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  .../________________/       running on 9999
VOLUME SIX, ISSUE NINE                                 February 26th, 1999

                             TABLE OF CONTENTS

          -                  The Editor's Note                       -
          -             Upcoming Calendar of Events                  -

          -                 The Immortal Report                      -   
          -                    Announcements                         -
          -                  Minako - A Haiku                        -  
          -               Journey Within and Without                - 
          -                 A Knighting Ceremony                     -
          -                  A Dark Gathering                        -
          -                Dragon Eyes : An Epic                     -
          -        Praise of Quebec: The French Indian War           -

___                                                                    ___
\  |------------------------------------------------------------------|  /
/__|                         EDITOR'S NOTE                            |__\

		    Destructive Crossplay in RP

 Hello All,

 This week I want to talk to you about an increasing problem in the RP
 community. Even as the community continues to grow and be enriched by
 the new members, so also does it gain members who have no
 understanding of "the rules" which govern respectful RP behavior. Over
 the next few weeks, I will be giving you my thoughts on a particular
 aspect of "the rules" as I see them. I'm starting with "Destructive
 Crossplay" because it was brought to my attention recently through a
 discussion with a long-time player.

 Usually we talk about crossplay in PK scenarios, but crossplay can be
 just as much a violation of player rights in RP scenarios as well.
 Demanding that another player log in a certain alt is unfair and
 disrespectful. A polite request is reasonable, but knowing someone's
 alts is a privilege which should not be abused. Perhaps this seems
 very obvious when put in these terms -- but it is often very difficult
 to pull back from one's own situation well enough to see one's actions

 It happens sometimes, that two people are involved in an RP scenario,
 and one person moves on or develops another scenario with another
 alt.  In cases like this, the original person might feel left out,
 angry, disappointed, and/or sad. But it is never acceptable to use OOC
 tactics (including demands, threats, repeated tells, emails etc) in
 order to force the other person to RP the way that you want them to.

 If you feel that you are being mistreated in an OOC fashion because of
 one of your alts, don't blame yourself, take control of your
 situation.  Be firm, and say no -- don't let a guilt-tripping bully
 badger you into playing for someone else's sake. Play for your own
 fun. And remember that you are not alone, you have rights and
 recourse. If saying no does not get the results you want, don't
 hesitate to speak with an immortal.

 If you are in a situation where you feel that your RP has been
 abandoned or you feel left out, face the issue head-on. Offer to set
 up a time to talk about the problem, and if they are not interested,
 find a way to RP around it. If your RP partner never logs on, you can
 decide they are dead or mysteriously disappeared. If they don't have
 much time for your interactions any more, find a way to gradually
 write them out of the scene, move on, and find someone else to play

 RP situations should be treated with respect -- it is not fair to
 abandon people with no explanation, nor is it fair to mistreat them
 for their decision to abandon the interaction. Communication is a
 joint responsibility, but it should never be used as a weapon.

                                     Love to All,

___                                                                    ___
\  |------------------------------------------------------------------|  /
/__|                       CALENDAR OF EVENTS                         |__\

         [All times are system time unless otherwise specified]

Sunday,    February 28, 3:00 pm  - Trivia! by LadyAce, Round 11 of 12
         <-> <-> <-> <-> <-> <->  March  <-> <-> <-> <-> <-> <->
Thursday,  March     4, 7:00 pm  - Q & A in the OOC Auditorium
Saturday,  March     6, 3:00 pm  - TinyPlot: A Spring Feast
                                   Gisborne Castle, Nottingham
Thursday,  March    11, 7:00 pm  - Q & A in the OOC Auditorium
Sunday,    March    14, 3:00 pm  - Trivia! by LadyAce, Round 12 of 12

___                                                                    ___
\  |------------------------------------------------------------------|  /
/__|                          NEWS AND REPORTS                        |__\

                        The Immortal Report

     Kaige sorted bugs and typos, and worked on housing-related
     documentation for immortals.


     Sandra fixed some help files typos and bugs that were reported,
     warned a few people for various things, unarchived characters for
     a few people, and answered questions online.

     Aermid didn't have much online time to do much this week. She did
     a couple of restrings and a pkenable. Chocorua worked on cleaning
     up the log of the admin board, and spent a little time online
     during the week and answered a few basic questions about gameplay
     from a newbie. Flagg passed along a bug to Ea! and did normal
     archivals, strings, registrations, and telling people to stop
     misbehaving. Wraith helped sort out problems players were having
     with housing, talked with a few players about multiplaying, went
     through boards, finished splitting up the last few helps and other
     misc admin duties.  Zandy has been out of town, but is back now.
     Seth did restrings, and unarchives, erased some posts by request,
     and talked with people about the desc registration process.


