be my guess; cutting that ward with the blade must have scuppered it completely. Not that I know what the spell did, mind. He just sat there, kneeling, in like a trance for a minute.

“Suddenly he stands up, gathers up the wand and paper, then wraps the cloth from the bundle round his head like a shawl, a disguise like. Gave me the staff – too suspicious for him to carry it, I guess – and said we’d have to leave the front way, seeing as there’s no other way out. He said… if he didn’t meet his friend on the beach, if he was caught, I’d never see Dara again. I didn’t like it but I had to go through with it.” Brant pauses for a moment, running his paw over the small portrait. “Had to go through with it.

“Luckily – or, ha! Maybe we weren’t so lucky after all. Maybe we should’a been stopped. But the dogs on gate duty didn’ ask questions, anyway. I told ‘em I just had a friend with me, needed lookin’ after and had to be walked home. I pulled rank. They respected me.” He sighs visibly.

“The beach was dark and very still. The hooded man, he was just stood there, not moving an inch, like he was carved from stone or somethin’. ‘Hazred took the staff off me and went ahead. They didn’t shake hands, didn’ seem too friendly. ‘Hazred wasn’t too happy, said he’d been stuck in that cell too long. The other one, the hooded one, just kept going on about how much he’d risked for him. ‘I’m risking a lot for you,’ he said. ‘Risking my position, my reputation’’s what he said. He said that was in the past, anyhow, and a new life was stretching in front of him. They moved towards the water, and I saw a boat drawn up on the shore, which I’d not seen before in the dark.

“I was scared all of a sudden. I didn’t know why back then, but I think I just realised, all of a sudden, what they were doing. I told ‘em to wait up a minute, I asked ‘em for my daughter like we’d agreed. The boat just pushed off, they both bundled into it and started rowing. I called out again, I begged them, and no answer. I stood there shouting and screaming with the boat just rowin’ further and further out, and their oars, their bloody oars splashing in the black water gave me more of an answer’n they did.”

It is not clear whether Brant will face trial for aiding in the escape. His case is being considered, we are assured, with the utmost scrutiny. But sitting before me fondling his worn little picture and trying his best not to break down and cry, it’s clear to me that Sergeant Brant has suffered more than enough.

Globe Trekker – Leprechauns

Posted on March 17, 1817 D.C. by Alexandra McCormic

Life is all around Daventry, including high in the sky and deep beneath the ground. Located south of the castle of Daventry, only accessible by those with enough cunning  to reach the only entrance, is the realm of the Leprechauns. These small people are told to love the fiddle and flee from the four leaf clover. Not many are sure why they flee from the clover but King Graham has told that they will not go near a clover patch.

These strange secretive creatures are the only ones who are able to travel to the other world as my friend Derek has been told. They creep out of Daventry every night for a week to collect gold and anything else of value and can take back to give to their king. Many have tried to catch these creatures in both worlds but sadly none have been caught, only large messes have been left showing that they were there. Only one is allowed to stay in the other world, and it has been discovered that his name is Roy. G. Biv. He brings beautiful rainbows to the other world and to our world of Daventry. Why he is allowed to travel so freely is unknown, but many people look for this little man after rainstorms.

There caves are dark but there is strange warmth in them. There are large torches on the walls that provide some heat but not enough to keep life in these tunnels. Many people have speculated that these people use their magic to keep the tunnels warm, but some have said that there has to be another reason and they are currently trying to find out, no results are due soon.

Leprechauns are closely related to their friends the elf. Both are elusive, have the ability to control magic, and make wonderful shoes. People have commented that they are able to identify who creates which shoes. The lacings of the seams are different and require close inspection. The one big difference between these two groups are their escape methods. Elves are willing to barter for their freedom and usually give their captor what they ask for. Leprechauns, while extremely cunning, do sometimes get caught and when this happens, they grant three wishes. This has only happened a couple of times and the people have never really been happy as they all stated they wished they had their simple life back.

While not much is known about these people, it is confirmed that they are very curious elusive people that are able to travel back and forth between the worlds causing double trouble. As a four wind reporter who is interested in anything about these strange people, I request you please submit your information so these people can be furthered studied.

Ask Crispin

Posted on March 19, 1817 D.C. by Crispin

Q. My dearest, darling-est Crispin,

I find the endless plays, balls, operas, garden parties and the dressing up and making speeches rife with propaganda tedious. The duties that are associated with being a salonnière, the object of worship of a small religion and the beloved leader of a horde of minions are dull and I can’t bear it. I implore you to save me from the rushing, desperate boredom. Run away with me! We’ll elope and bake cupcakes and you can teach me how to make feathers and sparkles and snowflakes and turn into a cat!

Affectueusement,

Deloria

A. My dearest Deloria,

Oh my! I appreciate the sentiment, Miss Deloria, but I’m afraid these brittle old bones of mine would not be able to withstand an eloping of any kind. I can barely walk with a cane as it is. Besides, you’re far too young for me; I have been practicing wizardry for as long as I have had my beard, and that is quite a while. But, if you truly wish to elope, I know a spell that will transport you to the place of your dreams. To perform the spell, you must first envision the place you wish to elope to, then acquire a physical object from said place, and wear a ceremonial garment. While wearing the ceremonial garment, you must place the physical object on your head and balance it perfectly. While the object is perfectly balanced, you must recite the incantation, in sign language. The spell was originally created by a deaf wizard, so all incantations are in sign. Unfortunately, I do not know sign language, and thus cannot translate the incantation for you. I truly hope you can find a way to translate the incantation.

Sincerely,

Your darling-est Crispin

Dear Crispin,

I recently picked up this weird ring I found on my journey through the mountains. Only problem is, now there’s this weird creature skulking around after me, hissing about “His Preciousss” or some rubbish. How can I make him go away?

B. B

Dear B.B.,

A ring? A weird creature? Sounds very mysterious. I admit I don’t have too much experience with repelling creatures and monsters. Perhaps you should give him the ring? I mean, it’s a ring. What’s the worst that could happen?

- Crispin

Q. Dear Crispin,

I have a bit of a predicament going on here; I’m part leprechaun and part dragon. Odd combination, I know, but it is what it is. Anyway, every St. Patrick’s Day, I begin to undergo a little transformation. My back scales turn into four-leaf clovers, my voice changes to be that of an Irishman (accent and all), and I have a strange urge to protect a pot of gold. That’s all well and good, except for the fact that I have an unquenchable craving for alcohol, but alcohol also increases the effects of my transformation; my orange hair turns to flame (which is admittedly awesome, but it burns my scalp like crazy). I was wondering if you knew a way to reduce the pain. I mean, flaming hair kind of hurts.

Sincerely,

Seamus

A. Dear Seamus

   A Leprechaun/Dragon hybrid you say; an odd combination indeed. Let me see here… Ah, yes, here it is. I have some very powerful anti-itch cream that is resistant to fire called Dragon’s Itch. At least, that’s what the packaging says; it’s a little faded out. You can find it at your local apothecary should you choose to use it.

   -Crispin

Editor’s Note: Unfortunately, it appears that Crispin’s sight has once again gotten the better of him. The packaging actually notes that Dragon’s Itch is NOT resistant to fire. At all. In fact, it’s a highly flammable substance. We give our deepest apologies to Mr. Seamus and we will gladly pay for his medical bills as a gesture of good will.

Q. Dear Crispin,

There’s this bridge in Daventry that I have to cross, but this big ugly troll keeps blocking my path, asking for a Troll Toll. Unfortunately, I have no money. I was going to sell stuff on the other side of the bridge, but if I can’t pass it, then I can’t make any money. Please help.

Sincerely,

John

A. Dear John,

Trolls are very tough to deal with. I have had several encounters with them over the years. I would try bartering with him; perhaps promise to pay him later in exchange for crossing the bridge. Or, you could try sneaking past him. If worse comes to worse, you could always try out-running him. A troll has to tire eventually, after-all.

-Crispin

Interview with His Royal Highness, King Alexander

Posted on March 21, 1817 D.C. by Eye Between Worlds

Following Abdul Alhazred’s recent escape from prison, His Royal Highness King Alexander agreed to an interview with Derek Karlavaegen. King Alexander was eager to explain how the escape was allowed to occur, and what is being done to recapture Alhazred.

Derek Karlavaegen: Good afternoon your Highness.

His Royal Highness, King Alexander: It’s good to be here, Mr. Karlavaegen. I think it’s important that the Queen and I are completely open about the way our people are governed.

DK: It’s always good to set the record straight. Let’s begin at the top, shall we? How did the escape happen?

HRH: As the Four Winds already made abundantly clear, Sergeant Brant of the guard dogs was the victim of blackmail and was forced to release Alhazred.

DK: You resent the Winds’ involvement?

HRH: Not at all. It was very public-spirited.

DK: But you still don’t think we should have gone through with it?

HRH: My only concern is that Brant may now be the victim of… People feel strongly about Alhazred. And even though you made it clear in your article that Brant should be pitied rather than condemned, Captain Saladin and I still believe it’s our duty to Brant and his partner to take them into custody for their own good until they can relocate.

DK: Witness protection?

HRH: Exactly.

DK: Is that really necessary?

HRH: I believe everyone has some good in them. But I also believe people are passionate – rash – that they’ll do what it takes to protect people they love.

DK: Well, yes; look at Brant, protecting his daughter.

HRH: But Abdul Alhazred is loose. That’s a whole new level of danger for every Green Isles citizen.

DK: On that subject, why was such a dangerous criminal not better guarded? Why was security so lax around Alhazred’s cell?

HRH: That night the guards were running a skeleton crew. Many were off sick or unavailable for various reasons; as a result, we didn’t have the manpower to post the regular number of guards outside the cell, and patrols within the castle were infrequent. We’re still trying to establish whether the cloaked figure who orchestrated the escape was responsible for this low turn-out, or whether he had access to the guard rosters and was able to act at an opportune moment.

DK: But Alhazred is top priority. Surely you could have posted another guard at least?

HRH: That’s the benefit of hindsight. We posted the guards as best we could; if we’d known this was going to happen we’d have acted differently.

DK: Well, now that he has broken out, what steps are you taking to get him back?

HRH: Our guard dog staff are now back up to full roster, and we’ve posted them at crossroads, in key public places, we’ve sent them to the other islands – we’re instituting a checkpoint system, and our dogs are being given stop-and-search privileges.

DK: Aren’t you concerned that will impact the rights of your citizens?

HRH: We’re hoping it won’t come to that. Our guards have all been given pictures of Alhazred so they know who to look for.

DK: Our readers are still going to be concerned, though. Aren’t you worried Alhazred – who is a known practitioner of magic – could change his appearance?

HRH: Yes, I was just about to mention that. He could be anyone in the street. It’s terrifying. So we’re working on a way to detect such disguises.

DK: Okay, what does this consist of?

HRH: Like I said, we’re working on it. It’s classified until it’s finished.

DK: So you have a hypothetical, untested system for detecting magic-wielding killers, and a load of guards who are out for blood?

HRH: I wouldn’t put it like that. I have the utmost confidence these stop-and-search rules will be used responsibly.

DK: How can you be sure?

HRH: Any dog found exploiting these privileges will be severely disciplined; possibly his or her badge will be taken if it’s a serious breach.

DK: So how do you define a “breach”?

HRH: We’re drawing up a list of rules right now. But you have to remember, this is a state of emergency. Everybody is in danger right now.

DK: You can’t even be certain Alhazred’s still on the Isles.

HRH: No, but the Isles are my responsibility so that’s where I send my guards. Other nations have been informed; they’ve all made it clear that if Alhazred turns up on their shores he’ll be extradited.

DK: And if he doesn’t “turn up”?

HRH: He will sooner or later. Between the castle guards and the loyal citizens of the Isles, I’m sure we can pull together and find him.

DK: Even though you’re pitting the guards against every Green Isles citizen, who may or may not be a murderer in disguise.

HRH: I think I’ve answered your question.

DK: Let’s move on, then. How much have you been able to learn about the cloaked figure behind the escape?

HRH: Unfortunately, we… haven’t been able to learn much. Everyone already knows Brant’s testimony, so you can see for yourself it’s not very helpful.

DK: Did Alhazred have any known associates that might have broken him out?

HRH: Well, yes, of course. A politician like that makes connections, comes from certain networks of information–

DK: So, just look into those.

HRH: They’re mostly dead ends. We’ve investigated them.

DK: “Mostly”?

HRH: Yes. Saladin and I have looked over Alhazred’s correspondence and we’ve decided, the two of us, that they aren’t worth pursuing.

DK: Correspondence? You mean there are documents, letters? Actual physical evidence that this man had contacts?

HRH: Well, yes. Two in particular.

DK: Well, give them to somebody for a second opinion. Hire an investigator to look into it.

HRH: That really isn’t necessary. I assure you, Saladin and I spent many long hours poring over these documents and there really is nothing there.

DK: You might have missed something. Show them to an expert – hey, if you’re that desperate you could show them to me. This is important.

HRH: The decision is final, those letters are confidential and it wouldn’t benefit anyone to dredge them up now. They’re under lock and key in the castle basement and they’re going to stay that way by royal decree.

DK: Do you have any other leads? Anything else to go on?

HRH: Well, no. But something will turn up.

DK: Well, I think we’re done here. Your Highness, thank you for your time.

HRH: My pleasure.

Location Scouting for the Royal Couple

Posted on March 23, 1817 D.C. by Black Widow

Ed Note: for more information about the Unicorn, the hotel mentioned in this article, click here for Cassandra Monte Carlo’s article

Now that the ring is on the finger, the next logical step in wedding planning is… location of course! The couple is of royal blood so naturally it has to be a location of fine taste and ultimate grandeur. A wedding just isn’t a wedding without the perfect backdrop for sappy vows and goo goo eyed expressions of the happy couple! Our realm has several possibilities, including: the family castle in Daventry, Etheria, the Green Isles, Genesta’s castle in Tamir, the red shingled chapel in Kolyma and Serenia.

Well, let’s start with the bride’s homeland, Daventry. The countryside is quaint. A place where the commoners can settle down and have a comfortable, albeit boring, life. And the castle has the Gothic, Middle Age motif about. And the Daventry royal family has history in the castle. King Edward knighted Graham in the throne room and later crowned him king after the Graham returned with the missing treasures. Maybe the magic mirror has a show up its sleeve we don’t know about? In a way, the mirror did lead Rosella to meet Edgar.

Next is fluffy dreamy goodness that is Etheria. It practically oozes romance having the whole realm rest on clouds. I’m not entirely sure what the castle looks like. Sources haven’t filled me in. Come on, keep me in the loop people! Anyway, how precious would it be for the same swan that Edgar proposed to Rosella on to swoop down after the reception to whisk them away onto happily ever after bliss. Ah. I’m almost making myself sick from all the sugary thoughts. Although I’m not sure how tied to Etheria Edgar is. He hasn’t spent much time there, given his fetish for attracting… suspicious women in the past.

The Green Isles also has endless options. The wedding could be on the Isle of the Sacred Mountain. The overview of the sea would be rather spectacular. Oh wait, the Winged Ones live there. They are rather anti-human, even if that human is royalty in their home kingdom. If the couple wanted to go the nerdy chic route, they could go to Bookworm’s place. I used to live there before moving over to the Four Winds. And of course there is the ever popular Castle of the Crown. It has that West Indies tropical look.

The wedding could also be in Tamir. Lolotte’s former castle has been converted into a nice hotel named the Unicorn. The place is nice, but it doesn’t scream “royal wedding” to me. It looks too mainstream resort type for me. Rosella and Edgar should go more of the fairy tale route. Ah! I know just the place. Genesta’s castle on a tiny little island off the coast. The fairy queen would be happy to host for the couple who she helped orchestrate the prince and princess meeting. The lush ivory and violet castle with an opaque sheen and the blooming gardens would be a perfect backdrop. Ah, how I almost envy them.

Kolyma has a chapel with family roots. Graham and Valanice were married in this cute little chapel with red shingles (And an obnoxious ringing bell) out in the country side. A weird monk resides there and I’m sure he would be delighted to perform another wedding ceremony. The people were overjoyed that one of their own got married there. But I honestly do not see Rosella following in Mommy and Daddy’s footsteps. She will want to do her own thing. And Edgar, well, he’s a guy. He’ll go along with whatever the bride wants.

The final option is Serenia, where the legendary wizard Crispin and his annoying rat, ahem, I mean owl live. The landscape doesn’t scream wedding to me. I mean it’s okay but nothing fabulous. It’s too boring. Too working class. Too not royal. It wouldn’t be practical to have it in the desert, unless you want your guests to die of heat stroke. And the only ties the couple has to the place is Graham traveled there in his quest to rescue the family while being held ransom by Mordack. Although I’ve heard the custard pies at this quaint bakery are DIVINE. Maybe they could make the wedding cake.

So, where do you think the wedding should be, my fine specimens? Leave me a comment below.

Burglary!

Posted on March 26, 1817 D.C. by Derek Karlavaegen

This evening the castle of the crown was broken into, and important documents stolen. I confess: I was the culprit, and when you’ve finished reading this you can probably start reading the wanted posters as a kind of sequel.

But before you join the lynch-mob, let me give my reasons. Yes, the eternal and glorious fortress of liberty which is the Castle of the Crown has been breached – but only because that fortress, and those who control it, are unable or unwilling to protect you, their citizens.

Less than a week ago I interviewed His Highness King Alexander. During that interview, he made an offhand remark that the Crown possessed documents left over from Alhazred’s regime. This was personal correspondence to and from Alhazred himself. Surely it would be worth studying them in detail? But Alexander and his captain had looked them over and made an executive decision. They refused (and, I have no doubt, would still refuse) to let the public see these letters, out of a misguided concern for “security”.

But remember: Alhazred is loose. It’s been said before but we must never forget: he is a murderer and tyrant and out for his own gain. He’s a grave risk to public safety. In this spirit, I thought it a worthwhile risk to get to those letters. Perhaps they were useful and perhaps not, but we’d never know until they were published. For that, I was willing to risk imprisonment.

Once I’d settled on breaking in, I had a lot of planning to do. Ironically, I can’t tell you much about the break-in itself. Real criminals – ha! “Real” criminals! – might use that information to break in themselves and cause havoc. While I’m no great supporter of the King’s government, giving thieves a step-by-step guide to rob it blind would be bad for everyone. More importantly, I don’t want to reveal how I got my information: that would only do my source/s a disservice. The less I say the better.

But I will say this. I acquired information which allowed me to work out the best time to sneak in. I also investigated previous break-ins, and came to an unexpected conclusion. Although security had since been tightened, the best way to get inside was to use the same method King Alexander had, back when he snuck into the castle and stopped the pseudo-wedding of Alhazred and Cassima. Maybe I’ve said too much there, but Alexander’s method of entry is a closely guarded secret for obvious reasons, so I shouldn’t think pointing out the irony will jeopardise castle security.

Once inside I had only a short time to find the letters. Glancing over them in the candlelight, a few things stuck out at me. I reprint them here so that any citizen can study them for themselves; perhaps together we’ll see something that Alexander and his captain couldn’t.

This letter was received by Alhazred shortly before his removal from office:

Greetings to a brother of the Black Cloak.

I was sorry to hear of great Mordack’s death, though he was a bit of a ninny at chess. It seems the plans for that little kingdom of yours are coming along. I must congratulate you on your handling of the king and queen. Isolating the islands so that no protest could develop was another brilliant stroke. It looks like there’s not much left to stand in your way. Do as I recommended with the girl, and you shall have your crown.

In response to this, Alhazred wrote a response which was never delivered:

Dear Shadrack,

Salutations from the Society of the Black Cloak, etc. etc. My long preparations are about to come to fruition. In a matter of minutes, I will wed the lovely Cassima. Once I establish my power and my crown, I can stage another ‘accident’. The princess has proven infuriatingly stubborn, as you know. She’s becoming quite a dangerous little thorn in my side. In a way, it is a shame I have to kill her – she is lovely and would be amusing to keep around, but I can’t risk her talking treason to one of the guards. So far, I’ve managed to keep her locked away, but I can’t continue that forever. Well, on to it now. I’d send her to you, but as you know, I had no luck in doing so with Mordack.

I close in triumph,

KING Abdul Alhazred.

They make for chilling reading, and remind us how close the Green Isles came to a dictatorship. But it’s vital that any study of the letters be analytical and unswayed by emotion. Evidently, we have absolute proof that Mordack was in league with Alhazred. I know, through my own research, that Mannannan and Mordack were brothers and met frequently. Since I recently bought Mannannan’s old house in Llewdor, I’ve picked up some hearsay about both of them. I’m sure the question on everyone’s mind, though, is “Who is this Shadrack?” I have no idea but perhaps somebody else will.

Unfortunately my victory was short-lived. Taking the letters, I hurried back to my point of entry when I was spotted by a guard. “The best laid plans” and so on. Thankfully I was able to get out with my liberty and the guards were unable to follow, but I’m certain they saw my face. So the game is up – or perhaps afoot? I have no intention of going to prison when I’d be far more useful tracking down Alhazred myself. I have a few ideas to pursue but, again, the less said the better for my own safety.

I’m aware I don’t practice “normal” journalism. People have called me crazy, a hothead, even a conspiracy theorist – although those people don’t know me too well. I just see myself as having been placed in a position of responsibility: it is – or was – my job to tell you what’s really going on. My concern is other people, and I serve those people as well as I can. Well, now I have a chance to serve you all in a really meaningful way, and it’ll take more than a few guard dogs to stop me, let me tell you.

Monthly Archives: April 1817

Globe Trekker -- Land of the Dead

Globe Trekker – Land of the Dead Posted by Gigi Strongmen on April 13, 1817 D.C.

