tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16087790855341863852024-02-19T02:33:49.516+00:00The Fantasyland HeraldUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger72125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1608779085534186385.post-48058430868344572672013-03-04T05:00:00.000+00:002013-03-04T05:00:00.478+00:00Opinion: Not a Natural Winter<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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It would seem that various enterprising young mages in the University have set their brilliant minds to the problem of the snow. Now, this needs to be said, and I cannot possibly impress upon you enough the importance of this statement...this is no ordinary snow! No, there is something distinctly magical behind our winter, and it is imperative that we find out what.<br />
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And why.<br />
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<h3 style="text-align: center;">
A RAGING MALEVOLENCE</h3>
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Analysis of the snow has revealed magical motes within the ice crystals. This does not mean that the snow has somehow been ‘faked’, but that its presence is far from natural. In other words, it has been summoned.<br />
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I think we all know that this has been an unnatural winter, a bitterness and ferocity to the wind and the storms like the very weather is formed of a raging malevolence. And now, we are beginning to understand why. Who has called this winter down upon us and what could their reason be?<br />
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<h3 style="text-align: center;">
DEDICATION AND INGENUITY</h3>
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The hard work of the mages is to be lauded, and we must all now put our trust in them as we battle the elements and look to the skies in trepidation. Yet again the Royal City, nay, the entire land, must be thankful for the dedication and ingenuity of its mages, without whom this worrying occurrence would have gone undetected.<br />
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<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Hieronymous Finnigan </i></div>
</div>
Victoria Hooperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00781566476728948415noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1608779085534186385.post-9171947221965744732013-03-03T05:00:00.000+00:002013-03-03T05:00:03.914+00:00Monthly News From Caewal<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Greetings lovely readers in the Royal City; I hope you’re keeping warm in this bitter winter. I must tell you dears, the most unexpected thing has happened – it has snowed in Cae-on-Wal! The locals assure me this is quite unprecedented. It may be normal for a little light powdery snow on the hills to the north, not to mention enough rain to depress even the storm gods, but for the capital city itself to be buried under a thick layer of snow... well, you would think the end of the world was nigh.<br />
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<h3 style="text-align: center;">
FLOOD BARRICADES USELESS AGAINST THE ONSLAUGHT</h3>
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The high walls and flood defences that have protected the towns in the fens from the rising waters for centuries, are now suddenly useless against the onslaught of the weather. Snow covers the fields, melting and flooding into the houses. Snow ruins the fine reeds all over Caewal, threatening the livelihood of the whole region. The boatmen of the Riverlands have to crack the ice over their waterways and eel farms each morning, and many are venturing into more populated towns for the first time in hundreds of years. Fair readers, I’m sure you can only imagine how the townsfolk are reacting to the sudden influx of waterlogged peasants, dragging the river mud in with them!<br />
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<h3 style="text-align: center;">
WINTER DEMONS AND BOG MONSTERS</h3>
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It would appear that the days inside spent weathering the snow have sent people a little stir crazy here in Caewal. You have to understand, dear readers, that these are not the sophisticated people of the Royal City; they see unusual weather and immediately start making up bedtime stories. It’s actually rather endearing in a way. First, it would seem the bog monsters are making their return to the area around Kirkgate. Oooh spooky! The latest fears are the ‘Winter Demons’, who the people of the Riverlands are saying have been blown down from the north as part of a new invasion plan from none other than the Dark Lord himself! Entertaining, no? If this snow has anything magical behind it I’ll eat my very fine hat.<br />
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<h3 style="text-align: center;">
PASSION AT THE SNOWFLAKE BALL</h3>
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At least one thing has come out of this dismal winter. The notables of Cae-on-Wal, enchanted by the beauty and novelty of the crisp snow in their city, threw a Snowflake Ball two nights ago. And oh my, were the fashions delightful! Winter-themed doublets and snowflake gowns, and miles of the finest pale blue silk. And amongst the pirouetting guests, this reporter caught a glimpse of none other than Louisa Harcourt, daughter of Cae-on-Wal’s own Lady Protector, in a passionate embrace with Lord Boswell. If that isn’t news hot enough to melt your snow, then I don’t know what is!<br />
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Until next time loyal and beloved readers!<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Master Karlton Atherton</i></div>
</div>
Victoria Hooperhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00781566476728948415noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1608779085534186385.post-9853390585637056652013-02-17T10:20:00.001+00:002013-02-17T10:20:57.644+00:00Herald Notice: Snow CrashEveryone here at the Herald apologises for the recent lack of posts, but unfortunately we have fallen victim to the so-called Fimbulwinter currently afflicting the Royal City. Snow drifts tens of feet high run down from the city walls into streets where whole storeys are buried and thick icicles hang from every rooftop to create what look like sparkling prison bars to those living here. And of course there's the cold; the persistent, bitter chill that kept fires burning round the clock in every hearth until the fuel started to run out. Some were able to lay hands on enough blankets to keep themselves from freezing, others made it to the refuge halls dotted across the city. Too many managed neither.<br />
<br />
As you might imagine, business here has ground to a halt. Few people can leave their homes, let alone get to work. Lines of communication in and out of the city are all but severed; many of the messenger birds have died or fled to warmer climbs. Whatever news is breaking across the Isles has fallen prey to the only headline in town; big, bold capital letters spelling out how winter is slowly crushing the beating heart of Abevorn.<br />
<br />
We hope normal service will resume shortly, but we more fervently hope we can keep this fire burning just a little while longer.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Edmund Stroff</i></div>
Vincent Holland-Keenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13620266525944160618noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1608779085534186385.post-86486905994365697242013-02-08T07:00:00.000+00:002013-02-08T07:00:08.165+00:00Film Review: The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey (2012)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-E_-t49Tnqu4/UROuwv3NryI/AAAAAAAABAM/B-NLjtkTz38/s1600/The_Hobbit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="242" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-E_-t49Tnqu4/UROuwv3NryI/AAAAAAAABAM/B-NLjtkTz38/s400/The_Hobbit.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<div>
There is a moment approximately twenty-eight hours in to The Hobbit's forty-hour running time where the fellowship of dwarves, hobbit and wizard we're accompanying find themselves in the midst of a smackdown between towering rock giants.</div>
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It is, arguably, utterly empty spectacle. It could have been cut from the film without issue, saving the budget millions and movie-going bladders a tense wait to find out whether they can last to the end without bursting. There are plenty of moments like this throughout The Hobbit; scenes the story could have easily done without. If shorter and sharper, this unexpected journey would have made it there and back again without needing another installment on each of our next two Christmasses.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-43EiF6FCqOc/UROv7H-NL-I/AAAAAAAABAk/PcHlhQiTlAY/s1600/the-hobbit-an-unexpected-journey-rock-monster.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="167" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-43EiF6FCqOc/UROv7H-NL-I/AAAAAAAABAk/PcHlhQiTlAY/s400/the-hobbit-an-unexpected-journey-rock-monster.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"On seeing the dwarves, the rock giant gave them a cheery wave..."</td></tr>
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<h3 style="text-align: center;">
BUT... ROCK GIANTS... HEADBUTTING EACH OTHER</h3>
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A granite jaw explodes from a flinty fist. A figure the height of a mountain crashes down into the depths of a valley; all while our hapless adventurers are trapped on a fragile ledge right in the middle of the action.</div>
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I had a grin on my face at this point. It wasn't empty spectacle. It told us this was a world where forces beyond the ken of the little folk could do battle, heedless to the little folk caught in the middle. It told us this was a director who wasn't telling the story of Bilbo Baggins, it was a director telling a tale of Middle Earth; a place where mountains can not only move, they can also kick ass; a tale that will ultimately span six films and strive to be more than the sum of its parts.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qdNEfQVLA0c/UROyfhyRtSI/AAAAAAAABBE/Hb7OkU6fznk/s1600/49895.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="232" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qdNEfQVLA0c/UROyfhyRtSI/AAAAAAAABBE/Hb7OkU6fznk/s320/49895.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">To outsiders, Rivendell was a picturesque idyll; insiders knew it hid a grim secret: an industrial fart joke factory</td></tr>
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<h3 style="text-align: center;">
GREATER TAPESTRY</h3>
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The opening of the film features Frodo in the moments before he meets Gandalf at the beginning of 'The Fellowship of the Ring'. There are meetings that presage the rise of the necromancer, Sauron. Numerous lines, motifs and incidents echo Jackson's preceding trilogy. All of these may diminish the success of The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey as a standalone film, but enhance its part in a greater tapestry.</div>
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Plus, like I said, rock giants. Headbutting each other.</div>
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Whether you find the spectacle shallow or deep, there is no denying it is spectacular. The cinematography is first-rate. Almost every shot stands as an artful still in its own right. Despite the running time, there are few sequences where the pace drags, though I'm sure anyone here for a simple tale of a hobbit would beg to differ. In fact, the pace struck me as more akin to a novel or TV mini-series than a film, where a set-up is paid off a dozen hours or two hundred pages later, rather than within ninety minutes. But make no mistake: the story isn't stretched thin to fill the running time, there's merely more story stuffed into all those extra minutes.</div>
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If you're happy to drink in more of Middle Earth, that's a good thing.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wiEGgcifTTQ/UROxh0879MI/AAAAAAAABAw/Jog0gVlRfm4/s1600/richard-armitage-the-hobbit-an-unexpected-journey.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="172" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wiEGgcifTTQ/UROxh0879MI/AAAAAAAABAw/Jog0gVlRfm4/s400/richard-armitage-the-hobbit-an-unexpected-journey.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The moment Thorin realised the cat could get down from the tree on its own...</td></tr>
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<h3 style="text-align: center;">
GRATUITOUS HERO SHOTS</h3>
