Greetings, fellow adventurers, marmots, town-dwelling gossips,
and other assorted beasts!
It is I, Jamieson, the ever-vigilant, ever-curious,
ever-trapped-in- heaven, ever-odd Ghorak Zo once again! I have
more news to relay, my friends. And it is indeed exciting news!
No doubt many of you have dis- covered it all by this time, but
it is news nonetheless. Peanut.
Botas! Er, Tabos! No ... Baots! Hrm. Ships. Right.
Ships go on the sea; boats on freshwater. Right. GET IT STRAIGHT,
O THOU OMNIPOTENT IMMORTAL-TYPES! Ahem. Scuse. Sneep! Right, then.
Ships.
Ships! They are now available! No longer do the denizens
of the southern islands (those being us exiles (or escapees from
the loony asylum whose name I shall never speak (it brings back
too many bad, fresh, and downright weird memories) again), of
course) possess the very nifty ability to walk on water. Poopy!
Now we have ships! Well, okay, I suppose that they ARE boats ...
rowboats, to be precise.
How does one go about securing for one's own personal
pleasures one of said vessels? Easy. Simply take a long walk off
a short pier ... er, I mean, uh, take a stroll down to the end
of the Puddleby Pier and have a chat with the oh-so-personable
Captain who has recently taken to hang- ing about over there.
Bump into the drunken bugger, and he'll offer to you a boat. Buy
one!
There
you go! You are off! And quite a ride it is! Move around as usual.
Whee! Your oars move in time with your strokes (oh, baby), and
you're even wearing the proper colours of clothes! Nifty! Take
yourself on a nice, relaxing cruise over to the menagerie (just
to be insulted by that very holier-than-me centaur bum (who is
still ranting about needing a longer lunch break), no less). Or
stop by the arena island for some good old-fashioned mauling-of-one's-friends,
pay a copper to go in and be recognized by a god (which is a useless
gesture, but kind). Or perhaps, my young friend named Tim, have
it out with the hooded corpses and shredders of good ol' Ash Island
... sneak around in the woods and get some good views of those
ultra-sexy Darshak Nudists! Or DOWN! DROWN, DAMN IT! Er, pardon.
Piff. Plop. Snippity-do! Yeah.
OR ... have a fun time playing pirates!
For
better or for worse, folksmobiles, folkswagons, and others, boats
(ships!) are with us.
My only complaint is the fact the I seem to be facing
and rowing in the wrong direction. You know - you sit in a rowboat
and, because the mechanics of the body work best in this manner,
you pull at the oars, and propel yourself BACKWARDS. THESE boats,
on the other hand, seem to magically GO THE WRONG WAY! Oh, well.
The gods can't ALWAYS know every- thing.
In the meantime, you cute freakin' wallaby, enjoy!
And try not to spend TOO much time in that blasted "heaven"
place. What a pain in the buttocks!
--Jamieson, the Ghorak Zo who can't seem to find RiffRaff clanning,
who talks to trees and rocks (which talk back!), and who in general
dies all too often.
Last night, a large
group of Orga invaded the North East field. The townspeople, always
ready, rose do defeat the menace. I myself drew Orga blood with
my axe. After nearly all of the Orga were dead, a so called "Smart
Orga" ( because it has the brains to run from some of the
more powerful fighters in the area) ran through town. I and someone
else ( I did not have time to catch his name, unfortunatly) chased
him into the North beach.
We lost him, and I
lost sight of the other exile. I had taken bites from many rockdiles,
and I ran to the north east corner. From there, I entered the
small area inbetween the beach and the town's farms. When I entered,
I saw an amazing sight.
BlueCross and the Orga
were in the small room. BlueCross looked to be healing the Orga,
so I did not attack it. But, after awhile, I noticed BlueCross's
condition to be improving.
Before I could ask
any questions, another exile came in the other entrance and attacked
the Orga. I gave chase, and told him to stop, but he did not.
I went back to town,
and told others of what I saw, but I was laughed at. I waited
around town, asking others not to kill the Orga.