     Rufus installed Pirate's Den (formerly referred to as
     dark pirates), answered questions, fixed bugs/typos, worked on
     a further expansion to tortuga, and wrote documentation. 

     Charity cleaned out most of the bug/typos for her areas, and is
     working on fixes to the remaining ones, and also did an
     unarchive.  Cheyla morted some and caught up with people and
     issues; told a couple people they needed an admin to pk enable
     them; got herself re-organized and ready to do stuff, figured out
     which mobs had acts and which ones needed acts, and started adding
     in those acts. In addition, she worked on housing for the area a
     bit more; got a couple of mobs described after doing some research
     on them; and thought about a quest she hasn't finished yet and
     decided to ignore it a bit longer.

     Croaker was out of town most of week for a meeting. He did manage
     to update/debug a few things in his areas, and add more housing to
     Britain. Deanna did some bug fixes in her areas and added acts
     which allow item customization. Flagg is doing a variety of
     updates again, working on HOL and hell, mobs and quests.  Kae
     tweaked acts yet some more, fixed a bunch of typos added a new
     quest, and added in more descriptions.  She also tweaked exits
     some more - and realized she's growing really short on room
     vnums.  Kheldar is currently working on mobs for his new area.
     Also he made a number of typo/bug fixes to Romania and did a small
     docs update. Leila had an unexpected operation, and is a bit under
     the weather but hopes to be around again in about a week.

     Sabella considered various aspects of her area, spent some time
     online helping where she could, and still considers herself an
     active immort. Rusalka made a few more adjustments to Tudor
     housing, fixed a bunch of bugs in Tudor from the bug file, finally
     got fixes to several mobs, and started testing Ladyace's area.
     Wraith cleared out the outstanding bugs from his area and updated
     the bug list. LadyAce worked on making fixes from testing, and
     added some new quests. Sandra got a bunch of acts working for
     Pittsburgh, and moved the entrance to Boston to Salem village
     instead of Salem town. She also fixed some bugs/typos in Salem and
     Boston. Kaige fixed typos and bugs in Beowulf, London, medieval
     seas, Tortuga, and the Alhambra. She also worked on documentation
     and building policies. Vannessa is plugging her way through
     builder documentation, and working on her first building project
     -- her office.


     Ea! fixed bugs, worked on ownership relating to housing, and
     started to look at #GEOGRAPHY section (allowing time zones and
     hemispheres) for area files.

     Chocorua set up a crontab at home to update his code once a day.
     Huginn fixed steal so that nonclanned items were no longer in
     jeopardy, and implemented a check for objects within unowned
     objects so that it's no longer possible to pass around owned items
     using containers. Snapper updated the mud to run under windows and
     did several strings. Rufus added a new SPELLBOOK item type, fixed
     installing locks not calculating properly, and tweaked the
     'turning to attack' formulas a bit. Sandra investigated some bugs
     and added two new socials, swing and step.

     Kaige made clan channel colors configurable, made sure clan
     keywords are all in lowercase, fixed the clan friend's spacing,
     added builder act commands, and changed a message for break door
     that a player found rude.


     LadyAce did more housing stuff this week, ran a Q & A, &
     recalltag, but mostly answered lots of questions and did the
     standard string/description/restring thing. She found some bugs
     and worked with players to reimb for those bugs.

     Flagg supported Ceri's law trivia and Bronwyn's medieval trivia,
     and started putting together a hunt game. Kheldar did the usual
     strings/restrings, answered questions mostly related to housing
     and otherwise passed what he couldn't do to those that could.
     Natalia has suffered with the flu for two weeks, but this past
     week she talked about recent changes (as well as tried to keep up
     on them herself), strings, restrings, and tried to help foster RP
     wherever possible. She's also working on two game ideas.
     Oandlig has asked to be moved to inactive status. The school load
     is suddenly enormous (he's graduating year next year) and his ISP
     is now paid for by the hour. He's really sorry about this, but he
     can't seem to be able to do anything to improve his situation for
     a while. As it is, he's only able to check his email about once or
     twice a month. He hopes to get back soon and get working on

     Satsu did a ton of strings and registered/approved a pile of
     descriptions. He also dug through the spell helps and found typos,
     missing files, etc for Sandra, ran a game of trivia for a coupon
     and spent some time answering housing questions and familiarizing
     himself with housing in general. He also worked on Japan for a few
     hours and spent a lot of time online. Stile did quite a few
     strings and restrings, ran tag and a flag hunt, and answered some
     questions about housing. He talked at length with a player who had
     quite a few concerns about the effects of the housing system on
     the mud's economy.  Spencer did the normal online stuff, strings
     and restrings, and is putting together some new plans for games.