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Are there bad things here? Well, I saw the film in standard frame-rate 2D, so I can't comment on the pros and cons of high frame-rate 3D, but I can say I detected a knowing tone of weariness in Ian McKellen's pitch-perfect Gandalf when he exhorted his companions to 'run!' for the fifty-eighth time. There are a few too many gratuitous 'hero shots' of Richard Armitage's Thorin, which might look good as artful stills, but have much the same effect as someone repeatedly telling you they're awesome instead of letting you draw that conclusion for yourself. And, come the finale, it will absolutely make you ask again why The Lord of the Rings didn't <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1yqVD0swvWU">end like this</a>.</div>
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But they're minor nit-picks. 'The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey' is an exceptionally made film. Whether it's a <i>good</i> film rests on whether you agree with Peter Jackson's decision to create an epic series rather than a standalone movie. Regardless of that, I defy anyone to wrest their attention from the screen when Gollum slips back into view...</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Vincent Holland-Keen</i></div>
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Vincent Holland-Keenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13620266525944160618noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1608779085534186385.post-45361200295670845462013-02-07T07:00:00.000+00:002013-02-07T07:00:05.987+00:00Film Review: Reign of Fire (2003)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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When talking about fantasy films, I always find myself trying to think of a really good film with dragons in it. Inevitably I come around to Reign of Fire. It’s actually a pretty decent dragon movie. Think war movie meets apocalypse film rather than fantasy fare and that’s the sort of pseudo military vibe of a large chunk of the film.<br />
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<a name='more'></a>The premise is essentially: dragon is discovered, then suddenly they are everywhere, reducing everything to ash. Humans are ill-equipped to survive and - hurrah! - now we have an odd sort of modern medieval setting.<br />
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<h3 style="text-align: center;">
DARK AND GRIM</h3>
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Visually it’s pretty dark and grim and not very shiny at all. The dragons are impressive and it is the right look for the mood, being also dark and grim and not very shiny. Christian Bale with a beard does a great job as the community leader Quinn trying to do the right thing and help his group survive. Matthew McConaughey also with a beard is a real surprise as military type Denton Van Zan really selling the slightly mental hard case angle.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvmIvw_c7oXJOreF6OhzI7ZNHr3IucGH1rhdFdRgDdRGDtay3q2d9c9XJ82umCG2rX_LyY6lgYG76bc8gnyhXNFChIxZdTCpuEabUgr2D_Wyyy8kG2uXJ6exwCN6ny2vZ2xT6L5-ZlIWJR/s1600/11495-25853.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvmIvw_c7oXJOreF6OhzI7ZNHr3IucGH1rhdFdRgDdRGDtay3q2d9c9XJ82umCG2rX_LyY6lgYG76bc8gnyhXNFChIxZdTCpuEabUgr2D_Wyyy8kG2uXJ6exwCN6ny2vZ2xT6L5-ZlIWJR/s320/11495-25853.gif" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"If you listen to this dragon's tooth carefully, you can hear the sea..."</td></tr>
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<h3 style="text-align: center;">
DRAGONPOCALYPSE</h3>
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The start of the film, set in the world loosely as we know it, sets up the post Dragonpocalypse environment well and there is a bit of voice over to fill in some of the ‘need to know’ stuff, but mostly everything is handled through the action and character interaction (pointed glare at <a href="http://thefantasylandherald.blogspot.co.uk/2013/01/film-review-age-of-dragons-2011.html">Age of the Dragons</a>).<br />
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It’s not for everyone, it’s not a shiny fantasy movie with magic and wizards and stuff. It’s a war film where the enemy force is a giant flying lizard species. The characters weren’t the most compelling ever and I didn’t get as involved emotionally as I might have, but it was a solid effort. A very entertaining watch; easy on the brain, great visually and the actors did their jobs well.<br />
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<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Adele Wearing</i></div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1608779085534186385.post-53768058302478610082013-02-06T07:00:00.000+00:002013-02-06T18:32:02.671+00:00Auntie Bladderpod<br />
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<br />
Dear Auntie B,<br />
<br />
Try as we might, we just cannot get our tar to the right consistency for dropping on orcs. Do you have any tips?<br />
<br />
Yours gratefully<br />
Captain F<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>---xXx---</b></div>
<br />
<i>Dear Captain F,</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Tar is a tricky business. It seems so simple but the truth is it can be a bugger. My second husband, Arthur Dankpizzle, used to swear by the trick his mother, the renowned Orc-Killer Babs Babylon, taught him as a child. Spit once in the pot, turn thrice about widdershins and then add a dash of pepper and spit again. Say “Tar be thick, tar be hot, tar boil the damned Orcs’ scrots” and spit a final time. It sounds like nothing, but Babs knew her business.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Good luck.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Love</i><br />
<i>Auntie Bladderpod</i><br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmHNAzUhpb7xUiownIsGTTl-5-Dvxo1s09Iip8KdhFtPvgiwS5jcDPfcaQhlRkY5l-YIiUDmotfqSUa5FB5aprnmBmRTZTTUc_NYWaGAnRy-J8XAoDIVBa9zgymeYl_u6IFFFTIl7rIHD8/s1600/bladderpod+head.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmHNAzUhpb7xUiownIsGTTl-5-Dvxo1s09Iip8KdhFtPvgiwS5jcDPfcaQhlRkY5l-YIiUDmotfqSUa5FB5aprnmBmRTZTTUc_NYWaGAnRy-J8XAoDIVBa9zgymeYl_u6IFFFTIl7rIHD8/s1600/bladderpod+head.png" /></a></div>
<br />
Dear Aunty,<br />
<br />
My parents don't approve of my boyfriend due to a long standing family feud. My Dad is talking about marrying me off and my boyfriend has suggested I fake suicide and then run away with him. I am sooo confused and no one seems to be listening to me!<br />
Please help.<br />
<br />
Thanks<br />
Confused<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>---xXx---</b></div>
<br />
<i>Dear Confused,</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>You’re right to be confused. I’m confused. I find that a tankard full of Flak Ale (available from any good bottle shop) usually does the trick though. While you’re drinking it, you can’t remember why you are worried and after you’ve drunk it you can’t remember your own name. Problem solved. Now, what were you saying, dear?</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Love</i><br />
<i>Auntie Bladderpod</i><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
Dear Aunty<br />
<br />
My Husband has taken up the Banjo, except he can't really play, he certainly can't sing and I don't like the Banjo when it's played well. I am starting to think murderous thoughts. How do I get him to give up the dread instrument and do something useful with his time? Or at least spend some of it on me?<br />
<br />
Thanks<br />
NoMoreBanjo<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>---xXx---</b></div>
<br />
<i>Dear NoMoreBanjo,</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Your problem is a very simple one to solve: matches. Set fire to the blasted thing and he won’t be able to play it, will he? It’s common sense, dear. If he interferes, you can always dish the same treatment out to him. That will teach him a little something about priorities and no mistake.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Love </i><br />
<i>Auntie Bladderpod</i><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
Dear Aunty,<br />
<br />
My wife's feet stink. I mean seriously, the pigs won't come in to the cottage at winter because of the smell. Can you please recommend something to help with this.<br />
<br />
Many thanks<br />
Stinky's Man.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>---xXx---</b></div>
<br />
Dear Stinky’s Man,<br />
<br />
I recall a little saying that goes something like “let he who is without stink cast the first whiff”. You might want to consider your own no doubt dubious bodily odours before making such a fuss about a trifle such as this. That said, however, there are two options. Firstly, cutting your nose off isn’t just a spite to your face. It can really work. A sharp knife and something to cauterise the gaping wound that will result are all you need. Second, an old lotion my mother taught me to make might do the trick – a yard of knotted twineneedle crushed into powder mixed with the dirty bowel of a tree rodent, add a dollop of sulphur and pop it by the fire for 15 minutes to ooze nicely together and apply morning, noon and night. The vapours do tend to provoke just the tiniest of hallucinations but there have only been thirty seven deaths in the past year so you’ll probably be fine … as long as there isn’t a cutlass, a bridge or a billy goat gruff anywhere near you.<br />
<br />
Love<br />
Auntie Bladderpod<br />
<br />Vincent Holland-Keenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13620266525944160618noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1608779085534186385.post-5736125742723791942013-02-05T07:00:00.000+00:002013-02-05T07:00:09.891+00:00Special Report: Pirate Problem Widespread in Port Population<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdYmbwlmf31INxLS8ceXDxq0Q3ECiPvR8rN5yE3jsgM6GNPuZt73G-PY1mOTT9Sfsqv-_fQe1PuxEP7D0q58xanoeydWOzHy5gOa_Y8ZzenqRhLkclhXz78MV1V_hcuF06oM6DGgeRuWwl/s1600/port+bloodwater.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="282" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdYmbwlmf31INxLS8ceXDxq0Q3ECiPvR8rN5yE3jsgM6GNPuZt73G-PY1mOTT9Sfsqv-_fQe1PuxEP7D0q58xanoeydWOzHy5gOa_Y8ZzenqRhLkclhXz78MV1V_hcuF06oM6DGgeRuWwl/s400/port+bloodwater.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The infamous Port Bloodwater, viewed from the sea</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Anyone living on the western coast of Abevorn, especially in the regions of Sevennia, the Shadow Wastes and the Western Isles, will be familiar with the day-to-day reality of piracy. Port Bloodwater is an infamous base of piratical gangs, inhabited by buccaneers and thieves and malcontents of every kind. Violent acts against honest trade are a common and high-profile danger to shipping from the border of Caefro right down to Khaevorn. What is less well-known, is that a low-grade culture of piracy and smuggling has infiltrated the lives of many otherwise law-abiding citizens who live in coastal regions.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a>It is a problem rarely spoken of in the Royal City or along the sun-drenched Eastern coast, but piracy receives tacit support from folk in all sections of society in the Western Isles and the coastal communities along the mainland. It is perfectly common for the inhabitants of small port towns to collude with smugglers, participate in unofficial salvage operations, and buy illegally obtained goods. With this kind of widespread background support it is no wonder that piracy blooms on our shores and officials have had little luck in rooting out this menace.<br />
<br />
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
THE FACTS</h3>
<br />
<ul>
<li>In the last year there have been only 2 official reports of shipwrecks in the entirety of the Western Isles, despite the hazardous currents and many jagged rocks that test even experienced sailors. In both of these reports the wrecked ships appear to have been mostly empty and curiously under-provisioned. </li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>On a visit to Dunnell, the largest town in the Western Isles, I discovered ship-builders with no links to either naval forces or established trading companies. None took kindly to my questions about their credentials and burly members of staff speedily saw me off the premises. </li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>Marketplaces provide more than just the necessities local folk need. Stalls regularly sell finely-made goods of unknown origin alongside the usual assorted bric-a-brac. </li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>Even the humblest homes in the smallest fishing villages have fences, sheds, and even extra rooms constructed from timber salvaged from the sea. Local fisher-folk do not respond well to questions about where they get their building materials.</li>