Minutes later, the
Orga charged back into town. I, plus many others this time, followed
him into the most southern forest. Some were killed, and I finnaly
died near the entrance to the swamp. The Orga found me. Knowing
that I saw him heal before, I asked for his help. He cruely laughed
at me, and began to walk away. I told him how I told others not
to kill him.
After I said that,
he turned around. He stepped over my body, and began to heal me.
I have included a drawing of this event (Please note that this
is not the best drawing).
I rose from the dead,
and thanked the Orga. However, before I could continue out conversation,
I was attacked by a wild cat. I dove for cover in the swamp. The
Orga did not follow.
I ran to a safe area
in the marsh, and used the power of my sunstone to tell others
of what had happened. Again, I was called an Orga lover and was
laughed at.
Of course, it was killed.
They had a right, I suppose; it had killed others, and only saved
one. However, I belive that it could have been reasoned with.
I also belive that, with this incedent and with the reports of
Orga Shamans and Orga Warleaders, the Orgas are evovling, because
of their proximity to us. For better or for worse, I know not.
But I do know they are changing.
I also relize that
I am a recent exile to this land, and may not know everything
about the Orga.
I just want you to
know it happened.
--Written by Cretzih
Fellow, adventurers, vermines, and silly people!
Strange things are afoot, ahand, aflipper, and awagonwheel
in the world! Indeed, I have witnessed some odd occurences
(aside from Beacon's weird pants, of course) whilest out
amongst the wilds of the islands. It seems as
though the world is speaking out! Is this a hoax, a cruel trick
being played upon us by the ever-so-bored immortal beings
of the realms? Or is it instead an actual peek into the
rambling thoughts of the underside of our world? Or perhaps
it is a bowl of cereal. Perhaps we shall never know.
I was out taking a stroll, a mosey, a saunter through
the eastern forests of the main island, kicking the heads
off of flowers and putting an Ogra or two here and there
in its place, when an odd thing occured. A tree spoke to
me! It asked a nearby flower if it could perhaps spare some fertilizer.
Well, I was somewhat taken aback, for I had never witnessed such
a thing! I strode on up to the arboreal giant and asked
it to repeat itself. It immediately shut up, however, and no matter
how much I cajoled (I even offered it some jelly beans!) it spake
no more. I was so surprized at this strange thing that I forgot
to draw a picture of the phenomenomenomenon. Drat! Well, I was
now warned, and I would not be so unthinking in the future! Ha!
So I went on my way, this time moving more slowly,
more quietly. You see, it occured to me that the trees of
these lands are very shy, and are not at all liable to speak
if they know that an animate such as myself is within earshot.
Sew, I moved carefully. Lo, and behold! I caught yet another tree
as it rambled on about the local wildlife! This time, I did draw
a picture.
I went up to it to ask it its opinion of wallabies, upon
which it then shut up. Not to be discouraged, I travelled on,
going a bit deeper into the wilderness. Poit.
Staple, walking quietly as I was, I came upon the
following two trees speaking, making sure to, of course (or fine),
scribble pictures of each.
Very strange! And not at all normal, either! Affix,
I continued on in search of more such odd occurences. I strode
over to the south beach, dodging rockodiles (and squishing one
or two as the mood hit me), hoping to circle around to the marshes
and see what offered there. On my way, I caught the following:
I continued onwards towards the marshes. There, I
witnessed these two weeping willows in the middle of a conversation.
They were lamenting about the very poor conditions to be found
for trees in the marshes.
I went to my friend, the Crazy Hermit, in his
hut. He lives there, in the marshes, by the weigh. I asked him
what he thought of all this, but his answer was, as usual, unhelpful.
Sew, I went onwards yet. I came back into the forests,
and found that my bladder was full. Well, I won't go on about
it, but here's what I saw:
It seems that even the wildlife will talk if you
keep yourself far at the edge of the area so that you cannot be
seen. I came towards Puddleby and heard a strange weeping sound.
Odd, I thought. I trundled southwards and witnessed the following:
The vermine was consoling the tree! Imagine that!
Do it! Imagine it right now, damn it!!!
I ran through town to check on a hunch that I had
... and, to my very great surprize, caught TWO of the buildings
there speaking their minds!
Very strange! Very weird! Whoo-hoo! I like shoes!