When my colleague first asked me to take this assignment I was thrilled to visit the mysterious realm of the dead. Hearing accounts from our King as well as the notable Sir Connor Mclyrr sparked my imagination. Only a few have ventured to this place while breath still resided in them and to be one of those few is an honor. However, after arriving I wished I could take it back. The revolting smell of rotting flesh, damp earth and the moldy smell of mushrooms filled the air and the crackling of the bones rubbing against each other is still echoing in my ears. Spirits looked at you with longing eyes, wanting your living body for their own so they can capture the life they had left behind. My escort is a tall man who was armed quite well so no harm would befall us on our journey, Still, the peering eyes haunted me and I found myself not straying far from his side. Before mortals ‘visited death’ and returned to tell the tale many believed that there was only one plane in which spirits moved. It is now known that the River Styx is a combination of several layers. Three known levels exist but it is speculated that there could be more with the darkest of souls in the deepest layers! Creatures of this realm move through the levels easily but for mortals, the River Styx is viewed as perilous. Any living material that touches it, no matter how small, will instantly find permanent residence and under the leadership of Lord Death. Connor previous said Lord Azriel is the ruler of the Realm, but that is misinformation. He is a caretaker of the unknown lower levels of the River Styx. Of late, and quite evident as I walked through the cold, stony passages, his power was weaning. Some mysterious entity was growing more powerful in the far off shadows but no one dared to speak of it. The skeletons guarded their lord with such ferocity that my escort sadly became food for the mindless zombies that wander the dark land. Shame. The guy wasn’t much company anyway. Only communication he could utter was grunting and wheezing. Inside his large protective sanctum, Azriel spoke of a rising evil, more powerful and dangerous than when the Mask of Eternity was broken. He did not reveal the culprit but the trembling tone was indicative of fear toward this new power within his realm. He said the creature, who threatened to destabilize the underworld, was once a wielder of great power and was murdered quite brutally. Revenge kept it from moving forward. The spirits, banshees, skeletons, zombies all follow the rule of Death. However, with this new power, they are straying and becoming

Something was growing more powerful in the far off shadows… restless once more. The passage on to the eternal life, no longer appeals to those who have obtained peace. Instead they crave vengeance and the new power is tempting them. Azriel warned that soon the passage to the higher levels would soon be cut off to contain this massing evil and prevent its escaping. I decide to swallow my fear and retrace my steps. As I travel back up through the winding passageways, the air seems to lighten and is fresher to the scent. Here the passage to the other world and the king’s throne room can be found. The spirits are calmer as the evil has not yet reached them and skeleton guards stand erect, waiting for passing souls. They hardly notice me as I continue my way back to the world of light, love, and life. One thing continues to puzzle me as I leave and return once again to the realm of the living: who or what was that creature craving freedom? Once Spirits have descended to the underworld there is no coming back, only moving on. What could have happened to cause so much anger and hatred for someone to hold forever in purgatory? I do not believe I will ever know the answer but if that creature ever escapes, it would be like a wolf being set free in a herd of sheep. It would be unstoppable. . I also wonder if this has anything to do with Alhazred being released? Maybe Derek is innocent of that charge. Stealing the letters was a bad choice, but now I wonder what he read and what answers he obtained. While I am obligated to investing all legal matters for The Four Winds, nothing can keep me away from a mystery and this one is too good to pass up. Posted under Gigi Strongmen

The Weeping Willow

Posted by The Ants on April 17, 1817 D.C.

The Weeping Willow by Betsy Kirkwood Once upon a time, in the quite peaceful kingdom of Greys, there was a magnificent castle from which a wise king with his young son ruled. Not many people knew about this kingdom, for it lies in the shadow of Daventry, but the people who lived there didn’t mind. They enjoyed the quiet life and savored the protection Daventry provided them. As Prince Herbert grew up, he was taught to hunt, ride, and how to govern a nation. However, Herbert’s true passion was in adventuring. Ever since the young prince could ride, he was always off searching for a dragon to slay or a sea monster to conquer. Now as a young man, Herbert started to travel more, searching for a real dragon and maiden to save to satisfy his adventure craving. The king encouraged his son in all his activities, but he was getting older and didn’t want to depart from this world without knowing that his legacy would be preserved. He hoped that the Princess Rosella would marry his son, solidifying a peace treaty for all eternity, but he knew of her reputation on turning down excellent marriages. Hence, he wasn’t surprised when her response arrived bearing that news. The king then turned his attention to yet another powerful kingdom, whose daughter was just as beautiful as the Princess Rosella, and that was the Princess Penelope. Hubert was taken back by her dark eyes and raven hair, yet there was something about her. He didn’t know what it was as he took her hand to kiss it. It was only a few days later, during the large feast to celebrate Princess Penelope’s arrival, did Herbert discover what he had felt that day she arrived. They were so different to the point where they couldn’t agree on anything. Herbert liked to hunt, she liked paint; he loved riding horses, while she would rather spend days at the ballet. As the ball ended, Herbert slipped out of his high chamber window with a sheet rope and made his way for his personal sailing ship, taking with him nothing but his thoughts.

"By chance, she walked far enough down the beach where she saw Herbert laying in the sand." He didn’t plan to go far; he just needed to escape the life that he was ready to bind himself to. As the ship sailed along the coast, he watched as the stars glittered in the blackness while listening to the distant rumbling of thunder. Everything out here was so wild, ready to change in an instant unlike the structure of the palace. Somehow, he must have fallen asleep because the next thing Herbert felt was the cold hard pelting of the rain upon his face. He fought against the pull of the waves, trying to find any wind to take him back ashore. The mast couldn’t handle the strong winds and the beam snapped into two. Herbert was completely at the mercy of the storm which dragged him farther and farther away from home. His mind spun as he managed to swim towards the nearest shoreline when his ship finally broke under the pounding waves. He rested on his back, glad to be alive, before darkness once again took him. Herbert didn’t know where he landed but as the sun rose the next morning, a young, beautiful princess, Alicia, was out walking the beach, with her thoughts and one maid. The wind rustled her cerulean dress and her long blond hair. Her brilliant violet eyes were filled with tears as she walked. Her father had died many years ago and since then the kingdom had suffered greatly drying up all suitors that could have saved their struggling kingdom. Many of her friends had already married into well off families leaving her alone. By chance, she walked far enough down the beach where she saw Herbert laying in the sand. She ran to the man’s side and her breath caught in her throat. His salt bleached clothes and matted sandy hair didn’t hide how handsome he was, and Alicia instantly fell in love with him. She quickly ordered her maid to send for help back as she stayed holding the man’s hand talking to him softly. He was carried to the palace where he was cared for and within that time, he fell in love with the princess who nursed him back to health. Each day they would spend hours talking and only after a few short days, he knew he couldn’t return home without this treasure with the purest, golden heart he had ever found. As a ship was prepared for his return home, he walked slowly with Alicia along the beach where they had first met and he asked for her to return home with him. She smiled and her violet eyes glittered at the thought and agreed before they kissed for the first time. Cheers and celebrations were heard all over the kingdom of Greys when news of a ship was arriving carrying their lost prince and his bride to be. The king of Greys welcomed them with open arms and praised his son for finding such a wonderful treasure to bring back to share with the kingdom. As an engagement gift, and to please the young adventurous couple, the king sent them to Serenia, a place know for it’s beauty and magic. While there the young soon to be wedded couple enjoyed the delights the kingdom had to offer, there was one who wasn’t so happy. The Witch of the Dark Forest, jealous by Alicia’s charms, wanted Herbert for herself and made plans to marry him. Little did the couple know, as they walked about in the forest, hand in hand, they were being watched. As they neared the entrance to the Dark Forest, the witch struck, appearing out of the dark woods to confront the couple. She professed her love to the prince, who guarded Alicia behind him. He refused the witch saying nothing could remove the love he felt for Alicia and her pure golden heart.

"The witch flew into a rage, banishing the prince to the far reaches of Serenia..." The witch flew into a rage, banishing the prince to the far reaches of Serenia in a powerful bolt of lightning that carried him away from his love. Alicia watched in terror until he was long out of sight before she heard the witch cackle. “I know just what to do to you my dear and your heart of gold!” Alicia froze in terror as she too felt a spell take hold, locking her into place. The ground grew farther away as her height increased, and her golden hair grew longer before turning into green vines. The witch had turned her into a willow and with each tear, a pool slowly formed around her and her transformation was complete. In the witch’s hand, a golden heart appeared. Until Alicia had her heart back, she would remain a Weeping Willow and Herbert would never be able to free her… And there she stood in her pool of tears, with nothing but a harp to comfort her as she watched the sun rise and set, praying each day for Herbert to find her and to free her. Posted under Prose

Monthly Archives: May 1817

Beyond the Threshold

Posted by Derek Karlavaegen on May 5, 1817 D.C.

I am supremely grateful to whichever Gods were watching over me when I stepped through that magical deathtrap. Thank you! It’s not often one stares death in the face and has to shrug it off as calmly as possible. The noise of that thing as you step through, by the way, is really incredible. The booms and cracks from the unstable energy sound like gunpowder in your ear. Terrifying, but amazing nonetheless. But I expect my readers would appreciate me cutting to the chase, and telling them what on earth I found beyond this doorway I have made such a commotion over. Stepping through, I felt a great jolt, as though I had been jerked suddenly upwards by a hook or great hand. For a second or two I could see nothing, but felt as though I were falling a great distance. Then all of a sudden I found myself standing a large room, as though I had just woken from a dream. Disoriented, I tried not to stumble – the sensation really was tremendously strange – and put out a hand to steady myself. Unfortunately, in my disoriented state I must have leaned on the patch of space taken up by the magical doorway. You can imagine my thoughts as I plunged back into the darkness again for another nauseating ride. When I materialised in the cell – and fell flat on my face – I decided to reward my adventurous spirit with a ten-minute break. To be frank, I felt somewhat unwell. Please, readers, pardon my incompetence. I was doing my best. And I of all people know what a massive idiot I can be sometimes. But I at least knew that the door a) worked and b) wouldn’t kill me. Progress at last! How ironic that I should find my liberty via a prison cell. But what sort of liberty? I had only glimpsed the large stone hall beyond the portal. Clearly, I had to investigate. Stepping through the portal again – and careful to remain steady this time – I glanced around quickly, and crouched behind a nearby stone structure. Carefully, I peered into the room. It was a large hall of grey stone, filled with crates and equipment. I recognised it, from King Graham’s description, as Mordack’s laboratory. The magic door hadn’t brought me very far, then: so much for thoughts of escape. The room seemed to have been repurposed as a bedroom and work-area by the newcomers. As I recovered from the confusion of the portal, I heard Alhazred speaking on the floor below. I peeped over the parapet and listened. “…stop raving,” murmured Alhazred. “I can’t imagine what manner of… of torment that could…” “You have no idea,” growled a second voice, harsher. The speaker was hidden behind a large crate. “You truly have no idea.” There was an awkward pause. Alhazred moved to speak again but the other man snapped: “If you’ve nothing to say, Abdul…” I heard three distinct footsteps below. “Abdul”, he murmured, quieter. “I tolerate you. I freed you. But I am doing this for my own reasons.” A moment of silence; the man sat back down. “Look!” sputtered Alhazred. “Look at her. What use is she in such a state?” Sprawled on a thin mattress and covered with a blanket – so thin that I hadn’t noticed her before – was the witch. She was young again,

"It was a large hall of grey stone, filled with crates and equipment. I recognised it, from King Graham’s description, as Mordack’s laboratory." but looked thin and drawn. Her hair changed colour from red to grey as I gazed, and her eyes wrinkled and smoothed with her gasps of pain as she slept. “It is…” the man sighed. “It’s a pity. I am… fond of her. After all we’ve been through. When I found myself – you know where – when I found her there sealed in that ridiculous bottle, well, I didn’t know what to think. But I had been wandering in that place for so long, that endless black ridge of mountains that…” I heard a gasp. “Can’t you understand?” he snapped. “It was just empty! Not a human being, not a single living thing for – I don’t know how long! And the ground just black sand, just this endless, thin sand, it drove me, it drove…” A pause. A long one. “So when I found her… well, I don’t know how long she had been locked away. We were simply glad to speak again.” “I never asked for a speech,” Alhazred retorted. “I have no interest in your poor, weakly-beating heart.” His voice was sharp, edged like a razor. “My concern is our remaining wish.” “Our!” “Yes, our. You seek the expertise of the Family? That does not come lightly. We are not, as they say in Raseir, an ‘open club’.” “I sought you out and freed you, I gave up an all-powerful wish for your ‘family’–” “You – petty little vermin,” he boomed. There was the sound of fist meeting flesh. Alhazred gasped, and tottered back into my line of vision clutching his stomach. There was a long silence. “This is how you treat your allies.” “I saved your life, and what do I get?” “A promise of untold power,” Alhazred spat. “Is that not enough? But we must have your loyalty first. Above all else.” “What if–” “Do you want this?” Abdul stepped forward again, haughtily. “For there are only two paths before you. You can leave this island. Nobody is keeping you here. Or you can stay, help us, and assume your place when the time comes. Those are all.” The man said nothing. Alhazred went on: “And you will be rewarded. In time. But the Family asks for complete commitment. It is our way: you give and give to your brothers and sisters, to your mothers and fathers, until they have you, utterly. And then – it is beautiful, I have felt it – they give back. They give everything.” “I have been…” The man’s voice was low, now, and barely audible. He breathed slowly; deliberately. “Abdul, I think you understand. I believe you do. I always wanted to turn things to the better, to give away all the power and all the, all the hypocrisy and… It was all bound up. In that place, just there, like a knot. I just wanted to cut it, to give people the power…” His voice rose, cracked with emotion. “To give them the responsibility. You know, I often thought… The pieces. You know, I just thought it was so… so fitting that the mask, when I touched it and tried to, to fix everything, this symbol of power and authority just shattered and spread to the four corners. Landing in all sorts of places, for people to find, just ordinary people.” Suddenly his voice was low again. “Even as I sent those… hapless soldiers after them.” He rose, and stepped towards the witch to check on her. Even before I saw him, though, I knew his identity, through myth as much as fact. Every Green Islander – every citizen of Daventry, Serenia, Tamir, no, the whole world – has heard the story of Lucreto the Fallen one, the challenger of Truth, Light and Order, who was cast into the abyss for his crimes. Little did we think he would be walking around up here any time soon.

Answers

Posted by Derek Karlavaegen on May 9, 1817 D.C.

I’ve been shut in the labyrinth for a while now. I can’t even be sure how long it’s been: there’s no sunlight here. Until recently, not a lot had happened, hence my silence. I spent most of my time hidden in the laboratory, near to the portal, trying to eavesdrop on my captors. The witch has been doing worse every day; she fluctuates between the red-headed beauty and the disintegrating crone, but each time her hair becomes greyer, her skin more cracked, her whole body more bulbous as though it’s losing its shape. I have no idea what sorts of forces are causing this, but they must be supremely powerful. The noises from the bedroom have become less frequent, but there is some creature thrashing about in there. Sometimes I can hear what sound like cries of pain, but it’s impossible to be certain. Tonight, however, I witnessed the following exchange. Although it’s quite lengthy, I thankfully had my Four Windscommunicator on hand and was able to make notes. Lucreto was kneeling beside the witch, urging her to take a sip of water. He seems to have become attached to her; he owes her his freedom, after all. Alhazred entered from the hallway. “He’s a little better,” he announced. “But it’s taken long enough. I thought the power of a genie was… infinite. I should know.” Lucreto was silent, crouched over the witch. After a moment he snapped: “This is death. Even the gods cannot pour blood back into a dead soldier.” Alhazred chuckled. “Your gods, maybe.” “I notice you don’t ask how she’s doing.” Alhazred’s eyes narrowed. “She is not my concern at present.” “I was told–” Lucreto stopped, and looked down at the witch’s shifting form. When he spoke again, his voice was cracked and hoarse. “I was told… you were a family. That you care for each other.” “We may call ourselves ‘brothers’ and ‘sisters’, we have our ‘father’ – and, yes, some of us believe it. Manannan, I think, would give anything for our father’s love. But you expect me to take that seriously? I’m surprised at you. You’re naïve.” Lucreto stood, slowly. “And another thing,” he began, his voice suddenly sharp. He advanced on Alhazred. “This… Karlavaegen. What in the name of – what in hells were you thinking? You should have killed him on the spot.” He stood nose to nose with Abdul, and stamped his foot. “On the spot.” “He has his uses,” replied Alhazred, coolly. He hadn’t budged an inch. “Enlighten me.” Alhazred obliged, “I have some ideas. But you practically wrote them yourself. Really, the break-out was inspired. And your handling of our guest…” Lucreto softened a little. “Go on.” “I liked the staff best. Planting that… The work of an agile mind.” “That was weeks ago. We achieved our goal; why not just dispose of him?” Alhazred cleared his throat, and began to gesture rhetorically, balancing a point here, guiding an argument there. “Let us revisit the night of my escape. You have kidnapped the dog’s child; you have acquired a copy of the guard postings, and been able to weaken security by removing key figures. Now all that is left–” “–is to send the guard to get you out,” he snapped. “I am well aware–” “Please, bear with me. I only wish to recreate our reasoning from all those weeks ago. It is a relatively simple matter to extract me – but what then? Ideally you would like to leave no trace, to give the impression no crime was committed – but my absence will hardly go unnoticed.” “So the next best thing is to frame that journalist, I know. I wasresponsible for that. I chose him: I knew his distrust for authority would make him a plausible target. And he was in that cell with you; maybe you could have done something to incriminate him then.” Lucreto scowled: “Hells, I wish I’d thought of that.” “Nevertheless, Mr. Karlavaegen outdid even your expectations. Breaking into the castle – we never expected that. But it is natural that such a curious and, how should I put it, such an irresponsiblecharacter should go to such lengths.” “Exactly. He has done our work for us.” “However.” Alhazred stroked his moustache pensively. “That work is not yet complete. The purpose of these efforts was to conceal your existence. If the world does not suspect that the Society has reformed, our father strikes when they are least prepared. If they knew I had been freed by the great Lucreto… our task becomes difficult. But if they believe this begins and ends with Karlavaegen…”

"The new arrival was a man around six feet tall...deeply scarred with dark purple and black gashes." “The guard dogs even now are seeking him out. We should kill him. If they question him, it may unravel the loose threads in our plan – but if all they have is a body, there is only a mystery.” “My thoughts exactly – but he has already exposed more of our history than I would like. It sounds dangerously… plausible. But if that were shown to be–” There was a crash as a door was flung open. The men froze and turned to the doorway. A long shadow was cast across the floor, and a figure, silhouetted against the light, staggered to the threshold. He leaned, exhausted, against the stone. “So,” he growled. “This is the welcome I…” He slipped down. Alhazred hurried to help him up; the two of them staggered into the room. The new arrival was a man around six feet tall, heavily built but with wrinkled skin deeply scarred with dark purple and black gashes. All the exposed flesh – his neck and face, his bald head, his hands and the bare legs not covered by his nightgown – was crisscrossed by these marks, as though he had been dragged through a tunnel of broken glass. “Easy now, Mordack,” said Lucreto, his arms folded. Mordack? I peered at him, wishing I could get closer without being noticed. But – yes; the face, scarred and wrinkled and ruined though it was, could have been Mordack’s. But what a change from his glory days. “You drag me from the sea of souls – from that quiet landscape – and for what? To cram me into this – this parody? At first I thought I’d been dragged to the lower circles and thrown in the fire. I’d have welcomed that!” he roared. “And Shadrack?” quipped Lucreto. “You don’t have the right, you do not have the power to utter that name!” Mordack cried. “You still admire him, then.” “I…” Mordack was quiet. “Aren’t you eager to do his work again?” Lucreto asked, “Take your revenge on the ones that killed you?” “I don’t care! Or at least I didn’t. Now, though…” Mordack paused. “I suppose you have me.” “About time. We’ve had you on our hands for days. That’s the first intelligible thing you’ve said.” “So!” said Alhazred. “Our first order of business: what to do with our witch.” Mordack was soon filled in on the details. “I fail to see why we need to stay here. The longer we remain, the greater the risk of discovery.” Lucreto stepped forward. “No,” he said, firmly. “I will not leave her.” “Then we part ways. You are no longer needed.” “She helped you, you owe her your life.” “A life?” Mordack rose to his feet and swept forwards like a wave, grabbing Lucreto by the throat and pitching him backwards to the floor. “A life! You think this is a blessing?” Alhazred wandered over to the scuffle nonchalantly, vaguely interested. Lucreto gasped for air – then suddenly Mordack was lifted off his feet in a flash of orange light and a thunderous boom. He landed a few feet away, winded. Lucreto raised himself onto his elbows, gasping for breath. “One wish,” he wheezed. “We still have one wish. There are other people you would like to see alive again – to help with the coming struggle. You need her alive. And…” He raised himself to his feet and walked over to Mordack, who was breathing heavily. “Touch me again and I’ll kill you.” As far as I can tell, they’ve not spoken since. Evidently, when mages disagree, there may be casualties. Posted under Authors,Derek Karlavaegen

Monthly Archives: August 1817

Atticus' Journey

Posted by Cassandra Monte Carlo on August 20, 1817 D.C.