</ul>
<br />
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
BLACK MARKET FLOURISHES</h3>
<br />
When speaking to locals I found that people were generally unconcerned about where their purchases came from, and whether they had been obtained legally. Some even went so far as to offer support for the smugglers and unlicensed merchants who sell their stock so cheaply.<br />
<br />
“It's better than you can get from the trading companies for the same price,” observed Ned Barnacle (56), a fisherman. “If you want anything decent round here it's best not to ask where it comes from.”<br />
<br />
The local gentry do publicly speak out against piracy and smuggling, and support legal traders for their daily needs. However I was told that many rich and respectable members of community will instruct their servants to buy luxury goods as cheaply as possible, with no question as to their origin. I'm was also informed that there is a flourishing black market trade in specialist products, with middlemen arranging thefts to order for those who can afford to pay for such services.<br />
<br />
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
NO OFFICIAL RESPONSE</h3>
<br />
My attempts to contact the Governer of the Western Isles and the powerful Conclave of Dunnell about this matter have been met with bland statements of intent that suggest no real action is being taken.<br />
A spokesman for Governor Bathsheba Threpley said that the Governor took all instances of piracy, smuggling and illegal trading very seriously. He added the she plans to form a committee to investigate the matter just as soon as she recovers from the strenuous bout of relationship-building she undertook over the mid-winter banqueting season.<br />
<br />
A representative from the Conclave of Dunnell listened carefully to all I had to say and seemed to understand my concerns. When asked for a response she said that these material problems are a symptom of moral decay, no doubt imported from the godless and heretical population of the mainland. She explained that the Conclave members are each busily working to better the spiritual lives of the inhabitants of the Western Isles. From what she said there seems to be little consensus on how best to accomplish this, but it's clearly a project the Conclave are devoting most of their energies to.<br />
<br />
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
DRASTIC ACTION</h3>
<br />
While the authorities take no action the wider population continues to support illegal activites. Honest traders find themselves priced out the market and even the bigger trading companies are less willing to trade in the region, which only gives pirates, smugglers and fences a greater foothold. Unless someone takes drastic action soon it will be impossible to reverse the wide-ranging affects of illegal trade.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Petunia Plumtree</i></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<br />
Vincent Holland-Keenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13620266525944160618noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1608779085534186385.post-46318548036432198332013-02-04T10:00:00.000+00:002013-02-04T10:00:09.738+00:00Letter to the Editor: Concerning the Dissanters<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw69CTwaKZ4u8ojNQUi9qF_todWrBfmY0iLoi4uW4KCUg8-7con3pIfKEg7p11Y_wA1XM0QfVG5SxXeeRQtdVEI_31cjaXukRLdgPhJZHN5VjxUOJhbh78NqcXnlRVUr-xtgA_v3TspdHM/s1600/letter+to+the+editor.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="142" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw69CTwaKZ4u8ojNQUi9qF_todWrBfmY0iLoi4uW4KCUg8-7con3pIfKEg7p11Y_wA1XM0QfVG5SxXeeRQtdVEI_31cjaXukRLdgPhJZHN5VjxUOJhbh78NqcXnlRVUr-xtgA_v3TspdHM/s400/letter+to+the+editor.png" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
Dear Sir,<br />
<br />
I am a merchant in Snowberry Wine, amongst other things, and I travelled to the land of Olverym in pursuit of my trade. I like to be there for what the people of that disagreeable nation call the 'Idea' of January. They think a month is not real until the thirteenth day has passed and that day is called the 'Idea' of the month. They are very strange folk.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a>Each month on that day a great fair is held in a bowl like valley to the north of the disreputable city of Dragons Cradle. In other months livestock are traded, or crops from the field, or fine craftwork, or even bundles of dreamleaf (which grows wild as a weed in those parts), but in the month of January the trade is in Snowberries, freshly reaped, or in wine laid down at least three years before.<br />
<br />
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
STRONG SPIRITS</h3>
<br />
I travel there every year and stay at the same inn, The Delving Deep, which is run by a dwarfish couple Mr and Mrs Hardpick. They run a fine establishment with quite agreeable food. I am not a man for strong spirits or ale, but Mr Hardpick makes his own mead, and quite delicious it is too. If any should visit Dragons Cradle, they should sample the hospitality of this fine establishment.<br />
<br />
So, you can imagine my horror when, upon returning from a business trip to the Lower Town, I discovered a group of old crones before the inn. They were dressed all in black with crimson sashes across their chests and they sang loudly of Temperance and the love of Dragons. During the third and fourth and fifth days of the fair, I had noted some such singing up by what the locals call Wartin Seat; a large natural outcropping of stone that does, in the right light, look somewhat like a throne.<br />
<br />
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
ATTACKED</h3>
<br />
It seems that there is a new holy man in these parts, his name is Discant or Sisant, or Decent, or something like that, Olverym names are so hard to remember. Why can't they have decent Abevorn names like Katar, or Edmund, or Bobo.<br />
<br />
These crones assaulted me! With cudgels and fists they attacked me as I tried to enter the inn. A place of ill-repute they called it. Yes, the Hardpicks lay on music of a night-time and it can get somewhat rowdy, but I would not call that a place of ill-repute. I would call that an inn.<br />
<br />
I'm not sure what would have happened if Mr Hardpick, and a couple of his lads, hadn't come out and saved me from the those vicious crones. They knew where to hit a man let me tell you that and no mistake.<br />
<br />
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
DISAGREEABLE PEOPLE</h3>
<br />
It seems the people of Olverym are turning against immorality, which is not before time if you ask me, but they have started, as is their wont, by attacking foreign-owned establishments. The dwarves have lived in Olverym for centuries, but the Hardpicks are from the North Rym and so, to the people of Dragons Cradle they are foreign. A quite disagreeable people, always fighting amongst themselves. No wonder their nation is in decline.<br />
<br />
So a warning to your readers, if you must travel to Olverym, watch out for old crones in black dresses with crimson sashes upon their torsos. They build their women tough and nasty with it in Olverym.<br />
<br />
Oh, Mr Hardpick tells me that they call themselves 'The Dissanters'. He seems quite put out by all this fuss and sold me a bottle of mead at nearly half off to make up for the injuries I suffered. It does have rather a sticky quality, but that might well be my bruised lips.<br />
<br />
Yours in warning<br />
<br />
From Gerald Bradicas esq of Lichearan Town<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
Vincent Holland-Keenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13620266525944160618noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1608779085534186385.post-69363558622552061452013-02-03T10:12:00.000+00:002013-02-03T10:12:40.006+00:00Football Report: Arcrigh FC vs Quayside Utd<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Hello sports fans. This week I was visiting Arcrigh - a grothole of a village in the Shadow Wastes where no one goes unless they have to. Those that have to will usually be fighting to the death in the notorious Arcrigh Arena, but on this occasion, the unwilling visitors also included Quayside Utd, who had the dubious fortune of avoiding the Arena in favour of the scorched earth of Uerthe's Clearing.</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a name='more'></a><span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;">Those boys new to the Quayside team probably found Arcrigh a shock; the whispered tales of men tearing flesh from each other's bones with their teeth doesn't entirely fit with the picture of nondescript log cabins and chubby villagers splashing through dirtwater with pigs under their arms that greeted my arrival in the village. Both underground fighting and animal husbandry are alien concepts to a team who mostly hail from private schools or the fish markets of Regent's Quay. Unsurprisingly, none of the Quayside fans bothered to make the trip to the far side of the Daggerspine Mountains.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span>
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;">SCARRED AND BATTERED</span></h3>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;">Still, I recognised a few
of the scarred and battered faces placing quiet bets on the match from my old
fighting days. Arcrigh is one of those places where visitors are well advised
to stay in groups and not stray off the path. The local Tavern, 'The Shredded Lamb', is not particularly hospitable. All that said, the locals aren't
nearly as dangerous as the fighters that pass through and with no events at the
Arena the atmosphere was dank and morose rather than hostile and
violent.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span>
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">ARCRIGH DOMINATED</span></span></h3>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;">Arcrigh gave a sporting
effort, scoring in the twice thanks to Rogar Dogleech and Darcy
Saltgully, but were largely dominated by the well disciplined boys
from Regent's Quay. Both Drake Van Den Perydike and Atar Rattlewatch were on the receiving end of heavy Quayside tackles, but both were able to play on.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;">Quayside levelled the score through Gresforn Lookerick and Bartand Shuster, before Dask Holemaiden put away a third in the 54th and then killed the game off dramatically in the 90th minute with a fine volleyed shot into the top corner.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<h3>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;">A LITTLE WEAK</span></h3>
</div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;">I hope the season picks
up pace, so far its been a little weak on the violent plays that are intrinsic
to the competitive nature of the sport.</span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;">Till next time, it's not
the taking part, it's the taking someone out that counts. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;"><i>Rush Grathrock</i></span></div>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1608779085534186385.post-66624898693810975782013-02-02T17:00:00.000+00:002013-02-02T17:00:05.421+00:00Saturday Football - League Week 22<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">Here are the results and revised league tables for league week 22. Click the pictures for bigger versions. Revised league tables after the break.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"><br /></span>
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Vincent Holland-Keenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13620266525944160618noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1608779085534186385.post-69904831531205316262013-02-02T15:01:00.000+00:002013-02-02T17:34:25.456+00:00Editor's Monthly Roundup - January<div>
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Plunged into a deathly winter where evil strikes at goodness from every shadow, could there really have been a better month in which to launch The Fantasyland Herald?</div>
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<a name='more'></a>When I first met with a group of strangers claiming to be from another world, I did consider them likely fae folk, out to trick me into following them down into a eldritch realm beneath a grassy hill, whereupon I would be forced to live out an unnaturally lengthened life attending a non-stop procession of debauched parties.</div>
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Alas, they were telling the truth.</div>
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<h3 style="text-align: center;">
RAMPAGING TROLLS, QUESTING KNIGHTS AND VENGEFUL WITCHES</h3>