I went to the docks, my friends, and travelled. Yes,
indeed, this very odd phenomenomenon is not isolated to our little
neato spiffy island! Witness:
Is this true? Do the features of our lands actually
think and speak as we do? Tippie-tippie-tappie-pappie. Maybe.
Or maybe it's simply a hoax, a big joke being played upon us by
the ever-so-bored powers which be.
I can't tell you which, my fellow wombats. But keep
your eyes open ...
--Jamieson, the adventurer who likes shoes.
The day of the Orga
Warlord's "defeat" I was sitting in town trying to think
of something to do and a few others decided to go to Tangle Wood
to go help the few that were dying or should I say the masses
that were dying? Anyway we were on our way and ran into three
very angry death vermine and to shorten my story we were lying
dead soon. My love Porsche, my dear friend BlueCross and I were
together waiting around talking when out of nowhere the great
spirit lord Xusirevert appeared in a rather bruised condition.
He asked us why we didn't just depart and I simply stated the
fellowship was good and after a while he grew tired of our mortal
beings and left. Soon after Xusirevert's departure we heard screams
from others that were dead in the same area of the wood as us
my mind seems to have trouble recalling exact words but it was
something like, "Hey this Orga just killed a death vermine!"
This was odd news to us afterall the Orga Camp is overrun by them.
This Orga came to our dead bodies and kindof wandered around for
a while. One of the two remaining vermine came by and the Orga
petted it and then killed it oddly enough. To our good fortune
a healer stumbled upon our location and healed us as the Orga
killed the last death vermine. While most of us were standing
the Orga just stood there and suddenly in a fit of rage attacked
two of our group including my love and dear friend greatly angering
me. When all were up they chased the Orga and with his already
griveous wounds took him down to a critical level but let him
run out of their site. Now I was greatly angered and swore that
he would taste my blade and I ran him down and started attacking
him as he stood there. Then he turned around as if to tell me
to run. I considered it but I made my choice and decided to live
with it. He attacked me once mortally wounding me and paused to
let me run again but I did not. Then he killed me. Soon after
my friends came and killed him. This is a warning the Orga aren't
as they were once believe to be. Some are nice, some are not,
some are both. G'luck all.
That is the end of
my story. Note to you Braveheart, that Orga was most likely controlled
by Xusi but that is completly OOC so I left it out and it's a
matter of spectulation too....
-Polerand
Friends, there is
gathering danger greater than we ever presumed. The orga shamans,
Using there "healing" magic as cover have been long
working on spells of teleportation and invincibility. They have
now completed there evil incantations and have several invincible
warleaders and warlords who have the ability to call upon any
orga that they might wish, and use the Shamans magic for teleportation
of victims. I, spurred on by crys of death, went to the rescue
of several outside the camp, but, alas what should my wearied
eyes behold but a berzerk and warriors filing in from the camp
by the hundred! after running to the safety of the meadow, I returned
and ran immediately to the path that leads up to the camp. several
others lay dead or hurt and, with help from one other, healed
them till we could prepare for a reconnesiance raid against the
camp. when I entered several others where dead near the
entrance and others engaging the vile Death Vermine i slipped
past and started my recon. after noting the large Orga war party,
Which later over took me, i noticed a peculiar glowing orga, similar
in garb to the orga shaman. after all where dead most departed
but those of us that stayed, Among them I,Baerwizz, Sindel, Spurred,
and another who i was not familiar with, Observed the strange
manner of orga cooking techniques. they moved us to there strange
ring of fires and let us sit, the glowing orga observed earlier
engaging us in conversation. He was politer than most of his kind
( he was no diplomat but an improvement over most) and even posed
for a sketch. then they ate us. our remaining carcasses where
placed in the Crystal temple until some kind healer noticed us.
later an orga spy, also blessed with invulnerability and teleportation,
was seen lurking about puddleby. This i beleive is going to lead
to a major invasion. just a warning from a lowly healer. P.S.
DO NOT i repeat DO NOT repeat anything an orga warlord or warleader
says. i was making fun of the orga and said something the warlord
had said backwards and immediately an orga fury appeared in front
of me. beware of doing so in places such as town.
Baerwizz
Your humble orga chow