To celebrate the ongoing event of bunnies and eggs, an epic Armour of Rabbit will randomly spawn on corpses of hares, jackrabbits, rabbits or bunnies.
While lauded to be comparable to Armour of Gaius on white brimstone by itself, the armour is rumoured to have an additional “easter egg” functionality that is unknown to our reporters at this time.
The news has predictably painted the forests red in Easter Bunny blood, causing warm reminescing of the turkey massacre a few months back.
“You are now hunting Rabbit.”
Oh yes we are!
How many have you caught?
Free of Touch, by Wispy
To while away these hours
An utter solitaire
Free of touch
All the children may
Cry or play
I’ll be silently
Nobody can know
My tired still soul’s
Sorrow in the streets
In the elite
I don’t cope
The sun shall rise
Beyond my eyes
Sage Mbebe the bringer of winter reports that ever since he cast a dimension door to the Smoking Roc inn, the streets of Tantallon have been littered with empty tobacco tins. Being a fervent tree-hugger and all-around neat freak, the Snowfolk mage blames himself for the now dismal state of the urban environment of our fair town and vows to never erect the door again. Or at least until the issue is solved. Or until he forgets about this declaration.
Suggested methods of alleviating this problem so far include convincing artificers that tin weapons are particularly responsive to enhancements due to their earlier “magic smoke” content. Also, the tins could be used to store seasonal turkey products to support Elahrairah’s scientific experiments all year round. The cult of the Angry, mostly residing in the Courts of Chaos at this time, could use the tins for target practice and to express their multitude of feelings. Alternatively, the shiny tins could be used to distract Otters.
Mbebe says: Only you can prevent street litter!
Our paper-based competitor-collaborator, The Canticle, has published its 35th volume. Get your copy from the Tantallon paperboy!
Losoth has granted a new spell to the mortals of Oerthe. Not one for the arachnophobic, the drowgar school of magic is not actually taught at the famous Tantallon mage class hall. Instead, the practitioners have gone underground and convene at some secret location our reporters do not know of.
The mages clearly do, however. News of the new spell was met with a frenzy of scientific exploration among the Snowfolk. Igloo warmer Elahrairah was also heard cursing an acute inspiration to work on some personal advancement as a result.
It was on a sunny day in Tuulneas when suddenly Shiftpile asked, “Why are there flowers here?” It turned out that plants of a feather flock together…
Shiftpile was busy having a debate on cactus aesthetics with a congregation of tulip, rose and lily of the valley when our reporter showed up. (Calandryll had suggested that the defloration of the city center would soon be reported by the Dalairi press, so we had to beat the writers of that stinking fish wrap to the scoop!)
The situation was soon declared a floral demonstration at the Tantallon crossroads. Several additional shapeshifter flowers, including Polymorph the mimeon mimicking the others, soon appeared to participate in the uprising. They demanded sacrifices – and no plain shrubberies would do!
As it became clear that the demonstrators refused to back-petal on their requirement for offerings, Corki, Spoo, Bass and Riddick arrived to provide. By the time we got knocked out by the overwhelming perfume at the site, 32 different flowers were already a part of the movement!
The most incredible flower discovered must be the “napalm death-coloured wildflower”, brought in by Spoo. A close second in terms of creativity would be a folded parchment flower, though. Several of the offerings, such as avalanche lilies, lovely lupines, white roses and cream coloured flowers our reporters could not guess the picking location of – just the things for a scavenger hunt.
The flower children thank all who participated!
One more heartbeat, by Wispy
I’m ready for you to go,
I’d be selfish to say “stay”,
When you’ve roamed here, oh, so long,
And wiped such tears away.
But let me hold you one more time,
Then I’ll say goodbye.
Let me wrap my arms around you,
So away you can fly.
Just tell me one more story,
I’ll finally bow away,
Grace me with your voice, again,
Vanish, then, you may.
Let us herald one more sunrise,
Let us treasure one last dusk,
We’ll struggle through the night, together,
The next day is a must…
I’m ready for you to go,
As long as you’re aware,
Just another pause with you,
A heartbeat we can share.
Dedicated to my grandmother, a resilient, witty, loving soul.