Traces of the early morning sunrise peaked through the windows of an adobe hut. It was an ordinary hut; hundreds like it lined Candoria, a small island off the coast of Llewdor. A collie dog-like humanoid creature lay restless in his bed, sickened with apprehension. It is no use, Atticus thought. Rest doesn’t exist anymore. He yawned and rubbed his eyes. He glanced at his sleeping wife, Veronica. Her slumber appeared as fitful as his; it was inevitable in their homeland’s circumstances. Humans and dog hybrids coexisted in peacefully in Candoria for centuries. Sadly, famine and drought had struck the land in the last few years. The monarchy, ruled by King Aziz, became greedy and hoarded what little food was left. They forged a stone walled compound only humans could enter and recruited a select few dogs to guard it. Atticus was one of those dogs and hated his job. It pained him to turn away his own kind from scarce life sources. Feuding broke out frequently and usually ended in bloodshed. His guard partner, a shepherd type dog, viciously murdered his friend Samir in one of these battles. Samir’s murder broke Atticus. For weeks he tossed and turned, reliving his counterpart slaying his friend. Sometimes he even awoke howling from the pain. He knew he had to get himself and Veronica out of the country; it was not safe for his sanity and their unborn twins. The couple scraped by because of his guardian status but it wasn’t the quality of life to raise a family. He didn’t want his children to go hungry for days on end, hear the screams of war or see their fellow countrymen being murdered. And the only way for him to secure that vision was to look for a new place to live. However, information about other lands was highly secured. All the books in Candoria were in King Aziz’s castle and not even guard dogs that protected government property were allowed in there. Atticus knew if the king found out he deserted his post for safer ground, Veronica would be killed instantly. Nevertheless, he would not rest until he’d done everything within his power to protect her. So he asked his brother Johannes to hold his post at the barracks and look after her until he could make it back. She protested profusely at first; he was going into the search blindly and could die along the journey. He assured her this was necessary and he would return for her. Atticus started his journey in a small rowboat Johannes crafted to Llewdor. He landed in Port Bruce, a little sea town on the coast, a day later. He noticed a ginormous ship had come in for trade. He hadn’t seen one in months because of the war. I wish I could get enough supplies for everyone back home. He sighed. It would be no use. Aziz would come after him for trying to be fair. In fact, the king probably would penetrate his cover rather easily. But as for a way to protect his family further, Atticus had no answer. He hung his head and trudged toward town. A sudden noise caught his attention. “Psst…” He studied the surroundings. As it was early morning, the town was barely awake. He didn’t see any sign of life, except for an open door in one building. “Psst, over here.” The source of the voice seemed to come from inside the open door. Atticus gingerly approached the building. A four legged creature similar to him was lying on floor next to a shelf. It can’t be. Dogs can’t talk. But then again I’m a dog and would be not be trusted outside Candoria. He grunted. The retriever raised his head and smiled. Fear not Atticus. I am here to help you. The voice in his head took the latter by surprise. He decided to try communicating telepathically. Who are you? The dog shook its head. Never mind who I am. I am here to relay a message to you. Last night I had a vision of an oracle. She told me to tell you to come see her. She knows your predicament and can help you. Atticus snorted. You’re barking mad! How am I supposed to find this oracle and why should I trust you? I don’t even know you! Do you want your family safe? The stout collie whimpered. Isn’t that why he embarked on this journey in the first place? To save his family from the greedy monarchy in Candoria? I would do anything. It’s not safe at home. Then you must trust me. A massive cave rests outside of town.The dog titled his head toward the right. A monstrous spider shields it most of the time so you must kill it before you enter. I promise if you do this your family will be safe. Atticus nodded. Thank you. Farewell. He took off north from Port Bruce. The slate cavern resided about a mile outside of town. Sure enough, a fierce black tarantula guarded its domain. It clipped its front pinchers in contempt, ready for battle at any moment. Atticus drew his sword. He didn’t want to kill, but evidently it would be necessary to get his family to safety. He ran the spider through with one swift stroke. The web dissolved and his pathway cleared. He entered the cave hesitantly. “Come, dear Atticus” The collie couldn’t believe his eyes. A spirit adorned in the purest white cloth awaited him. He’d never seen a sight like her. She presided over a pure pool of water. Despite his hesitation, he felt at peace in her presence. “Great One” He bowed in respect. “I know why you are here. You seek the safety of your family and your compatriots in Candoria.” This assertion surprised Atticus. His main motivation lied in keeping Veronica, their unborn children, and Johannes out of harm’s way. Yet he’d seen too many of his race slain in the battles by the compound and wished he could find a way to preserve the population. But he didn’t know how. “How do I accomplish that?”

“Please, Your Highness” Atticus breathed, getting to his feet. “I mean no harm. I am simply looking for a place to keep my family safe." “There is an island nation in this realm called the Land of the Green Isles,” the oracle explained. Not many outsiders are able to reach it because of stormy waters. The king has been dissatisfied with the quality of his human guards. But before you assume this post, you must perform a task.” A task? He’d experienced much hardship already. He felt reluctant to put himself out there again. “What kind of task?” “It will test your fears and your strength. But you will succeed and prove your worthiness. You will start a new tradition of recruiting guarding dogs for the Castle of the Crown. It is your destiny.” How did she know he will? How does he know this isn’t some kind of a trap? He also didn’t like the idea of working for government again. How did he know the regime in the isles wasn’t exactly like King Aziz? “Will Veronica be safe?” “Fear not. I will put your doubts to rest. She will be safe and your children will be born in the Green Isles unharmed. I will arrange a way for her to get there. Now then, let’s get you to the castle.” She raised her hands and cast a spell before Atticus could blink. He was sent into a spinning stupor. After a moment, he landed on hot sand that got into his mouth and ears. He spit it all out and rubbed his eyes. Before him was a majestic castle with four pointed towers that gleamed in the late morning sun. He’d never seen such a building. But before he had a chance to stand, he felt weight push him back down. “Who are you, vermin?” One of the guards sneered. “Please, I mean no harm.” Atticus said, struggling under their threshold. “Then why did you just appear out of midair?” The second one chimed in. “We’ll take you to King Abbas. He will know what to do with you!” The two brutes dragged Atticus down the path, into the castle and up the stairs to the king’s study. One of them kicked the door open. “I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU NOT TO DO THAT!” Abbas’ irate voice rang out. He took one look at Atticus and frowned. “Aren’t you an odd looking creature? Please let go of him.” The guards dropped the broken dog with a thud “Please, Your Highness” Atticus breathed, getting to his feet. “I mean no harm. I am simply looking for a place to keep my family safe. A war is going on back in my country of Candoria.” Abbas studied the collie for a moment. “Hmm. You seem like a stout fellow. I’ll make you an offer. A treacherous sea creature lives in the bay near our ferry. It has been chomping the wood in the bottom and I know if we tried to take the boat off the dock, it would be destroyed. It’s made trading with the other islands impossible. If you can kill that creature, I’ll let you take over their job.” He nodded toward the guards. The guards cursed but did not move because they knew the king was a formidable opponent in combat. “Fair enough” Atticus said and drew his sword. “Take me to this menace.” A few minutes later, King Abbas, Queen Rashi, and a small curious crowd gathered at the dock. Atticus didn’t care for the attention but this was his chance. He noticed a gray, ginormous shark-like creature with enormous jaws near the shoreline. That must be the fiend. Here goes nothing. He took a deep breath and jumped in the water. The beast was startled by the noise and swam towards the dog. It bared its teeth. Atticus attempted swinging his sword but that was nearly impossible in the water. I need to settle this with my own hands. He attempted to grab the fish but it evaded him. After several failed attempts, he caught the creature by the tail. It bit him in the arm. Enraged, Atticus wrestled it onto the beach. The shark’s bite was relentless. He took his sword with his good arm and stabbed it between the eyes. Blood gushed as he stabbed it several more times before the jaw released and he pulled his mangled arm out. The king and queen rushed to Atticus’ aid. “You said you had a family, son?” “Yes” Atticus whimpered. “My brother and wife. My wife is pregnant with twins.” “Not to worry” Queen Rashi smiled as she wrapped shreds of her robe around his arm. “They have a home here. As do you.” Atticus smiled, the first in many months. If the monarchs were personally helping mend his wounds, it won’t be so bad to live here. “Thank you, Your Highness.”

Posted under Cassandra Monte Carlo and tagged with Kristen Hainkel

Four Winds: The Rich and the Worthy

Posted by The Ants on August 21, 1817 D.C.

Antiquas. A sunny island resort, bounded with glittering beaches and glistening surf. A world filled with peace and harmony, where the music of the waves and gulls accompanies my slow-paced existence. A paradise complete with a golf course, health spa, swimming pools, people to do your laundry, fruity drinks with bendy straws – what more could a man possibly want? By the Gods I am so bored! It feels like I escaped one island prison only to fall into another. People are always asking to clean my room, to bring me drinks, to give me a massage or a sausage in a bun or to rub lotion on me and I simply hate it to its cheerful, helpful core. Which is not to say anyone else feels out of place here. There are half a dozen couples here – the resort’s ten spaces for retired couples are not quite filled – and these seem to enjoy an existence comprised entirely of cheerful staff and trips to the seaside. Jerry and Millie Fishback are here, their Antiquas fees still paid by the bag of diamonds given to them by Princess Rosella in Tamir several years ago. Lon and Lolita Shoemaker were not quite so fortunate when the royal family called on them in Serenia: while King Graham’s gift of a pair of shoes raised a lot of capital, they soon realised they would have to invest this money in Serenian businesses and live off the proceeds to keep up with the resort’s fees. Both couples are comfortable, however, and as long as Serenia’s markets stay moderately profitable, Lon and Lolita can sleep soundly. As such, this trip has been something of an eye-opener. Of the six couples here at Antiquas, the remaining four are all either highborn – lords and ladies of Daventry and Serenia – or wealthy middle-class couples who were industrious or cunning enough to make enough money to retire in luxury. The problem is that one doesn’t need to be noble, or have royal favour, or be respected among one’s peers, or even to be pleasant to get into Antiquas: one simply needs money. I do not begrudge these elderly couples the money they were given – not in the slightest.

In its place is a ramshackle settlement comprised of shacks, lean-tos and makeshift tents They were in desperate need of a way out, both couples growing older and feebler by the day, increasingly unable to support themselves by their own efforts and facing a bleak future. It was surely only a matter of time before both couples starved or were evicted, and I for one am filled with a flush of relief whenever I see Lon knock a golf ball onto the green, or Millie settle down on the beach with a good book. But I can’t help thinking about all the other Fishbacks and Shoemakers, the hundreds of forgotten people, who weren’t fortunate enough to have a king or a princess waltz into their life and bestow a fortune on them from out of the blue. It was while discussing this very fact with Jerry that he mentioned how Tamir seems particularly full of such people right now. “Went to see the old place again, we did, and blow me down if it weren’t full to the brim with all sorts. Fishers, campers, whittlers, you name it, they’d found a patch’a ground to sleep on. Thousands of ‘em, people far as the eye could see. They’d even broken into the ol’ house and set up there, so we decided to get out and leave ‘em to it. It’s not our home any more.” Needless to say, I caught a ship to Tamir soon afterwards to witness this for myself. I was fortunate enough to chronicle Rosella’s journey through Tamir for the Daventry Archives, and as such had imagined the place many times: the rolling green meadows, the picturesque landmarks and the rustic houses. This, the old Tamir, is gone now. In its place is a ramshackle settlement comprised of shacks, lean-tos and makeshift tents. Old landmarks have been colonised by the newcomers: people sleep beneath the old stone bridge at night, and hang canvas from the pillars of the Cupid pool, sheltering them against the rain. The houses of the ogre and dwarves are largely untouched: the ogre is not to be trifled with, and since the increase in immigration the dwarves have employed guards to watch over their home and mines. With the recent discovery of a tunnel into the swamp many locals hoped for a chance to drain the swamp and expand east – but this prospect has stalled now that the entrance seems to have magically sealed once more. With limited space, the meadows and places of natural beauty are swamped by the sheer mass of people: the refuse of other teeming shores. Speaking to the locals, it is clear what happened. Upon Lolotte’s death the sovereignty of Tamir should ideally have passed to Genesta. However, a number of factors have limited the fairy’s rule. Firstly, Genesta lives on an island separated from the mainland and can only be reached there; the journey can be perilous since the sea is filled with sharks, whales and other dangerous sea life, and so people from the mainland seldom seek her out. Her intervention in Tamirian affairs is therefore rare. This is not to say Genesta is lax in her security measures: since the loss of her talisman she has improved the security of her island castle, even sending fairies to the mainland to ascertain possible threats to her person. This is self-preservation rather than government, however, which brings us to the next point. Secondly, Genesta sees herself more as a protector than a ruler, and is reluctant to intervene in Tamir directly unless she has been specifically requested to solve a problem or end a dispute. When Lolotte was alive, Genesta was always eager to protect her people from the influence of the evil fairy. With the villainess gone, Genesta feels her people are in no immediate danger. The mainland has therefore become unclaimed territory, with Genesta reluctant to exert any kind of claim. Once people heard, an influx of immigrants and refugees, hoping to claim a patch of Tamir for themselves and live the good life in its picturesque meadows, was inevitable. Except the meadows are gone, now. My investigations are not yet complete, but already it’s clear that the whimsical land that Rosella saved has been radically transformed. Whether for better or worse I cannot yet say. Rest assured, however, that a complete description and explanation of Tamir’s new face will follow in my next article. Posted under Mystery Man and tagged with Heather Smith

Monthly Archives: September 1817

Daventry's Pick Up Lines

Posted by Cro on September 9, 1817 D.C.

(Editor’s Note: Four Winds doesn’t guarantee success when using said pick up lines. You may come off looking like an idiot. Speak at your own risk) 1) Hey baby, this wand doesn’t fizzle and die. 2) I got a big wooden king in my pocket, wanna see? 3) May I sample your custard pie? 4) I don’t need any magic beans for this beanstalk to grow. 5) Would you like my crystal dragon in your crystal cave? 6) Ladies are awestruck by my ceremonial sword. 7) This staff won’t break. 8 ) Would you be charmed if I showed you my flute? 9) I’m a real wolf in bed, you know. 10) Hi, I have a never ending supply of gold. 11) You should stay away from Poisonous Snakes… but don’t worry, mine won’t bite. 12) You know what they say about genies – your wish is my command. Care for a mint? 13) You must be Beauty… ’cause I’m a real beast. Posted under Cro and tagged with Brian Zabell

Ask Crispin

Posted by Cassandra Monte Carlo on September 19, 1817 D.C.

Dear Crispin, Where do centaurs come from? Where can I go to meet one? -Young and curious Dear young and curious, Legend has it that these majestic creatures are direct descendants of Zephyr, the Lady of the Winds, and Sirocco, the Wind Horse. Centaurs once lived and thrived in the centaur village located in heart of the forests of Llewdor. Their village was always heavily guarded by centaur sentries at all hours of day and night. Once a year the centaurs would invite the most esteemed wizards during their spring celebration honoring their ancestor and god, Sirocco. I was fortunate enough to be invited to one of their annual feasts where they displayed their bountiful harvest and artistic expertise of various performing arts. Blessed with the dexterity of human hands and the speed and grace of a body similar to that of a horse, centaurs were skilled in vocations like farming as well as in combat training and warfare. The elder centaurs would try to teach their apprentices the importance of synergy and the balance in nature. The younger centaurs however considered themselves to be superior to all beasts and men. Centaurs lived a reclusive existence in their village and thus could not get any help as their village was attacked and destroyed by the ogres. It is tragic that their pride and faith in their own prowess led to their downfall. No one knows exactly where the surviving centaurs reside but rumor has it that they have since moved to the southern beach of the island of Llewdor. However this remains an assumption that has not as yet been proven for a fact.

Dear Crispin, I am writing to you in a state of extreme desperation. I need your advice on how I might be able to meet my knight in shining armor. I am a maiden in search for my prince. I have waited for so long and have yearned with all my heart. Do I venture forth to the Oracle in the Isle of the Sacred Mountain? Perhaps she can help me find my true love. Or do I lock myself in a tower, like Queen Cassima and wait for my dearest to come and rescue me? Please help me. - Maiden all Forlorn Dear Maiden all Forlorn, Please do not lock yourself in a tower; that would be just awful! You can try to reach Sacred Oracle in the Isle of the Mountain. However I would personally not recommend It, as the Winged Ones are not exactly…hospitable and do not allow just anyone (especially someone without wings) to have an audience with their Oracle. You cannot expect to sit and wait forever for your one true love. If you are really desperate, I suggest that you take matters into your own hands and venture forth into the world. You can probably make an adventure out of it…and who knows? You might just succeed in your quest. Keep your spirits up and let love lead the way. Posted under Ask Crispin,Uncategorized Comments (1)

Monthly Archives: December 1817

12 Days of Caroling: Day One

Posted on December 13, 1817 D.C. by Eye Between Worlds

Welcome to the Four Winds’ 12 Days of Caroling! Each day, we will feature a classic carol sung by our own Sylver. Today we present to you “Silver Bells”, composed by Jay Livingston and written by Ray Evans. This features some youngsters. Happy Holidays and look for more songs in the coming day.

Silver Bells

12 Days of Caroling: Day Two

Posted on December 15, 1817 D.C. by Sylver

Sylver brings another present: the classical carol Oh Holy Night.

Oh Holy Night

12 Days of Caroling: Day Three

Posted on December 16, 1817 D.C. by Eye Between Worlds

Today’s selection is more jolly. Have you ridden in a one horse open sleigh? Sylver has, and she’s singing about it! Again, she has children singing along with her. Here’s Jingle Bells. Note from Editor: The Four Winds is trying uploading the files to the blog directly instead of a third party. Please let us know in the comments if there’s any trouble.

Jingle Bells

12 Days of Caroling: Day Four

Posted on December 17, 1817 D.C. by Sylver

Today, Sylver serenades us with the mellow classic, Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas. Written by Ralph Blane and composed by Hugh Martin.

Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas

12 Days of Caroling: Day 5

Posted on December 19, 1817 D.C. by Sylver

Sylver’s next gift is The Christmas Song. Written by Mel Torme and Bob Wells.

The Christmas Song

12 Days of Caroling: Day 6

Posted on December 20, 1817 D.C. by Eye Between Worlds

May you sleep heavenly tonight by listening to Sylver’s rendition of Silent Night:

Silent Night

Winged Ones Sue Falderal Imports for Copyright Infringment

Posted on December 20, 1817 D.C. by Eye Between Worlds

Greetings to my admiring audience from Black Widow, your official gossip reporter from the Green Isles. The Land of the Green Isles has been experiencing a lot of excitement in the past couple of days. The Falderal Imports shop in the marketplace of the Isle of the Crown received a royal proclamation from the Isle of the Sacred Mountain this week. This royal decree expressly prohibited the shop owners from making copies of and trading artifacts significant to the Isle of the Sacred Mountain. These include replicas of the Golden Fleece, red Minotaur plushies and including, but not limited to, imitation wings as some of the merchandise sold at the newly opened store. Falderal Imports trades in replicas of the items that serve as memorabilia of the many trips undertaken by the royal family of Daventry. Falderal Imports came into existence as the result of a collaborative effort of Mr. Ersatz DeFaux, from the mystic land of Falderal, and Hakim, the pawn shop owner, who has a well established business in the Isle of the Crown marketplace. The four winds ran an article just a week ago describing the various goods and merchandise that Falderal Imports has to offer to the average bargain hunter. It must be disheartening for the proprietors to be stuck in a legal hassle just weeks from stating business. The bustling crowds in the marketplace, including the four winds staff, were both astonished and amazed by the sight of three flying figures, silhouetted in the sunlight, land among them in the late hours of the morning. “I thought I was seeing a divine angel as I glanced up at the skies”, a local lamp merchant observed. One of these “angels” (as we know well now) was Marcus Tullius, the legal representative of the Winged Ones bearing the official proclamation from Lord Azure himself. It was the expeditious action of Ali from the neighboring book store which brought Saladin and his guard dogs to the scene. And as soon as the cavalry arrived, they managed to cordon off the pawn shop from prying eyes. However yours truly was able to get in and offer you an exclusive report of the day’s proceedings. Marcus Tulius read out the official scroll with the usual flair so characteristic of the Winged Ones with the two scared store owners huddled against the back wall. As I have noted previously, the crux of the whole pronouncement was that the Winged Ones were displeased that replicas of their artifacts/possessions were being traded without their prior approval or consent. This was considered a breach of universal proprietary laws. The Lord and Lady of the Sacred Mountains had thus sent the summons via Marcus Tulius to have Defaux appear before them to redress this complaint. Captain Saladin acknowledged the legal decree, saying: “I understand that this is a grave issue requiring immediate resolution. Nevertheless, I must object to letting Mr. Ersatz or Hakim be taken anywhere without legal representation. I suggest that you present the matter before King Alexander in the royal palace to ensure that impartial justice is carried out.” The grimace on the Lawyer’s face slowly changed to a smile, and just when I thought he would explode in laughter at the audacity of the Captain’s proposal, he bowed slightly and replied “An excellent suggestion Captain. Take us to your leader.”

Lord Azure meets with lawyer Marcus Tulius before sending him to the Isle of the Crown. With that, the whole group including the two accused headed for the royal Palace. I was fortunate enough to get a ride on the shoulders of one of the burly guards. At the palace, King Alexander and Queen Cassima listened patiently to the proprietary violation charges as put forth by Tulius. After the lawyer finished, both the king and queen were in deep silence for a few moments before the King broke the silence. King Alexander addressed Marcus Tulius “Sire, as the official legal representative of the Isle of the Sacred Mountain, I am sure that you have been endowed with certain privileges, like giving your consent for a trial date and place for the accused.” “His Majesty is quite insightful. As a matter of fact, I am granted absolute autonomy by Lord Azure on legal matters such as this.” “Excellent! Then I propose a trial date set to a fortnight from today with the royal palace of Danventry as the site of the trial. This would give both sides time to prepare for the legal proceedings while providing a neutral location for conducting the actual trial. We can have two jurors each from the Isle of the crown and the Isle of the Sacred Mountain”. “Very well. Let be known that we, the Winged ones of the Isle of the Sacred Mountain are an amenable and moral people. I will let Lord Azure and Lady Ariel know of this development”. With that, the three winged messengers left the room. As soon as they had left, Queen Cassima turned to the captain and said, “Captain Saladin, can you please ask one of your guards to get Wilberford Clayton from the town. Please inform him that his services are required at the palace posthaste.” “At once, Your Majesty” Captain Saladin replied with a curt bow as he exited the throne room.

