Letter Fifty-Seven

Smok,

         It has come to my attention that my brother Gargazath has been restored to his former self, Trubodox, “The Scarlet” as they nicknamed him in our junior high days. I was very shocked and surprised, as you might imagine, to hear that my brother had found his sanity once more, and I fainted dead away when he gave me a personal visit and announced his restoration. It seems his former psyche has come back, and Gargazath has been destroyed once and for all.

         I am currently in the hospital. I shall be released tomorrow, but in any case I decided to write of most urgent matters.

         There are rumors, Smok, grave rumors. Surely you must know of the tension between dragons of different regions, and so I must explain that there are whispers of a war that is about to start, that will completely change the world. Northern, western, eastern, and even those loons from the south are gearing up for battle. It will be a great dragon war of epic proportions, the like of which the world has never seen before, and the winning side will dictate the fate of draconian and human civilization hereafter.

         The Compass War may be about to begin. I urge you, Smok, to use reason in choosing your side, if this does come about. I will most likely be general of the western forces, considering that my reputation and wits are of highest repute. I know I may have seemed like a pompous fool, boasting of my intellect, but some (if indeed not all) of my ranting has a grain of truth in it. I am renowned for my skill in strategy and my prowess in battle, and although the days of the greats are at an end, I am the next-best thing that the west can muster.

         The northerners are savage, but the western dragons are by far the most numerous of all dragons; our region is brimming with dragons and we can overwhelm the north easily, although I do not know. Trubodox seems to be leaning toward the northern side, or so I am informed, and although his military strategy and cunning may be lacking, his strength and brutal simplicity in his schemes may make him a worthy opponent, should the north choose him as their leader. But anyhow, I do not think I shall need to worry too much about that front.

         The south is a bunch of hippies, drunks, and loons, and their army will fall apart as soon as it gets to the battlefield, if not before. We westerners need not worry about them.

         It is the power in the east that I am worried about. Their cursed elemental pearls could prove a handful, should they find it morally acceptable to use them. Semithino certainly found it morally acceptable to use his against me, the cowardly cur! My stratagem in defeating them shall most likely be subterfuge, guerrilla warfare, and all that; but it will be dangerous, very dangerous.

         I do hope you side with me, if the war should come about. I hope your recent affiliations and correspondence with Semithino haven’t addled you too much, but I fear you are past saving now. If you side with the east and we meet upon the battlefield, I will not hesitate to kill you. I wish it could be otherwise, but alas. Your path is chosen, I fear; you will probably follow the eastern way of life.

         My way of living isn’t so bad, Smok; I wouldn’t have you slaughter very many humans. As I have reiterified time and again before now, the key to being known as a great isn’t so much to slaughter all in your path, but to appear more ferocious than you are while at the same time possessing a backbone. Your name would go down in history if you followed this principle, and it’s not too much work. It’s the show business, so to speak.

         -Your serpentine uncle,

                  Scaligar

P.S. The service in this hospital is awful.

Letter Fifty-Six

My Dearest Nephew,

First off, allow me to apologize for the slight lie I told you in my latest letter. I told you that all I would only alert the dragons escorting your uncle Gargazath to Hurdek’s home to the danger they would be I along their journey. While I did indeed do this, I also followed the escort at a distance and watch on to see what might come to pass.

            I apologize once more for keeping you in the dark on this subject, but I feared that you might let something slip in a letter to your uncle Scaligar and he would ruin all as he is won’t to do. I watched the escort for most of their journey and nothing seemed to be going wrong. However, I was saddened to see how deeply your uncle Gargazath has sunken into his madness.

            When the group of dragons was in sight of the coast of Hurdek’s home however, your uncle Scaligar suddenly appeared from the West laden with packages filled with I knew not what. He waylaid the escort and attacked his brother with Dragonfire and the packages of what turned out to be the black explosive powder made in the West of my coastal home.

            I watched all of this from a distance so as not to be observed and could not reach the place of the attack in time to save Gargazath. By the time I arrived in the place from whence he had fallen into the seas, he had already sunk too far below the waves for me to retrieve him.

            Your uncle Scaligar had already fled and the dragons who had been escorting Gargazath on his journey pursued him across the skies to the West.

            As I watched your uncle Gargazath sink through the water, I thought to myself that it might be the most merciful fate for him in his present state. I quick death would be better than a life of incessant, unending madness.

            I began my journey home then but I had not gotten far when I heard the sea boiling beneath me. I turned and watched as Trubodox the Scarlet rose from the seas in all his former glory.

