Showing posts with label The Weekly Draconian. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Weekly Draconian. Show all posts

Wednesday, October 29, 2014

The Weekly Draconian, 10.29.14. Issue #8.

Frostuay in Unexpected Heat Wave

Columnist: Glen Greenscale
Editor: Krala the Terror

The province of Frostuay has been experiencing one of the hottest seasons in its history. Temperatures began to climb late last month, and have only continued to climb as this month has progressed. Today, the record has been broken for hottest temperatures in the province, with the southern edge of the normally freezing region recording temperatures of 39°F early this morning.
Local officials have issued a heat warning to all dragons in the province, and the avalanche alert level has been increased to Critical. Skiers have been advised not to go until temperatures drop once again, and several dragons who had been content living in caves embedded in the mountains have had to be evacuated due to concern for avalanches blocking their cave mouths and trapping them.
Reekus the Unwashed is one of those dragons who has been evacuated. He says that the evacuation decision was a bad idea. 
"[The officials] are forgetting that dragons can breathe fire! Whoever decided [evacuation] was a good plan, they sure are stupid."
Reporting for The Weekly Draconian,
-Glen Greenscale

Wednesday, October 8, 2014

The Weekly Draconian, 10/8/14. Issue #7.

Abandoned Theme Park Purchased By Multibillionaire

Columnist: Glen Greenscale

Editor: Krala the Terror

Authorities have it that the multibillionaire draconian legend, Belligast the Boldest, has recently purchased an abandoned themepark in North Yovi.
Deemed too dangerous for public use, Mirakulus the Mad's Flying Carnival Themepark was shut down over eight years ago after a frenzied lawsuit filed by soccer dragons in fear for their hatchlings' safety. Since then, the abandoned complex has been neglected and fallen into serious disrepair. About four years ago, however, the property was repurchased by Erilikk the Mistaken, a young real estate agent, who hoped it could eventually turn a profit.

Wednesday, September 10, 2014

The Weekly Draconian, 9.10.14. Issue #6

We may have finished Book Two of TDL, but TWD will continue (The Weekly Draconian, not The Walking Dead, for those of you who watch way too much Netflix). After all, there are several happenings in the draconian lands, despite the three uncles' respective departures.
Without further ado, here is the 6th installment in The Weekly Draconian!

Police Recapture 6 Inmates in Aolia; Dangerous Convict Found Dead
Columnist: Glen Greenscale
Editor: Krala the Terror

Wednesday, September 3, 2014

Weekly Draconian: 9.3.14. Issue #5.

We at the blog are professional procrastinators. Well, we aren't. We don't get paid to procrastinate. But if we did, we would be rolling in moolah. Maybe we should make this series the Monthly Draconian, you may be thinking in that sarcastic little head of yours. Ah, we respond, but what fun would that be? No, we have a perfectly planned plot point for that! Read on to find out why these weekly editorials have been absent.

Gigantic Breakout at Exilius Regional Penitentiary

Wednesday, July 30, 2014

The Weekly Draconian: 7/30/14. Issue #4.

91st Annual Drake Games Kick Off

Columnist: Glen Greenscale
Editor: Krala the Terror

Yesterday on the Isle of Bootjaw, one of the greatest and strangest ceremonies of Drake culture was begun: The Annual Drake Games, put on by the King of Bootjaw, Bikro of the Two Syllables. This weeklong ceremony of games has drakes from all over the draconian world hearkening back to their homeland to celebrate this hallowed holiday.
The weeklong festival includes all sorts of professional competitions, from Sluj-drinking contests to burrowball to cheese wrestling. The events are all held within the Great Iq (Spelled I.Q.) Stadium on the Island of Bootjaw. The Drake National Anthem was sung yesterday to kick off the Games’ largest and most prestigious event: team meatball chess.
To an outsider, this sport is difficult to comprehend. What with the tail-chomping, potty-mouthed, meatball-flinging competitors, and the stark raving audience cheering them on, it’s understandably difficult to discern the exact rules of the competition. Unt, when asked what exactly the rules were, only shrugged, said, “What’s rules?” and kept cheering for her favorite team.
The Drake Games will wrap up next Tuesday with the Burrowball Tournament, in which the first one to find the golden ball buried underneath the playing field wins, there are no restrictions on violence, and all 9,000 audience members are also encouraged to compete. Needless to say, this holiday will not be without plenty of casualties. And a word of advice to tourists: do not, for the life of you, eat the food.

