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Ah, Summertime, and the people are sleazy.
by Divinnia Darkney

The Editors would like to make clear that this is a gossip column conceived, written, and published in the spirit of fun. The events and personalities described herein are treated liberally and with the singular purpose of providing entertainment to the readership. The goal is not to libel the citizens of Elanthia but to provide amusement for them.

Ah, Summertime, and the people are sleazy. Dear Reader, even Divinnia herself has been shocked at the iniquities to which our "fair" citizens have sunk since last we wrote. As the weather has grown ever more heated, so has the cat-fighting and backbiting. It is our duty to keep you informed of the latest, or we would surely have found a hammock beneath two large shady trees to sprawl in as we sipped our spring water.

Sources tell us that a roguish Lady who is often found in the courtyard just beneath Hearthstone Manor's steps has been spreading nasty rumors about a well-known redheaded sorceress and a certain Elf of purest blood who helped save the world as we know it from the Vvrael. We would like to inform Lady Chattersmuch that it is our job to report on the comings and goings of Elanthian society and not hers. We will investigate these rumors she's been spreading, of course, but we believe this raffish tonguewagger merely has her nose out of joint because her high-profile husband is no longer with her, leaving her in the ignominy she had grown used to before he lifted her out of the catacombs.

Yet another empath has turned our heads (and our stomachs) of late, dear Reader. This frosty Lady was recently spied peddling her spells like Helga hawking ale. Only six thousand silvers would buy a Wall of Force; she defended this mercenary madness by comparing it to enchanting. Perhaps Lady Silverpalms has poor math skills, but it seems to us that the difference is that even if one could purchase something with twenty enchantments, one would have to study for fifty years to be powerful enough to bear such strong magic. It is not for the young and untutored. How sad to see once-great Ladies reduced to selling their spells. We wonder, dear Reader, what she will sell next, and who the buyers would be.

It seems that some things never change, no matter how old and stale they may become. While we lounged on the porch of Hearthstone Manor, we witnessed a nasty disagreement between the Most Famous Sorcerer No One's Ever Heard Of---you know, Reader, the one with a color in common with a much-maligned female wizard---and a certain roguish Lady. Blood was spilled, harsh words were shrieked, all while our innocent young witness looked on in disgust. One would think that with age came dignity, but apparently dignity, like barnacles, must have something to cling to in the first place.

Speaking of indignities and barnacles, our ears were recently assailed with tales of a certain "island princess" and her many male acquaintances. Could it be that the Lady is with child, and if so, which fine fellow is the father? Or is she simply growing broad in the beam from all those coconuts? If she is expecting a bundle of joy, we wonder if she will teach the child the many nonexistent languages she sometimes speaks (apparently this island is very far away from other people, and they do not allow sharp objects there). We shall certainly keep you apprised of any late-breaking water---err, news about the Lady.

Unflappable Reader, we hope that your heart can withstand the dizzying excitement of this next bit of news. We simply must share the latest about that aging rogue who claims the porch at Hearthstone Manor as his, else we will fall into a swoon of unbearable excitement. We watched as he sat there on the porch last night...he sat there as this fine paper went to press...and wonder of wonders, he is probably sitting there now, as you read these very words! We hear he is growing moss on his north side. More on this fascinating story as it continues to...sit there.

We hope, Reader, that this foray into the steamy jungles of depravity have not made you feverish yourself. It is our duty to report on the weather, but do not blame us if it is too hot for comfort. Hot as it is, some have more reason to sweat than others...and we are always watching.

By Dr. Meknik Mudlily

Editors Note: Dr. Meknik Mudlily is the resident in charge of healing the minds of the fine folks of Western Elanith. Please, feel free to ask him questions on any number of topics within reason and he'll try to answer them as succinctly as possible. Kindly send these questions to his home address at 117 Erebor Square and be sure to write 'Dear Dr. Mudlily' on the front of the envelope. Dr. Mudlily also prefers the anonymous, so please, try to design an alter ego for your question such as 'Bored in Glatoph' or 'Stumped at Frith's'. Dr. Mudlily will try to answer as many questions in his column as time and space allow as dictated by the editors.

Dear Dr. Mudlily,

Is there a plague of very small, nearly invisible gnats or fleas in Elanthia? I've noticed people don't seem to be able to sit still at weddings and other ceremonies. I'm concerned that it might not be impatience, but rather a sneaky, silent threat to all our welfare.

Signed,
Itchy Scratchy

Dear Itchy,

I can set your mind at ease with the knowledge that it is not fleas, gnats, or any other host of parasitical vagabonds migrating about which is at the root of this problem. This is not to say that a few dwarves of ill-repute aren't carrying their and your fair share of these pests in their beards. But not to worry, a bug could find no finer home and would be unwise to seek shelter in less friendly confines.

As to the cause of these jittery disruptions, it is really quite elementary to the educated eye. These folks are not suffering from nerves or bugs, but rather they are religious zealots. It seems that they cannot refrain from trying to attract the attention of their gods with these bizarre combinations of movements. As their desire to receive the affections of deities increases, so in turn does their seemingly maniacal behavior. We can only hope that a wise god will grant them some attention by means of a bolt of lightning, and thus, end their (and our) sufferings.

Dr. Mudlily

Dear Dr. Mudlily,

I have heard much about the forging forum and I am very interested in it. I would like to try to forge weapons. Being a human warrior, I am naturally adept to it. And you, being the intellectual individual, I was wondering if you knew when the general public would be given the opportunity to try it or buy the necessary equipment, or if you have any juicy information at all.