            I gather from what you have told me of your uncle Trubodox’s latest letter to you that he has by some miracle been cured of his madness by just the right combination of Dragonfire and explosive powder. My feelings of late on this subject are befuddled in a word. I knew Trubodox as  brother-in-law for hardly a measurable time at all. As your uncle Scaligar has said, the happy marriage of his brother Rorfang to your mother pushed Trubodox over the brink of his growing insanity which had been fed by his failure during the Dragonhunt. Thus, it was not long after I met your uncle Trubodox that he was consumed by Terminal Bligardazash and became his alternate, violent and butterfly-consumed personality, Gargazath.

            As I hardly knew him before this point in his life, I merely thought that it was how he had always been. The madness of Trubodox must have been painful for your uncle Scaligar. Watching on as his once great brother sank into utter madness must have been like watching someone bake a succulent chocolate cake and then icing it with Zucchini sauce.

            On another subject that I thought might be important for you to know, I have observed restless stirrings in the East around the area of my Province. Reliable friends in surrounding areas report that they too have noticed the agitation of Dragons of late. To the North also the Storm and Ice Dragons are stirring.

            The Dragons of the four points are stirring, a shadow descends over us all. Unrest rises against the other Dragons of our world. I have seen such times once before when the Dragons of the compass points grew tired of the Drakes and waged war on their kind, finally battling them on the plains to the South and confining them to the Isle of Bootjaw.

            Prepare yourself for a storm, nephew, for one is coming.

            Your humble servant, mentor and uncle,

            Semithino

Weekend Disaster Post

Muffin Man Rampage:  Early this morning in the town involving the well-known lane named Drury disaster struck, as it is prone to do in one literary installment named as such. 

 The Muffin Man, historically known as the intrepid inventor capable of creating living matter from high calorie cookie dough showed his true colors.

His first offense came when he covered the whole lane in a whole wheat barrage of cookie batter cannon balls capable of breaking through strengthened glass and creating abscessed teeth.

Upon his conquest of Drury Lane, he went on to attack the next few streets, with the help of an army of Gingerbread Men minions who while conquering with vigor shouted out quite frequently loud similes mainly involving words such as "the ketchup was framed!", "we need the dough" and "Excess frosting! excess Frosting!".

Using his superior strategic abilities, several ready-set booby  traps and his hoards of poetry-prone acolytes The Muffin man soon conquered two-thirds of the town, and the surviving numbers attempted to barricade themselves in an eating house.

they would have surely not prevailed more than a few minutes had not the brave and well-payed Myth Police arrived to stop the debacle.

they managed to beat back the Muffin Man's forces using several natural food derived acids that instantly vaporized any unhealthy substance it came into contact with, and they soon had institutionalized the remaining Gingerbread Men  in several psych wards and had safely incarcerated the Muffin Man in prison.

All's swell that and swell!

Until the next concoctions of reasonable literary accuracy!

-Z Third personality of Baner 

Letter Fifty-Five

Dear Smok,

It has become apparent to me that I have much to explain regarding late events. Apparently for the last few years I have been going under the alternate alias and psych of Gargazath. This has come as a great shock to me, as my true name is Trubodox, and I am in no ways connected to any lineage involving the title Gargazath. All I can remember before being overwhelmed by my schizophrenic counterpart was a point of time where I was highly depressed, my life was in ruins, and I became over time what apparently is the alternate personality of Gargazath.

            And then I woke up here and now, which happened to be several feet under the ocean, which seems to have been the cause of my consciousness surfacing, although it also could have been due to the bag of questionably legal black powder my brother Scaligar threw into my sensitive lugs (a most undesirable fate).

            My current theory as to why the strange figure of Gargazath surfaced in my mind was caused by that state of intense self pity I went through years earlier, where I must have went completely over the edge and became Gargazath, at least that’s my theory, I have consulted several Draconic psychologists and their ideas are varied to say the least, some spout nonsense about a rare jellyfish that I must have ingested, and others insist that I was faking to get insurance money (that was when I left the consulting room).

            But I swear to you that I am indeed your uncle, though not by name called Gargazath (indeed a title I shall research with vigor), but with the eternal title of Trubodox the Scarlet. Forgive me if I have been rude or unjust in my alternate personality, and be in no little doubt that I shall go to great ends to ensure that I am cleared of the name Gargazath of the Questionable Cranial Maintenance.

            Indeed, it has come upon my ears that I have been exceedingly rude to my dear brother-in-law Semithino, I am much troubled by this course of events, and I have sent several missives to him explaining the mishap. I say again I am sincerely sorry if I have in any way insulted you in the course of my insane counterpart’s rain over my mind.

            I am sure this has come as a great shock to you, but it is nothing compared to some of my friends reactions when I went calling to explain. Indeed my cousin Perinox the Keen-eyed almost collapsed from heart failure when I told him all, indeed he said that I had not once not passed wind as I entered his homestead, most aggravating to him, and me, I must say.

            I must go now my dear nephew, for I have much more explaining to do, and also I must take Scaligar to the hospital now, it seems he fainted dead away when I explained my recovered condition, I have been cordial to him, though I confess there is no love lost between us.