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I told them I was merely the editor of a humble pamphlet informing those few citizens of Abevorn's Royal City who could actually read about the mundanities of day-to-day life in the Isles of Aebron. They in turn explained that rampaging trolls, questing knights and vengeful witches turning whole villages of men, women and children to ice were happenings both unheard of and exciting back in their world.</div>
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A few more flaggons of mead later and my scepticism vanished; The Fantasyland Herald was born. Of course, it's still early days. A pamphlet needs few writers, whereas a daily newspaper needs many more. Never doubt our constant search for new and original contributors to improve and expand our coverage.</div>
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But enough of such vainglorious self-reflection, my duty here is to reflect upon the news of the last month and without further ado, I shall do exactly that.</div>
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<h3 style="text-align: center;">
QUEEN DEAD, KING INJURED, CITY IN CHAOS</h3>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The assassin appears in the Royal Castle's Nightfall Hall</td></tr>
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And so it began: The Fantasyland Herald's <a href="http://thefantasylandherald.blogspot.co.uk/2013/01/queen-dead-king-injured-city-in-chaos.html">first major news story</a> was a tragedy. The Queen was killed at the hands of a mysterious assassin and, but for the grace of the Gods, the King might have joined her. The hunt for the assassin continues even now. Sightings are coming in from across the kingdom - too many for us to cover - but the most reliable reports suggest the villain is now somewhere in the Shadow Wastes, possibly headed for the pirate city of Port Bloodwater and a ship bound for foreign shores.</div>
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In his wake, mourning. Hundreds of thousands crowded the streets to bear witness to the grandest funeral procession this country has seen. It was during the Royal City's last farewell to its beloved Queen that Prince Mikael, <a href="http://thefantasylandherald.blogspot.co.uk/2013/01/prince-missing.html">thought lost</a> in the wilds of the Southern Ranges, made a sudden reappearance. Our correspondent, Katar Bristicus, covered the event <a href="http://thefantasylandherald.blogspot.co.uk/2013/01/farewell-fair-queen-live-commentary.html">here</a>, and now travels with the funeral procession south to the Queen's birthplace in Suward Gardens.</div>
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All of which raises many questions: who sent the assassin? What happened to the Prince during his brief disappearance and who were the mysterious companions he returned with? Will the King to recover from the loss of his wife in time to heal the rifts now tearing apart the Royal Council?</div>
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<h3 style="text-align: center;">
COUNCIL TO DECIDE FATE OF KINGDOM</h3>
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With the King retreating into mourning, leadership of fair Abevorn lay in the hands of eleven men and women who can barely keep from forming those hands into fists and punching each other until the whole land lies bruised and bleeding on the floor.</div>
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Any hope the Royal Council could have put their differences aside to present a united front for the people to rally behind were cast to the four winds when Lord Edward Hawkcroft stood upon the steps of the Broken Arch and made his now <a href="http://thefantasylandherald.blogspot.co.uk/2013/01/lord-speaks-people-listen.html">infamous speech</a> of the six-stroke cross.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lord Hawkcoft's speech on the steps of the Broken Arch</td></tr>
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The sign of the six-stroke cross can now be seen spreading across the kingdom. For centuries it was the symbol of Abevorn, now it stands for something else: a code of right and wrong shouted on street corners by people whose only authority comes from a sash around their chest and the menace of gangs bankrolled by a supposed 'People's Militia'. And of course, where our country leads, others follow...</div>
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<h3 style="text-align: center;">
FOREIGN AFFAIRS</h3>
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Our Olverym correspondent, Cuffid Longnose, reports on a rabble-rousing raconteur by the name of <a href="http://thefantasylandherald.blogspot.co.uk/2013/01/news-from-olverym-disant-two-combs.html">Disant Two-Combs</a>. While not a great orator like our own Lord Hawkcroft, that's no handicap in a country where sophistication and intelligence would be considered vices if they were any people there smart enough to think up such words. Disant apparently wishes to return his homeland to the glory days of dragons, which you might rightly think a foolish notion, but you are bright, whereas his local audience most certainly were not.</div>
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Fortunately, another of our near neighbours has a far more practical attitude toward awarding citizens free speech. Caewal's populace may say what they like, safe in the knowledge that when they have finished, a demon summoned by their Witch-Queen rulers will tear them apart if their words were inappropriate. So far, our correspondent there, <a href="http://thefantasylandherald.blogspot.co.uk/2013/02/news-from-caewal.html">Karlton Atherton</a>, has managed to avoid speaking out of place, but if he does, rest assured we shall have an artist on hand to paint the consequences.</div>
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<h3 style="text-align: center;">
MUERDELAIN BREAKS FELLOWSHIP</h3>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Darach Muerdelain</td></tr>
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The final major news story from the past month concerns the evil hero the bards have dubbed 'The Prince of Profane'. Darach Muerdelain fought in the last great war against Belgren, but his time in the Spited Lands blackened his soul and now he walks the land weighed down by demonic enchantments and the blood of the many he has killed. This month he added four more names to that list.</div>
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The Fellowship of the Heart were a party of five adventurers renowned throughout the land for their goodness and charity. They were tracking Muerdelain in response to call from the Bishop Theocrace Hobbs, who had discovered that the Prince of Profane had got his hands on the 'The Skull of the Underking', a vile artifact thought lost within the dungeons of Ban-Bakkun.</div>
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The Fellowship of the Heart faced down Muerdelain in the Cloister of Doves at Craven Priory. <a href="http://thefantasylandherald.blogspot.co.uk/2013/01/muerdelain-breaks-fellowship.html">Evil prevailed</a>.</div>
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It was thought all the members of the Fellowship were killed, but we eventually found out one survived: <a href="http://thefantasylandherald.blogspot.co.uk/2013/01/amarisa-innskeld-lives.html">Amarisa Innskeld</a>. We wait with baited breath to see what both she and Muerdelain do next.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqL8IRVI-EhPT88D09ABJs6wxo0M4hmLEZe0QdIQ8WFvnj314aQ8jlN5QzNRlR5VJhPSS003HIZqeoBS6qJakFejbRD60QeOKIIF2dzSX89lxeNPIC6eRp6Slw2S2AQxGPMaAIcJ8ztRSW/s1600/amarisa+innskeld.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqL8IRVI-EhPT88D09ABJs6wxo0M4hmLEZe0QdIQ8WFvnj314aQ8jlN5QzNRlR5VJhPSS003HIZqeoBS6qJakFejbRD60QeOKIIF2dzSX89lxeNPIC6eRp6Slw2S2AQxGPMaAIcJ8ztRSW/s320/amarisa+innskeld.png" width="226" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Amarisa Innskeld</td></tr>
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<h3 style="text-align: center;">
SENSATION IN MY TOES</h3>
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And so that concludes my first roundup of news from 'Fantasyland'. I use quotes, because this is a term I am not altogether happy with. There is nothing fantastical about the place to those of us living here, especially with this foul winter that has descended upon the Royal City. Six foot snowdrifts line the streets, ice hangs from the mantel of even the heartiest fireplace and I haven't felt sensation in my toes for nearly a week.</div>
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Oh, while I remember, one final note on our roving travel writer <a href="http://thefantasylandherald.blogspot.co.uk/search/label/Bobo%20Melf">Bobo Melf</a>. While we haven't heard from him in a while, we are reasonably confident he is alive and well out in the wilds of Abevorn. Or if not alive and well, possibly dead and gone. But on the off-chance he's actually dying in a ditch somewhere, I'll send out a pigeon to look for him.</div>
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<i>Edmund Stroff</i></div>
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Vincent Holland-Keenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13620266525944160618noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1608779085534186385.post-4690575980418330832013-02-01T07:00:00.000+00:002013-02-01T07:00:02.816+00:00News from Caewal<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">Merry
greetings to my fair readers from the capital; I hope that life is treating you
well and that the snows will not delay this post from reaching you. Winter is
such a beautiful time in the Royal City, when all the steep roofs are dusted
with powdery snow... not like winter in Caewal, which mainly consists of rain,
rain and, oh yes, more rain! So dull.</span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">WINTERBERRY FESTIVAL</span></b></h3>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Well
dears, here is the news from your southernmost reporter. A cold front in
Cae-on-Wal marks the beginning of the Winterberry Festival in the city. This is
when the winter berry-pickings are brought into the city, and various notable
men and women vie for the title of Master Jam-Maker. There’s tents and bunting
all over the market place, and garlands of winter flowers are strewn over the
bridges. The role of judging falls to Lady Rosewater, who has been tasting jams
these past thirty-seven years, and to Lord Ficket, a new face this year. What a
lark!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">RIVERS OF CANDLELIGHT</span></span></b></h3>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">A
nervous memorial service was held for our dear, late Queen Janna, in the Golden
Temple of Light in the Castle District of Cae-on-Wal. Hundreds of people turned
up, mostly displaced Abevornians, despite uncertainty over how the Witch-Queens
would react to such a display of affection for foreign royalty (no one here is
quite sure what the Witch-Queens will take exception to until they have taken
exception to it and a Scorprios demon emerges from your chest with your beating
heart lanced upon its barbed tail). However, the vigil passed peacefully, with
rivers of candlelight seen all the way to the seawall. Popular sentiment in the
city is that Belgren is to blame, though a rumour has spread that this is the
work of a terrible new sect of necromancers who plan to take over Aebron. Where
<i>do</i> the commoners get their ideas?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">NEWS FROM THE COUNTRY</span></b></h3>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">News
from the rest of Caewal, as always, is brief. It appears that those industrious
little mages in Tannam have come up with a new method of imprinting spells onto
paper, which, they say, will increase effectiveness by up to four percent. The
Mayoress of Beckside has married the son of a woodcutter, a rather unsuitable
match by all accounts. And traders from the Riverlands report that Farmer
Gunthor’s prize-winning fowl was as big as a badgerlizard’s egg. Goodness, what
an exciting life these country folk lead. It does make one rather long for the Royal
City.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">STRANGE NEW FASHIONS</span></b></h3>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">And
readers, I know you must be dying to hear what strange new fashions from this
eccentric country were seen at society balls this month. Lady Ysobel Withington
quite surprised us all in a rather daring headdress made from some kind of
woven plant, painted gold and red and styled into a firebird sat atop her
bouffant. I asked her about it and she told me that it came from some little
village on Arromere. How quaint. Master Frederick ‘Chuckles’ Peterbottom was
less fortunate in voluminous breeches with a scalloped trim, which showed off
rather too much of his hideous sea-drake leather boots. Turquoise with pink?