            /                        \     
        o O | Wonder what folks are   |
  `\|||/    | doing over at LegendMUD?|
   (o o)    \________________________/
___                                                                    ___
\  |------------------------------------------------------------------|  /
/__|    LEGENDITES: Information Regarding the People of Our World     |__\



Stick kicks Annie Oakley in the chest, crushing bones into her heart,
and she falls over, dead! Annie Oakley says, 'Looks like I met my match
in Stick.' You hear Annie Oakley's death cry.

[Info]: Stick has reached 300 million experience!


'Tis with great pleasure that I can announce that Sister Becket has
returned to the Knights Templar after months of absence. We rejoice to
have her back in the Faith.

Tancred de Gisborne
Master of the Temple


I, Beldin, have recently seen the light, or should I say...  Dark, and
have joined the highly esteemed and very powerful Dark Enforcers. While
I am not the most powerful mage in the land I am undergoing a change so
that I might better serve my clan in the facet that the Darkness sees

I am hereafter known as the Dark Mage. My powers shall be used to
further the cause of Darkness in all ways possible. All hail the
Darkness, kneel before the awesome powers of night.

Beldin -Dark Mage {Dark Enforcers}


I, Tarn of the United Surgeons of Legend, hereby announce that I am
available for private consultations at my residence in Ithaca, which is
located 3 rooms west of the docks of that fair city.

My well appointed surgery is located in the library of my home, and
there you may avail yourself of surgery for your injuries, praise for
your noteworthy exploits, mend and repair for your damaged equipment,
and if you wish, I am also able to poison your weapon for you (please
provide your own herb).

The main room of my house serves as a waiting room, and I trust you
will find it to your comfort.  For your convenience I have subscribed
to the latest news, and other important information is also available
for your perusal.  I have arranged a mail service to my door, as I
found it essential for receiving the latest medical journals from my
home town of London.  Should you require refreshment, it is my good
fortune to advise that my kitchen possesses an indoor water service.
Please feel free to browse my visitor's book, and to add your own

If you require, I am willing to provide my skills in the field as your
injuries occur, on the understanding that I share in the benefits from
your adventures, i.e. a share of the experience and gold you gain.

As a member of the United Surgeons of Legend, I follow my guild's
rules:  I do not charge for my services, however all donations are
gratefully accepted, and a percentage of my income goes to the guild; I
will not heal injuries caused by pkill under any circumstances; and I
reserve the right to refuse my skills to anyone currently on the
guild's blacklist.

If you have any further queries about the services I offer, or wish to
see me in my professional capacity, please drop by my surgery if I am
home, alternatively you may choose to tell me of your needs, or to send
me a missive.


                            Minako - A Haiku    

                          Stealer of my heart
                         Gentle wisp of a woman
                          Dancing in my dreams

                         Journey Within and Without               

My name is Aisha Said, of the house Said, princess of Zanzibar and
Oman.  You may not know of me, of my life, or of the events which have
brought me to the state from which I now address you. Time was, I fell
in love with a man who betrayed me, who plotted my doom, who left me to
perish.  I speak to you now of events which have transpired since that
fateful day.

When my perfidious paramour had completed his task, I lay a while
paralyzed, awake and yet trapped within myself. My dear mentor, the
Lord Marcel, lifted my motionless form from the dungeon wherein I was
bound, and bore me many miles until I lay in a grassy garden. Abigail,
sister of my heart, sat beside me, in her sad, silent way. It seemed as
if time had ceased to pass, until I felt a change coming over my
limbs.  My corporeal self began to flicker at the edges, growing
increasingly translucent, until I became transparent. I saw myself pass
through a pale fog, until I came to rest at a point of overwhelming

The voice of the Goddess seemed like singing in my mind, drawing me
down paths within myself like a physiological hedge-maze, until it
seemed I came to the center of my being. She was there, though I cannot
say how I knew, or what She looked like.

My words came in a whisper. 'I cannot die.' She did not respond, the
question hung in the air without sound. 'Because I fear my soul would
not rest, that it would haunt my beloved.' Gathering what strength I
had, I entreated, 'I have not lived a life of bitterness or disloyalty.
Please, in my misery, let me not betray my own heart.' 