            Farewell Smok, I shall be anxious for your reply, from what I hear, you have become quite the adult, admirable, I am very proud of you, though the last I saw of you I could hold you in but one foreclaw, ah, memories, how nice it is to remember the old days, though I am thankful I will not have to remember my antics as Gargazath, I shudder to think what might have happened if I continued as hymm him.

            Your thoroughly bewildered uncle

            Trubodox the Scarlet

P.S. Is it really true that I was institutionalized?

Letter Fifty-Four

My dear Smok,

It has come to my attention that in your latest letter to me, you included a few points which I hardly felt necessary at all. You said, and I quote, “Gargazath may be psychologically impaired, but this does not mean we should give up hope on him,” which raises the question (in my mind at least) whether we should have had hope in him at all.

Let me extrapolicate, elaboricate, and clarificate what I mean by this last sentence. Gargazath was perfectly right in the head to begin with, I admit; and our father, that is to say, your grandfather, favored Gargazath over all the rest of us. He had such talent and promise; his physique was unparalleled save by Belligast the Boldest; he was a regular jock, you see, among the draconian youth. This hope of greatness is what drove Gargazath, and I, having three degrees in draconian psychology, realize now that it may have been this hope, this blasted hope, which caused him to fall so low. You see, when he was about your age, Smok, as I recall, he was enrolled in a competition called the Great Dragonhunt, in which the participants all went off and jellificated as many humans as possible before the end of one night, followed by a supervisor to tally up the count. Gargazath was absolutely certain he would win, and hunted with vigor. But it turned out that he lost the Hunt to some uprising young dragon who had jellificated eight more humans than he had. This was a bad blow to his pride and confidence, but then, he was rejected scornfully by the great love of his life, a pink dragon from the north (I forget her name) who threw him away for the hotshot who had taken his title at the Dragonhunt. After this, I remember, Gargazath was never the same, and when he saw his brother, your father Rorfang, marry your eastern mother, I think it tipped him even farther. You see, his hope, his confidence, secured his insanity when he fell from grace, and this slowly developed into Terminal Bligardazash.

Smok, I have something very important to tell you, and I do hope you do not look down on me for it. Gargazath’s condition was worsening; I knew I must put him out of his misery. So, I bought some bags of eastern black powder off the black market and prepped an ambush for the transport team that was taking Gargazath to the lair of Hurdek the Physician. Just as they were flying by a certain cliff along the coastline, my band of drakes jumped out and assaulted the guards, who were all holding chains attached to a collar around Gargazath’s neck. Several of the guards were knocked unconscious, letting go of their chains. I then jumped out as the guards began to rally back, finishing off the rest with my helpful band of drakes.

Gargazath didn’t notice a thing. He was too busy singing the song (popular in Yovi) “I Didn’t See Your Banana” completely off-key and out of tune. So, I did what was necessary. I perched on the clifftop, watching Gargazath flounder and sing amongst the heavy chains sagging from his neck, and then I threw several bags of black powder at him. They all hit him full on, and he careened downward into the sea, quickly sinking. Smok, I killed Gargazath. I hope you will understand the necessity of the action. I put him out of his misery; he was going to die anyway. Even Hurdek cannot cure Terminal Bligardazash, for no cure has yet been found.

-Your serpentine uncle,

Scaligar

Revolutionary Circumstances!

Rejoice! Rejoice! Rejoice exalt and squeeze one of those diabolical little dinosaur replicas that squeak! For the last two months Iron Wyvern has been getting more pageviews than it's ever had before. 1000+ this month and we still have several days to go! and last month we got 1,175 page views in 30 days!

And, of course, 'tis all thanks to our loyal followers, and I know J said this before, but I shall say it again! You guys are awesome! Amazing! And have stayed by this blog every step of the way! Even when we had a long term shutoff of the letters and filled the gap with increasingly desperately cobbled together excuses for blog posts. And for this I am exceedingly thankful!

And I am very happy to anounce that we shall soon be finished with Book One of the above mentioned Draconian Letters, and shall soon be going into book two, which I would tell you about, but I can't until you finish the Letters, which shall be posted, I hope, in a very short span of time!

And I shall thank you all one last time for following us and reading all our Exclusive Fantasy Interviews, our Weekend Disaster Posts, our Weekly Riddling Derbies, our Short Stories, our Fantasy Pest Control Articles, and especially, ESPECIALLY our Draconian Letters, for which we are very grateful.

Hoping to post soon, and thanks again,

-Z

Sixth Weekly Riddling Derby

Greeting once again readers, for the latest riddling derby (appropriate applause)! This time, as is accredited to Iron Wyvern, we shall be changing the Riddling Derby of the Fourth Week, give or take. We shall in fact be publishing three riddles of exceeding difficulty, so as to give a brain work out to several proven riddle whizzes in our readership. 
I  like Riddle Three, and it might take a while.