12 Days of Caroling: Day Seven

Posted on December 21, 1817 D.C. by Eye Between Worlds

Sylver’s got some requests for Santa…

Santa Baby

12 Days of Caroling: Day Eight

Posted on December 22, 1817 D.C. by Eye Between Worlds

Auld Lang Syne

Most Wonderful Time of the Year

12 Days of Caroling: Day Nine

Posted on December 23, 1817 D.C. by Eye Between Worlds

Sylver and Cassandra Monte Carlo duet for Carol of the Bells

Carol of the Bells

12 Days of Caroling: Day Ten

Posted on December 26, 1817 D.C. by Sylver

Are you decorating your home with boughs of holly? Sylver is.

Deck The Halls

12 Days of Caroling: Day Eleven

Posted on December 27, 1817 D.C. by Sylver

The Four Winds hopes you have enjoyed our first annual 12 Days of Caroling. Happy Holidays and wishes for a prosperous new year.

Gloria

Monthly Archives: February 1818

Wizards' Gambits

Posted on February 6, 1818 D.C. by Andrew Greyson

When I stepped into the lost city of Tanalore, I did not know what I expected to see. The Sphinx had opened the gate for Mordack and me, but I thought even more dangerous challenges awaited us such as traps or monsters.

What I did not expect when I stepped into the city was a display of architectural wonders towering over us like sleeping titans. In every direction I looked, I saw the massive remnants of intricately built architectural projects that, at one point in time, must have been designed by the greatest minds of an age that valued art, beauty, and aesthetics.

The city itself sloped up from its corners where, at the center of the city, a large building that was reminiscent of a palace imposingly overlooked every corner. The building showed a stark contrast of power in a city where every other building I saw showed a more aesthetic or practical purpose, such as aqueducts, markets, and homes. All of these buildings appeared remarkably intact despite the hundreds of years the elements had chipped away at city’s infrastructure. Despite the weathered and broken buildings, I never thought that Tanalore could possibly have been this large and this grand.

Truly was this, as Crispin first told me, the City of Gold. For the first time since Lolotte imprisoned me, I was optimistic that this plight would soon be behind me and I could return home. All that was left for me help Mordack find the books he was searching for and return me to Daventry.

When I stepped into the lost city of Tanalore, I did not know what I expected to see.

Mordack broke the silence and asked, “What did Crispin tell you about this city? Are there any important details that he talked about that you did not add into your article about the magic fruit?”

“Huh?” I answered. It had been so long ago since I had written that article. The interview that I had with Crispin spanned over an entire day. I obviously could not have written everything he and I discussed, but I did not remember leaving out significant details either. “Why are you asking this now?”

“If Crispin knew about Tanalore, Amrita, and the plague that struck this city, then he would have also known that Lolotte was the one who conjured the plague that led to its downfall. But you didn’t mention it in that article. I was the one who told you that. Did Crispin truly not tell you?”

“He never told me that,” I answered honestly. “Why is this bothering you so much? Maybe Crispin just didn’t know. Maybe he forgot. Everyone knows he’s forgetful.”

Mordack guffawed. “Oh, how incredible it is that people still buy his act! Crispin is no more forgetful than I am, and he is smarter and slyer than even I will ever be.”

I furrowed my brow. What kind of nonsense was Mordack implying? “What are you talking about? Unlike you, Crispin is a good wizard. He helped Graham save his family from you and he takes time to write advice articles for our publication. What are you trying to get at here?”

“It truly is about high time you learned about the real world around you,” Mordack growled. “The world is not as black and white as you believe. Crispin didn’t help Graham out only to save his family. He had three other objectives: to kill me, to set Cassima free, and to get Alexander to visit the Green Isles and consequently thwart our plans to control the Green Isles. If I had been around to help Abdul, I never would’ve allowed Alexander to reach the Green Isles.”

“How paranoid are you!?” I breathed. “Are you really trying to tell me that Crispin had the foresight to know that if he helped Graham, he would indirectly prevent you from helping Abdul? That Crispin could possible know that Alexander not only would fall in love with Cassima, but also would oust Abdul? Are you insane?”

Mordack’s eyes narrowed. “No, I am not. I have known Crispin for over one thousand years. I know what type of man he is. He sets a plan in motion and then watches the events unfold in the background with no one ever thinking he was involved. For example, did you not think it odd that Crispin asked you to search for another magic fruit alone? And that when Lolotte imprisoned you he never came to help you? Do you not think that there is a reason Crispin never helped you? Do you not think that, since he never came to help you or get anyone else to help you, he might have planned for your imprisonment?”

“Well, I-…” How could Mordack expect me to respond? I either had to believe that Crispin was really that cunning or that Mordack was absolutely paranoid and stupid. From what I’ve learned about both wizards, neither belief sat well with me. “What would be the point?”

Mordack sighed and his voice grew calmer. “I don’t know yet. For now, forget I said anything. All I asked was whether or not he said anything else that may have been relevant. If you really don’t recall anything, that’s fine. All that matters for now is the spell books.” Mordack turned toward the large building in the middle of the city and pointed. “That looks like where the palace must be. From all of the accounts from Crispin and Lolotte, the libraries must be inside of the palace.”

Neither of us spoke to each other on the walk to the palace. I didn’t know what to talk to him about, and I didn’t want to say anything that would anger him. I wanted to ask him about his experiences with Crispin or about the other Black Cloaks like Abdul and Lucreto. Instead, I wondered about many other things. I wondered if Mordack would stay true to his promise to send me home after I helped him. I wondered if there truly were books in the palace libraries that would help cure Mordack and help find his brother Manannan. I wondered if I could even go back home and live peacefully after all that’s happened to me. Worse, I wondered if I would be arrested for aiding Mordack. And what about all of what Mordack just said about Crispin? Was I to ignore it?

The world is not black and white, Mordack had said. The more I’ve learned about the Black Cloaks, the more I’ve begun to believe it. Lolotte, I realize, was just looking for a place to be comfortable and loved after her exile from Tanalore, but that didn’t mean that terrorizing Etheria and Tamir for that comfort she wanted wasn’t reprehensible either

When we climbed the final step up to the palace, I could not help but to gaze at its magnificence. The large domed palace had, at its corners, towers that seemed to scrape the heavens. I saw parts of this palace showing over the walls when we approached the city through the swamp, but actually standing right at the front door showed me what an authoritative symbol this palace must have meant to the world prior to the calamity that befell it.

Mordack’s eyes burned with determination as he said, “I sense it! I know it! The spells that I seek are in this building! Somewhere in here are the secrets that will show me how to cure myself from this torture that Abdul and Lucreto forced upon me. Somewhere in here lies the secret to tracking down my brother.” He then outstretched his arm to point toward the base of the building. “We split up here. Doubtless the entire palace is lined with books, and I know that what we’re looking for is in there. I will check the libraries in the main halls. There is certainly a base level laboratory that should also hold some relevant tomes. You will go there and search for anything related to what we’re looking for.” Mordack snarled and he shuffled past me, saying, “I will not stand one more hour as this abomination. I won’t…”

After he threw himself through the door, I took a moment to just stand still for a few moments. For once, I was alone. The only sounds present were faint sounds of water flowing through the city gardens and the wind blowing around me. Even it was it only momentarily, I was free. No wizards commanding me, no confusing conversations, no verbal threats, no immediate danger. I closed my eye and savored the moment with a deep breath.

As I exhaled, though, I felt myself choking. My blood was burning, boiling! I fell to my knees and started coughing for what felt like an eternity. It was the same feeling I had when Mordack first infused me with what he called the ‘dark arts.’ It was the same feeling I had when I somehow stopped Lolotte in her tracks. I couldn’t think! I couldn’t breathe! My satchel felt as if it was searing my skin off! I flung it to the ground.

The moment my satchel touched the ground, my pain gradually subsided. I caught my breath and cautiously opened the satchel with wide-eyed wonder. I curiously looked inside to see if something odd was happening. My writing utensils were still there along with my dagger.

But the oddly-cut blue gem that Lolotte had given me and warned me to keep secret from Mordack glistened, twinkled, and then faded. I took the gem and examined it. Why was this gem glowing by itself? Why did Lolotte have it and why did she specifically tell me never to show it to Mordack? I still could not decipher the symbol carved of the gem. It looked much like the Winged Ones’ letters, but I knew the carving was a symbol I had seen before. I just could not remember what the symbol was.

I slipped the gem into my satchel and then slipped the satchel back around my waist. I did not want Mordack to start wondering where I was.

Before I entered the palace, I took one last look at the bright blue sky hanging over these magnificent ancient wonders. For a moment, I had an unnerving feeling that this would be the last time I would ever see daylight again.

Ask Crispin: Love Edition

Posted on February 24, 1818 D.C. by Crispin

Dear readers,

I recently went through my old chest containing many ancient secrets of magic. From there, I was able to retrieve my old Crystal Orb of Enlightenment. I am very happy to report that (with the aid of this device) I am providing all you wonderful people, answers to all your heartaches on this Valentine’s Day.

Dear Crispin,

Where can I find the fairest maiden in the land that would love me back? I am lonely, purple, and very hairy.

Sincerely, Mote

Dear Mote,

The orb informs me that your fair maiden is very close to you. Is there someone in your life that you are overlooking? Maybe there is a fair maiden in your neighborhood; an eligible bachelorette you may have failed to notice?

I have heard women find a purple complexion with a shaggy external appearance to be handsome combination and perhaps you should think about flaunting this some more.

Dear Crispin,

I’ve tried EVERYTHING! I got myself locked in a tower, I bit a poisoned apple, I let a beast take me captive, I did the fairy godmother thing, went to the ball and lost a shoe, I pricked my finger on a spindle, and still no prince! I don’t what else to try, how can I finally find my prince? Help!

Sincerely, Luckless Princess

Dear Luckless Princess,

I am afraid all the methods that you have tried have been tried so many times that they have finally lost their luster. But, do not despair! For your search for a soul mate is nearing its end.

One the eve of the next full moon, when the moon is high in the night sky, and the stars, like guards, are poised throughout the night sky, close your eyes and look to the skies. You will feel a slight breeze carried upon on the back of Zephyr, the Lady of the Winds. The Lady is a bit of a romantic herself and when you feel her slightly tap you on your shoulder you will know that she has arrived to help. As she beckons you forth, mount your most faithful steed and follow her (you may want to enchant your steed first so that it can travel on land and water alike). The path that she leads might seem arduous and tiresome at first, but trust in her wisdom. She will lead you to a distant land where wizards and paladins dwell. There, in that distant land, you shall find your one true love.

Good Luck to you my dear. May fair winds guide your path.

Dear Crispin,

I am a paladin, who after many adventures has finally found love. “Natalie” is an exotic dancer at a local tavern. She is very beautiful and charming, and after some time I have managed to swoon her, and asked for her hand in marriage.

But a few days ago, an acquaintance of mine was brought back from the dead. “Emelia” is a wizard who has created a successful line of blessed sanctuaries and is basically a paladin in everything but name. Our souls have touched through the plane of dreams, but I have never really spent any time with her.

I feel really bad about having second thoughts and considering withdrawing my proposal from the woman I love. However, I do have feelings for “Emelia” too, and think she might be the one. What should I do?

Thanks in advance, Hero in Peril

Dear Hero in Peril,

Hmmm…you are in a pickle aren’t you? But it appears that I cannot use the Orb to solve your dilemma. It only shows me a foggy image of you and your future partner. Nevertheless, I will try to assist you in resolving your dilemma.

Your description of Emelia shows that you clearly admire her and hold her in high esteem. However the way you talk about Natalie makes me think that you really love this girl. Your conscience is conflicted. The land of dreams is a very enigmatic existential plane that may enhance simple feelings of admiration to those of affection or adoration. Do not trust dream visions for they are deceptive in their nature.

My suggestion to you: don’t count your chickens just yet. It is very possible that you are in awe of her powers and philanthropy and are perchance losing sight of what you really hold dear. Deliberate further before you seriously consider breaking up with the “woman you love” while yearning for another whom you may not. Remember, matters of the heart should be resolved from the heart and not the head.

(Sorry about the all the food analogies I think I may be hungry)

Dear Crispin,

Will I ever find true love?

Sincerely Stika

Dear Stika,

Rejoice! The Orb shows me you with your beloved in the near future. Do not lose hope my young friend. One day you will find your true love, but you will need to work for it. Venture forth onto the open road, keep your spirits up, and let love lead the way.

Dear Crispin,

I am an elderly bachelor who had until recently never known love. By chance I met a young, beautiful lady through my magic mirror who claims that she too has never known love, nor the touch of a gentleman. In spite of this, she is -surprisingly- extremely forward. I desperately wish to meet her, but she is unfortunately destitute and has a very sick father who requires her constant, loving care. She wishes for me to send her gold so that she may buy medicines to keep her father alive and travel to see me. However, I have already sent her five sacks of gold and her father has shown no improvement. Do you know of any remedies that might cure her ailing father?

Yours, A devoted, but confused, very, very, very wealthy person

Dear devoted, but confused, very, very, very wealthy person,

Have you told this “lady in the mirror” that you are a “very, very, very wealthy person”? I must praise your unquestioning generosity for this stranger. But please be wary of certain strangers who may try to take advantage of your benevolence. You are never too old for love. Don’t let despair and solitude guide your actions. Perhaps if your lady cannot come to this world to meet you, maybe you can go to hers instead?

P.S. – I am afraid I cannot provide any materia medica advice through this column. I may be able to assist you further if you can provide me more information regarding the father’s ailment through personal correspondence.

Dear Crispin,

I’ve recently been summoned (alongside my two friends; a Wizard and a Paladin) to a beautiful island kingdom. While I explore the town, my two friends have entered into the Rites of Rulership (I didn’t because I don’t consider myself very “Kingly” material, unless you make me the King of Thieves). We’ve only been here about a week, but we’ve already ran into several old comrades of our old adventures… including a young woman I’ve fallen in love with, who I’ll call “Emily”. Me and “Emily” met over a year ago in a nice little valley run by her father, the Baron. We became friends in the short time we met, and we promised we’d keep in touch. And when we were sent to a desert kingdom awhile, through letters back and forth, “Emily” and I managed to become more than friends… But then, my friends and I were summoned to the land of the Liontaurs, which was about to break out into a full on war with demons returning! And then, after that, we were unexpectedly (the other times we were invited) transported to yet another kingdom that had what you might call an “Eldritch Abomination” about to be summoned to cover the land in darkness by two vampires (one of which, “Franky” the Wizard was actually attracted to for reasons that completely baffle “Michael” the Paladin and myself)! Since there were no caravans going out in the former kingdom, and the latter was being cut off by a very deadly swamp, as you can imagine, I wasn’t able to keep in touch with her.

And now, to make matters worse, the wizard “Ernie” who told us three to come here has now told me that when we were teleported from the savannah kingdom to the “Eldritch” area and then to here, that over four years have passed since we were last seen alive in the Liontaur’s kingdom! Four years, Crispinophur! Four years of no contact, no letters, not even meeting up unexpectedly until now! Last time we met, it was… awkward to say the least, and I felt like an idiot stumbling over my explanation for why I was gone so long. Oh God, she must hate me for disappearing for all these years. I know that I’m still in love with her, but I worry that she doesn’t feel the same for me anymore. For all I know, she’s moved on and thinks of me as just a little schmoe who can pick your pocket and throw a knife with ease, but can’t keep the one treasure he desires the most (and no, I don’t speak of the “Raven”).

From, Tis In Her Memory Locked, And I Have No Key.

Dear Tis In Her Memory Locked, And I Have No Key,

Congratulations on all your wonderful adventures! You are in luck, my friend. Nothing speaks of romance more than Valentine’s Day. Show “Emily” that you still love her. Be the thief that she once knew and steal away her heart once more. Woo her with flowers and sweet delights.

I have witnessed several times in my lifetime that true love has the strength to endure the test of time. I’m sure that if you show your lady love that you still burn for her that she will reciprocate the feelings. My best wishes to both of you. Have a wonderful Valentine’s Day that you both shall remember for many years.

Dear Crispin,

I am the wealthy prince of an exotic nation. My dear father is recently late and evil ministers, who are attempting to swindle me out of my inheritance, wish to place hand on his considerable wealth. I urgently need require a safe place for our monies. If you give my associates access to your strongbox, I will reward you with a cash sum of 5’000’000’000’000’000 gold coins.

Forever in your debt Prince Abdul Fazid Arkesh Malay of Zaire

Dear Prince Abdul,

Please accept my sincerest condolences for your father’s passing.

Being a proficient wizard myself I am well-versed in the art of alchemy and so I must respectfully decline your generous offer. I really do wish to help you but I am afraid my diplomatic skills are a bit rusty.

Perhaps there is someone in your palace that you can consult on such matters. Who did your father consider a trusted advisor during his reign?

Editor’s note:

The following correspondence will not be answered by Crispin. It has been deemed inappropriate for this publication:

Dear Crispin,

You suck.

Love,

Mordack

Monthly Archives: March 1818

The Dig that Rewrites History

Posted on March 2, 1818 D.C. by The Ants

“So when they found an island full of – excuse me – savages, or at any rate people living in a tribal society, very few buildings, no great palaces, no complex hierarchies – well, of course they’d look down upon them?" Crispin said.

“So when they found an island full of – excuse me – savages, or at any rate people living in a tribal society, very few buildings, no great palaces, no complex hierarchies – well, of course they’d look down upon them?” Crispin said.

By Desiderius de Folt

The history of the Ancient Ones is a mysterious one. More myth than fact, their civilisation laid the foundations for both the city of the Winged Ones and, it is often said, their very species.

In this exclusive story, however, the Four Winds can reveal that the history of the Ancient Ones is not only mysterious, it is – to a large extent – fictional.

To explain: work was recently completed on the Isle of the Sacred Mountain, converting the Cliffs of Logic into a grand staircase. This project was undertaken by the Lord and Lady of the isle, at great expense of capital and labour, as a gesture of welcome to non-winged visitors.

While digging out the Cliffs, however, an unexpected discovery was made. A network of subterranean rooms and caves was unearthed, containing scrolls, tablets, wall-paintings and historical artefacts dating back centuries.

“This was such a marvellous discovery” explains head architect Papiria. Papiria, a Winged One archaeologist, was notified as soon as the site was found. She and her team have been hard at work expanding the dig site, cataloguing artefacts and examining the scrolls and tablets.

“At first we assumed we had unearthed something from the island’s prehistory, from the time of the Ancient Ones,” Papiria continues. “It transpired that was perfectly correct, but – well, our interpretation of the artefacts had to be, how should I put it, recontextualised.”

“Recontextualised” is quite the understatement. The finds have revolutionised everything we thought we knew about Ancient One culture and history.

The conventional view – which I and every other historian assumed was unassailable – is that the Ancient Ones were an old and noble race who lived on the Isle of the Sacred Mountain long before the Winged Ones. They built the island’s catacombs as well as the Cliffs of Logic; their mechanical intricacy and architectural genius suggest the Ancient Ones were an advanced people, logistically brilliant. Their dead were buried in the catacombs, and though their bodies show no sign of the wings of the current-day Winged Ones, it is vehemently claimed that the Ancient Ones flew without them. Scholars from the Isle of the Crown suggest that the Ancient Ones could not fly but were able, through their advanced understanding of natural philosophy, to create a winged race. This race would, of course, eventually form the modern people of the Winged Ones.

This view has been reinforced by other archaeological finds in the past. Over the centuries a number of Ancient One sites have been found on the island, depicting wingless figures on wall motifs and vases. Little of their writing has survived, but recent research shows that the Winged Ones first developed writing through their exposure to these Ancient One texts, developing their own form of writing from fragments of Ancient works.

The orthodox view is further reinforced by folklore and myth. One of the great treasures of Winged One culture is the Exodon, a long poem passed down by word of mouth until it was finally written down around four hundred years ago. This poem tells the story of Exodos, one of the first Winged Ones. Exodos was a figure so early in Winged One history that he actually lived alongside the Ancient Ones. At their behest, Exodos flew from the island and returned many years later to recount his numerous adventures. This poem is so central to Winged One culture that it is read out publicly every year from the Great Forum, and so lengthy that a reading takes three days to complete.

However, some questions remain. There are curious similarities between current Winged One structures and the rare images we have of Tanalorian architecture. And why are the cliffs of logic, supposedly designed to test one’s knowledge of Ancient One culture and language, written in both Ancient and modern script? Surely, archaeologists have pointed out, it would make more sense to write them entirely in the Ancient tongue.

Papiria’s finds further question the orthodox view. The caves can be dated to the time of the Ancient Ones – perhaps as much as a thousand years ago – but differ from the official account. “We were surprised,” explains Papiria. “There was no end to our confusion. We knew the history, we knew the facts, and yet these objects before our eyes told a different story.”

The dig-site contained many scrolls written in a pictorial language, similar to modern Winged One writing. Examination of this writing proved, however, that it had only twenty-two letters or symbols, whereas current Winged One script contains twenty-six. Other scrolls were found which were even more puzzling: they contained both the primitive, pictorial script and the writing system we use today, which this article is, of course, written in. Papiria believes that both writing systems – pictorial and script-based – were in use when these scrolls were written, and that some of these scrolls were used to translate between them, like a modern dictionary.

Further mysteries followed. The wall-paintings contained pictures of both winged and wingless figures, and at first Papiria and her team believed they dated from the period in which the Exodon was first created: when Winged and Ancient Ones lived side by side. But closer inspection revealed a more complex story. The winged figures have their wings bound, and are unable to fly. Some of the wingless figures lead them with chains, and others brandish whips or rods. Papiria’s theory – which seems undeniable – is that these winged people were enslaved by wingless masters; she further conjectures that the caves were a hiding-place for escaped slaves who had nowhere else to turn.

This paints a dark picture, but the cave holds riches as well. The pictorial scrolls have been painstakingly translated, and tell a long and previously unknown story: a creation myth for the Winged Ones.

A trickster God, the story goes, stole another God’s winged sandals and gave them to a race of wingless people who lived on the island. Since these sandals gave the wearer the power of flight, they were revered for centuries as sacred objects, and could only be worn by the king of the tribe. It seems that kingship was not passed down from father to son but instead determined by strength, since old kings were often killed by younger, stronger men who became king in their place.

