Monday, July 29, 2013

Twelfth Riddling Derby Results

Greetings once more, Followed and friends! I come not to glorify the Derby, but to bury it. You came, you saw, you solved the riddles.
 And now, i give out the prize to the winner of the Twelfth Riddling Derby!!!
IT....IS.....
JULIET LAUSER!!!!!!!!!
Congratulations, Juliet! Incredible solving! You get the blog's highest award for genius....unfortunately, due to inflation, the invisible wreath of victory iis now the immaterial wreath of victory! But you remain the champion, and new coming hero to the Riddling Derby!
lets run through the answers before we go, just to even them up.

Riddle I: What has been around for millions of years, but is only ever a month old? The moon. [As answered by Juliet Lauser]

Riddle II: I cover what is real and hide what is true, but sometime I bring out the courage in you. What am I? Makeup. [No one answered this but personally I don't blame them, I didn't really understand the truth in it.]

Riddle III: What has a tongue that can't taste, a throat that can't swallow, eyes that can't see, and a soul that will never die? A shoe. [As answered by Angrod Carnesir]

Riddle IV:  I am tall when I'm young, and short when I'm old. What am I? A candle. [As answered by Juliet Lauser]

There we are! All written up! Now congratualtions again to Juliet Lauser! Thank you all for participating and I hope to see you in the next post!
Oh, and don't forget to comment on what creature you want in the Weekend Disaster Post!
-Z Baner

Friday, July 19, 2013

Twelfth Riddling Derby

Welcome back! Friends, followers all, to the Twelfth Riddling Derby! Once again their will be four individual riddles for every follower, and visitor alike to solve and gain the ultimate prize.
I now ask you to enjoy the riddles, solve them wisely, and avoid the blitzing carpet seller. Here begins the TWELFTH RIDDLING DERBY!!!!!

Riddle I: What has been around for millions of years, but is only ever a month old?

Riddle II: I cover what is real and hide what is true,
But sometimes I bring out the courage in you.
What am I?

Riddle III: What has a tongue that can't taste, a throat that can't swallow, eyes that can't see and a soul that will never die?

Riddle IV: I'm tall when I'm young, and I'm short when I'm old. What am I?

Enjoy and enter your answers below. The Riddling Results will be published on July 22nd. And please remember to comment on what mythical creature you want in the next Weekend Disaster Post!

Draconian Fun Fact: Trubodox finds mustard and clam sauce crapes exceedingly toothsome, Semithino enjoys a good hot dog, and Scaligar dresses up as Semithino's waiter and steals his tips.

Wednesday, July 17, 2013

Book Two Letter Thirty-Two


The challenge still stands: what fantasy creature do you want to see in the next Weekend Disaster Post?

And now a letter!

My dear Smok,
It has come to my attention that I have been freed from the icy wasteland that is the tundra of Frizid. I may also have permanently paralyzed Semithino while I was at it. First of all, let me clarify: Semithino deserved every ounce of the gigantic beating I gave him, and I will under no circumstances apologize for the deed. Unless he dies, of course. But I highly doubt that. Hurdek the Physician is taking care of him even now, and my relative shall soon recover from his injuries.
Now, I shall take up my narrative where I left off in my last letter, which, I trust, has reached you by now. As Xelle and I sat in the snowdrifts, keeping each other company in the last hours of my waning life, it came to my attention that the hail was beginning to fall much harder than usual, pounding at the overturned sled we were sheltering beneath. Xelle had gone to sleep; drakes’ immunity to cold is quite enviable, because I really wished I could fall asleep, but every time I tried, my jittering body convulsed so hard that it seemed I would split in two.

Tuesday, July 16, 2013

Book Two Letter Thirty-One


 A missive! A missive! A missive from whom? Why, a missive from Trubodox, my readers!!!
What fantasy creature do you want to see most in the upcoming weekend disaster post? Comment below with your suggestions!
----------
My dearest, most acclaimed nephew,
It appears that I have been dethroned, abdicated and gentrified by the armies of boredom. Nothing exciting has happened for months (save for that slight misunderstanding with the Drakes, which I shall not narrate in any great detail as my superiority is boundless).
It appears that twould be most timely for your previously dematerialized mentoring to be recreated in a most contemporary fashion.
It appears, firstly, that you have partaken of an unacceptably low average of the food stuff known as Chewing Gum, this is an irreplaceably nutritious entrée, and should be ingested, to use primal terms, indiscriminately and, like, liberally.
It appears, secondly that you have done nothing apparent enough for me to continue this narrative, for this reason solely, I shall discontinue this missive forthwith and go look up some more words in the dictionary to continue on my rectified, and ethereal path of life.
It appears, that I’m saying bye.
Geekadox the Re
Truebodoks the Scarlet