Reporting for The Weekly Draconian,

Glen Greenscale

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We hope you enjoyed that Weekly Draconian! More letters in Book Two will be up soon!

-JTZ Baner

Wednesday, July 23, 2014

The Weekly Draconian: 7/23/14. Issue #3.

Stolen M.D. Tied to Convicted Felon; Cristalitis Cured

Columnist: J. Edgar Spinetail
Editor: Krala the Terror

As cristalitis raged across the provinces these past few weeks and doctors raced to find a cure, the fiasco of the stolen medical doctorate was pushed into third-page headlines. However, a new incident came to light connecting the two events.

Friday, May 30, 2014

The Weekly Draconian, 5.30.14



The third installment of the Weekly Draconian has been delayed two days, due to the writers' procrastination Memorial Day Weekend. Enjoy this slightly late perfectly timed special!

Friday, May 30
Doctorate Degree Stolen at U of Yovi!!!

Columnist: Brett Sorethumb
Investigative Journalist: Slimtail the Thickheaded

Late last night at the acclaimed provincial University of Yovi, which has ejected some of the brightest and lightest Dragons in Yovian history--which include the inventor of the itchy blanket bed, and also the first brewer of the Endangered Species Soup--, the medical office on the second floor was broken into and ransacked by a supposedly Draconian thug.
Evidence to this fact was given by several native security guard, who asserted that it had a long pointy thing, and big flappy things that  it used to flappy away, quoth he.
The nearest employee of the Draconian was one Slimtail the Thickheaded, who investigated immediately, thought the reason for him ironing his snout and wearing a fake tale is still unsure, though possibly he wanted to change his name around.
Contrary to popular speculation, something had been stolen from the medical office, transforming the uninvited ransacker from 'thug' to 'thief', and causing an outbreak of the cha cha dance of hate amid the faculty.
According to Slimtail, a highly valuable doctorate degree which had been planned to be given to the latest and greatest medical mind in UY, Lubott’omi the Slightly Greasy, had been purloined from the main filing cabinet, most likely after it was melted by a presumably Draconian flame broiling.
Intent on finding evidence of the culprit, Slimtail proceeded to bust the place up for the second time, finding nothing important, not counting the small note with some letters on it stuffed under a cabinet, involving something about a scaly guitar.
Once again, the Draconian has been momentarily stumped by the working of the criminal mind, but we shall prevail, we shall find evidence to the culprit and soon sell lots of papers because we’ve solved the case.

Brett Sorethumb
Executive Reporter and Columnist  

Wednesday, May 21, 2014

The Weekly Draconian, 5/21/14

Enjoy the second installment of The Weekly Draconian, featuring columnist T.J. Minus of the province Arrknight, and world-renowned investigative journalist Glen Greenscale.

Wednesday, May 21

"Cristalitis" Epidemic Baffles Draconian Doctors


Columnist: T.J. Minus
Investigative Journalist: Glen Greenscale

We've all heard of cottontooth, Bootjaw kidney fever, and wyvern's rash, but a new flu is sweeping the provinces, and never has the like been seen by any doctor, doctor's assistant, apothecary, crazy draconian quack doctor, or hillbilly cannibal in existence. The recent breakout of what has been termed "Cristalitis," short for Cristalitis episophagocytositoma. No one has been able to recall any such sickness ever happening in the history of the world.