One night there was a terrible storm that threatened to overwhelm the island. The king flew out into the thunder and lightning; his reasons are difficult to understand, but he may have believed that by sacrificing himself and the sandals he would save his tribe. The sandals were lost, but a stranger miracle occurred: the king, in the midst of the storm, was granted wings. How this occurred is as much a puzzle to the writers of the scrolls as to our modern sensibilities, but the tribespeople rejoiced that the trickster God had heard their prayers and refused to take their king from them. Over the years, this king had many wives and mistresses, and all of his children had wings. By the power of flight he and his offspring were able to defend their throne against wingless competitors, and became the dominant family on the island, marrying and interbreeding with the wingless people. Within only a few generations, the majority of the islanders could fly.

It is unclear how long the winged tribespeople lived on the island untroubled by outsiders, but outsiders did come. Analysing the wall paintings, Papiria and her team made a remarkable discovery.

“The wingless slave-masters wore very distinctive clothing,” explains Papiria. “Their mode of dress, their weaponry, it all suggests that these people came from Tanalore, when it was at the height of its power.” And this is not an unsupported conclusion. “The scrolls we found are written in our own twenty-six letter alphabet, the ABCs we all learned as children, as are the Cliffs of Logic. Scholars believe this was originally the language of Tanalore. And this goes some way to explaining the similarities between Tanalorian and modern Winged One architecture.”Other scrolls confirm this conclusion. Written in the Tanalorian script – though also in the Tanalorian language, making them difficult to translate – they seem to describe a “festival of conquest” or “celebration of civilisation”, marking the anniversary of a Tanalorian invasion of the island. “We don’t know exactly what happened,” says Papiria, “but we can guess. The Tanalorians were renowned explorers, and had many colonies. There were rumours that they even got as far as the Green Isles. Now we know those rumours are true: this must have been the easternmost edge of the empire. It is Tanalorian nobles who are lying, right now, in the sacred catacombs, and it was more than likely their winged slaves who built them.”

As for how the conquest occurred, Papiria is less sure. “They were largely a trading civilisation, but were powerful when it came to magic. I would guess the idea of settling here appealed to them due to the presence of certain metals – gold, copper – in the rock here. I would guess they saw the island as a potential asset and threw their weight behind an invasion in whatever way they could: militarily, magically, perhaps they even bribed their way in with trinkets.”

Excited by her find, Papiria knew she needed more expertise. “I am a very good archaeologist,” she says without a hint of modesty, “but my area of expertise is limited to the Green Isles. I needed a Tanalore expert. So that’s when I turned to Crispin.”

The wizard Crispin, one of our own here at the Four Winds, was delighted to be involved. His insight into Tanalorian culture and history has become common knowledge since Andrew Greyson’s articles on the subject.

“I could see why the Tanalorians might act as they did,” he explains to me, sipping a cup of herbal tea in the Four Winds offices. “At first glance Tanalore seems like a civilised sort of place, a city of culture and learning. As far as anyone can tell, Tanalorian citizens were very well treated by their fellows, very little squabbling, not a lot of revolts. But that is because the Tanalorians believed themselves superior to most other peoples. They kept quiet about it when they were trading, of course, or arranging marriages, that sort of thing, but I suspect they always had more than a little national pride.

“So when they found an island full of – excuse me – savages, or at any rate people living in a tribal society, very few buildings, no great palaces, no complex hierarchies – well, of course they’d look down upon them. They’d see it, I’m sure they would, they’d see it as their duty to conquer this place and do something quote-unquote ‘worthwhile’ with it. The conquered people would be taken as slaves – they often did this in their most remote colonies – but they would see it as civilising them, as making true people out of them.” Crispin sighs and puts down his teacup. “Which is ironic, I suppose.”

This, more or less, was where I entered the picture. As Four Winds colleagues, Crispin and I were in frequent contact. Moreover, he knew of my interest in archaeology and anthropology. Naturally he thought I might be interested, and asked Papiria if I could join the team. Enthused about her Tanalorian breakthrough and the publicity this could garner, she accepted.

In the second part of this article, we explore life under the Tanalorians, the true meaning of the Exodon and the secrets behind the languages of the Ancient Ones.

Mordack's Offense and the War to Come

Posted on March 7, 1818 D.C. by Andrew Greyson

Creak! Creaaaak! As my eye followed him up the stairs, I withdrew my dagger from my satchel.

As my eye followed him up the stairs, I withdrew my dagger from my satchel.

The sound of my descent down the hard wooden stairs echoed throughout Tanalore’s palace laboratory. Despite Mordack leaving meto search this area by myself, I grew increasingly fearful for what I might find. The laboratory offered little light, little warmth, and an unnerving silence. At each step, I felt as if I was entering a realm that was never meant to be found. Yet I pressed on; the sooner we found the spells we sought, the sooner this nightmare would end and Mordack would return me home to Daventry.

I took a deep breath at the bottom of the stairs and surveyed my surroundings. The laboratory was filled with several bookshelves with neatly-shelved tomes and various bottles that I would have expected to see in such a place. In some of the corners around the laboratory, I saw tables and assortments of tools tidily placed on them such as bowls, mortars, and pestles.

Remarkably, the tomes that Crispin had told me about and Mordack had asked me to find were in good condition. Though the pages were yellowed over time, each of the spell books that I examined was legible and filled with the knowledge of the wizards long past. Despite the legibility of the books, the language in them was very complicated and often convoluted.

After I pored over the tomes for a number of hours, one of the books particularly caught my eye: Communication through Mental Transmission. As I looked over the notes and theorems scribbled, I grew to realize that this book described the familiar phenomenon that happened when confronted with the Sphinx outside the city: telepathy! The book went into great lengths to describe how the mind could magically become a conduit to speak directly to another person’s mind.

Certainly this was the spell that Mordack wanted in order to contact Manannan! How did I not realize that the secrets to telepathy would be here? Mordack, Lolotte, and I all witnessed this exact power at the city wall from the Sphinx. I began to turn toward the stairs to show him my discovery, but suddenly out of the corner of my eye, I saw that there was an unnatural light shining on one of the tables with no visible light source nearby. Curiously, I stepped forward the lit table.

On the table I found some stacked parchments with handwritten notes and diagrams. At the top of the first page was a message that emitted a faint glow. The hairs on the back of my neck rose on this discovery as it grew clear that this message was meant for me to read: Mortal, As you know, the Black Cloak Mordack was resurrected. The crude nature of his resurrection places him out of our weave. Unable to die, he exists outside of the control of Samhain. Neither alive nor dead, he exists outside of our threads of life and death. We do not take the offense of his existence lightly. Through Crispinophur’s acts, you have made it here. Read these parchments carefully. Do what must be done.

My hands trembled as I read the message. I read it a second time to make sure that what I read was real! I read it a third time. A fourth time! As I began to read it a fifth time, the message faded and the glow dimmed; the message vanished from the page! For a minute, I stared at the paper and tried to understand what I had read. Crispin really did have a hand in me being here in Tanalore like Mordack had suggested? Who was addressing me as “Mortal”? What was so important about these parchments?

As I shifted my eye toward the rest the pages, my heart sank. I saw Lolotte’s name and a crude drawing of a landmass sinking into water. This was the spell that Lolotte said she wrote hundreds of years ago when she still lived in Tanalore. This was the spell that was so dangerous that Lolotte was exiled from Tanalore for suggesting the spell could be used as a weapon. This was the spell that could potentially sink a continent into the ocean forever.

Readers, in order to prevent the secrets of this spell from falling into the wrong hands, I will not go into much detail as to how the spell works, what the incantation is, and what the spell ingredients are. There were, though, two ingredients I will share with you so you may understand the context of this article.

The first notable ingredient was described as a “gemstone imbued with the essence of the constellation Pisces.” Next to the listing of this ingredient was a drawn symbol that I recognized but I could not remember immediately why. I then realized the connection: it was the gem that Lolotte gave me outside Tanalore’s gates! I withdrew the blue gem from my satchel and looked closely at the carvings on it. The symbol in the notes and the symbol carved on the gem Lolotte gave me were the same: the sign of Pisces!

How was this possible? How was it that Lolotte had this gem? She must have had it in her castle, but why did she bring it with her to Tanalore? Was she planning to use it to cast the spell herself at some point? If so, when? Where? Why did she give it to me? Maybe she was going to give it to Mordack in Tanalore before she realized that Mordack was using her? With Lolotte dead, I would never know the answer. The only thing I knew was that she gave me the gem outside Tanalore before she planned to escape from Mordack. I remembered the words she used when I asked her what this gem was. “It’s something Mordack can’t know about!” she had answered. Now I understood why she was so insistent that Mordack never know I had it.

The second notable ingredient was “the blood of a magical creature.” From what I could tell from the notes, the amount of blood used in the ritual directly affected the potency of the spell’s potential devastation and was one of the key ingredients in making the spell as dangerous as it was.

Creak! Creaaaak! Creak!

My head snapped toward the staircase. Mordack was coming down the stairs! I crumpled up the notes and hurled them across the floor before I realized the Pisces gem was still fully visible on the table. I shoved the Pisces gem back into my satchel only a moment before Mordack saw me.

“I hope you’ve found something useful,” Mordack grumbled as he stepped onto the floor. “So far I’ve found nothing significant in the main hall libraries.”

My heart pounded. I was seconds away from Mordack having that spell in his clutches. I needed to distract him before he grew suspicious of my behavior. I picked up the telepathy book on the table. “I think this is something you were looking for. It’s a tome that explains telepathy and how to cast it. Maybe this is how you can contact your brother like you wanted?”

He snarled. “Give me that,” he said as he snatched the book from my hands. He paced around the room for a few minutes as he examined the book and muttered. As he paced, I noticed that he was gradually walking toward where I had tossed away Lolotte’s notes. I tried to think of something to say that would distract him, but before I could, his boot crunched on one of the pieces of parchment.

“Hm? What is this?” he asked as he bent down to pick up one of the pages that I tried to conceal from him. As soon as he realized what the notes were, Mordack laughed raucously. “Incredible! These are Lolotte’s notes on that spell she talked about at the city gate! I would’ve thought these would be destroyed after his exile, but here they are!” He appeared barely interested in the telepathy book compared to Lolotte’s notes.

I nervously watched on as he picked up the other pages and muttered while he read them. He laid the pages on a table to study closely. When he looked over the spell ingredients, he grunted. “Well, most of these are attainable except for this Pisces gem.” His voice dripped with venom when he mentioned the name “Pisces.”

“Mordack, what about the telepathy spell?” I asked as I tried to distract him from thinking about that dangerous spell. “Won’t this work? Would you be able to communicate with your brother from this?”

“Did you find the other spell I was looking for?” he answered sharply. “The one that can cure me of this endless pain I feel every time I was? Every time I speak?! This accursed form that Abdul and Lucreto made me into must have a cure or relief in these libraries!”

“No,” I answered, biting my lip. “But we can still look. Then all of this will finally be over.”

Mordack left Lolotte’s notes on a table and then took the telepathy book and started to walk up the stairs. “Keep searching, then. It has to be there; it must be there! I’ll come back to help you find it soon, but first I will teach myself telepathy and tell Manannan about Lolotte’s notes. I’m confident that other such destructive spells are hidden in these books.”

“W-what? Why?!” My eye widened as I looked at him. “Never in my life have I ever heard of a spell more destructive than what Lolotte has in those notes. We should burn them and erase them from history. All we need left is to find the spell to cure you and we can both finally leave here!”

The wizard turned back to face me with dark grin. “I’m not just here to cure myself.” He slowly walked toward me and I fought myself not to back away. “These books hold the keys to understanding the most arcane secrets known to the world. Andrew, very soon there will be a war. A war that we, the Black Cloaks, must win! Each of these spell books help to ensure our success. And with Lolotte’s notes, I will begin by destroying Daventry. I will sink that entire continent for what that swine Graham did to me!”

I froze. A war? Sinking Daventry, my home? He had never spoken about anything like this before. He had always said he was after two things: curing himself and communicating with Manannan. But a war? Mordack was preparing for a war, and he was here to study spells to help him destroy Daventry? What was I doing? Why was I even aiding this madman?

He continued. “Andrew, in the swamp I gave you the ability to use the dark arts. I gave you the ability to use basic spells so you could find Lolotte who had escaped from us. You were able to perform those spells with little difficulty. When I found out that you were able to save your own life by attacking and paralyzing Lolotte, a spell that even I don’t know how to perform, I knew that there was something special about you. You have potential. If you join us, I’m certain that when the war comes, you’ll be a valuable ally.”

The only thing that was running through my head was that I knew Mordack had to die. I was now seeing Mordack for what his real plans were. Just as he had tricked Lolotte into thinking that Mordack cared about her, he tricked me into thinking he just wanted to restore himself and leave Tanalore afterward. How could I be so stupid?! How did he make me think he was redeemable after I saw him murder Lolotte for trying to break from his leash?

I was determined to destroy Mordack, but couldn’t rouse his suspicions, either. Mordack craved control, so as long as he believed he had control over me, then that would leave me enough time to think about how to get rid of Mordack forever. I stammered, “Y-yes… Let’s talk about this after we’ve discovered how to cure you. Then I’d like to know more about this war.”

“Good,” Mordack said dryly. “We’ll talk more about the war later. For now, just…just find that cure. If Amrita used this laboratory to try and cure a plague and the waters that came from that spell allowed for Lolotte’s resurrection, then I’m positive that the clues for the cure must be here. We must find it!” Mordack gripped the telepathy book and turned toward the stairs.

As my eye followed him up the stairs, I withdrew my dagger from my satchel. This was the dagger I had concealed from both Lolotte and Mordack ever since I saw them firsthand. A tear fell from my eye and my arm trembled as I held the dagger tightly in my hand. Though I was afraid of what might soon happen, I was terrified of the consequence if I did not if stop Mordack here and now.

I knew what had to be done.

A Spring Awakening and the Noise that Came With It

Posted on March 11, 1818 D.C. by Sylver

We're still alive, you know. There's still color and noise and movement.

We’re still alive, you know. There’s still color and noise and movement. I slipped quietly into winter with a kind of resigned tolerance: Oh, it’s this foolishness again.

Of course everything has its season, and four months ago it was my season to gracefully bow out And let the snow fill in my footprints still in a dance pattern across the meadow.

It always looks so white and clean and silent, so monochromatic and tame – but nobody tells you what’s really going on underneath.

We’re still alive, you know. There’s still color and noise and movement.

Even if it’s time for me to drift in and out of very cold, very quiet dreams, lulled by the sound of hoofbeats over my head (because he gets so restless; he never did learn to sit still).

Time waits for no goddess. The Earth turns, and not even a lady who sees in the dark through panther eyes and walks on wolf-pad feet and smiles with pointed teeth can slow a year’s rotation. (They always paint their Mother Nature with flowers, but my tastes have always run a little more wild. Feralism is natural too, and it’s always in season.)

So I fell asleep for a long time, and let the world turn without me.

But the sun comes out again, if you remember to make it happen. Time waits for no mortals either, and soon it’s my turn.

Eventually you learn it’s time to stop being polite and silent. (I learned that lesson the hard way so you don’t have to.)

I break the surface. I take a step. I reach out a hand and light comes down to meet it; it follows my finger and melts where I touch. Slowly at first. Everything happens slowly at first, a gradual fading of the ice sculptures; they morph into new watery shapes and finally disappear.

Just for fun, I do everything properly at first. Follow the tradition, increase just a few average degrees a day (nobody tells you how much mathematics go into regulating the seasons), swell the creeks and shrink the snow banks.

But I’ve never been very good at waiting, and March is just the season for change, isn’t it? We’re doing things differently this year, now we’re tired of being quiet and waiting for the sun to come back out, winter never fades unless you make it. It won’t get better unless you make sure it does.

So we do. The slow walk turns into a dance, the tempo increases until it’s an unseasonal fever pitch and I’m throwing off icy chains and corsets that have frozen too tight and we’re bringing color and warmth back into this chilled greyscale world, because we went out silently, not even with a whimper, and there’s only way to come back in and that’s singing.

And oh, we’re singing now, and I’m anything, everything but ashamed.

Because I think it’s time we were alive for a change- We’ve been waiting long enough.

I leaped into spring with a kind of heart-and-teeth-baring scream of shameless joy: Oh, it’s my favorite time of the year!

I won’t say I’m a goddess again (because I always was) But it’s always right about now that I remember.

Life As A Slave

Posted on March 16, 1818 D.C. by The Ants

By Desiderius de Folt Papiria’s team, still working through the cache of pictorial scrolls, found another long poem written in this ancient script.

Papiria’s team, still working through the cache of pictorial scrolls, found another long poem written in this ancient script.

With Crispin and me at her side, Papiria returned to the dig site. Her team had made good progress but were lacking crucial Tanalorian knowledge. Now that she had Crispin, new discoveries emerged.

“I decided to focus on life under the Tanalorians,” explained Crispin. “And so I focused on reading the Tanalorian scrolls Papiria had so fortuitously discovered.” They detailed the lives of winged slaves: how slaves would live at their master’s house but in a separate room, how runaway slaves would shelter in cliffs up and down the mountainside, and how slaves would have their wings bound at all times.

“It seems,” continues Crispin, “that even if a slave were to get their wings unbound, freedom would still be a long way off. Some slaves would even fly to caves in the Sacred Mountain and hide there, safe from persecution but seemingly unable to escape the island. There are no references to other islands – it may be that the other Green Isles had not formed yet, since there are legends that the Isles appear and disappear over time – but there are references to a mainland.”

It seems this mainland – presumably the continent of Daventry, the nearest landmass to the Green Isles – was a source of hope, a promised land to fly to if a winged slave were ever free of their bonds. It would have been a long trip, however; judging by the scrolls and our knowledge of Winged One physiology, it seems unlikely any reached land before succumbing to exhaustion.

This brings us to a remarkable find. Papiria’s team, still working through the cache of pictorial scrolls, found another long poem written in this ancient script. But this one seemed oddly familiar. “We had all been taught – all assumed – that the Exodon was a spoken poem for centuries, and then written down” explains Papiria, quivering with excitement. “But this proves otherwise.” In her hand is the scroll in question: undeniably a version of the Exodon, but hundreds of years earlier than the oldest written version. And it is written in the ancient picture-script of the winged slaves, rather than the formalised language of the Winged Ones that is the hallmark of every other known version.

Confusingly, the picture-script is different to the simple twenty-two letter system: there are more strokes in different places, and the dots are less regular. Overall, the writing is far more complex. With the full weight of her team behind her, however, Papiria was nonetheless able to decipher it.

In this account, Exodos is a winged slave whose mother died in childbirth, owned by a wealthy Tanalorian businessman. Exodos is able to escape his bonds and make the near-impossible flight to the mainland, where he encounters curious beasts and people. Finally, after ten years of wandering, he returns to the island to recount his tale and give hope to his winged brethren.

“We can’t be sure,” says Papiria, “but this version seems quite specific, politically speaking. It refers to Tanalorian families that Exodos spoke with after his return, and makes it clear that those dynasties were still present when the text was written. The implication is that a lot of time has passed since then, so Exodos must have already been a mythical figure when this was committed to papyrus – assuming he ever existed at all. But when Exodos returns he criticises a lot of Tanalorian society, and the writer uses that to criticise the people who lived in his own time, as well.” The poem even ends on a dissenting note or a call to arms, praising “our people’s spirit of flight, our people’s bond to one another, our people’s eternal gift: to rise above the wingless”.

“My theory,” explains Papiria, “is that when the writer penned this version of the myth – and this may be the original written version, or a close copy – when he wrote it, he drew on decade- or century-old myths about Exodos. But he used those myths to ferment national feeling, to stir up patriotism in the breasts of his winged fellows. The message is clear: ‘If Exodos could do all this, why can’t we rise up and take our island back?’”

Clearly, there were tensions between the slaves and their masters. But these didn’t just manifest in poetry and revolutionary activity. One of the Tanalorian scrolls details a “petition to the Tanalorian government of this isle of Ormont” – this seems to be the Tanalorian word for the island – “that any winged children or wives of Tanalorian citizens be granted a place in the catacombs.” The petition itself spells out the situation:

We, as citizens of Tanalore, hold the right to a place in the island’s catacombs alongside our wives, as do our children. As conquerors of this island, we were struck by the majesty of the beings who dwelled here before us, though they sadly lacked wisdom and needed to be taught the values of civilisation. Seeing they and their children possessed the power of flight, many of us took our slaves in marriage. Our children were then blessed with wings. We ask you: is this not the project of civilisation, to bring within its embrace all that is good, while taming all that is bad?

The petition continues, but the message is clear: our children are citizens too, and their wings do not make them lesser beings. Reading this now, I can’t help but be struck by the omission of winged husbands – presumably the Tanalorian elite were all men – and by the too-convenient excuse that marrying these slaves was all part of the plan. I suspect the series of events was less salubrious than this text claims. We can only assume that it failed – there are no winged bodies in the catacombs – due to conservative Tanalorians who thought anybody with wings was inferior.

There is one further puzzle yet to be resolved: the language of the Winged Ones, and its relation to the Tanalorian and slave alphabets. Deloria, a renowned linguist and colleague of Papiria, can shed some light on this question.

“What strikes one on first studying the modern, Winged alphabet,” she begins, “is how convenient it is. There are exactly twenty six symbols, and each one stands in perfectly for a letter in our own language.” The conventional view is that the Winged One script was either the ancestor of our modern language – unlikely, since it is now common knowledge that the letters we use every day are Tanalorian – or that it was constructed as a sort of secret language, for use in rituals. This is possible, but Deloria has another theory.