Monday, July 15, 2013

Book Two Letter Thirty


My Dearest Nephew,

(first off, as your uncle Scaligar has lately taken back his start off line, the following news did not come to my attention, it simply allowed me to notice it very lately. There, that ought to keep the lawyers happy, or better yet; confused)

Due to the information that very lately allowed me to notice it (namely the family reunion proposed by my cousin Xeezoflaliophrcurkit Zezophlaoliorouxikurt Xexeophlaomrakixiturtis cousin X) I have put my advertising job with the local newsletter on hold and set out on a journey into Frizid. This letter I penned at the first rest-area after my flight and was then sent on my messenger-fish to your post-office. Forgive the fungi, and possibly the bite-marks.

Anyway, I was searching around for some means of transport across the tundra, when I overheard a trio of Drakes conversing by their sled, drinking cups of steaming hot Sluj, their national drink.

I shall not repeat the actual words that the conversation was made with as 50% of them were unintelligible, 29% were inappropriate comments and 21% percent were horribly and viciously grammatically-flawed. However, I gathered from the overall conversation that the Drakes had left one of their Drake-friends and a Dragon whom they referred to as “the one who says ‘Ificate’” whom I assumed to be your uncle Scaligar, on a sled out in the middle of the tundra.

Immediately leaping into action without the slightest hesitation, pause or vague possibility of the thought of rest of any kind or sort I invited the Drakes to tea.

This invitation to the sipping of tea leaves in steaming water was but the first step in a scheme of great cunning. As the Drakes sat down to tea, I would put into action step two of my plan, serving the tea, mixed with a slight sleeping-drug which would addle their minds just enough for step three to be pulled off hitchlessly.

With the Drakes in their semi-drugged state, I planned to then activate step three: a process of mesmerism taught to me in the far reaches of the Eastern Wastes by the Dragons of fire and sand who dwell there. With step three perfectly completed, I would then have been able to extract such information from the Drakes as I would need in order to rescue my brother and the female Drake out on the tundra.

With all steps of the plan completed, I would then have sprinkled a light dust of a powder made from the dried and crushed petals of the “forget me forever, don’t come near me again, don’t speak to me and don’t even think about writing or coming near my cave again” flower popular among young lovers in order that the Drakes would remember none of the things said in our conversation.

However, the Drakes refused my offer of tea, so I clobbered their heads together.

Having then pinned all three of them with a nearby motorized sled, I questioned them forcibly on the subject of the whereabouts of your uncle Scaligar and the Drake.

After the sled dropped on top of them, the Drakes were most forthcoming, giving me the coordinates of the place where they had stranded Scaligar, the position based on the movements of the storms, the most likely outcome of the next Flame ‘n Fur Ball match and a palm-reading.

I have since turned the Drakes in to the authorities and plan to set out on my journey to find your uncle Scaligar before the Drake he is stranded with is bored to insanity by his conversation. Oh, and I believe that there might be a slight danger of getting a bit cold.

-Your servant, mentor and uncle,
          Semithino

Sunday, July 14, 2013

Weekend Disaster Post - The Phoenix Games

The Phoenix Games on Saturday, much anticipated by many, ended up in complete disaster! (What a surprise.) These games, thought by many influential thinkers such as Sockcrates of Grease and Sissy-Rowboat of Pizzaville to be the key to unlocking life's greatest mysteries, were delayed back in March because of a serious scandal involving flame-retardant liquid and the possible use of hippo jugglers. Investigations on this matter (see the article Mr. Big-Hippo-Juggler and the Pachyderm Pact) are still ongoing, but the games have been allowed to continue uninhibited.

There was much anxiety among referee officials. Says one official who wishes to remain anonymous, "Our contestants this year seem to be very motivated, and that motivation might cause certain members of the competition, [particularly] aging athletes, to use outlawed measures."

Saturday, July 13, 2013

Book Two Letter Twenty-Nine


My dear Smok,
It has come to my attention that I am dying of cold. Thus, I have arranged this last of mine very letters as my last will and testament, along with an explanation of what has led to this dreadful course of events, of what has led to my most certain, inescapable, fantastically unavoidable, doom.
Deathifications, my nephew; take up the legacy I have left behind, take up my mantle and follow in my footsteps. I am proud of you, Smok, but I’ll cut out the heartache from this script as I am freezing my buttocks off in profound agony, and every moment bringeth mine cold, frail body toward the inevitable, preferably warmer light beyond.