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Autumn in Neopia
Autumn comes to Neopia:
Now the month of Collecting is at hand,
Let us survey the changes fall will bring
To our Neopian land.
In Meridell, autumn means ripe fruit
And long yellow afternoons
Picking the plumpest berries sweet
And loading vegetables, garden-fresh,
Into squeaky-wheeled carts
To cozy thatch-roofed cottages,
As evening brings its cooling dews.
On Krawk Island, autumn is the season
Of mists, of fogs and cloud,
Blurring the senses, so that
Old pirates' yarns of ghost ships
Suddenly don't seem like such tall tales.
In the Lost Desert, autumn brings the rains;
After the long summer drought,
Water droplets pearl the sand at dawn,
Coltzan's shrine is covered
With twining vines and laden
With petals of all colours:
Flowers grow, briefly, brightly,
Spots of colour, of life, of fire
Against the golden sands.
I think my favourite is Faerieland,
Where the winged faeries gather
And sing the songs of autumn,
Faerieland, where summer dies gently:
Clouds soften its fall,
Changing their bright white
For mauve, sweet pink, and rosy gold.
In Faerieland they sing farewell
To summer heat and welcome autumn's cool
In the sinking light, while flocks of Cirrus
And soft-winged Faellies
Gather around their faerie choir
And, like so many autumn leaves,
Swirl, twittering, into darkening skies.
When the Hunter Becomes the Prey
Piercing eyes stare through the grass.
Wind whispers through the air.
Sapphire sets on horizon green,
Approaching darkness's lair.
The hunter remains invisible,
Among the night he hides.
The only light that escapes
Emits from two emerald eyes.
Stripes adorn a flicking tail,
Paws cushion against the ground,
Teeth of ivory and moonlight,
Ears that perceive all sounds.
To be a hunter of the night,
With such perfect camouflage.
Behind the veil of shadows,
Lurks something more than a mirage.
Suddenly the air feels tense,
Another pair of eyes appear.
Hiding among the brush,
Reciprocating the hypnotising leer.
Two warriors now pose,
In the essence of the chase.
Rocks and grass cannot mask,
The intensity that they face.
As the moon begins to peak,
The light captures their eyes.
A reflection is all it takes,
Then the plains roar with cries.
Lunging from hiding place,
Pouncing with great speed,
The adversaries meet at last,
Among the once whispering weeds.
A standstill remains,
Each entranced by the image.
Like looking through a mirror,
An identical form in plain visage.
So now to look upon the two,
Who hunt and pounce as one.
What other way to see them
Than as Kougras on the run?
A Battle Drama!
The tiny Draik she trained all day,
Codestones were fast spent.
Her owner cried "They cost too much!"
Yet she did not repent!
Krawk Island cost her in Dubloons,
She hoarded quests with glee.
She was obsessed with getting strong,
And on a training spree!
To her owner's great despair,
She demanded weapons too.
With each new level she trained more,
Her strength just grew and grew!
Costly sword and healing spell,
A helmet that could freeze.
She wielded each with growing skill,
Fought with such expertise.
A fortune spent on weapons grand,
And then the day had come.
She dreamt of how she would defeat,
And she would not succumb!
The Grarrl and Draik did battle long,
She used her weapons, all.
And thus the Draik did lose the fight,
For want of one snowball!
Gazing at the midnight sky,
The elegant moon and stars so high,
Their precious light, shining down on me,
Out in the open, so pure and free.
The clouds drift in,
Making the stars fade away,
Hidden, behind a curtain,
Of the dull, cloudy grey.
I sit there in darkness,
A cool breeze through my hair,
Silence surrounds me,
But I haven't a care.
That's when I saw it,
A small glimmer of light,
Shooting from the clouds,
And straight into my sight.
She was right there before me,
Hovering lightly in mid-air,
Her twinkling eyes
Giving a long and friendly stare.
Her beautiful soft fur
Ruffling, briskly in the breeze,
Her delicate long tail,
Swishing slowly, as if pleased.
Her ears were twitching slightly,
Listening, to the sounds of the night.
I barely dared to move,
Or risk giving her a fright.
Her wings were beating slowly,
Like a young and healthy heart.
I could have stayed forever,
But then, we drew apart.
She flew into the darkness,
Like a shining star, so bright,
Disappearing, in the thick grey clouds,
Of the perfect winter's night.
The Legend of the Ghost Lupe
To recall the origin of the Ghost Lupe
we must return to a distant island shore,
turn back two hundred years of time
to the birth of this beast of Neopian lore.
A tall ship bound for Mystery Island
tossed upon the raging sea,
colonists hoping to start a new life,
among their number a young bride-to-be.
White caps surged and high winds howled,
the ship soon foundered, far from land.
Two-thirds of the party swept over the side,
some lost to the sea, some washed up on the sand.
Only one crew member made it to shore,
the officer Sylva, a dashing young Lupe.
He did what he could to ensure their survival
by taking command of the woebegone group.
Hours grew into days, days stretched into weeks.
They wandered the island, alone and afraid.
Then one day attacked by some primitive natives,
some of their number were snatched in the raid.
One of those taken, the young bride-to-be
was the betrothed of Sylva, now frantic with fear.
Determined to save her, he set out alone,
"I must rescue her" his last words, so we hear.
No one knows if the couple was saved.
Their fate has been lost in the passage of history.
No longer vicious, the natives still wonder
if an old island legend answers this mystery.
On many a dark and moonless night,
a ghost Lupe is said to be seen on the prowl.
He raises his muzzle to the night sky
and ululates an unearthly howl.
Some think that the ghost is the officer Sylva
still searching the Isle for a young girl long gone.
Though his body is dust and his name is forgotten,
his spirit will always live on.
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