The symptoms are extremely painful. Says Scalpella the Surgeon, M.D. at Northern General Hospital, "The first signs of the disease are a sore throat and weak fire. From then on, it progresses to Stage 2, which is when the full growth of crystal forms in the spark pouch. It's characterized by the loss of the ability to breathe fire and extreme pain in speaking and swallowing. Stage 3 is when the growth hardens and seals itself to outside attack from the immune system."

This extremely painful illness has been ravaging the Northern Provinces, and no one is quite sure of the cause. The only clue is its regionality. Draconian officials have been quick to limit the disease's spread by creating a temporary no-fly zone to and from the provinces of Frizid, Denpeake, and Frostuay.

In hopes of finding the source and ending the quarantine, a team of top-notch field analysts have been deployed to examine the food and water supplies of the region, as well as environmental plant growth. They hope to find the cause, and possibly the cure, to this epidemic.

Says Scalpella, "Our best bet so far has been to rub goat soap on the throat to eliminate soreness and swelling. There has also been success with seaweed concoctions in diminishing the size of the crystalline growths on the insides of the patients' throats."

The hospital waits on pins and needles for the field analysts to come back with their discoveries, and hopefully put an end to the crystalitis crisis.

T.J. Minus,
Junior Columnist, Current Affairs

Wednesday, April 16, 2014

The Weekly Draconian

It was always fun to write a fantasy paper on the Wyvern, a Weekend Disaster Post here, then a Weekly Post there. But none of them have ever tied into the Draconian Letters in the merest of fashion senses.
What is best about The Weekly Draconian, is that it knits in seamlessly (was that a knitting metaphor?) with the letters! 
Here today, we get our first look at the first of many Weekly Draconian posts. In this one below the scene is set after what the uncles have done at and to the once-home of Smok, and later the base of the invading Drakes.
The next letters will feature the retrospective writings of our three protagonist Dragons, each entailing his part in the story, and uncovering the mysteries in this post....
Ladies and Gentlemen, Invertebrates and Mammals, let me welcome you to the very first post in THE WEEKLY DRACONIAN!!!!!!!!!
__________________________________________________________________________________________

Columnist: Brett Sorethumb
Investigative Journalist: Sardina the Inquisitive

Mystery Explosions on inland Province: At dawn the morning after the day which this is centered on the day after, a budding disturbance woke several provincial inhabitants surrounding the coastal province of (name unsure).
            The kafuffle first began with a few distant shouts, the ominous sound of a twanging harp, and then an explosion that rocked the ground and the shockwave that followed knocked several Skyway flyers out of the airspace.
            News companies came on scene several minutes after the community notified them of the disturbance, head-journalist Sardina investigated, accompanied by squire-journalist Pinbee the Vertically Challenged.
            Upon arrival at the untouched scene of the explosion, which had been the recently vacated home of Smok the Unsure (several Dragons have listed complaints at this name, including one Truebotox).
            The cave mouth and interior had been wrecked to within an inch of its life, while the noise of the twanging harp was quickly solved by Pinbee, who broke his lower left claw toe falling over it.
            Amongst the wreckage, several stunned Drakes were found, along with several implements besides the harp, including a splintered Draconian crossbow, a dress slathered with war paint, and, most unusual of all, a Bung mallet accessorized with an elemental pearl.
            These artifacts have been taken in for questioning, along with the Drakes, save for the Bung mallet, which mysteriously disappeared; the police base’s wall being ripped off and an unknown Dragon carrying it off notwithstanding.
            The all pervading question is why? Why was the cave blown up, why were such strange objects found amid the dregs and dross? And who? Who could and would do such a phenomenal and unusual thing?
            Journalists still investigating, this case will be one of the most riveting ever published, no one will know how it ends; definitely not.
            
      Brett Sorethumb,
Executive Reporter and Columnist

Monday, March 31, 2014

Last Day to First Day!