Signed,
The Famished Forlorned Forger

Dear FFF,

Since you were so kind and observant to note me as an intellectual individual, I'll shy away from my obvious response concerning humans and/or warriors and their adeptnesses. That leaves me with rather little to extrapolate upon and therefore must reserve myself to answering your question.

The act of forging is no big secret. Any fool with a furnace, a hammer, and some malleable metal can forge one object into another. The trick is in doing it well. This is a highly guarded secret amongst the Blacksmith Guild. It would not serve their business interests well at all if their knowledge was common. They realize this and reserve the highest punishments for those members who reveal any part of their trade to the non-Guilded. It has been rumored recently that high-ranking officials in the Warriors Guild have sought to buy these secrets from a low-ranking blacksmith whose shop was maliciously placed in less hospitable districts by his higher ranking brethren. Alas, I'm sure whatever information they could glean from this chap would be valuable, but nonetheless, not nearly so valuable as if they could con Tykel or Aznell to reveal their knowledge. I have heard that they have offered their snitch a pretty penny, but I think that the pressure from his peers, chiefly a well-crafted dagger at his throat, might convince him to reconsider his temptation for the near-foreseeable future.

Dr. Mudlily

Dear Dr. Mudlily,

I recently met a Lord who said Teras Isle was the final frontier. He said that he was about to journey where no one has gone before. If no one has gone there before, then how do we know it is there and inhabitable. Also, how come if no one has gone before there is always someone there already?

Signed,
Gone Before

Dear Gone,

I think the answer to your question rests in a couple of misconceptions. The first misconception is that your basis for your question comes from a rather ill-informed noble (Ill-informed noble. Redundant? Your thoughts?) with serious delusions of grandeur. Teras Isle is not really a frontier. It's more of a navigational error than anything. And your concerns on how inhabitable this isle might be can be answered by the fact that it is settled by dwarves and therefore not inhabitable in the least.

Dr. Mudlily

Dear Dr. Mudlily,

Sir, if you are really a sir, I being a ranger have inquiries about why I must go through the torment of watching my fellow tree-huggers being harassed by warriors. I wish to fend them off with logic and brute intelligence, but their minds are too narrow for such evasiveness. Also, what in the hey is tracking and why can't I use it, eh?

Signed,
Lost and Wandering

Dear Lost,

Warrior harassment, where will it end? What exactly were they doing to harass your fellow rangers, drooling? Were they slobbering on you again? And you're quite sure that 'brute intelligence' does not slow their harassment? Dark times are these when passing ruffians can drool on rangers!

My advice to you is train well in your profession. There comes a day when warriors will become polite in order to secure a few measely incantations. They might even be reduced to begging. There's also nothing quite like the torment of a warrior who has to hunt in the presence of a well-trained ambushing ranger with a head fetish.

Tracking is an ancient ranger art where the well-schooled ranger follows the rather obvious path of a very large and careless prey, all the while, leaving a trail of non-descript rocks to guide them back home safely. It's a small wonder that it's seldom used.

Dr. Mudlily

Dear Dr. Mudlily,

The other day me and some friends were protesting the killing of rats inside the furrier, when I decided to go to the catacombs and yell at the rat killers. I ended up getting arrested for disturbing the peace. I was only fined 200 silvers and I got all my items back, but I don't see why preventing the slaughter of creatures that can't control their own actions would get me in trouble. Would you explain why I got arrested?

Signed,
Rat Crusader

Dear Rat,

The explanation for your arrest is simple. The town officials have a serious dislike for having rats in their warm and cozy homes and thus encourage the greenest of the folks to our fair city to clean out the catacombs. It is usually the newest citizens who do the dirty work as the more learned citizens have all had their fill of the stank conditions in the catacombs. When folks like you begin stirring up trouble and rats start proliferating, the town officials call the constable to action. I would say that your fine was pretty paltry. Consider yourself fortunate that the Mayor's wife did not find a rat in her pantry the day you were arrested or your sentence might have been a bit stiffer.

I've also another suspicion. I think that the town officials in conjunction with Dakris are smuggling rat pelts out of town to the Krolvin without the legal tariffs being assessed. It seems that the Krolvin have a deep infatuation with rat pelt products and will pay handsomely for them.

Dr. Mudlily

Dear Dr. Mudlily,

I am writing to you because lately there have been many changes to the world around us. Elder wizards have been researching further and further into the spells we have known for a long time, and they have been making changes for the better. I am wondering if you have any special knowledge of any big changes that are to be sprung on the friendly inhabitants of Elanthia. I look forward to change, because that is the only way we can grow. Thanks much.

Signed,
Curious Caster at Crypt

Dear CCC,

Usually, the surest sign that something big is happening within the ranks of the wizard's circle is when the roof of an unsuspecting building is launched into the heavens by an unelanthian blast. Shortly thereafter, one of our leading wizardly types will stumble out from underneath the rubble muttering about too much of this and not enough of that and proceed to the nearest workshop to destroy another roof.

It is difficult to speculate upon what discoveries they might make. If I knew the answers before they were given, I'd surely find myself in more desirable climes than kowtowing to a Rumblebelly for crumbs. I do know that certain forms of disarming one's opponent are verifiably useless in this age and might well be replaced by more functional spells of an undetermined nature.

Dr. Mudlily

Dr. Mudlily is a free lance columnist living in Wehnimer's Landing. He comes from a long-line of Halfling writers dating back to the invention of the Cockatrice feather quill. He enjoys trips to the Museum, quiet walks along the river, and rolton-wrestling. He also has a serious aversion to pastry so we're not entirely convinced that he's a Halfling.

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