It seemed as if she smiled. I felt drawn into her, as a mother cradles
a wounded child. 'Rest,' she said to me. 'Heal.' 

Days must have passed, though I felt them not. Weeks, months, I cannot
say. I was insensible to the world of time and tide. 

Her words came as a shock of electricity, surrounding me as a lightning
strike encompasses a swimmer. 'It is now. You are healed. Will you
return, or will you pass on?'

I responded, 'The world is no place for me. It is only dark clashing
with light, both squabbling, strutting, wasting. What reason might I
have to return?' Her words were gentle, yet firm. 'Day follows night,
and neither exists without the other. In daytime, the sun casts both
shadows and light. In nighttime the sky glitters with moon and stars.
You contain both. The world is yet for such as you.'

I questioned again. 'All things come to a time of passing. Birth and
death follow the same pattern as night and day.' Her voice sounded
almost pitying, with a kind of heavy, painful patience. 'Child, I did
not call you home. You came to me in weakness and misery, not because
you had attained completion. You may abide here, and gain that
completion through introspection, or you may return to the stormy
earth, and gain completion through action. The choice is yours.'

The decision was made in the flickering of a candle, and I felt myself
returning to my self. I felt the kind of peculiar joy that a seed must
feel, to transform from the smallest dead kernel, into a pale green
shoot caressed by spring breezes. A miraculous transportation, from
nothingness to being, crept over me, warming me, breathing into me,
until at last the fibers of my eyelids fluttered, fluttered, and
raised. I gazed at the sky.

I am Aisha Said, of the house Said, princess of Zanzibar and Oman. I
reach out to the world from behind a veil of silvered silk, to feel the
rain once again upon my face.


                            A Knighting Ceremony

	The night was clear, the stars twinkled brightly, and the moon
hung high in the black sky. It was an ordinary night like any other of
the past, the cold breeze left any ordinary man shivering in the cold.
However, from a distance, a group of men and women walked briskly
across the streets toward a large house. I approached with care as to
not disturb the gathering, a ceremony of sorts I gathered.  Through the
clear glass windows on the western side, the group had already gathered
in the grand hall.

	The hall was unusually empty. It seems as though it has only
been built recently. The few polishings present shined brightly under
the large orbs of lights illuminating the room. They must be magical in
origin, for no ordinary lights would float above the ground without
support.  Although the hall appears to be quite bleak, a long couch
sits at side of the grand hall, a welcoming rest for one's tired feet.
Resting on the couch is what appears to be a young man of full armor.
It is strange to see such men in this area for there have been no major
wars nor battles recently. A slender figure is leaning against the
wall. It appears to be a woman with electric blue hair, not less
stranger than the man in the full suit of armor. Standing in front of a
large round table appears to be a man, yet no distinguishing figures
can be seen for his cloak covers most of his entire body. However, a
sudden draft betrays the glint of armor beneath a blonde youth's cloak.
He must be one of them as well and it looks as though he is master of
this hall. By the large wooden front doors, two more men are present
although neither appears to be guards. One stands tall with his hand on
a large sword, while another smiles with a nervous delight.

	'If we are ready, shall we begin?' says the blonde man as he
looks over to the couch and the side wall.

	No objections came from either end, and this I assume, is the
signal for the ceremony to begin.

	The cloaked youth says, 'Very well then. Lady Flower and Sir
Brendan, if ye'll stand to either side of me.'

	A new age girl smiles warmly at both West and Ramikon before
stepping across the floor to Ganymede's side and standing quietly at
his left.

	The purpose of this gathering is clear now and I wondered if I
should leave before I am found. Yet how can I miss such an event? For
few had ever witnessed a Knighting ceremony in progress...

	Sir Ganymede smiles at a new age girl. Sir Brendan concurs by
stepping to the right side of Sir Ganymede, then turns to face Ramikon
and West. Without another word, it begins. Sir Ganymede says, 'Knights
of Legend, we have assembled in this humble place to grant upon those
present, being Ramikon and West, that which they have expressed a
desire for---Knighthood alongside us'

	'West has proven himself,' proclaimed Sir Ganymede, 'through
completion of a quest of Ritterum and of a term of squirehood under
Lady Flower, of good character and unshakable honor.' Sir Ganymede
declared, 'Ramikon has also proven himself, through completion of the
same quest and of a term of squirehood under Sir Tempus, of those same

	Sir Ganymede says, 'Therefore it is my request of them both to
be admitted into our ranks. West and Ramikon, do ye both pledge to obey
and live by the Code of Knights without exception and at all times?'