Dear Readers, Followers, cart managers, and hamster barristers.
As you've read, we included ourselves in last years Camp NaNoWriMo, the summer version for the November trial to write.
But this year, the Camp has become so popular that it has expanded out of the warm spells to the month of April, and we've all three decided to do ti again this year!
As this is the day ramping up to the midnight strike starting, we thought we'd give one more before-April post before we unsheathe our pens, bare our computers, and do battle with the terrible Sore Thumbs, the juggernaut Writer's Block, and the well named, inescapable force, Deadline.
As something for you to think about, here is the schedule for what new, old and middle aged things we will put forward probably in April, and certainly in May.
The Weekly Draconian: An innovation to the Draconian World, giving interviews with well-known Draconian persons, closeup stories on the latest scandals, adverts, and distinct intelligence into
The Draconian Letters: Messrs. Trubodox, Semithino and Scaligar will be back in fully fledged glory as they come together to rescue a misunderstood damsel, fight like ferrets in a bag for the sunday paper, and continue to barrage Smok with advice, intel, harrowing tales and outright crossbow threats.
The Riddle Ogre: Sometime or other our procrastinations will fall short and we'll finish the story.
Exclusive Fantasy Interviews: The blog will host several more unusual characters, sporting strange tails, stranger tales, and sometimes even interesting perspectives.
Riddling Derbies: Yet again we shall come, we shall see, and we shall solve some more of the various riddles and poetical puzzles we stake to the board.
Short Stories: As ever, we'll shoe horn in a few novellas, maybe some poetry, and with only a few lumps in them.
Thats all for now, and quite enough for anytime.
As Caesar would say, Jacta Alaea Esto.
Let the games begin.

Wednesday, March 26, 2014

Book Two Letter Forty-Three



Dear Smok,

You’ve dragged me back against my will, I see that, but my noble nature could not be contained in light of what happened when I was crying on your lawn happened by your old cave on a midnight glide.

Anyway, while I was so forthing, I spotted a fair Draconian maiden making her way to the cave’s entrance. Wiping my eyes on some ferns Intending to warn her no one was home, I landed close behind her as silently as a greased pig for no apparent reason, and almost spoke to her when suddenly a ferocious Yovian Drake wearing pantaloons leapt from the cave mouth and grabbed the maiden, carrying her back into the cave.

        I of course was horrified, and; attempting to enter the cave was strongly rebuffed by a pair of muscle strapped Drakes, yelling single syllable war cries that seemed to be a custom.

        After being thrashed like a rug making a tactical retreat, I located a window (skylight, whatever) in the side of the cave, and attempted to force my way in. After I nearly broke my neck, I decided instead to spy, intent on collecting information on how to rescue the fair damsel trapped inside.

        Yo-Yo games?! What I saw inside the cave was almost to scarring to recount. The maid was standing in the midst of a cavorting mass of monosyllabic Drakes yelling in Morse code, binary code, and dancing the Macarena to a funeral march being played by a Drake with a musical saw.

        The Yo-Yos came in when the Drakes got bored with their blasphemy against popular dancing, and lined up for the Yovi native game of ‘Yo-Yo Yonkers’. Their own mix of dodge ball, Ti Chi, and professional wrestling.

        Whilst this went on, the maiden--you’ll never believe this Smok but I believe it was Limmie the Mildly Cute!--stood on the sidelines weeping her snout off. It may have looked to the untrained eye that she was laughing, but my eyes are hardened by years of being smart and stuff.

        This is getting serious, Smok, why didn’t you tell her you’d moved?! Or maybe you did so you could get your implacable uncle back in the game.

        Well, you’ve succeeded; my irrepressible bravery cannot be withheld whilst a fare damsel is in danger.

        TO HORSE!!!

        I shall be in contact,

Your massively courageous uncle,

       

        Trubodox the Scarlet

       

P.S. Never try to find a horse big enough for a Dragon to ride, it ends badly.

P.P.S. I shall now plan my rescue of Limmie.

P.P.P.S. Does Drakemart sell Dynamite?
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Here's something we might start up sooner then later...A weekly newspaper that goes on in the Draconian world....called the Weekly Draconian, which will tie in to the present events happening around the three scaled uncles! Comment and tell us what you think.