Editor's Mail Bag
The Watchmen Bride Hoax...Re: Idle Rumors 15th Day of The Waiting
The idea that the Watchmen recruit women for marriage is preposterous—and I'm not the only one who knows this, Ms. Goodwright. I take many passengers to the Isles, and there have been a few ladies seeking Mateo Adan's Watchmen on my ship. However, I'm told the training is difficult. And many recruits, men and women, end up back on my tub a week later. In other words, when recruits realize the demands of the training, they jump ship, and rightly so. The Watchmen are a wily bunch, but they run a tight ship and settle for nothing but the very best as they should. It's a dangerous job, and I think it irresponsible if the Watchmen allowed an unfit recruit to continue to satisfy a vocal minority who believes them unfair. I assure you, the Watchmen are not unfair but show kindness when a recruit does not meet their criteria by sending them home. Many are called, few are chosen, and fewer succeed.
But since Ms. Goodwright prefers to write fairy tales smearing otherwise decent people, let me start her off properly so next time a new 'Idle Rumors' is published, the audience knows they are reading a work of fiction.
Once upon a time, I lived in the Riccaran Isles and saw many unusual things. And often, when we don't understand something, our imaginations can run amok, just as Ms. Goodwright's has. Or, perhaps she has indulged in the latest shipment of faeflower from the Isles. I've heard rumors that the weed has particular effects, especially in the visual and auditory senses, and may cause hallucinations if consumed in great abundance. But of course, that's the going rumor.
Perhaps it's time for Ms. Goodwright to find a new line of work. If she's interested, I have an opening for a swabbie—a noble profession for someone with a penchant for spreading fodder.
-Captain Swithin Harforde, Commander of the S.S. Falcon and Friend of the Watchmen
Photo courtesy of the Smythe Trading Family.
A Rotten Visit...
Recently, I visited the Dock District, and while attending the fish market, I discovered an eyesore, or rather, a group of spectacles that spoiled the whole trip. The Howling Goose Gentlemen's Club has now put on its doorstep a rotten wooden stage for the girls to dance upon OUTSIDE. Not only are they indiscreet in dress, but the vulgarity that leaves their mouths leaves much to be desired. Lord Mayor Dexter Bradleye should be ashamed to allow such business to flourish in what was once an otherwise decent place to live. Remember to vote Port Kadir and not for Bradleye and his indiscreet ways unless you enjoy the 'eye candy' served by the docks.-Shelley D. for the Gunderik Fife Temperance Society
Botanical Blunders...Re:"Botanical Beauties" a short story series
The Malkin cactus grows in the Carrick Desert, not the Riccaran Isles. "Botanical Beauties" current storyline is supposedly taking place in the Isles, yet the story shows the characters feasting on malkin cactuses. I am from the Isles, and not once did I see one of those prickled death traps until I was up to my ears in sand serving on the Southern Border. Nor is it a good idea to drink the slime from cacti unless you wish to thirst to death.
The writer needs to take some geography lessons. So, I have included a photograph I took while on patrol in 1528 AR (my unit crossed the border into Carrick that day looking for slave posts). In the distance is the Bleak Spire Mountain range. I know Tabor needs a few good men out in Eldonir, but I won't count on the writer of "Botanical Beauties" getting there since he doesn't know where anything is anyway.-Master Sergeant Eduardo Harlane, Royal Tabor Military
Camp Ironstone, Eldonir Borderlands
Evidence Anyone...?Re: Parliament Requests Proof for the Thrid Year in a Row
Our illustrious parliament demands hard evidence of Carrick's slave-trading farms. If we were to demand the same level of proof from their profession, they would all be out of a job. Good on Watchman Smythe for speaking the truth about what is happening on the border in last week's article. She's seen the slave farms with her own eyes, and the idiots in the King's Seat refuse to believe it. Perhaps they should pick up a sword and defend their country instead of picking their bums, which seems to be the only function they are capable of.- April S.