	Without hesitation, the proud young man whom they've called
Ramikon exclaimed, 'Aye!' A moment later, West says, 'To the Gods I
swear, I pledge my loyalty to the Knights without doubt without
exception, for all times.'

	Sir Ganymede says, 'Do ye both pledge to honor, respect and aid
when necessary the innocent and good denizens of Legend, when the
opportunity is present?'

	Ramikon says to Sir Ganymede, 'If it means my death, I would
gladly do so, Sir.' West says, 'I pledge to honor, respect and aid the
denizens of Legend.'

	A jubilant smile came across the blue haired lady indicating her
approval and joy in the event. The ceremony continues without pause.

	Sir Ganymede says, 'then by the recommendations of Lady Flower
and Sir Tempus, who is absent this evening, I ask ye both to kneel
before me and accept what the Knights now collectively and happily

	West kneels down before Sir Ganymede.

	Ramikon kneels with pride before Sir Ganymede.

	Sir Ganymede unsheathes his silvery blade with a flash of
brilliance as the moonlight filtering in through the window is
reflected in it. He extends it forward and taps first West once on each
shoulder, and then Ramikon.

	Sir Ganymede says, 'now even as ye both sank to the ground
ordinary men, arise Knights of Legend!'

	The two men stands up with an inexplicable gleam of joy in
their eyes.  There is much rejoicing as each of the Knights cheered
each other on. Lady Flower raced across to embrace the new Knights, the
smile on her face does not begin to describe her joy. Her squire now
stands among the ranks as an equal and to fight amongst the Knights.
The celebrations continued as the night carried on. Quickly I realized
that I must pen the events of tonight before my memory fails me and it
is lost forever. So I gathered myself and hurried home, and to you I
humbly submit my writings for your reading. For your pleasure or for
your curiosity, I hope this has been interesting and informative.

-A nameless scribe


                            A Dark Gathering

Inside a surprisingly well-lit crypt, banners hang from the vaulted 
ceilings, displaying the trident clutched in a fist sigil of the 
Enforcers, a large podium stands against one wall, behind a lurking, 
dead black altar. A multitude of assorted people stand before it, 
ranging from grease haired punks, to heavily cloaked mages, to 
leather-clad women. All seem to be gathered for some sort of special 
occasion, as they wait in the silence.

Finally, from behind a curtained area, steps a tall, lanky man with dark 
blue hair, seemingly normal in this congregation. Stepping up to the 
podium, he clears his throat and listens carefully for the echo. 
"Brothers, Sisters, Undecided, we are gathered here today under the 
banner of the Dark Lord, for a common goal. To bring back the rule of 
shadow to this world, and destroy those who oppose" he begins, grinning 
madly despite the serious tone his voice has "We have done this many 
times before, but this time we must totally eradicate it. And this time, 
we can do it, I guarantee."

A soft murmur of voices ripples through the crowd, some nodding assent, 
others barely restraining mocking laughter. 

"Some of you doubt why this will be different" once again begins the 
speaker, seemingly reading the thoughts of most of the gathered "Well, 
this time your under MY leadership, and you cant go wrong when your 
general is a Dark God himself!" At this, the speaker cackles madly to 
himself, unaware for a moment of anyone else in the room. Seemingly 
whipping himself into a insane frenzy, his former restrained tones are 
replaced with a voice that rips through your mind with the tenacity of a 

"Yes, this time, we can't lose! Nope, were going to KILL THEM! They all 
know they're bad, its axiomatic, and they're going to pay for their 
refusal!" he rants, spewing out promises of this, oaths of that. It isn't 
far fetched that among all this ranting he promises sole ownership of 
the moon to everyone in the room. Heaving strange words and pacing back 
and forth across the stage like a crazed stormtrooper, he is the very 
vision of madness.

But, as he goes deeper and deeper into his self deluded rant, an ever 
increasing aura of confidence surrounds him. Not only does he seem to 
believe every word of his ranting, the others in the crowd are being 
drawn along with it too. The feeling is catching, the man's ego so large 
and attractive it blanks out everyone's mind and prints over it his 
deranged thoughts. With a final cry of something or another, he jumps 
from the stage and nearly breaks his leg on the altar before storming 
out the door, waving a large cudgel. Wearing nothing else than some 
flimsy suit, he seems almost armored by his dangerously large ego.