Enjoy!


Riddle One: I spit like bacon, am made with an egg,
I have plenty of backbone but lack good legs,
I peel like an onion but still remain whole,
I'm long like a flagpole, yet fit in a hole
What am I?

Riddle Two: What are these three related items? When I am placed somewhere I will never stand up. Whatever you give me I will eat. When I go I never return.

Riddle Three: The answer to each clue is a single, 100-point word, or a word whose letters add up to 100, with a = 1, b = 2.

i. Peanut butter tastes like this.
ii. The hat a Dad wears.
iii. To fire a chef,
iv. A smart timepiece.
v. Figured it out again.
vi. Where a kid can sleep.
vii. The magical fruit leaves you doing this.
viii. Betrayed for this much silver.
ix. A baked good that is height challenged.
x. A sticky way to neaten your hair.

Letter Fifty-Three

My Dearest Nephew,

Firstly, allow me to offer my congratulations to you on your defeat of the Rogues. Your Strategy from what I have heard from reliable sources in the area was a brilliant one. Though the details that have reached my ears are a might hazy, it sounds as though you fashioned your plan as a combination of my plan and that of your uncle Scaligar. Pay no attention to your uncle’s verbal attack on your choice to not poison the river running into the Rogues’ hideout, to do such a thing would have been a truly callous move and I am overjoyed, for the sake of your soul, that you did not make this move.

            However, I must agree with your uncle that Pelicor the Mastermind will most likely become a problem in the near future. Having escaped the battle, he will be even more wary than usual and he will know the way you attack. He will also be humiliated at his near defeat by one so many years younger than him a you and a dragon such as Pelicor in a state of humiliation is nothing like a favorable state of affairs. Be wary of him, Nephew, for he will inevitably attempt to take his revenge at some point in the future.

            On the subject of the battle I can report little. Your uncle Scaligar still waits to the West of my home, building his assault weapons and brooding. I do believe that it is high time I flew over there and started the battle myself lest we sit here till the winter comes. Once again I must ask you not to tell your uncle of this as it might spoil the entire thing.

            On the subject of your uncle Gargazath, I must confess I am rather worried. Being a rather large dragon and one who has a known his share of violent situations, I feel he might find it within his abilities to overpower the guards escorting him to see Hurdek the Physician. This would be, in simple terms, very bad. Given my brother-in-law’s lack of mental stability, he could cause chaos out in the open world. I am not sure what I could do save for write to the guards at the sanatorium and advise them to take the utmost care when escorting Gargazath to Hurdek’s territory.

            I have looked over what you have told me your uncle Scaligar said regarding the ways of both my Eastern brothers, and me. Though I do not really feel the need to defend myself against his verbal attacks, I do feel that you might profit from a lesson in the ways of the dragons of the East.

            Firstly, on the subject of why we Easterners do not invade the West and use the influence over the world bestowed upon us by our Elemental Pearls to send them into exile. Before I give the real answer to this question, you must know that not all of the dragons in the East have such Elemental weapons as my race does. For example, Megarennige, the ruling power to the Northwest of my Province has no ability to manipulate the elements, but relies on rather more sophisticated and difficult arts of magic. Orivanda of Florenta also knows no power over the elements although she is by no means powerless. The Elemental Pearls are a rare gift and must be made by the user of a great period of years and are therefore very rare.

            Most Easterners do without the Elemental Pearls unlike most dragons and humans seem to think.

            Now, back to the subject broached by your Serpentine uncle.

            The reason we Easterners who carry the Pearls, along with all of us others who do not carry such instruments, do not lay waste to the Western lands and exile the Western scourges such as your uncle Scaligar by force is that we are by nature a peaceful race. We defend our homes when we need to and even go so far as to take part in a war when we see that the need is great enough and the evil being battled is terrible enough. We spend our lives in prayer for the most part and in helping worthy heroes and those in great need. When we fight we are powerful forces, but the Elemental Pearls are weapons with terrible power that is not to be abused. The consequences of doing so are always dire and often fatal.

            Your uncle Scaligar and indeed your uncle Gargazath would never understand such a life. I have no doubt that, if given a Pearl of the Elements that they would abuse the power greatly and use it to bring about schemes of such terrible evil as only their depraved minds could concoct. No wait, I exaggerate. Your uncle Scaligar would do this; your uncle Gargazath in his current state would no doubt simply use the Pearl to create elemental butterflies and other such fanciful things.

I hope that this letter has answered a few questions and helped you along your way to wisdom. Now I am off to end this battle with your uncle. Again, tell him nothing in your letter.

Your humble servant, mentor and uncle,

Semithino