They wouldn’t make that kind of error in the Royal City, I think! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Until
next month, precious readers!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: right;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Master Karlton Atherton<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
Vincent Holland-Keenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13620266525944160618noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1608779085534186385.post-23835730161594861982013-02-01T06:55:00.000+00:002013-02-01T06:55:00.390+00:00Know Your Place: Caewal<br />
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Caewal lies on a peninsula in the southwestern corner of the Isles of Aebron. The distance from its eastern most point to its western-most extremity is nigh on six hundred miles. It is presently ruled over by a conclave of Witch-Queens. Little is known about these powerful magiarchs, save for the fact they enforce their draconian and capricious laws with swift and fearsome magick.<br />
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<a name='more'></a><h3 style="text-align: center;">
CAE-ON-WAL</h3>
<div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Cae-on-Wal is the capital city of Caewal, situated at the mouth of the river Wal. In ancient times, Cae-on-Wal was the seat of the River King, now his castle is mostly in ruins, and is even something of a tourist spot. Cae-on-Wal's prime location for overseas trade has made it very wealthy. Strict policing keep it clean and pleasant and its citizens, even the poorer folk, are often considered extremely snooty about their city by outsiders.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The city is built in three sections, two on one side of the river and one on the other. The 'Canon Ward' is not home to the military as the name might suggest, but derives from the other definition of canon meaning 'rule' or 'edict'. This is where the River King's castle can be found along with the government buildings and the elaborate houses of Caewal's highest in society.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The 'Anchorage Ward' contains affluent shops, bathhouses, theatres and the homes of the merely rich. Here can be found a beautiful harbour accessible only to those deemed worthy by the city's notorious 'Yachting Club', which is notorious not just for making seafaring recreation ruthlessly exclusive, but also for privately running the third largest navy in the Isles.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The third and largest district is the 'Politan Ward', which houses the remainder of the city's population, the main docks, and more conventional shops and taverns. There are three bridges connecting the two sides of the city, all of which are under constant guard and require permits to cross.</div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
The city is beautified everywhere, even in the 'Politan Ward', with stately trees lining the streets and plenty of parks and flowerbeds. This encourages many who live here to believe it is a civilised and elevated place, and that life here is perfect, but in reality it is run like a police state. There is a nightly curfew (rarely enforced in the richer areas, where balls are common) and the docks are subject to constant patrols, random inspections and treacherous bureaucracy. Of course, this doesn't mean Cae-on-Wal is crime-free. Such diligent and firm law enforcement has instead bred an underworld teeming with particularly ingenious criminals.</div>
</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
FENSEA</h3>
<div>
<b><br /></b></div>
<div>
Fensea is a town on the northern coast of Caewal. Stretching across several fingers of land in the midst of the Great Fen, the houses stand on stilts and the buildings are connected by an intricate patchwork of board-walks and bridges. The town has a reputation for being friendly to pirates and witches and strange peoples can be found in Fensea that you might not see anywhere else in the Isles. Accordingly, the rest of Caewal looks upon the town with distaste and tries to pretend it does not exist.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
LAMPHAVEN</h3>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Lamphaven sits in the middle of a marsh in the northern forest. The houses are built in the tree branches, far above the turgid and boggy water, with rope and plank walkways connecting buildings. Transit up and down the trees is courtesy spiral staircases hammered into the trunks. As the town rarely sees much daylight thanks to the natural canopy of leaves above, thousands of lamps hang from every available mount, making use of the swamp's copious oil supply. This reliance on light has led to the inhabitants worshipping a god called 'The Devourer of Darkness'. Outside of Lamphaven, this God is simply known as The Devourer and consequently Lamphavians are often accused of being devil worshippers.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
TANNAM</h3>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Tannam is the most central major settlement in Caewal. It serves as the main centre for trade to and from the fens. Its primary industry is paper, turning thatch and reeds into product suitable for the more refined requirements of Cae-on-Wal. A thriving mage's guild operates here, specialising in weaving spells directly into parchment. The town is named after the Tan family, who own a small ancestral castle close to the town. Along with the other families of 'The Old Money', they run the place, keeping crime down and trying desperately to keep up with the fashions and fads of the capital.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
<b>WITCHCLIFF</b></h3>
<div>
<b><br /></b></div>
<div>
Witchcliff is perched at the top of a three hundred foot cliff on the eastern edge of the Nameless Island. It is accessible only via a rickety rope bridge stretched taut for miles above the raging waters of Cleaver's Channel. No one from Abevorn has ever visited the place and reported back on what was found there. It is rumoured the Witch-Queens of Caewal reside there, but they are also rumoured to live beneath the sea, in the heart of storm clouds and on the wrong side of the daemon planes, so such talk counts for little. All we know for certain is that on a clear day, if you stand upon the beach at Wittle, you can see the curving black spires of Witchcliff in the far distance with indistinct shapes circling above.</div>
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Master Karlton Atherton</i></div>
Vincent Holland-Keenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13620266525944160618noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1608779085534186385.post-50379785457207548272013-01-31T13:09:00.001+00:002013-01-31T13:12:05.864+00:00Fantasywatch: WoW movie going ahead?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vVjr9BQG7CM/UQpormg6z2I/AAAAAAAAA84/v6qy33vlHvY/s1600/552443_368087856611197_578704259_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vVjr9BQG7CM/UQpormg6z2I/AAAAAAAAA84/v6qy33vlHvY/s400/552443_368087856611197_578704259_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
After languishing in development hell for over a decade, the Hollywood adaptation of mega-MMO World of Warcraft has moved one step closer to being marginally less unlikely.<br />
<br />
Duncan Jones, acclaimed director of 'Moon' and 'Source Code', has signed on with production company Legendary Pictures to shoot the film this autumn for a 2015 release. The script was written by 'Blood Diamonds' Charles Leavitt.<br />
<br />
Details of the plot remain shrouded in secrecy, but it will doubtless feature a prolonged first act where the protagonists have to kill three hundred and eight-two spiders to find a magical geegaw with a 0.02 percent drop-rate.<br />
<br />
And yes, I know they've streamlined the quests and sped up levelling since I played it way back in 2005, but film adaptations are about capturing the <i>essence</i> of the source material and in this case that means lots of spider killing. And people jumping around all over the place for no apparent reason.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Vincent Holland-Keen</i></div>
Vincent Holland-Keenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13620266525944160618noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1608779085534186385.post-63117626392784986532013-01-31T10:00:00.000+00:002013-01-31T10:00:00.947+00:00Film Review: The Princess Bride (1987)<br />
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<a href="http://cf2.imgobject.com/t/p/original/6h8CiMaD1EMnCzno9Z7A9UUXBFU.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://cf2.imgobject.com/t/p/original/6h8CiMaD1EMnCzno9Z7A9UUXBFU.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
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In spite of its age (over 25 years old, seriously? Where's the Blu-Ray box set with extra unusually sized rodent?)