Dragon Eyes : An Epic
Chapter 8

What?  You've missed some of the previous chapters?  You never read the 
captivating prologue?  Well!  Send an email to Drako at 
to get a copy.  Enjoy :)

The olfactory was the first of Drako's senses to awaken in the
morning.  The sweet smell of morning dew on wildflowers wafted gently
on a cool breeze, causing him to recall blue skies and lush meadows in
his half-awake, non-reality phase of awakening.  Next he could hear the
faint fluttering of the leaves, and over that, the pleasant, melodic
chirping of birds.  As his lids slowly allowed themselves to be
permeated by light, Drako became conscious.

His sense of contented peace vanished.  He felt trapped.  Several
objects had him bound, allowing him barely room enough for his chest to
expand with breath.  Drako futilely strained to wriggle his legs.  He
managed only to wriggle his toes.

Our intrepid explorer jolted awake with the total state of clarity of
awareness that can only come with being startled awake.  A non-mobile
reconnaissance revealed that the very same tree that shaded and cooled
his pleasant dreams was now a diabolic harbinger of torture.  Its great
limbs were wrapped about his body, slowly but inexorably pulling him
towards a gaping maw in the trunk that was not there last night.

Drako knew not how to escape this predicament, for he could not move a
muscle - not one worth moving, anyway.  Hmmm.  This would be a good
time to flash his life before his eyes, but since he had done that a
couple days ago, and a couple days before that, and - you get the
picture - he was quite acquainted with his memories.  No, the only
thing to do was think of a way out.  'If only that magician guy would
come by and save me again...' Drako thought.  Well, since he couldn't
knock on wood, and didn't think it would help anyway, noticing the
obvious dissent of the wood, he had to come up with something else.

The magician ended up helping in an odd way.  Drako, recalling the
licking flames the man had controlled, figured it was as good a waste
of time as any to ponder what little facts he had gleaned regarding
magic. Visions of the magician and his subtle movements danced through
Drako's cranium, making it tingle.  'My Denorex must be working,' he
thought with a bit of sly humor.  'Errrrr!  Concentrate, fool!'  He
decided that dying was not a very good conclusion to this story,
despite its high probability, so he concentrated *real* hard.

Slowly, he gained control of his inner mind enough to recognize its
symbiotic relationship with the elements.  He gathered all his mental
strength and ... *pushed* - so to speak.  Using only his mind, he
focused small bits of energy, creating a larger and larger mass, a
concentrate of energy.  A small ball of light, a little sun, gradually
coalesced.  He propelled the glowing orb directly into the craw of the
malignant vegetable.

The tree shied away from the tiny star with a speed in proportion to a
race car - I'll write the story, you do the math.  Drako, momentarily
loosed in his bonds but still unable to escape, reached for his
slithering serpent dagger.  He found it.

A quick, angry upthrust directly into a leading branch granted him
immeasurable glee.  The tree thrashed about, allowing Drako to get
free.  He ducked in among the branches, slashing violently with his
dagger.  Bark flew everywhere.  Drako could almost hear the tree
screaming.  Eventually, Drako got tired, and backed off, regarding his
whittling work.

The carnivorous tree hung limp, its branches exhausted, torn, and
bleeding thick orange sap.  Bark coated the ground, leaving the tree
itself nearly naked.  Drako felt a moment of pity before he smiled,
winked at the audience, and continued his voyage...


        Praise of Quebec: The French Indian War

	The snow falls once again,
	Like years ago when it began.
	The flakes float down one by one,
	Like lost souls on the run.
	The blue sky has been grayed,
	Like the memories as they begin to fade.

	Long ago we traversed this war-torn land,
	Again and again without thought of her helping hand.
	The only message she left for us,
	Has been lost like the blown away dust.
	On this scroll I leave my humble praise,
	For all to remember the ancient days.

	The fireflies hum a gallant story,
	Of the braves fighting glory.
	The whitemen came with their rifle,
	Taking the land of the merciful.
	For a hundred years they fought and fought,
	To decide who would own the fort.
	Bodies littered the graceful land,
	Its majestic beauty lost in a fight so grand.
	The creatures forever live in fear,
	Thundering silence is all we hear.
	Trees and streams stained in red,
	What is the purpose of this dread?
	Never again will we forget her,
	Showing us what the lands really were.
	Never again will she give her heart,
	To the warriors that tore it apart.
	Never again will she return in our time,
	But forever she will live on in my rhyme.

			-Sir West, Knight of Legend

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