“Tanalore had an empire that spanned an entire continent, as well as provinces in what are now Daventry and Serenia – in addition to the Isle of the Sacred Mountain, of course. When Tanalore fell, its imperial might crumbled and its territory split into different nation states – the Kingdom of Daventry, to name but one. But the empire’s language had already become the world’s lingua franca. People spoke and wrote in Tanalorian because it was the only language they knew. The language common to Daventry, Serenia, Tamir and Llewdor – the language we call the Common Tongue – is in fact descended from High Tanalorian.”

Papiria breaks in here. “But on the Isle of the Sacred Mountain – or Ormont – we have a different situation. There is a rival culture, a rival script, that has been preserved through the culture of these winged slaves. Tanalore falls, thousands of miles away, and all the might of the empire, the armies and wizards that could previously stop any rebellion, melts away in an instant. Suddenly it is an isolated island full of winged slaves and wingless masters, full of political dissidents – the Exodon proves that – who want their island back.”

It is also possible that the colony had a less violent end. Faced with dwindling resources and rising discontent, the Tanalorian dignitaries may have decided to take a leap of faith and free the slaves, giving winged people the same rights as the wingless. Or, the Tanalorian masters might have seen which way the wind was blowing and headed back to the mainland as fast as possible.

Deloria interrupts here. “Whatever the outcome, we have to assume there was a dark age. Lines of communication to the empire were severed forever, and it would have been a difficult journey travelling back to the mainland. With the empire gone, the island’s inhabitants must have reverted to a simpler way of life. There would have been no way to make new coins and gold isn’t much use on an isolated island, so it’s likely they reverted to a barter economy. And they must have slowly lost the ability to write, perhaps over several generations, because we have found no written records at all dated between the fall of Tanalore and the emergence of modern Winged One history.”

This leads to a startling conclusion, she explains, her eyes fiery with excitement. “Imagine you lived on this island, say, five hundred years ago. You and your friends and family have wings but you have no written history: you don’t even have writing. Your history is preserved only in myths and legends about wingless beings who lived on this island a long, long time ago.

“But one day one of your winged friends makes a discovery: a scroll, or a tablet, or an inscription. Perhaps you even discover the catacombs. But you find that there are strange markings in an ordered sequence. Over several generations, your people study these markings, and realise they fall into two camps: the pictorial symbols, and the Tanalorian letters. You, of course, have no idea how they got there, but you see that they are generally kept separate: they’re written on separate scrolls, in separate places.

“Due to your people’s myths, you assume these symbols were left by those wingless beings. But you assume that these people spoke only one language – your own language, left over from Tanalore – and so you assume that the two different forms of writing represent the same sounds. And so you look at the pictorial script – which has only twenty-two letters – and you look at the Tanalorian script – which has twenty six – and you try to figure out how they go together, when in fact they were never designed to do this.”

“In fact,” she says, “we have reason to believe the twenty-two letter script is a stripped-down version of a much more complex way of writing, as seen in the version of the Exodon we discovered. Through arduous reconstruction, we have discovered that the dot system you see on some of the ‘letters’ is actually a highly complex verb system which changes its meaning depending on where on the glyph the dot is located. Other meanings are conveyed by different strokes which make up the symbol.” A single symbol would have contained a lot of information: a verb, noun and adjective combined into a single image, all conveyed by different dots and strokes.

So why does the stripped-down twenty-two letter script exist? “We don’t have enough information to be certain,” explains Deloria, “but I believe it was a shorthand, designed to be written and read quickly, and convey only the most basic information. I believe it was a code designed by the winged slaves to communicate amongst themselves. Since it was based on their pictorial script and each symbol presumably had a pre-agreed meaning among the slave community, it would have been all but indecipherable by the Tanalorians.

“Ignorant of this complex system after the dark age, the Winged Ones’ culture nevertheless preserved some of the meanings of the symbols. But since they didn’t understand the fact that a given symbol contains different parts of the sentence, they took this to mean that every symbol must have several meanings and attributed an emotion, an element, a colour and an animal to them in order to describe the world around them.”

But this theory begged a question which Deloria was eager to solve. “There was, however, another problem: if we accept that the Winged Ones’ alphabet is now a construction based on the alphabet of the Modern Common Tongue and not a language in its own right, which of the current 26 are original and which were later additions? It is difficult to judge which ones were the originals by comparing them to graffiti because later generations of Winged Ones have defaced these walls as well. However, it is easy to see which order the strokes of a symbol are done in, and how they are connected to each other and comprise the whole symbol.

“Our best people put together a table of complexity to figure this out. We isolated the four main ‘strokes’ of the Winged Ones’ language, not counting the ones traditionally depicted with dots, as these are, as I mentioned, part of the verb system.” The most common features of the symbols are: a forked 3 or E; a downward stroke; a horizontal stroke, usually left to right; and finally a diagonal downstroke from right to left, such as in the symbols for H and T. “The ones that do not fall into this system,” Deloria triumphantly announces, “are therefore later additions, such as G, N, O and Q.

“G and O are both unusual for starting with an upstroke, which would have been extremely uncommon in a time when wall-writing was the norm. N is notable for being entirely filled in, something a culture limited in ink and wall space wouldn’t do.

“Q is highly unusual because it has four dots and strokes which do not appear in any other letter. It is inconvenient to write and it is unlikely that they would have kept it this way without simplifying it, as with the other symbols. The fact that it has four dots is highly suspicious because the verb system on which the dots is based becomes nonsensical if there are more than three present in any given symbol.

“D is also rather an odd one. While it in theory consists of the four basic strokes, it must be a modern letter since it clearly shows a fortified tower, something the hunter-gatherer Proto-Winged Ones would have been highly unfamiliar with.

“We also found it interesting that the symbols of highest importance to modern Winged Ones, the Sacred Four if you will, were all among this latter group of atypical symbols: D,G, O, and Q. Considering their great importance to the culture it is extremely irregular that they would have been preserved as they are if they are indeed that old. When things in a language are used frequently they often become naturally simplified, which clearly has not happened here. It’s this evidence which makes me think the sacred four – often assumed to be the oldest letters of the Winged One alphabet – are actually later additions by the dark age Winged Ones as part of their attempt to reconstruct the ‘mysteries of the Ancient Ones’.”

If this is how the Winged Ones’ script was formed, though, one question remains: just what was the purpose of the Cliffs of Logic? Written half in High Tanalorian and half in the script of the Winged Ones, it remains a puzzling enigma.

Papiria has some theories. “Something this mechanically complex must have been built by the Tanalorians, but how do we explain the existence of late Winged One script on it? My theory is simple: it was built by the Tanalorians to keep outsiders from accessing the island, but when the Winged Ones of the dark age discovered it, they couldn’t resist carving their newly ‘discovered’ symbols onto it. In their view, they would have been restoring an ancient artifact to its true status.”

Deloria is not so sure. “That is possible, but the fact all the riddles fit together to form a consistent worldview – that of the dark-age Winged Ones – makes me sceptical. I believe the Cliffs were the ultimate expression of admiration for the Ancient Ones. Once the Winged Ones were exposed to High Tanalorian script again they would have wanted to blend their own, modern culture with that of the Ancient Ones to show loyalty to their ancestors. The cliffs are a combination of quite recent Winged One culture – witness the script of the Common Tongue – with what they perceived as the legacy of the Ancient Ones in the form of symbols. I think the cliffs were built and used by the Winged Ones as a sort of rite of passage: climbing the cliffs would prove that you were worthy to join in Winged One culture and become a fully-fledged member of their civilisation. Perhaps it was used to test children on the eve of adulthood. Over time, of course, this knowledge was lost and it came to be seen as another mysterious artifact of the Ancient Ones.”

These theories are fascinating, and one can’t help being excited at the thought that more discoveries may be lying dormant on the island, waiting to be unearthed. For now, though, one thing is certain: there are plenty more mysteries to be resolved.

A court poem from the Kingdom of Daventry

Posted on March 26, 1818 D.C. by

Give me a place at court, at court And ever I’ll be your knight, To stand at your side and bravely ride Into the thick of the fight. A knight is all I could wish to be, And you shall be master over me.

Give me a quest my lord, my lord So I shall never be still. Though sorely pressed I never shall rest Until I have served your will. A task is all I beg of ye So you shall be master over me.

Show me a maiden, a lady fair O mirror on the wall, For I am a-weary of courtly sport And the loneliness withal. One look is all I beg of ye, So she shall be mistress over me.

Give me your heart O lady fair, O lady fair be mine! Spare me a glance or a spritely dance Or I shall surely die. One look is all I beg of thee, And thou to be mistress over me.

The End of Tanalore, Mordack, and Greyson

Posted on April 1, 1818 D.C. by Andrew Greyson

I don’t know if my communicator submits my thoughts to The Four Winds headquarters anymore, but in case they will, I must begin by warning my colleagues, readers, and family: this article is my final entry.

When Mordack revealed that he planned to use the ancient secrets of Tanalore’s tomes to prepare for war alongside his other Black Cloaks, I realized that his ambitions ran deeper and darker than I imagined. His interest in the spell books and tomes hidden in the libraries was focused solely on their applications as weapons. And from reading them, they were weapons that could substantially reshape the world in the hands of a dark sorcerer like Mordack.

I am a fool to believe that Mordack came to Tanalore for anything less than the intent to harm the people of Daventry, and I feel like a traitor for aiding him in return for my freedom. I will be judged by Samhain for my transgression, but not before I destroy Mordack and whatever dark schemes he planned.

But therein was the challenge. As the mysterious message that materialized on Lolotte’s notes discussing “weaves” and “threads” reinforced, Mordack could not die conventionally. This fact was made abundantly clear to me in the swamp when Mordack ripped off the skin from his own forearm just to prove a point. Furthermore, even in a threatened position, he could teleport away from any danger just like when he teleported in the swamp several times to save my life from Lolotte’s wrath.

As I stood above a stone table, my good eye stared at the only solution that I knew could truly destroy Mordack: a golden bowl filled with the ingredients necessary for the spell that would break apart a continent and sink it into the earth. The Pisces gem in the mixture gleamed as if it was staring back and waiting for me to prepare the final ingredient.

I averted my gaze to my dagger on the table. The only ingredient left to add to the concoction was “the blood of a magical creature.” The Sphinx, being made of brass and wood, was no option. Mordack too, who certainly would kill me if he knew my plans, was too risky an option. I’m not even sure if blood even pumped in the body of a creature that would tear the skin off of his own forearm and not bleed.

The only magical creature in the swamp or the nearby desert that I knew had blood was me, and I was willing to drop this city into the center of the earth if it meant Mordack was gone.

My hands shuddered as I gripped the dagger, and as I rested the dagger against my chest, I reflected on some things I’ve learned during my journey. The key thing I understand now is that the world is not as black and white as it seems.

Both Lolotte and Mordack were capable of killing me without hesitation, and both either imprisoned me or threatened me. But underneath those actions, glimpses of humanity burned within them. Lolotte, exiled from Tanalore to later terrorize Etheria and later Tamir, committed these atrocities because her need for a family she could control drove her insane. So dedicated was she to have another family after her exile that she murdered her groom in Etheria, stole Edgar away to Tamir to raise him as her son, and transformed Tamir’s populace into monkey soldiers like puppets. So desperate was she to have a group that would accept her that she joined the Black Cloaks and ignored how little Mordack cared about her. Her heart brimmed with evil, but she had one nonetheless.

I don’t know Mordack’s history as well as I did Lolotte’s. Despite his deception to both me and Lolotte, I truly believe he is devoted to finding his brother more than he is to this war he alluded to. His attack on Castle Daventry in the past, while an act of war against Daventry, clearly stemmed from a close relationship with his brother Manannan. His constant pain hurt me to see, but I do not pity him like I did Lolotte. He deceived me, murdered one of his own, and now plans war against my country.

I may anger readers by adding this thought, but I believe with all of my heart that Mordack was not the only wizard who deceived me. The message that was left on Lolotte’s notes I read earlier leads me to believe that Crispin does have more foresight than he lets on. A while ago Mordack told me that he’d known Crispin for over a thousand years, and knew for certain that the reason he helped Graham was to destroy Mordack, which indirectly allowed Alexander to travel to the Green Isles and thwart Abdul.

His story reeked of lies, yet here I was in an abandoned city with Mordack and dangerous spell books that could potentially hurt people, and I alone had the solution to destroy Mordack and these books without anyone else getting hurt. I felt like there was something—or someone—that guided me and led me here and was willing to sacrifice me for the greater good, and I think it was whoever wrote the mysterious message to me.

Thinking back, many coincidences in my journey support my guess that I’ve been led by some invisible hand. Crispin told The Four Winds about Tanalore and Amrita which led Mordack to this abandoned city. Mordack and Lolotte never noticed me when I witnessed Lolotte’s resurrection. Neither Lolotte nor Mordack ever learned about the dagger in my satchel ever since Lolotte imprisoned me. Mordack was responsible for the magic I wielded which soon would turn on him. Lolotte not only brought the Pisces gem to Tanalore, but gave it to me before she died so it wasn’t destroyed.

So what disturbs me is a question: Will my imminent actions happen because I make the choice to do so or because I was fated to? When I was in the swamp, I had to make choices. When Mordack told me to find Lolotte, I chose to ally with Lolotte. When she attacked me, I chose to ally with Mordack instead. When Lolotte accepted her death by walking away from Mordack with dignity instead of fighting back, that was her choice, not fate. When I plunge my dagger into my chest to get the amount of blood necessary in the bowl to destroy this city along with Mordack, that will be my choice and not because I was fated to.

Because I don’t think that I could bear the idea that I was fated to die here the moment the dwarves in Tamir tunneled into the swamp.

Creeeak! Creak! Creeeeeak!

I gasped and my head snapped toward the stairwell where Mordack descended. There was no time left, and I would either be destroyed There was no time left, and I would either be destroyed by Mordack’s hand or my own.

There was no time left, and I would either be destroyed by Mordack’s hand or my own.

by Mordack’s hand or my own. As his head came into view, I closed my eye and grit my teeth. Mordack gurgled, “What the—?!” There was no time left. It had to be now!

I shoved the dagger into my chest over the bowl. I felt intense and agonizing pain and immediately I felt the palace shake and crumble with deafening smashing and pounding as the city rumbled. My knees buckled and I leaned my body against the table. The pain subsided after a second; whatever magic that still remained dormant within me mercifully numbed my pain.

The walls shattered, the ceiling splinted, and the floor tore open to allow fires to burn everything in the city. I felt this city sinking into the swamp and into the earth. I turned my head toward where Mordack was before; one of the pillars next to the staircase had thankfully crumbled apart and fallen on top of him which knocked him out. There was no way he’d wake before fires consumed him. With Mordack gone and these books destroyed, I am content and have no regrets.

My senses are failing me and I don’t know how much more time I have before I pass out. If my communicator still works, I just want to assure everyone that Mordack is gone and whatever war plans he had were now gone. These have been dark days and Mordack indicated that there will be more dark days to come in the future. But I also believe that soon we will soon live in a much more peaceful world.

But that won’t be for me to see. Farewell, Daventry.

History of the Druids

Posted on April 22, 1818 D.C. by Black Widow

“Ready to sail?” These three words jolted me back to reality. I looked up, locking eyes with Hassan, the royal ferry captain standing on the shore of the Isle of the Crown. The captain stood in front of his ship, the Island Queen, with his first mate standing to his right. “You must be the fine-looking reporter who will accompany us today.”

Beneath me, I felt Maggie stifle a giggle. “Thank you captain, but it will be my colleague here who would be going with you to the Isle of the Mists, I am just here as her escort” she replied, gesturing towards my perch on her shoulder. Then that the captain actually saw me. He was visibly taken aback but regained his composure quickly.

“I was lead to believe that I would be taking a reporter from the Four Winds to the Isle of Mists.”

“And you will. Ms. Widow has been a venerated reporter for the Four Winds, long before any of us came on board for the paper” Maggi replied.

“I don’t care; no bugs allowed on my boat…company policy”.

I could hold myself no further. “This arachnid is your entry ticket to the Isle of the Mists! If my sources are correct, the Druids weren’t very pleased with your last excursion to the island. Without me, you don’t have a prayer of ever banking on the Isle.”

Hassan and his first mate exchanged a look. After which he looked back at us and slowly raising his right hand towards me, said “This way milady.” I smiled in consent, climbed his muscular arm and rested on the captain’s succulent shoulder. We were on the high seas in a matter of minutes.

After about an hour of travel, Hassan (perhaps in an effort to break the silence) “Last time we went to the Isle, we had a small contingent of guard dogs with us; not to mention King Alexander himself”.

“When we first decided to write about the druids, everyone on the staff agreed that this had to be done right. Our editor spoke with King Alexander on the matter and asked if he could spare a couple of guard dogs for our trip to the Isle. The King however was of the opinion that it would not be prudent to return to the Isle of the Mists. So our editor came up with the idea that yours truly should do this interview, just as an effort to prevent an inter-isle incident. Several carrier doves were sent to the Arch Druid asking for his permission, and as luck would have it, this time he approved. ”

“Well, it isn’t the Arch Druid that has a problem with the outsiders; it’s a few druids who are set in their ways and would rather live out their life in seclusion rather than open their doors…”

The captain stopped in mid sentence as a strange mist began surrounding our ship. Almost instantaneously we were shrouded in a dark, ominous cloud of mist.

“Does this change of weather mean that we are nearing our destination?” I asked hesitantly.

“One can only hope…” the captain replied slowly.

“But surely, you can check your navigation instruments to find out where we are!”

Hassan only muttered something about instruments being useless in the magical mists.

We waited with baited breath looking in every direction for some sign of the isle of the Mists. Please let us find the isle before we get hopelessly lost in the fog. I even bid a mental goodbye to my dear Arnold as I imagined him suspended from the welcome home cobweb he would have spun in anticipation of my return.

Then, as if our silent prayers had been answered the hitherto silent first mate exclaimed: “Land Ho!”

Sure enough, through the thick cloud of smoke, there appeared an island which looked just as ominous as the mist that enclosed it. The ship swayed gently, moving closer and closer to the isle as if pulled by an unseen force. The ship docked and just as the island had appeared out of oblivion, we saw three figures clad in brown robes with shielded eyes and grim expressions headed towards us. The middle figure wore a headdress made from the head and hide of a Cheetah, the Arch Druid. The one on the left of the Arch Druid carried beautiful ornate pillow.

I could feel the captain shiver a little as he prepared to disembark. After a short introduction, the Arch Druid welcomed me to take perch on the pillow and was escorted to Arch Druid’s home. Unfortunately, Hassan and his first mate were not allowed to accompany us.

Without any further ado, I began my interview. I started out with questions about the history of the Druids, where they came from and how did Isle of the Mists come to be the enigmatic place it is known as today. The arch druid was very forthcoming in his answers, considering I was to him one of Mother Nature’s beloved creatures. He explained that the druids emerged from ancient theurgists who worshiped many gods including Gaia, Mother Nature who is the supreme deity above all other gods.

“The very first theurgist, Drud was an ascetic living in reclusive shelter away from the other human settlements. Drud was a kind soul who would never refuse any help to either man or beast. It is said that the peace of his hut and its surrounding area was so palpable that all manner of beasts, whether predator or prey would find sanctuary there without fear or trepidation. Legend has it that pleased with his kindness and benevolence towards the birds and beasts; Gaia appeared to him and revealed unto him the deepest secrets of unlocking of Mother Nature’s bounty.”

Owing to the boon given to him, Drud and his descendants, the Druids gained the ability to create powerful spells using elementary ingredients like herbs and flowers. The early Druids were as benevolent as their ancestor and used their talents to help knights and warriors in fulfilling their quests. Their potions and spells had a variety of miraculous effects ranging from imbuing an individual with superhuman strength to creating violent tempests.

“But the spells that they provided were being used as destructive weapons against Nature itself”. The Arch Druid paused at this juncture, with a heavy sigh he continued “Mother Nature will only stand for so much. She cursed the druids for their part in the destruction and sent forth the three sisters – Morrígan, Badb and Macha who took away all their food; and made their land barren and incapable of growing any food or crops. Plagued with famine, the Druids prayed to Thor, the god of thunder, to help them in their plight. The thunder god, pleased with the rites performed to gain his favor, created the Isle of Mists as you see it today. The isle is our refuge, far away from civilization where our people could live and thrive. Thor surrounded the Isle with enigmatic mists which would often cause unwelcomed ships to get lost and crash upon our shores.”

“But I don’t remember seeing any ships at the shore when we arrived today,” I interjected.

He looked at me with an indiscernible expression, “Tell me Miss Widow, did you notice the area with the runes engraved with sacred symbols on your way to out village?”

“That was going to be one of my later questions,” I replied.

“It is a place of great power. The runes there are engraved with special symbols, each corresponding to unique celestial confirmations. You see, Mother Nature still had to be appeased…sacrifices had to be made…”

“…hence the missing mariners. Hey, I understand the concept of smiting blasphemers completely. I have dispatched a couple of non believers myself. But if stories are to be believed, King Alexander was able to escape this ghastly fate when he first visited this land.”

“That was as surprising to us as it is to you. We were already chagrined at the fact that someone had stolen the sacred oak from the village center and we were unable to perform the sacred ceremony of the Oak and Mistletoe that year as a result. Just as we were getting ready to ignite him on the ritual pyre, he summoned forth the jolt of thunder and lightning – powers wielded by Thor himself! For the longest time, I had been conflicted on whether we made the right decision by setting him free; but looking now at the man that he has become, I believe we made the right decision. ” For the first time since I arrived at his home I saw a faint smile grace the Arch Druid’s face.

He also explained how their penance and rituals have been fruitful. Mother Nature’s spirit now resides in the deepest part of the forests on the isle. He occasionally ventured into the woods and communed with her on behalf of his people. He also claims to have seen a giant crow guarding the forest at times, Morrigan in her elemental form. Only Druids can go into the forest, and even they do not linger there for long.

I thanked Arch Druid for speaking with me and we headed towards the shore together.

Just as I was getting ready to board the Island Queen, Arch Druid stopped in his tracks. “Beware!” He cautioned. “Mother Nature has warned me of something foreboding coming our way.”

