Readers, one and all, welcome to Iron Wyvern! As we have hinted in a previous post, Book Two of The Draconian Letters is being wrapped up, and will be done by the end of August. For the months of September and October, we will write Book One of our much-mumbled-about new project, Water Under the Bridge! Don't worry, we didn't forget about it. Starting in November, that will be posted regularly for the next few months. And then, coming in 2015...drumroll please...the new, improved BOOK THREE OF THE DRACONIAN LETTERS!!!!! Featuring Trubodox, Scaligar, and Semithino in new adventures.
Here is Scaligar's latest from the max security facility in the province of Zuul. Enjoy!
My dear Smok,
It has come to my attention that I may have made a mistake in assaulting your uncle through the glass in the visiting room. It appears he has now been sentenced to 500 years in MY CELL. This is a terrible atrocity, and I have already contacted a lawyer to get him moved out of my cell as soon as draconianly possible.
It appears I’ve been sentenced for quite a bit more than my original time, and will be stuck in here closer to a millenium, as luck would have it. Prison has a bad effect upon me. For one, I’m sure my cave back home has been ransacked completely. All my priceless paintings! All my priceless treasures! All my priceless bean bags! All my priceless mechanical flamethrowing spoons!
Alas. Anyhow, Smok, I will tell you about my prison life, disregarding brother Trubodox as just one of the more feisty inmates.
Of course, you know about Lenny the Wannabe, the awful cook of this barred iron wyvernhole. He has been useful in getting my letters out to you, which is why you will find this letter in a poorly boiled toad mash with graham crackers and a side of sauerkraut (his specialty). He’s a horrendous cook, but a help to me. I got myself transferred to cooking duty so that I can make sure my letters are getting properly smuggled. Lenny is reliable, if a bit stinky.
Next I shall fill you in on the prison schedule. All inmates are forced into their cells at night. When the prison rooster shrieks in terror as the warden is about to eat it at dawn, the guards open the cells and usher prod us out to breakfast. After breakfast, the inmates get to roam the cell block, playing chess, reading, trading contraband, etc. I am on kitchen duty, so I help clean the dishes, perhaps the worst part of the job.
Well, Scaligar sure is a boring letter-writer, isn’t he? This is Trubodox. I will write quickly before he gets back from the restroom. I think I have a possible escape plan, similar to the last one, but unfortunately I have no idea how to get out of this place. Even punching through walls this place is a doozy. The walls are three feet thick and the rest of the prison is a rat’s maze to navigate. When they were guiding me inward after the trial, even the guards got lost. Oh, great, I think Scaligar is comin--BF**$&GFBIUIB$@FIUif34nfeuiqfinurwof43b78&B&*$FBUIBuifwebf4iu3uwefbeiufbfuiefbuihrci4399(((((FBUI$(BF$
Sorry, Smok. It appears that Trubodox has once again been violating my privacy. I gave him a smackdown when I came back, but he’s stirrin-- bobryfvq0q)G*PG$&FFIEBFIBIEIWuifehfp94hfqpH*PHP*#HPHP$F$jjijiiH&#fO\
Well, Smok, I am writing again. I just got your uncle Scally back for pounding me. He’s drooling on the floor right now, muttering about cheesesteak and corn-on-the-cob. Oh, and something about secret traps he hid in the walls in case this happened--wait, what??!!!!787hiIibbiurwerugbrwBYB
Well, Smok, this letter is getting a bit long to be smuggled inside a toad mash, so I’m going to have to cut short my detailed description of prison. Hopefully you’re getting these letters.
-Your serpentine uncle,