Färberg's a Cheat, So What...Re: The Bowriders Have Been Dry-Dry Docked Next Season
It's horrible how everyone has recently treated Gerlach Färberg over the alleged Parry Ball cheating scandal. This man has won eight championships. And so what if he paid the owner of the Port Kadir Blade Fish to throw the game—the Blade Fish stink and can stick it in their collective bums. Most of them couldn't find the goal posts anyway, even if their dead granny pointed it out. When I cheated at a game of Wands, I still lost. But Gerlach, he's an absolute genius—and I hear he's also an excellent card player like me. So good on him for finding a quicker way to win. Go Lancaster Bowriders!-Douglas P.
To My Biggest Fan...Re: Wits as Sharp as My Master's Blades
I'm writing in response to Watchman Smythe's request for a leading lady in my next book. My dear wizard, you will not have to wait long, for the leading lady will be a 'Damsel No More!' I am genuinely grateful that you mentioned me as your favorite author and, frankly, surprised. Most of my fans are typically young lads seeking adventure. Or they send letters seeking advice on how to write elloquent love letters to girls. (In the style of my esteemed Captain Eggebert, of course.) Indeed, I'm humbled by how my stories influenced your career choice. Here's to the next adventure, my friend. And by the way, wizard, do you still keep rocks in your pockets? Cheers!
In Fine Silken Style...Re: Bradleye's Budget Bungle
As Lord Mayor Dexter Bradleye struggles to save money, he could well look at the tacky parties he holds each 11th month for the Gentry Gala holiday. Which, by the way, has drained the Taborite taxpayer of 200 thousand gold every year for the last ten years, to the benefit of no one except the foppish idiots he invites to our fair city—that our money keeps in refined silken style.
Surely, they could do just as well down a coal mine if only to marvel at the wonder of it all. By the way, I hear Lord Dale Beckett has recently invested in a small mining company in the Eldonir Fife. So perhaps they could have their party near the Disputed Lands. It'll liven things up a bit when the Carrick soldiers crash their party.-Malcolm P.
"Bradleye's Budget Bungle Parade"
It's with great sadness that I'm writing this missive. For years I was a devoted fan of Red Keegan's weekly word puzzle, and my sorrow is in the loss of his writing hand, for it penned many entertaining evenings. But, alas, many will miss his supreme wit. And my condolences go out to his family. I loved how he wove his wit and wisdom into his puzzles and the themes they contained.
My regret (and the reason for this note) is that his son Douglass Keegan's puzzles are patronizing, so to speak.
I have not yet solved one puzzle and usually cannot get past the halfway point. I'm sure there are those in your readership who enjoy the high snobbery of wizards and their massive vocabularies, and I do not wish to take that away from the audience. But who cares what a bloody 'Dancing Quill' is or why Wyot the Wild lost his arm in the Battle of Bethany.-Celsus B.
Inner City, King's Seat
My Package is Shrinking...Re: Is This Getting Smaller, Or Is It Just Me?
A recent article reported that the royal chocolatiers were discreetly shrinking the size of their confections. Is the same thing happening to men's undergarments, or am I just getting older?-Michael C.
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A Tarnished Legacy...Re: Lord Jenkins Memorial Service
Why is it that when someone dies, they are spoken of highly despite their shortcomings in life? It was said at the funeral of Lord Jenkins, mayor of Haywood Fife on the Southern Border: "He was one of the most noteworthy people to grace Tabor politics … He had a vision, smarts, and honesty." In fact, it was no secret he was a dirty turncoat, an intellectual snob and padded his pockets with the thousands of Falcons he made off this bloody war from his steel business. Not once did Jenkins visit the Southern Border. Not once! I should know. My son is bloody still fighting there and hasn't been home in three bloody years!-Rob M.
Inner City, King's Seat
The New Wellsley Times
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The New Wellsley Times hopes you'll take the opportunity to contribute your original content to our growing community of writers. We invite you to submit your letters, photos, articles, and comments—and we will read every single one! However, to keep the experience enjoyable and exciting for all our readers, we ask that you follow the rules outlined in the submissions section.