A Truce?

Posted on April 28, 1818 D.C. by Black Widow

Many animals in this world are enemies. Lions and hyenas, snakes and badgers, myself and any being that comes with ten feet of my The scene formed into a quaint picnic with a yellow blanket basking in the sun, a wicker basket with various fruits and cheese with a partly cloudy sky above

The scene formed into a quaint picnic with a yellow blanket basking in the sun, a wicker basket with various fruits and cheese with a partly cloudy sky above.

web, and goat and trolls. However, the last seems to have called a truce. What? You mean goats and trolls are no longer mortal adversaries? Everyone in the kingdom knows about the age-old rivalry. I wouldn’t have believed it had I not witnessed with my own eyes.

I was in Daventry to visit a distant cousin who lived on the edge of the woods. As I approached the wooden bridge where generations of trolls guarded, I saw two figures sitting by the river. The sight intrigued me; for such a lush countryside, I hadn’t seen any animalistic beings since my arrival. The scene formed into a quaint picnic with a yellow blanket basking in the sun, a wicker basket with various fruits and cheese with a partly cloudy sky above. Oh, how the sweetness makes me sick. Anyway, the hosts were none other than a troll and a billy goat. My eight legs stopped in their tracks and my octuplet eyes blinked multiple times. The troll looked younger than the one the old goat head butted into the river several years ago.

The troll spotted me. “Well, well. Isn’t it the famous Black Widow?”

“Yes.” I replied tartly. “And who might you be?”

“Ya don’t know who I am?” He mocked. “I’m Gruuk and you’re on my territory.”

Last time I checked this was King Graham’s kingdom. “Oh? And what are you going to do about it?”

“I could squish ya. But you’ve got such a purty face.” Gruuk smiled slyly.

I rolled my eyes. Oh, boy. This one is a winner. “Flattery will get you nowhere, buddy. Say, who’s your friend over there?”

The troll turned to the goat. “Oh, him? That’s Billy. We’re having lunch right now.”

“You didn’t get the memo that you two are supposed to despise each other?”

“Nah, Billy is different. He doesn’t get offended like other goats. Most of ‘em you look at ‘em wrong and they got after ya.”

Billy crunched on his carrots and didn’t respond.

“So, you’re not the troll who got thrown into the river?” I asked

Gruuk shook his head. “That was my stupid uncle, Gornuk. Acted like he was more of a king than the King himself. The goat was Billy’s dad, Agnos.”

“You’ll end up in the same footsteps with that attitude,” I muttered.

Billy then spit half eaten carrot and saliva in my face. “BLECH!” I exclaimed. Well, that shows what he thinks of me. My business is done here. “Well, I should be going, then. I’ll leave you two to your picturesque picnic.”

“Feel free to come back anytime, red behind.” Gruuk called to my back.

Not on your life, buddy. Why can’t I get attention from the right kind of men? I wiped the gunk away, rolled my eyes once again and crossed the wooden bridge.

Monthly Archives: May 1818

A Troubled Spirit Faces Demons

Posted on May 3, 1818 D.C. by Gigi Strongmen

“The waves caress the golden sand As she dreamed of her lover. And he called to her, ‘My fair lady! Come to me!’ She saw him and his white horse upon the horizon, And ran to him, calling: ‘Malik, my love!’ He helped her on his steed and they rode off into the painted sunset, Living happily ever after.”

Ali smiled as his mother, Jamila, closed the book. “I like that story.”

“I know you do. I read it to you at least once a week.”

“The princess reminds me of you.”

Jamila smiled. “Oh, so you think I’m a princess?”

“Of course you are, mother. You’re beautiful.” The child paused. “Actually you’re better than a princess. You took us away from the bad guys. Most princesses just sit there and look pretty. ”

Jamila had run away to escape an arranged marriage gone wrong. She knew she would be arrested if she ever returned to the Land of the Green Isles, her homeland. “Yes, I did. Women can be warriors, too. And those bad guys will never touch us again. Go to sleep, my son.”

He nodded and curled up under his covers.

“I love you more than the mass of the known seas,” Jamila whispered before kissing Ali goodnight.

As she sat down by the window at the other end of the hut, her façade crumbled. Worry etched her features and her body trembled in fear. If only she felt as confident about their status as she told her son. Nijad, the child’s father, was a controlling man and a friend to vizier Abdul Alhazred. She’d resisted him but he was persuasive. Even after six years in hiding, she was convinced he or one of his henchmen would come for them at any moment.

It all started in the market on the Isle of The Crown. Jamila was in Ali’s Books, admiring the cooking section. She enjoyed inventing her own creations and family members raved about them. She was known as one of the best cooks of all the Isles. Nijad came up to her and whispered in her ear: “I hear you make a mean fūl medames.” Jamila was flustered; fūl medames (mashed fava beans with spices) was one of her specialties but the man didn’t have the decency to introduce himself first. She snapped at him for his rude behavior. He chided her assertiveness, telling her to ‘not be so feisty.’ She then asked how he knew about her cooking. He was a cousin of her brother-in-law, Assad. Nijad slowly got under her skin with his charm and piercing brown eyes. She didn’t know what trouble she was getting into, not until it was too late.

Within a few days, their families arranged for the couple to be married. Jamila was infuriated; she resented that tradition. That same night, Assad warned her of Nijad’s association with Alhazred. Jamila knew she had to be cautious. Alhazred was supposed to be an advisor to King Caliphim and Queen Allaria, but he’d steadily increased his influence and power in the castle. He established a strict moral code and deviants were harshly punished. She became pregnant shortly after the marriage, and Nijad became less charming and more harsh and cold by the day, and then, finally, outright abusive. She knew she had to escape somehow. She couldn’t subject a child to a harmful environment and a loveless marriage.

Jamila found a spell book in the corner of Ali’s Books the next day. Intrigued, she scanned through the pages before finding a teleportation spell. The spell was a one-time use and couldn’t guarantee the caster’s safety—but neither was her safety or her child’s guaranteed if she stayed. Not by a long shot. The ingredients didn’t seem particularly suspicious so she could gather them without Nijad suspecting what she was up to. Still, having never used any type of magic before she had her reservations. Where would this take her? Would she and her unborn son be safe? The thought of a lifetime with Nijad sickened her and he didn’t seem like he’d be much of a father.

The woman spent a few days gathering the ingredients and heavily studied the spell book. She didn’t buy it; she knew it would raise alarm bells in her house. One night, while Nijad was away visiting Alhazred in the castle, she prepared and casted the spell. Jamila landed in Llewdor, miles away from the Green Isles. The lush greenery and beautiful forestry assured her they would be safe here. Ali was born several months later and they’d lived a comfortable life ever since. Ali only knew that she had eluded the bad guys and that they were safe in the countryside. And that was how it should be. A child shouldn’t have to fear their safety. She wiped her brow with her white handkerchief before handing to bed.

A rapid banging noise at the door came hours later. “Mama, who is that?” Ali cried.

“I don’t know.

“Open the door, witch! We know you’re in there!” Nijad’s condescending voice rang out. Jamila froze. How did he discover them? And he brought reinforcements? She hugged her son tighter as he began to cry.

CRASH! The door fell down by one swift kick. Nijad stood there with two accomplices. One of them was a big brute of a man who could crush her with one hand. “What do you want? Leave us alone.”

“You’re under arrest for witch craft and treason against the Crown.” He said coolly.

“Treason?” She spat. “I did nothing wrong! I was thinking of my son’s safety!”

Nijad snorted. “He’s my son, too. You disgraced the Crown by fleeing like a coward instead of owning up to your vile use of witchcraft,” he continued, advancing toward the bed.

“I didn’t flee!” She countered and stared him straight in the eyes. “And whatever you do, leave our child out of this!”

“Knock her out,” Nijad motioned to the larger of the two thugs.

“NO! PLEASE DON’T HURT ALI!” She pleaded as the masked man raised a wooden club above her head. And then the world blacked out.

–

“Vizier Alhazred,” Nijad said. Jamila stirred. She was held on both sides by two guard dogs. She had seem them before but never got close. Her worst fears were realized. She was about to be persecuted in front of the Isles and quite likely put to death. Oh, how she hoped Ali was safe from harm, even though that wasn’t a likely possibility. Herself, she still felt foggy-headed and ill from the blow that had knocked her unconscious. How long had it been?

“Good day,” Alhazred replied. “What do I do for you?”

“This witch has committed treason against the crown. She violated our marriage vows and then used magic to flee the kingdom and avoid punishment.”

Jamila’s blood boiled. His portrait was the opposite of the real story, but she doubted her words would be heard.

Alhazred sneered. “Ah. She is a traitor, then. What do you want me to do?”

“Execute her in the public square. Make an example of her.”

“Then it will be done, good sir. Throw her in the dungeons, guards. The festivities shall begin tomorrow.”

Make a spectacle out of a woman who was only trying to protect herself and her child? This wasn’t right. Yet, it seemed useless to protest. These two men had a story conjured up in their minds and nothing would sway them. The guards led her away from the vizier’s office.

“Where is my son?” She asked the guard dogs.

The bulldog to her left merely grunted, avoiding eye contact. She suspected they were instructed not to tell her about his whereabouts.

“Where is he? Is he safe?” she asked again.

“Silence!” the collie to her right barked.

Jamila stifled back tears. What happened to Ali? Her intuition said that they’d taken him, too but she knew not where. He would probably die, too. She could only pray that they would find each other in the afterlife.

The guard dogs locked her into a cell and she collapsed from heartbreak and exhaustion.

Winged Ones vs. Falderal Imports

People of the Isle of the Sacred Mountain vs. the Owners of Falderal Imports concluded today at the royal court of Daventry. Posted on May 8, 1818 D.C. by Black Widow

Greetings readers! From the pages of the Black Widow’s journal, comes the written account of the day’s legal proceedings: the case of the People of the Isle of the Sacred Mountain vs. the Owners of Falderal Imports concluded today at the royal court of Daventry. People of the Isle of the Sacred Mountain vs. the Owners of Falderal Imports concluded today at the royal court of Daventry.

People of the Isle of the Sacred Mountain vs. the Owners of Falderal Imports concluded today at the royal court of Daventry.

For those among you who had missed my previous report on this matter, I shall provide a brief recap. A couple of months ago, Mr.Ersatz DeFaux from the mystic land of Falderal, and Hakim, the local pawn shop owner in the Isle of the Crown were sued by the Winged Ones for copyright infringement. An official decree claimed that the owners of Falderal Imports were engaged in unauthorized trade of replicas of items native to the Isle of the Sacred Mountain. The infringement notice was brought by Marcus Tulius who demanded immediate attendance of Defaux and Hakim at the royal court of Lord Azure and Lady Ariel.

It was only by the swift action of Captain Saladin, and the prudence of King Alexander, that the grim lawyer agreed to let the two business partners fight the copyright charges. The royal court of Daventry was chosen, by virtue of it being a neutral location for both the concerned parties, as the official venue for the day’s legal proceedings. Thus on this Midsummer Day the trial took place in front of two judges – Judge Constance Chamberlain from the Isle of the Crown and Judge Tiberius Trieste from the Isle of the Sacred Mountain. Prosecutor Marcus Tulius along with Lady Ariel and Lord Azure represented the Winged Ones; with Wilberford Clayton representing the owners of Falderal Imports. Presiding over the day’s activities as moderator was King Graham of Daventry.

The hearing began at midday with the presence of the concerned parties, their respective counsels and an anxious audience (including yours truly). King Graham commenced the trial by calling the two attorneys to make their introductory speeches. Marcus Tulius initiated the legal arguments by stating that no attempt was made by the accused to inform the Royal Court of the Sacred Mountain of the proprietors’ intent to sell crude imitations of items native to the Isle. He presented some of the articles currently sold at Falderal Imports, as evidence of the claimed violation. Mr. Clayton countered that Hakim and Defaux had basically merged their current inventories upon opening this joint venture and had decided to introduce only a few new items to attract customers. He insisted that his clients were unaware that they needed permission from the Winged Ones for introducing new items to their inventory.

“I object your honors. Ignorance of the law is no excuse”, Lord Azure roared in response.

“Agreed, but the merchandise at falderal Imports consists only of imitations and replicas. The Golden Fleece, for example, is still the sole property of the Winged Ones. The owners of Falderal Imports do not claim that the new golden fleeces sold at their shop have the same features or powers as the original. All the merchandise has been manufactured solely by the two owners and their craftsmen. How can your clients claim possession of these imitations being sold?” Mr. Clayton questioned the prosecutor.

The two judges then started discussion in low tones. The court was filled with muffled as many of the audience members started their own private dialogues.

Suddenly, Mr. Tulius announced in a booming voice, “If it pleases the court, My Lady Ariel would like to ask Mr. DeFaux a few questions”. Top: Lord Azure questions Hakim, the pawn shop owner. Bottom: Lady Ariel provides her perspective on the matter as Mr. Ersatz DeFaux looks on.

Top: Lord Azure questions Hakim, the pawn shop owner. Bottom: Lady Ariel provides her perspective on the matter as Mr. Ersatz DeFaux looks on.

The two judges exchanged a brief look after which Judge Constance said “Does the defense have any objections to this request?” Mr. Clayton replied with a negative.

“Very well Mr. Tulius, the court permits Lady Ariel to briefly question the defendant. This Court calls Mr. DeFaux to the stand”. Mr. Ersatz DeFaux made his way to the witness box and silently sat down. Lady Arial rose as well and cleared her throat.

“Mr. DeFaux, is it true that your Faux shop in Falderal mostly has merchandise that is meant to be practical jokes or amusing in some way to your customers? Isn’t the very entrance to the store sort of a practical joke in itself?”

“Yes it is, true to my roots. I am a mock turtle myself.” Mr. DeFaux replied with a smile.

“Indeed, and you have no doubt brought the same qualities to the merchandise at Falderal Imports. But have you ever stopped to consider if your practical jokes and witty souvenirs may be offensive or hurtful to some people? How can I and my people not take offence to the fact that you sell imitation wings at your store?” The smile on Mr. DeFaux face turned to shock as he realized the point that Lady Ariel was trying to make.

“I am sure the two queens on the Isle of Wonder would not appreciate you turning their entire royal court into a board game. When I see this atrocious red thing that you sell in your store (holding a Minotaur plushy), I can only think of how close I came to losing my beautiful Celeste to that ferocious monster!”

“Objection! Lady Ariel is badgering my client! ” Mr. Clayton interjected.

“I understand your pain my Lady. I am regretfully aware of the internal war we wage when we are asked to put the needs of our people over our parental instinct”. King Graham stated from his position on the podium. “But you cannot let your emotions guide your words today”.

Judge Tiberius replied, “Commendably stated King Graham. The court has listened to all the arguments and will now adjourn briefly for making the final decision”.

With this, the two judges rose from their seats and headed for the internal meeting chambers. After what appeared to be an eternity, the two judges emerged and resumed their places on the stand.

Judge Tiberius briefed the court on the final decision. The Prosecution was asked to compile a list of ‘Pertinent items’ from the store’s inventory as related to the lawsuit. This list would have to be submitted for approval to the two justices after a fortnight from today. Falderal Imports was instructed to immediately stop manufacturing any item not in the list including immediate destruction of such items already in the store inventory. The court also decided that the Winged Ones are entitled to 15% of the profits attained from all future sales of ‘Pertinent items’.

Finally, Hakim and Mr. DeFaux were also instructed to provide each of the other Isles with a list of items that were in their possession and imitations of which were been currently sold. Falderal Imports would only be able to continue business once written consents on all inventory objects was received from all the other Isles.

Her Soul Eternally Rests

Posted on May 23, 1818 D.C. by Gigi Strongmen

Jamila stirred hours after being thrown into a Castle of the Crown dungeon cell. Helplessness overwhelmed her. She was facing certain death only for protecting herself and her child and she had no idea where he was. Her heart ached at the mere thought of Ali. Where was he now? Was he dead? Had the guards hurt him? She was unconscious before they took him. Her head throbbed once more. That wooden club had done more damage than she thought. Just let me die here, please. I don’t want to go through the spectacle they have planned.

She knew little of the afterlife. Ancient lore told stories of souls standing before Samhain, Lord of the Dead, himself. He was chained to his throne for eternity after insulting the gods. The thought of staring Death in the face scared her. Would he take pity on her? Most likely not; he’d heard thousands of stories like hers by now.

Still, Death seemed like a palatable alternative compared to the husband she’d fled, Nijad. He was a monster on earth and she despised every iota of his being. How had he found her? Had a fellow villager betrayed her? She had acquaintances in Llewdor and none that she knew of had ties to the Green Isles. Or maybe he’d sent someone to spy on her. That wouldn’t be surprising. He was a cunning, snide kind of person.

“Please,” she whimpered weakly, “Take me from here. I would rather die than live worrying about my son’s safety. Wherever that next place is…”

Her eyes felt heavy and finally closed as her spirit moved from her body and she drifted to the Land of the Dead. It was a dark and gloomy realm. All color and emotion had been drained out of the place. Stones lined the ground with disfigured structures and bones, and undead souls wandered aimlessly. Pain haunted their features. What happened to them? And am I doomed to the same fate? Perhaps they had lost someone just like she had, or been murdered needlessly. She pictured Ali and started weeping. She’d probably never seen him again.

And so time went on. Jamila had no concept of time as each dreary day blurred into the next. She drifted above the surface, chained by her loss. This is worse than living with the fear that one day we might be discovered. I can’t do this until the end of time. I don’t want to end up like the zombies in this place.

One day she noticed a handsome young man who looked different from any other being she’d seen here. His skin was flesh toned and he was dressed in a bright green, yellow and brown tunic, the first real color she had seen since dying. He was talking to King Caliphim and Queen Allaria. Jamila had become friends with the former royals and they were horrified to hear what happened to her, and she had felt the same to learn of their fate. He must be from the Land of the Living. How did he get here? Maybe he can look for Ali.

The prince approached her. “What troubles you, sad spirit?”

“My son is lost in the Land of the Living,” she replied, tears pouring down her face. “I am imprisoned here or I would look for him.”

“I can go look for him if I get back there,” the young man offered.

It’s a slim chance, but it’s the only one I have. If Ali is with me, I will be at peace at last. She kissed the handkerchief. “Oh, would you? Take my handkerchief with you, then. Maybe it’ll guide him back here .”

The man nodded as she handed it to him. “I will try. I can’t make any guarantees, but I will try.”

“Thank you, kind sir.” Jamila swooped down and kissed him on the cheek.

He smiled. “I’m Alexander of Daventry, by the way. I hope you and your son can finally rest if reunited.”

“Jamila,” She croaked out. “I hope so, too. It’s my only wish now.”

Alexander nodded, pocketing the handkerchief. “Then it shall be done. I must be going now.”

She nodded and dissipated into thin air.

Later on, she was floating above the Underworld’s entryway when she heard a voice call out: “Mother? Mother, are you here?” “Ali!” She exclaimed. “I’m right here, darling.” She descended to the walkway.

“Ali!” She exclaimed. “I’m right here, darling.” She descended to the walkway.

I don’t believe it! Alexander actually found him. If only there was a way to show my eternal gratitude. “Ali!” She exclaimed. “I’m right here, darling.” She descended to the walkway.

Her son was holding her handkerchief and sped into his mother’s arms. “I thought you were gone forever, mother.”

“We’ll always find a way back together. And now we’ll never be separated again,” She kissed his forehead.

“Why didn’t you come back for me?” He asked.

Jamila’s heart sank. She was afraid he might ask that. “Honey, I would have if at all possible. But I was bound here. I couldn’t leave. Did you see that nice man?”

He nodded. “Uh-huh. I didn’t want to trust him, but once he showed me your hankie, I knew he was okay.”

A weight lifted off Jamila’s shoulders. She knew now they could have their audience with Samhain and complete their rest. “And he’s the reason we’re together. How we got here doesn’t matter. Nijad can’t harm us here. We’re safe.”

“I missed you, Mama.”

“I missed you, too Ali. I waited for you every day.” She kissed his forehead again and hugged him close for a moment. Indeed, now she could rest.

“What happens next?” Ali asked.

“We go on. Don’t be scared. We’ll be together.” She picked him up and walked toward the gate.

The skeleton on duty, which had a trace of a smile on his face, resumed his normal position. “Ticket, please.”

Jamila shuffled in her robes for her tickets. “Here you go, sir.”

“Go on. Next,” the skeleton replied monotonously.

A few moments later, they arrived in Samhain’s chamber. Ali cringed. “Mama, I’m scared.”

Jamila studied the Lord of the Dead. He was a leathery creature, bound together by mutilated cartilage. Stone chains constrained him to his throne. He was an intimidating presence. “It’s alright, Ali. He won’t hurt us.”

“No, I don’t harm little ones.” Samhain replied in a husky tone. “You still have your innocence intact.”

“My Lord,” Jamila said while curtsying, “My son and I have come to rest.”

“And rest you will, my lady. I have a special place for you two. Step in the Sea of Souls to meet your fate.”

Ali trembled still and Jamila nodded. “Thank you, My Lord.” She and Ali stepped in the eerie liquid.

“We’re like that prince and princess in the story you read,” Ali said.

“Oh? And why is that?”

“We have our own version of happily ever after and we’re about to go off into our sunset.”

“That we are, my darling.” She kissed his forehead as the sea transported them to their eternal resting place

Ask Cedric, Part 1

Posted on May 26, 1818 D.C. by The Ants

cedric

Hoooo! Hello everyone. While Crispin has temporarily left for a land far, far away to help a friend; I will be answering all your questions. Thank you for all the lovely mail that you have sent my way.

–

Cedric,

Will Lambonius ever stop trolling?

Deloria

Dear Deloria,

Lambonius who?

–

Dear Cedric,

Do you mind if I’m writing a fan fiction that retells King’s Quest 5, only instead of you as an owl, you are a human wizard apprentice to Crispin?