The Princess Bride remains iconic among Fantasy fans and is still unrivalled in
the affections of its fans.</div>
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<br /></div>
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</div>
<a name='more'></a>Blatantly but fondly mocking the fantasy adventure genre, The
Princess Bride boasts a princess, an evil prince, treachery, sword-fights, pirates, mountain-climbing, giant rats, flaming swamps, near total death, a
medicine man, and much more. Including a bit of kissing.<br />
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<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://questfor.files.wordpress.com/2011/11/pbride.jpg?w=540" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="181" src="http://questfor.files.wordpress.com/2011/11/pbride.jpg?w=540" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Inconceivable."</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
<br />UTTERLY BRILLIANT</h3>
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<br /></div>
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Set to the back drop of the fabulous Peter Falk reading a
story to Fred Savage ("in my day TV was called books"), the story revolves around
the love of farm boy Westley (Cary Elwes) for a girl with the silly name
Buttercup (Robin Wright) and a whole thing about marrying a Prince Humperdinck (Chris Sarandon) that we all hate. Boo.
Hiss. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This film has spawned almost as many over used and still not
tired quotes as the Monty Python films thanks to utterly brilliant and witty
scripting by William Goldman, who adapted from his own novel. It also managed fantastic things without much budget. By simply
running around on mountains and hills a lot we never really question that this
is a fantasy film, it must be, nothing else has so many trees. </div>
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<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://leocadiomartin.files.wordpress.com/2013/01/princesa-prometida.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="http://leocadiomartin.files.wordpress.com/2013/01/princesa-prometida.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"They're kissing again. Do we have to read the kissing parts?"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<h3 style="text-align: center;">
HUGELY ENTERTAINING</h3>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Other casting
highlights include Andre the Giant as pretty much himself in period
costume, but technically Fezzik, Christopher Guest as Count Rugen, Peter Cook as a clergyman, Billy Crystal as Miracle Max, Mel Smith as an
albino, Mandy Patinkin as Inigo Montoya... heck, there are no casting lowlights.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The film succeeds in being hugely entertaining as a fantasy
adventure, hugely successful as a parody of fantasy adventure and one of the
most re-watched, quoted, memorable and well-loved movies of fantasy fans
everywhere. It's the <i>other</i> reason people of a certain age wanted to learn to fence (Star Wars' glowing swords up against fighting left-handed). It's why the recent remake of Three Musketeers
is actually much funnier than you think ("Apologise to my horse, Buttercup" / "As
you wish").</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As far as I am concerned there is no competitor to its crown.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<i>Adele Wearing</i></div>
Vincent Holland-Keenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13620266525944160618noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1608779085534186385.post-71294014398753722312013-01-30T12:00:00.000+00:002013-01-30T12:00:13.678+00:00Weekly Threefold Prophecy<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTCbHmL3kb5HD-acY03eR_WFAzUJuQall9I2AgPAhKGQbT42ee9T8MV0nO2VNS4ikWoH_-dtxL1un8_KMbwbd8qRh7bf_GJNJYu_IVExGh2zW087j7hYvCoW9MSN-bavqadSXQuvwSSdj3/s1600/threefold+prophecy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="114" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTCbHmL3kb5HD-acY03eR_WFAzUJuQall9I2AgPAhKGQbT42ee9T8MV0nO2VNS4ikWoH_-dtxL1un8_KMbwbd8qRh7bf_GJNJYu_IVExGh2zW087j7hYvCoW9MSN-bavqadSXQuvwSSdj3/s320/threefold+prophecy.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<b><br /></b>
<b><br /></b>
<b>Vision of the Left Eye:</b><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">Hark,
the sound of an adventurer’s horn will soon fill the night. A new bard is in
town.</span><br />
<br />
<b>Augury of the Right Eye:</b><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">There are times to be civil and times to partake in civil war. Now is the former, later will be the latter.</span><br />
<b><br /></b><b>Omen of the Third Eye:</b><br />
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">The
path is forked; now is a time to show charity, but also to be cautious. There
is someone who wants something from you.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Sibyl Delphinica Starblossom</i></div>
<br />
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Editor's Note: The Fantasyland Herald accepts no responsibility for the future or for the actions of any person or persons who choose to act on the basis of prognostications of said future published herein.</span></i><br />
Vincent Holland-Keenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13620266525944160618noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1608779085534186385.post-29162711520416569492013-01-30T07:00:00.000+00:002013-01-30T07:00:11.161+00:00AMARISA INNSKELD LIVES<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqL8IRVI-EhPT88D09ABJs6wxo0M4hmLEZe0QdIQ8WFvnj314aQ8jlN5QzNRlR5VJhPSS003HIZqeoBS6qJakFejbRD60QeOKIIF2dzSX89lxeNPIC6eRp6Slw2S2AQxGPMaAIcJ8ztRSW/s1600/amarisa+innskeld.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqL8IRVI-EhPT88D09ABJs6wxo0M4hmLEZe0QdIQ8WFvnj314aQ8jlN5QzNRlR5VJhPSS003HIZqeoBS6qJakFejbRD60QeOKIIF2dzSX89lxeNPIC6eRp6Slw2S2AQxGPMaAIcJ8ztRSW/s400/amarisa+innskeld.png" width="282" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Amarisa Innskeld, discovering her fallen comrades at Craven Abbey</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Amarisa Innskeld, believed to have been killed last week at the hands of Darach Muerdelain along with the other four members of The Fellowship of the Heart, is alive.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a>Details remain sketchy at this stage, but early reports suggest that on arriving at Craven Abbey, The Fellowship did not immediately go to face the Prince of Profane. Instead, while the others marshalled their supplies and set about preparing potions, spells and strategy, Amarisa Innskeld was despatched to enlist the help of the Craven Abbot.<br />
<br />
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
DIVINE CLAMOUR</h3>
<br />
Unfortunately, it is not without reason that the monks of Craven Abbey are called the unholiest of holy men. They pride themselves on listening to all the Gods, but such a divine clamour can drown out the sound of simple goodness and reason. So, instead of granting Amarisa an audience, the Craven Abbot had a novice lead her into a chamber, which was then locked from the outside.<br />
<br />
It did not hold her long, but it held her long enough.<br />
<br />
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
SLAIN</h3>
<br />
By the time she reached the Cloister of the Doves, the battle was over. Muerdelain was gone. Her companions in the fellowship were slain.<br />
<br />
No doubt the monks' part in this tragedy explains why it has taken so long for the truth to come out, but questions remain unanswered. It has been confirmed that Amarisa lingered in Craven Abbey only long enough to bury her friends, before riding forth toward unknown pastures. Maybe she now continues the hunt for Darach Muerdelain or she is fleeing as far from this tragedy as possible. Only time will tell.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Casewick Essendine</i></div>
Vincent Holland-Keenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13620266525944160618noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1608779085534186385.post-53149737881295309732013-01-29T18:53:00.000+00:002013-01-29T18:53:00.130+00:00News from Olverym: Disant Two Combs Speaks<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKN4C-7aR9GxARhyphenhyphen6N_RwJjPNnLN_IgjJsVOrnsI1ql_2EOEG4jJRgV9E3PSB_tr4ujkdG9StrnchFmaiduy99HmHqGL6iswEbkv5xtm0IpFGPS2AhJiiWfEMvwm8XYjmvDn4gDswkmyDS/s1600/Longnose+Olverym.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="142" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKN4C-7aR9GxARhyphenhyphen6N_RwJjPNnLN_IgjJsVOrnsI1ql_2EOEG4jJRgV9E3PSB_tr4ujkdG9StrnchFmaiduy99HmHqGL6iswEbkv5xtm0IpFGPS2AhJiiWfEMvwm8XYjmvDn4gDswkmyDS/s400/Longnose+Olverym.png" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
A large crowd gathered at Wartin Seat, in the Hammer Hills, to the north of the great walled city of Dragon's Cradle, looking out upon the superlative view of the Olver Valley, as is traditional upon the idea of January. Whereupon Disant Two Combs (so called for his quite magnificent moustache, which needs two combs just to groom it) stood upon the seat, the time-honoured place of calling, and proclaimed that he, and he alone, could bring the Dragons back. Much discussion greeted this announcement and, when the injured were cleared away, Disant expounded upon his thesis.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a>What follows is a verbatim account of Disant's words. He has a powerful voice and your humble scribe could hear every word clear as an eagle calling upon the hunt. Some of the rejoinders from the crowd were, however, lost to this scribe's ears, raddled as they were with strong drink and, your scribe suspects, dreamleaf smoking.<br />
<br />
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
A CALL TO RIGHTEOUSNESS</h3>
<br />
'Friends, people of Olverym, countrymen and women, I have come here upon this day, upon this auspicious day, with a new moon in the sky, and a new year just dawned, to tell you, nay to beseech you to join with me in a great mission to call forth the Dragons from the earth where they slumber. For is it not said —' Somebody yelled something, quite indistinctly. 'What? They are the lifeblood of our nation. How dare you speak of fire and death. The Dragons would not harm us, for we are their people. They slumber, they dream, beneath the very soil upon which we stand. They are all that we are, all that we ever should be, and all that we can be. Yes it does, it makes perfect sense. They are our past and our future, we are the people of the Dragons, forged in their fire.'<br />
<br />
Somebody yelled. People laughed. Disant continued.<br />
<br />
'Why do they slumber? Why do they not come to us in our hour of need?' Somebody yelled. 'Are we not in need? Are we not always in need? I can bring them back. I saw it in a vision. I lay out upon these hills not five days past and looked up at the stars and…no I was not partaking of that pernicious leaf, I am a man of truth. Where was I? What? Oh, right. I looked up at the stars and saw with the eyes of a man reborn, with the vision of a saint, with all the truth overflowing in my heart, that the Dragons dream because we, we the people of this once great land, have cast aside all righteousness in their sight. We — the people born of heroes great and true — drink, and smoke, and fornicate. And so the Dragons do not come, they do not wake … they're Dragons, they can still see while they dream if they want to. Um … yes … they do not wake for we disgust them. We must cast aside the drink, cast aside the leaf, cast aside the loose morals of those other lands beyond the mountains. We, the people of Olverym, must follow the righteous path to truth and then, and only then, will the Dragons return.' Loud applause.<br />
<br />
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
A NEW MOVEMENT BORN</h3>
<br />
Much discussion went on amongst the crowd and, when the injured were cleared away, a smaller group, mostly made up of the older matrons from the towns and villages, conversed with the mighty Disant about his great mission, to bring back the Dragons.<br />
<br />
Your scribe, with joy in his heart, imparts these true words to you.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Cuffid Longnose</i></div>
Vincent Holland-Keenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13620266525944160618noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1608779085534186385.post-60595497047322639662013-01-28T07:00:00.000+00:002013-02-02T11:44:00.205+00:00Queen's funeral procession - Week 2<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Well my darlings, I am sending you news from the dread
plains of the Steppes. Dread fully dull that is. Remember the bored to death
vole from last week? Well apparently everything on the Steppes plains suffered
the same fate. Everything. We have passed little in days other than the odd sad
looking tumbleweed and a handful of neglected desert altars. Even the buzzards
manage an air of boredom as they hang around, presumably hoping we all die. I wouldn't be surprised if we did. The heat
is intolerable and playing havoc with my skin.</div>
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</div>
<a name='more'></a><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Add to that your faithful reporter's somewhat sore behind.