-Albert Fredericks & Reginald Deedly
Featured Letter of the Week
Hometown Heroes Inspire Youth...Re: The Hall of King's Wizards & Wits as Sharp as My Master's Blades
My name is Sally. I'm nine years old and attend Winnepeg Primary School. My class read the article about Master Winnepeg, the man my school is named after. Also, there is a really big portrait of him in the headmaster's study. I got into trouble once for throwing rocks at bigger boys and got sent to the headmaster. That's when I saw Master Winnepeg hanging on the wall. I like his smile. He reminds me of my grandfather. Anyway, I did not know our town started so small and is now really huge because people discovered how Master Winnepeg fought the Carrick army 50 years ago and saved many farms. He must have been really brave. I would have been scared to fight so many soldiers.
I also learned ladies can be brave even when they are scared. When I read the story about Watchman Margaret Smythe, I started thinking about what I want to be when I grow up too. Maybe a wizard. But my mum doesn't like swearing and if I became a Watchman I would have to promise my mum I wouldn't swear. Someday I would like to visit the Isles and meet her. I want to ask her a question about being a combat wizard. But I don't know where to send the letter. So maybe the newspaper people can help me send the letter to her. Thank you very much.
The New Wellsley Times looked into the matter for you, and you may send your letters to Watchman Smythe at the following address:
Watchman Margaret Smythe
C/O Royal Tabor Military Post
1745 Bigley Street Inner City, King's Seat #12
You'll be happy to know we took the liberty of sending the letter on your behalf. Rest assured, the Royal Tabor Military will forward the letter to her current post.
Reginald Deedly, Editor-in-Chief
A Washed Up Parliament?Re: Our Roads are 'Good' Enough
Washed out roads. Crumbling bridges. (Scooney Hill Bridge, anyone?) Aqueducts. Any connection? Of course: years of not funding the road treasury to maintain their infrastructure.
Parliament sitting pretty in the King's Seat refused to administer adequate funds and then pointed fingers at the border posts, local lord mayors, or caravan companies who didn't spend money they were never given. And the public elects politicians who promise magic — never having to pay for anything because that would require "taxes." And it's not the only problem on the Great Road to the 'back country' of Eldonir. Harriers have the advantage when broken cart wheels result from poorly maintained trade routes.-Talitha Z. Proprietor of The Blue Wren Tavern & Gentlemen's Club
Camp Ironstone, Eldonir Borderlands
To the Dogs...Re: High Society Column
I have a soft spot for Lady Deidre Becket; my dream girl looked like her, and she reminds me of a boisterous Kadir Wolf Hound, my favorite breed of dog.-Mark T.
Inner City, King's Seat
Exit Stage Left...
I left the theater depressed and with a jarring case of boredom for the first time in my life. As a lifelong theater patron, I was sorely disappointed by the low-brow comedy 'Don Quixote.' I found the characters to be rabid, bloodthirsty, and foolhardy. And if this is what serves as intellectual entertainment, then count me out. It was nothing more than a two-hour-long advertisement embracing foolishness. Absolute rubbish!
Further, I don't care if the story was from the blasted Watchmen's Archives. But it doesn't surprise me in the slightest. They are aggressive, wildly irresponsible, and chauvinistic—like the character Don Quixote. I don't' care if a 'lady' joined their ranks—it does nothing to improve the image of those disgruntled wizarding rejects.-Wizard Peter Eks
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The World of Tabor is a work of fiction that began as a mere unbodied musing whilst toilet scrubbing at the local senior center, written with a level of mediocrity that would make most fanfic dumpster fires wet their pants. Names, characters, businesses, events, and incidents are the products of the author's twisted imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Certain long-standing institutions, factual historical events, agencies, and musical publications are mentioned, but the characters involved are wholly imaginary. And, of course, credit to where credit is due. All factual events and creations, printed, sang, danced, or otherwise created by the tenacious human spirit, will be credited with respect to their copyrights and owners.