Just so you know, my feathery friend, I do not hate you, at all. While I do wish your programming and writing as a sidekick for Graham could have been done better, I know that it is not your fault.

Why am I doing this? Because I want to see, in an alternate universe where the AGDI games and The Silver Lining are intertwined, if I can make you grow from a cowardly young lad to a brave and clever Mage who although he faces off against Mordack and loses, was still willing to give it a shot.

From, GrahamRocks! Powerful Wizard of the Phoenix Kingdom.

Oh GrahamRocks! Powerful Wizard of the Phoenix Kingdom,

That sounds like a wonderful idea! Though I been a trusted friend and companion of the great wizard for several years, I have often imagined myself learning besides him as his apprentice. Crispin has taught me some of his much simpler charms. Although, he did stop my lessons after that one embarrassing incident one day with the cleaning mops. I swear I was cleaning the mess for days! I learnt the hard way that to practice incantations one must first learn to control them.

Perhaps you can make me a bit more prudent in choosing spell subjects in your story. I already love your premise and give you my blessings in going forth with this endeavor. I can’t wait to read about how you will portray me facing off against the evil wizard Mordack. (Oooh I hope Mordack doesn’t read this!)

Please send me a copy of your narrative when you are done. Good Luck!

–

Dear Cedric,

Where did you get that snazzy outfit? I am looking to impress the lady bird across the way.

Sincerely,

A. Penguin

Dear A. Penguin,

Thank you for your question. Outfits like mine can be purchased at “Birds of a Feather” store, which just opened the anthill near Serenia. Take a look; they have a nice variety of items. You can tell them that Cedric sent you. I wish you good luck with your lady bird!

–

I will answer more of your queries in the next edition of the Four Winds. Stay tuuuuuned.

Ask Cedric, Part 2

Posted on May 30, 1818 D.C. by Crispin

cedric

Hellooo again, dear readers! As promised, here are the answers to your questions that I didn’t address in the previous edition.

Are you ready? Let’s gooo…

——————————————————————————————————————————-

Dear Cedric,

I’d like to cross the street, but I’m feeling nervous about it. Do you happen to know the Chicken? Can you ask him how it went for him when he crossed the street? If he made it, that is. Oh no, did he not make it? Help! I just really need some advice about this street!!

Sincerely,

Crossing Conundrum

Dear Crossing Conundrum,

It is my pleasure to tell you that the Chicken fact did make it to the other side. It was indeed a moment of great joy and celebration for all my fellow chicken kind. That glorious day is still remembered by most of the birds of my generation, as the day an ordinary fowl broke the chains of bondage and did something extraordinary. I even remember sending a formal congratulatory note to the great chicken himself.

All the other birds were anxious to find out the chicken’s motivation behind attempting this exceptional feat of courage. But when someone asked him why he crossed the road, he modestly replied “to get to the other side”. So my dear, the only advice I can give you is to look beyond your fear and trepidation. Remember, courage to face a challenge when you are afraid, is what bravery is all about.

I recall being terrified when Crispin first asked me to help King Graham save his family. It was only when I decided to conquer my trepidation, did I get the chance to accompany him on his grand adventure. While I was able to help him get through some tight spots, his courage restored mine. If it helps you, and if you can find one, a friend or companion can be instrumental in strengthening your resolve.

Good Luck on your brave endeavor!

Dear Cedric,

Are you friends with the owl from Ocarina of Time? You guys should definitely chill.

-br305893

Dear br305893,

I don’t really know which owl brethren of mine you are referring to, but I once had the pleasure of meeting the great and powerful owl, Kaepora. His name is whispered throughout the realm, and he is rumored to live in a place far from Serenia at the farthest reaches of Great Neptune’s oceans. His voice is deep and firm and the aura of mystique about him, that evening, was almost palpable. He is a wise and erudite owl whose very presence demands attention from those near him.

We spoke briefly, and after initial introductions, started sharing stories about the many adventures we have had in the past. He told me how he had once helped a young adventurer in his quest and I briefly told him about all my adventures with King Graham. It was an evening that is forever etched in my mind and I hope that one day we might see each other again.

Dear Cedric,

Have there been any poooisonous snakes we need to be aware of recently?

The Boogeyman

Ooga Booga

Uh…Hello Mr. Boogeyman from Ooga Booga,

No no, no more snakes. Ooooh…

On second thought, Yes! Lots of poisonous snakes here in Serenia! Nasty, venomous, rattling snakes! I’m sure there are no snakes in Ooga Booga! It would be much safer to just stay there if you ask me.

Thank Youuuu!

With Love,

Cedric

Monthly Archives: June 1818

Barking Mad at the Isle of Wonder

Posted on June 13, 1818 D.C. by Black Widow

Archduke of Falderal Fifi Yip-Tap is exploring the Isle of Wonder to build a summer estate. The duke considered a patch near Bookworm (and my) old haunt, off the Pun Garden beside Chessboard Land and near the oyster beds near the coast. The hyper poodle fell in love with every place he saw. Oh, he’ll fit right in with that yappy attitude. Okay, that was a bad pun. Anyway, he saw me lurking in the shrubbery near the swamp and ran away. His eyes were the size of pearls the isle is known for. Then the dogwood tree barked at me. Maybe I should stay away from the canine species.

Enroute to Kolandria

Posted on June 16, 1818 D.C. by Crispin

Greetings! I have just returned after visiting a friend in a nearby kingdom. It was both an exciting and educational experience. My good friend, Wildergarth the Wise, recently invited me to the summer solstice gala at his kingdom.

As is customary, I prepared my wand for a full day’s journey and bid adieu to dear Cedric before departing for the kingdom of Kolandria. I would have loved to take Cedric along for company but we both mutually agreed that someone had to stay behind and look after our sick and wounded animals, the ones that either we gathered or were brought in by the good people of the town, to heal and care for. As there is nothing but a vast, barren mountain range spanning the distance from Serenia to Kolandria I expected it to be quite an uneventful journey.

However on that particular day, fate had something special in store. I was almost halfway to my destination n when I heard a loud cry from somewhere below, almost like a call for help. Thinking that it might be a wounded animal, I quickly descended down through the veil of the clouds towards the source of the noise. To my utter surprise, below me, I saw a massive crimson dragon. I noticed that the creature’s left front foot stuck below a pile of rocks. As I watched, the dragon struggled in vain to free its stuck limb, even fired a few blasts at the rocks. It was clear that the beast was in pain. If this had been any other animal, I would have not hesitated in offering my assistance, but the fact that it was a dragon…complicated things. Some of my young readers may not know this, but since the beginning of time, wizards and dragons have had a pact. We respect each other’s wisdom and power, but never interfere in each other’s world intentionally. I would have flown away that day too, had I not been internally conflicted.

I came down slowly, but the dragon must have sensed my presence. It lifted its head to look at me as its gaze gradually followed my movement. Instantly, I saw faint traces of smoke coming from both sides of its mouth and was immediately on guard. I maintained a safe distance from the beast lest it decided that I was intruding. Torn between my mind and my heart, I stood before the beast as our eyes locked. I don’t know what the creature saw in my eyes, but it visibly relaxed a bit and lowered its gaze.

I decided then what I had to do. I closed my eyes and said an internal incantation, pointing my wand at the rocks. The heavens above us rumbled and thundered and in an instant, a forceful bolt of lightning from the skies struck the rocks and converted the hitherto huge rock pile to rubble. With a shrug, the dragon pulled its foot loose and stood up. As I glanced at the colossal dragon towering above me, I hoped that I had not made a lapse in judgment by freeing it. As though sensing my thoughts, the dragon gave me an imperceptible nod, flapped its massive wings and flew upwards with a mighty roar.

I stood transfixed for some time before collecting my thoughts. I resumed on my original path, reaching Kolandria just before the commencement of the summer feast. The whole festival was an amazing affair. The townsfolk masterfully portrayed their talents and rejoiced in the bountiful harvest of the season. Participating in the revelry and merrymaking helped me unwind and forget about my encounter earlier that day.

Later that evening, my friend and I caught up on what was going on in our lives. We talked till the late hours of the night and even exchanged a few spells. I must admit, I am a little behind on my wizardry continuing education lessons. Wildergarth was nice enough to fill me in on the latest conjuration literature including the sessions that I had missed (not intentionally) on the crystal ball smoke-cast network. I also relayed the day’s events to my friend, trying to get his views on the subject. I was glad to know that Wildergarth commended my actions and said that freeing the dragon was the right thing to do. He added that we wizards have a moral code; to do what is right and follow the path of goodness, above all else.

He also added that maybe that dragon would one day reciprocate and help me in my hour of need. Although I am unsure about that part, I feel good for helping a fellow living creature in need. Maybe we need to review over long forgotten rules and rethink our pact with the dragons. Perchance even strive to add them to our ranks as powerful allies against the forces of evil.

What do you think, dear readers?

A Lively Chat With Dr. Cadaver

Posted on June 20, 1818 D.C. by Black Widow

My dear readers know that over the years, I’ve visited many glamorous and fascinating locales. I’ve interviewed kings, villains, heroines, talking furniture, and omnipotent magical beings. Now I’ve found myself in yet another outlandish setting – Ooga Booga, home to Etheria’s dearly departed. It might not be the liveliest place in the world, but don’t let anybody tell you it’s boring. (I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist just one little pun.)

I’m here with Dr. Mortimer Cadaver in his ornate Victorian home – elegant, if a little strewn with body parts. He’s poured me a cup of (very strong) tea, and we’re comfortably settled in his office. I must admit, this plush velvet coffin pillow is worryingly comfortable.

“Thank you for taking the time to talk with me, Doctor.”

“Please, call me Mort.” The spindly-limbed man in the stylishly somber suit smiles at me over his cup of tea. “And the pleasure is Dr. Cadaver in his Ooga Booga home.

Dr. Cadaver in his Ooga Booga home.

entirely mine. I never thought I’d be entertaining a famous journalist in my little place of business.”

“Of course, Mort. The Four Winds wants to tell all the stories of our diverse and colorful lands.”

“And you’re quite welcome! Without Malicia hanging over all of us like an overgrown bat, Ooga Booga’s been much quieter of late. Demand for replacement limbs has reached an all-time low… I suppose business isn’t the best, but frankly I’m too relieved we haven’t all been blown to bits by that volcano.”

“Yes, I noticed the… surplus.” The parlor floor is littered with boxes (pine, and otherwise) and bags of ‘spare parts,’ no doubt gathered in the pre-eruption panic. “I’d say ‘I hope you can use these soon,’ but that seems a little – ahh!”

Suddenly, there’s an awful slurping noise next to me. I jump a little, looking over to see what looks like a mouse with a bare skull for a head, kept under a glass dome. He’s leering at me, wringing his little paws and pressing his skull face against the glass.

“Hello, Miss Spider. Kiss for a kiss? Quid pro quo…” He wiggles and licks his teeth in a way that would have unnerved a less courageous reporter.

I sniff, and dismiss the strangely ominous little creature with a practiced flick of my eyelashes. “You’re not my type.”

“Oh, I apologize for Mr. Nibbler,” Dr. Cadaver shakes his head. “He is incorrigible. It’s best to just ignore him.”

“Indeed. So, tell me, how’s Ooga Booga been faring since that last crisis was averted?”

“Well, as I said, it’s been a good deal quieter around here. Quieter than usual, I mean. Malicia no longer haunts the land, and Lord and Lady Tsepish are reunited – which means nobody has to worry about the Headless Horseman anymore. The Gravedigger is back doing what he does best… all in all, the after-life is back to normal.”

“Glad to hear it! How’ve you been dealing with the peacetime lull?”

“I’ve recently started a small side business. After Princess Rosella helped me grow a spine – quite literally – I gave her a dear little pet I’d made from some spare parts. He somehow ended up in the hands of those kids who live in the pumpkin – and they seemed so taken with him, I thought, why not make more? So now I’ve made several more unique and endearing creatures from scrap bits, and they’re actually all the rage! Would you like to see one?”

I search for the most charming, inoffensive way to say ‘not in a million years,’ and manage a sweet smile. ”…Maybe later. It sounds like you’ve been keeping yourself busy! You do all of this yourself, or are you looking for an assistant?”

“Well, odd as it might sound, the Boogeyman has popped by a few times.”

“No!” I gasped. “Really? That ghoulish brute? He doesn’t seem the type to enjoy any conversation that doesn’t involve eating someone whole.”

Dr. Cadaver smiled and shrugged. “I believe he’s had something of a change of heart. He said something about a singing rainbow fairy who listened to him and made him feel better… of course, I only understand around a third of what he says. Otherwise I simply smile and nod.”

“And now he’s one of your regular customers?”

“A supplier might be a better term. He always seems to have a bone or two to spare.”

“And you keep accepting his… deliveries? Even with all this? You’re going to run out of space soon. Unless the population loses a whole lot of limbs in another catastrophe, of course.”

“Ahh, we can always hope!” Dr. Cadaver chuckles, and I’m not entirely sure if he’s joking. “And yes, always. I think it’s good for him to have someone to talk to. And we do enjoy a drink now and again. Gives me an opportunity to break out the good stuff.”

“And you didn’t offer me any? Where are your manners, Mort?”

“I’d pour you some of course, Ms. Widow, but then I’m afraid you’d end up in a tiny box of your own. Some things the living just can’t enjoy.”

“I think I know a few things we can both enjoy…” I lower my voice and give him my best come-hither stare. “It can’t hurt. You’re already dead, remember?”

He smiles and shakes his head, and I feel him slip out of my web. Ah well – it was worth a try!

“My dear, I’m afraid I’m married to my work. Or, I suppose… you might say widowed.”

Trading With Roo

Posted by The Ants on June 27, 1818 D.C.

The hot summer sun bore down on the desert in Etheria. The Green Isles was a tropical locale, but had vegetation to absorb the heat and a breeze to make the weather more appealing. It didn’t help that dizziness lingered from the trip through the magic portal to get to Eldritch. Black Widow had found one left over from when Archduke Yipyap came over to survey the Isle of Wonder for a summer home. Today’s assignment was to talk to a kangaroo rat that lived at the edge of the desert. Queen Valanice of Daventry had traded with this fellow during her quest in Eldritch. I wasn’t fond of rats; one had bitten me as a child when I was emptying a chamber pot. But this was a kangaroo rat! He couldn’t be too bad, could he? I wiped my brow and saw a tiny wooden door carved out in the sandy stone. The sign above bore the name “Rare Curiosities: Ricardo Eduardo Rodriguez Roo Rat, Proprietor. “

I knocked gently. A tan rodent with tiny spectacles and flesh color extremities answered. He scratched his chin and studied me quizzically. “And who might you be? Mine eyes have not seen such beauty.” I knocked gently. A tan rodent with tiny spectacles and flesh color extremities answered. He scratched his chin and studied me quizzically. “And who might you be? Mine eyes have not seen such beauty.” Oh, this will be a different interview. “Hi, I’m Cassandra Monte Carlo from the Four Winds. I’m looking for Ricardo Eduardo Rodriguez Roo Rat,” I said, feeling every bit as silly as the name sounded. He nodded. “You may call me Roo, Ms. Monte Carlo! I’d invite you inside my borough, but I’m afraid it’s just too narrow.” How quaint. He sounds like a nursery rhyme. “That’s alright, Roo. How fares business these days?” “Not well, as you can tell. The desert isn’t such a lively place in my case. I haven’t had any traders in months and it gets lonely.” “You don’t have any neighbors?” Roo shook his head. “A jackalope used to live there,” He pointed to two holes on the other side of the clearing. “Oh, he was a bother. Still, life doesn’t compare!” “Why do you say that?” I asked. “There’s no flair in the air. Nothing to feel that’s real.” He sighed. “Do you know what happened to him?” Roo shook his head. “No, I don’t. And I won’t.” I vaguely remembered a jackalope statue in the Pawn Shop from the last time I shopped there.I wondered if it was the same one. Nevertheless, I didn’t want to depress Roo further. “Maybe you could move your business and try again elsewhere.” “I’m considering risking it all and moving to Falderal,” Roo replied. Falderal. That was Ersatz’s hometown. He’d told me about the town when I visited Falderal Imports upon opening. It was as a mythical city with talking animal hybrids, bright colors and no straight lines. One would need vivid imagination and a sense of humor to like that place. As a kangaroo rat, Roo would fit right in. “What do you like about Falderal?” Roo’s face lit up. “What’s not to like? It feels like home and I don’t feel so alone. Everyone was welcoming despite my trembling. One house was particularly swell. But I cannot dwell there.” “And why not?” “No, I can’t afford such luxury. I’m not quite that wealthy yet. But mark my words, madam. I will move to Falderal and mark my name in the record books.” He grinned. “You know, Roo, you could be a poet by the way you talk,” I said. He raised his eyebrows. “Oh? No one has said that before. Tell me more.” “You talk in flowing lines and almost every sentence has a rhyme.” He shrugged. “That’s the way I’ve always talked. I’ve been mocked, but I won’t change my speech. Wee hee, maybe that’s my destiny?” I smiled. “It could be. Try it out in Falderal and see how that goes.” “I will indeed. Now, would you like to trade?” I frowned. As a journalist, I wasn’t supposed to accept gifts from sources. Besides, I doubted I had anything that would interest him. I didn’t answer. “Oh, come on! Your quill for this little frill?” He held out a golden ribbon. I had to admit; it was quite pretty. The sunlight only illuminated the color and it glistened. I had plenty of quills back at the office; maybe it would help him start his new career as a poet. “You have yourself a deal.” We traded items. He smiled again. Maybe today had been the first time in months he’d been able to do so. “Oh, thank you! Now I don’t feel so blue. The day is new again.” I returned the motion. “You’re welcome. I’m glad you are happy.” “Now if you’ll excuse me, I must return to my gutsy plans. Good day, madam.” He shut the door abruptly. I was confused; what was he so eager to return to? At any rate, my business with Roo was done. I tied the ribbon at the tip on my braid and prepared to head home.

Monthly Archives: August 1818

Madame Mushka’s horoscopes

Posted by Madame Mushka on August 3, 1818 D.C.

Horoscopes by Madam Mushk

Aries

The first sign of the zodiac, Aries always brings abundant positive energy and enthusiasm in everything he does. The competitive ram will butt heads with others but will always get full points for spontaneity and vitality. Though every impulse in your being tells you to jump at the first chance you get, wait for the dust to settle before making any concrete plans.

Taurus

Taureans might want to tighten their grip on their gold satchels.Uranus squares the Sun, Mercury, and Pluto, so there might be some unexpected expenses. The strong-willed, dependable bull leads the way when it comes to reaping the rewards. Success will be yours if only you can entangle your horns from past mistakes and regrets.

Gemini

The versatile Gemini dance to the beat of their own drummer.The stars offer you their blessings with good fortune paving your path. But even with the wind in the sails, Gemini will have to work hard and persevere if they plan to achieve their heart’s desire. Don’t be afraid to chart your own course.

Cancer

Safe from the harsh outer world, the soothing environment at home serves as a welcome retreat for the hermetic crab. You feel secure and happy around your loved ones. Friends will come to you in search of comfort and compassion. You will also be actively involved in planning group activities with family and close friends.

Leo

The powerful charms of Leo are almost impossible to resist.When the regal lion takes center stage, everyone notices. The radiant dawn opens new doors for you. Change can be your friend. But beware, everything that is bright and shiny may not be a true gem. Stay grounded and trust your instincts.

Virgo

The shy and ever cautious Virgo thinks twice before making a move. But now is the time to throw caution to the wind and jump on the fast train.  Fortune favors you and helps you get to the top. Just remember to hold on and keep trying till you thrive.

Libra

My dear diplomatic Libra, is the balancing act getting too tiresome for you? Your winning personality and judicial outlook makes you the leader. But it is time to take off the blinders and lend an open ear to the opinions of others. You might hear a viewpoint or side of the problem that you never expected to see.

Scorpio

Beneath a calm and composed exterior beats the heart of the ever passionate scorpio.  Your resourcefulness will be tested to its limits as things start coming at you from all sides. Try not to get pressurized. Persuasive individuals will try to sway you but the trick is to secure your position and be strong.

Sagittarius

The magnanimous Jupiter watches over you and guides your path. You will exude excitement and optimism. Your enthusiasm is almost contagious to all those around you. You will feel your philosophical side take charge as you ponder the meaning of life and your role in the grand scheme of things.  Engage in relaxing activities to unwind.

Capricorn

The windy mists in my crystal ball have parted to show an exciting opportunity heading your way. The answers to your deep probing questions are right around the corner. Don’t let your inquisitive mind rest until you find responses that ring true for you.

Aquarius

Imagination is the key word that describes a true aquarian. You will use your exceptional listening skills and equivocal mental aptitude to successfully diffuse an argument around you.  Take time to be by yourself for introspect and achieve spiritual enlightenment.

Pisces

This water sign is considered to be the most mature of all the zodiacs. Explore all the myriad paths and exciting routes that you have never tried before. Your friends and loved ones will dote on you and provide you with much needed support.  I can see a new love interest developing for you. Keep a look out!

Behind the scenes

The Four Winds was a work of fan fiction, in the form of a newsletter, published by the team of the The Silver Lining as a kind of prologue to the game. It was later removed from their site. It was later brought back, and expanded. At some point the website link was broken, and developers never fixed it or created and alternative way to access it.

Some articles such as ones related to Alexander were modified due to a continuity issues between what Alexander claimed and Derek Karlavaegen (unofficial) history and personality being retconned in later articles.

Some articles post August 1818 related to Derek and Ask Crispin appear to be lost forever. One such example was a reference to King’s Quest ZZT, see Village of the Centaurs.

The Four Winds is not produced or distributed by Sierra On-Line. All original content (c) 2002 King's Quest IX Development Team. "The Four Winds" is a work of fan fiction. It is based on the popular King's Quest series, which is wholly Copyright of Sierra Entertainment Inc. 1984-2002. All Characters and related material are registered trademarks of Sierra Entertainment, Inc.

External Links

• The Four Winds