Horses are evil things on the bottom lovelies. There is little to report on the
procession, it continues to be large, impressive and well armed. The few people
we have passed in the plains have paused to pay respects, largely because of
the number of men with swords suggesting the stop to pay their respects. </div>
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<br /></div>
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
EXCITEMENT</h3>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I cannot wait to get to Sunward and a feather bed. The last few nights have been spent on
blankets on the sand, in a group tent. It is very difficult to maintain one's
mystery and appearance as is required of your humble Bristicus when sharing a
tent with a large number of sweaty soldiers and their armour. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I wish I had more exciting news for you but this is how it
is. Still no sign of the King emerging and the only excitement was a bit of a
punch up over a dice game between some of the guards. Just two more days to
Sunward and the City, whilst not Royal City, will be a welcome site to my sore,
dry eyes. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<i>Katar Bristicus</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
Vincent Holland-Keenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13620266525944160618noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1608779085534186385.post-87152319504662371352013-01-26T17:00:00.000+00:002013-01-26T17:00:05.568+00:00Saturday Football - League Week 21<br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">Here are the results and revised league tables for league week 21. Click the pictures for bigger versions. Revised league tables after the break.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"><br /></span>
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<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"><i>Max Skaylock</i></span></div>
Vincent Holland-Keenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13620266525944160618noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1608779085534186385.post-15420357717922755602013-01-26T16:30:00.000+00:002013-02-02T11:50:41.798+00:00Football Report: Dunnell Utd vs Torcastle City<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpjTz7uJS1m1LrsoGzMz6CZ3zmthqNhQHDM59gL7KQ23MDqRe-JKM4SlItPxePc_6fGzpGJM-CHCzBWvBDoVj2_tDYJHlj_gYta3niOavn24Tt5y2jVQ5_B9NsEUtE2w_axHku_4VfenO3/s1600/football.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="142" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpjTz7uJS1m1LrsoGzMz6CZ3zmthqNhQHDM59gL7KQ23MDqRe-JKM4SlItPxePc_6fGzpGJM-CHCzBWvBDoVj2_tDYJHlj_gYta3niOavn24Tt5y2jVQ5_B9NsEUtE2w_axHku_4VfenO3/s400/football.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
Today we welcomed Torcastle City to Dunnell's home ground The Governor's Lot. The stadium is in the impressive grounds of the personal estate of Governor Threpley. After their performance against the Skinners a few weeks ago, Dunnell wanted a good solid win on their home ground.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a>Torcastle as you know sportsfans represent the main military port of Abevorn and their football team is as tight as the Admiralty's crews.<br />
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<h3 style="text-align: center;">
EMBARRASSING</h3>
<br />
It's probably a good thing the turn out t the Governor's Lot was in at under three thousand because Dunnell took a right battering. It was embarrassing. Really, I cringed for them when Torcastle's Kesmon 'Do it' Dwerette nailed the first goal just two minutes in. I squirmed for Dunnell when Jarin 'The Score' Swain added a second goal eight minutes later. On forty-one minutes, when Ossar Puddler laid an injury on Jun Squirldike (changing room rumours about Jun's preference for Dwarf girls is unconfirmed but has definitely made him more agressive), I died a little for Dunnell. They were utterly outclassed as the Torcastle team swabbed the decks with them. Simon Queensgrove was literally decked by The Score, who was dragged unconscious from the pitch to be replaced by Rhydian Plumer. Swain then further justified his nickname by grabbing another goal and delivering a final score of 3-0 to Torcastle.<br />
<br />
Jarin Swain is making a real name for himself now as fourth in the running for the Sovereign League top goal scorer and number eight for brutality. It's promising to be an exciting season for the young man from Torcastle.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Rush Grathrock</i></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
Vincent Holland-Keenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13620266525944160618noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1608779085534186385.post-47154288949866942462013-01-26T07:00:00.000+00:002013-01-29T15:23:31.372+00:00Film Review: Conan the Barbarian (2011)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ojgDU4a_hfw/UQfpYpuW8VI/AAAAAAAAA8I/UcILfBlEXU8/s1600/Conan+2011+(34).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="220" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ojgDU4a_hfw/UQfpYpuW8VI/AAAAAAAAA8I/UcILfBlEXU8/s320/Conan+2011+(34).jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Robert E Howard's character gets a shiny movie update since
his Arnie days in this glossy 2011 movie version.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Conan is played by Jason Mamoa and offers the usual evil
crazy villain, decent upstanding friends (Barbarians are really very lovely and
trustworthy people, who fight a lot), beautiful woman in need of saving and
lots of fighting and visual fun. </div>
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<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD_t97rX8nYtvCWGPAhdhc0HhJwfJirDA2JD6oEyM2uuyzs-jYMJaMHIZplTFEzTKAD2f11Zq1UEz5XQVg8w6EUNCEb2-ngRu_ZvM3R5pAiCLioW-bjceIuidlJ2MNfH8eVMqfXgi77Try/s1600/Conan_the_Barbarian_2011_movie_wallpaper_12_1366x768.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD_t97rX8nYtvCWGPAhdhc0HhJwfJirDA2JD6oEyM2uuyzs-jYMJaMHIZplTFEzTKAD2f11Zq1UEz5XQVg8w6EUNCEb2-ngRu_ZvM3R5pAiCLioW-bjceIuidlJ2MNfH8eVMqfXgi77Try/s320/Conan_the_Barbarian_2011_movie_wallpaper_12_1366x768.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Behold, my friend, the carriage of your dreams: a Ssangyong Korando,<br />
36,000 miles on the clock, only one careful owner."</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<h3 style="text-align: center;">
MISSING THE POINT</h3>
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I'm sure there are lots of ways to take offence at Conan for
its handling of female characters, its lack of depth, how completely ludicrous
the plot is, etc, etc. That would be rather missing the point. Conan is and
always has been, in any form, pulp fantasy fiction. I would venture that the tagline
of any pulp fantasy fiction could be 'it's very silly, with lots of fighting and
some girls in peril and stuff.' </div>
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Put out of your head any ideas of this being deep, clever,
genre changing or in any way anything other than a ridiculous film with very pretty
people having over the top adventures. Once you are there, then you can really
enjoy it.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.filmofilia.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/06/Conan_the_Barbarian_15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://www.filmofilia.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/06/Conan_the_Barbarian_15.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Hold still, kid, you have a huge zit on your nose and I have<br />
just the finger accessories necessary to expunge it."</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<h3 style="text-align: center;">
EVIL AND MAD AND CREEPY AS HELL</h3>
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It's a gorgeous film. The unpleasant and almost a bit gritty
scenes of Conan's birth, the battles, the moustache twirling madness of the
villain, the evil Wednesday Adams witch, all lush and delicious. It's almost
parodying itself whilst still delivering a serious action film. Conan is a
visual feast, don't think too hard, just let it happen to you. </div>
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<br /></div>
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In fairness to the movie, it was pretty well done too for
the sort of film. A few clunks but mostly the scripting works, the plot hangs
together in its own silly way, the acting is pretty solid and it all works
together to draw you in and make suspension of disbelief as easy as possible.
