[Event Fiction] Excerpt From The Britain Beacon

[EMDrosselmeyer]

The Wonders of the Wanderer
By Jax Oakshield
For this weeks edition of the wonders of the wanderer, we go once again to the wilderness of Ilshenar. Last week's edition took us to see the famed beekeeper who tends to make camp near the Ancient Wyrm's Lair high up in the mountains, and we have trekked on friends. After passing the treacherous crossing that is near the Ancient Citadel, my guide and I were able to make it to the desert gypsy camp that lies south of the Lake of Fire, Termir Flam. In our time spent there we heard all sorts of wonderful stories about the recent excavation of the HMS Poseidons Fury, but also a few darker tales of local folklore. One in particular is a story being passed around of gypsies vanishing in the night, never to be seen or heard from again. Of course, local superstition is never to be given too much sway in these cases, and we continued on....

 

[EM Dudley]

[Event Fiction] The Royal Guard Response

Drake Foxx let his boots fall heavily upon the oaken desk. He sat back allowing his fingers to interlock behind his head as he leaned deep into his chair. He took a moment to admire the new office he'd been given. Since the rescue of the Queen's Ambassador, Queen Dawn saw fit to grant Foxx a few requests to better his quality of life. Surely Her Majesty would benefit from having the commander of her royal guard on the castle grounds. He daydreamed as he lounged, his woolgatherings bouncing from lavish beach front Villas in the south of Trinsic to exotic jungle cruises in the lost lands of Terra Sanctum. Life was good he thought. The niceties of his fantasy were, however, interrupted by a knock on the door,

"Enter!" he called out.
"Sir, the latest edition of the Britain Beacon and the scotch you requested, sir" The butler set the bottle and the paper on his desk. Drake Foxx smiled and dismissed him, he could certainly get used to this. He poured the scotch into a heavy glass with a thick bottom. The sweet aroma of oak and cherry permeated his nostrils as he breathed deep into it. He took it down in a single gulp and set the glass atop the newspaper. He reached forward to examine the bottle more closely, but something caught his eye. The thick bottom of the glass magnified the words, "Vanishing Gypsies" and immediately he read the article. Daydreams of lavish river yachts and swanky beach villas would have to wait. He looked towards the adjacent wall and the swords that sat displayed there...