You don't have to work to stay in the mood of the film. Ron Perlman is a
delight as Corin, Rose McGowan is brilliant and almost unrecognisable as
Marique, all evil and mad and creepy as hell. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Basically a win. A good old fashioned fantasy romp and an
updated outing for the archetype Barbarian.</div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<i>Adele Wearing</i> </div>
Vincent Holland-Keenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13620266525944160618noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1608779085534186385.post-28173685092075233422013-01-25T07:00:00.000+00:002013-01-25T07:00:09.119+00:00F1 Racing - Pre-Season Summary<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoO1lAUZ-l9D9jaBStH-oSMrOL1xZ0OKdYky51iJLvzFgMsQzC_mzh6iddYaAWJSyHFVi7AvdYFyL_0HXTy_OKLF99QsS8KKpIrcyOCllwl4R-dOIhn2EaHGG3FOeOJc-bXOMUjRg83-Zo/s1600/racing+hell.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="142" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoO1lAUZ-l9D9jaBStH-oSMrOL1xZ0OKdYky51iJLvzFgMsQzC_mzh6iddYaAWJSyHFVi7AvdYFyL_0HXTy_OKLF99QsS8KKpIrcyOCllwl4R-dOIhn2EaHGG3FOeOJc-bXOMUjRg83-Zo/s400/racing+hell.png" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
The Racing Committee meets this week to discuss this year's
route and any changes to the rules prior to the season starting in March. No change is expected to the traditional starting point of
Royal City. For those of you unfamiliar with the sport, a bit about where it started and how it became the sport we all know and love today.<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
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Legend has it that the
'Fighting Craft' races began in the midst of the Dark Lord's incursion. When the Dire Horde was sighted crossing Vaskaar's Causeway, four messengers set forth to warn the gathering Aebronian armies. They were immediately pursued by agents of the Dark Lord. The only messenger to survive the race across the ice and rock of Caefro's northern reaches was a young charioteer named Yysara Pastor.</div>
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<br /></div>
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
HEROICS</h3>
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<br /></div>
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After the Dark Lord's defeat, Pastor's heroics inspired Caefro's General Lyngdrake to secretly train young female recruits as messengers by organising long-distance races through some of the most dangerous regions of Aebron. Few survived, but those that did proved invaluable and unmatched at communicating intelligence across the battlefield.</div>
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<br /></div>
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When Abevornian spies discovered Caefro's secret, the Royal Army set up their own races, but as is often the way in Abevorn, the idea was quickly embraced by the people as a jolly exciting spectacle and it quickly turned from a military training exercise into a haphazard sport.</div>
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<h3 style="text-align: center;">
DOMINATED</h3>
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<br /></div>
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Back then, 'go-fast-to-flag' simply mandated a one-man carriage with one animal pulling. It was a one day, mad dash across
countryside and there were no rules beyond the first one to the flag wins. There were no restrictions on the use of weapons or magic and it was as
much about fighting as it was speed and endurance. Any animals were permitted and the charioteers were drawn from all races. Heavier drivers had larger beasts, but if they couldn't knock out their lighter opponents soon after the start, they were often left far behind. This fact, along with the example set by Yysara Pastor and the eventual arrival of Caefro veterans in the races, mean the sport has long been dominated by female racers and elves.</div>
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As is also often the way in Abevorn, an amateur activity enjoyed by folk of all colours and creeds soon attracted those without a sporting bone in their bodies, who saw an opportunity to either make money or introduce some form of regulated organisation they could lord over, or both.</div>
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<h3 style="text-align: center;">
WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP</h3>
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<br /></div>
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The rules now are as follows: The racers start in Royal City with a flat race on a track,
usually at the end of a day of local races and steeplechases. That begins the 'World Championship', which has nine stages. Each stage contains two parts. One is the point-to-point 'rally raid' to the next city, which, after a night's
rest for the racers, then hosts another circuit race.</div>
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<br /></div>
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A racer in the World Championship can win one of four titles:</div>
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</div>
<ul>
<li><b>The Gold Jersey</b> - Worn by the racer with the most points over all races. At the end of the season, the racer wearing the Gold Jersey is declared World Champion and awarded the Pastor Trophy.</li>
<li><b>The Green Jersey</b> - Worn by the racer who scores the most points solely in the flat / circuit races.</li>
<li><b>The Red Jersey</b> - Worn by the racer who scores the most points solely in the point-to-point rally stages. This often proves something of poisoned chalice, because riding through bandit country wearing a red jersey makes you a rather more obvious target.</li>
<li><b>The Team Cup</b> - A team can enter two racers into the World Championship. Their combined points across all races determine who wins the Team Cup.</li>
</ul>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
The winner of each race is also awarded prize money and a trophy presented by the host city.</div>
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<br /></div>
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
GIANT STOATS</h3>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The rules governing the use of weapons dictate that drivers are now
only permitted to use hand to hand combat and daggers of six inches or less. No
kitting out the chariots and no projectiles or large weapons permitted. These
days it's much more about skill, endurance and speed.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There are also increased restrictions on which species are allowed to pull the chariots. Horses are the most popular
as they are well able to cope with the sport; fast, nimble and tough. Outlawed species include mastadons, flying beasts (unless their wings have been clipped), magical creatures and anything
part human. The use of centaurs was long ago decreed as cheating as it took away the need for the driver to drive. In addition to horses, some of the
naturally occurring giant beasts of the lands are seen in F1. Primarily the
giant wildcats and wolves, but even giant stoats has been entered in the past. These are all much harder to control and often lack the
endurance of the carefully bred chariot horses, but are fast, aggressive and
capable of handling much more difficult terrain.</div>
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<br /></div>
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
PRESSURE</h3>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Most of the field in any given race will be individuals competing only in that race, because few are able to cope with the cost and logistics of a full season without the support of a team. Gaining a place within a team requires both a proven track record and suitable contacts. Surviving within a team is considerably more difficult, given the demands of racing a full season, meeting the owner's often unrealistic expectations and dealing with the pressure of a team-mate whose first priority is always beating you.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Each team has a lead mechanic/animal handler that travels from venue to venue separately
from the racers and manages a small team of locals at each location. Having a
good mechanic is essential to keep your vehicle and animal in good order
throughout. Mechanics usually have excellent fighting skills as taking them out pretty much assures their charges won't make it to the end of the season.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<i>Rush Grathrock</i></div>
Vincent Holland-Keenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13620266525944160618noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1608779085534186385.post-75483899755840054282013-01-24T07:00:00.000+00:002013-02-02T10:07:17.090+00:00HOBLING HOLES FOUND IN ABEVORN HILLBANKS<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9FBDfjWm21oRcwtabFaJXGPxZJHkHoYw081l7N9FY4pXq_N9-sqVy4Sv4wixNVySOBObNlE-Oypa2KNc3_FejTeiejJwZb7c0JQaCg2e3Nr-Ea3Oju3rV756LIB-0cOVQD6zKLFVE1lQF/s1600/hobbit-hole.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9FBDfjWm21oRcwtabFaJXGPxZJHkHoYw081l7N9FY4pXq_N9-sqVy4Sv4wixNVySOBObNlE-Oypa2KNc3_FejTeiejJwZb7c0JQaCg2e3Nr-Ea3Oju3rV756LIB-0cOVQD6zKLFVE1lQF/s320/hobbit-hole.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Guswink Foldorol's sketch of a hobbit hole</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
More than a century after halflings were thought to have
left Aveborn the discovery of what might be hobling homes raises doubts over
whether they ever really went.<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
The finding by Guswink Foldorol (30), a traveller, has not yet been independently
verified, however he claims to have stumbled upon signs of Hobbit dwellings in a
little walked hillside in the northern Wilder Hills, just south of the River Regus. He has provided the Herald with sketches
of the habitations.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
BRAVE AND HARDY SOULS</h3>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Most scholars believe hoblings, also known as halflings, furfoots or kinnder, to have fled during the Dark Lord's incursion, giving lie to the previously popular notion that the diminutive race are brave and hardy souls in the face of adversity. A few dissenting voices claim the hoblings were wiped out by the Foul One's minions in response to the countless stories that have great evil defeated by individuals no taller than four foot six.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What's for sure is that no one has admitted to any dealings with them in the
intervening years. This discovery suggests some hoblings might actually have just gone
(further) underground, rather than fleeing or dying.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
OUTSIDERS</h3>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Royal City's University of Thaumaturgical Science has been approached to
further investigate the claimed finding and verify whether these are indeed hobling holes and whether they are currently occupied. Although hoblings are not considered a hostile species, they
are inclined to remain within their own communities. The only outsiders they freely welcome are wizards, a quirk that baffles the rest of us.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<i>Godiva Shrieve</i></div>
Vincent Holland-Keenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13620266525944160618noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1608779085534186385.post-90796435704149515482013-01-23T12:00:00.000+00:002013-01-23T12:00:01.995+00:00Weekly Threefold Prophecy<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTCbHmL3kb5HD-acY03eR_WFAzUJuQall9I2AgPAhKGQbT42ee9T8MV0nO2VNS4ikWoH_-dtxL1un8_KMbwbd8qRh7bf_GJNJYu_IVExGh2zW087j7hYvCoW9MSN-bavqadSXQuvwSSdj3/s1600/threefold+prophecy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="114" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTCbHmL3kb5HD-acY03eR_WFAzUJuQall9I2AgPAhKGQbT42ee9T8MV0nO2VNS4ikWoH_-dtxL1un8_KMbwbd8qRh7bf_GJNJYu_IVExGh2zW087j7hYvCoW9MSN-bavqadSXQuvwSSdj3/s320/threefold+prophecy.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<b><br /></b>
<b><br /></b>
<b>Vision of the Left Eye:</b><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">As
the Seven Wizards move into the sign of the Dragonbat, it is wise to think of
the future. Save or spend for days to come.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<b>Augury of the Right Eye:</b><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">We
are entering the month of the Olive. The person who has been irritating you
will soon encounter deep misfortune, but will be too embarrassed to tell you.
If pressed, they may confide in you or they may lie. Take satisfaction in
either response. Your life is currently better than theirs.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<b><br /></b><b>Omen of the Third Eye:</b><br />
When all seems lost, remember: seeming is not is-ness, and lostness may in fact be mistaken. Though it may not. Honestly, who can tell?<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i>Sibyl Delphinica Starblossom</i></div>
<br />
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Editor's Note: The Fantasyland Herald accepts no responsibility for the future or for the actions of any person or persons who choose to act on the basis of prognostications of said future published herein.</span></i><br />
Vincent Holland-Keenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13620266525944160618noreply@blogger.com0