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The fiery lanterns sway in the air,
Red hot, smoking, and creating a flare.
Lighting up the caverns below,
Exposing a land hidden many years ago.
Moltara City creaks underground,
The fans and the cogs always spinning around.
Steam making faces of darkness and dread,
Before disappearing with nothing said.
But behind this emotionless, metallic mask,
And away from the heat, in which you can bask,
Is a friendly bunch waiting to welcome you there,
So glad that you've made it into their lair.
Tangor is waiting to tinker and fix,
Pick some old items, which he can fix.
Anything of interest he can take;
Special new Petpets aren't all he can make.
Cog's togs offer the finest in steampunk wares,
Made with the strongest leather, so it never tears.
With brass and buckles to finish the set,
It isn't something you'll soon wish to forget.
Now, when you're in need of a piping hot meal,
Molten Morsels will make sure to fill.
The perfect snacks that just hit the spot,
No eyeballs or tentacles, certainly not.
Glimmering lamps now catch your eye,
As Lampwyck's Lights Fantastic next you spy.
Lamps rock from ropes and chains,
The luminescence glows and your glance strains.
The brass and the rust seem more welcoming now,
Come and go as you please, they'll always allow.
If you're ever in need of a land so carefree,
Be sure to visit Moltara City.
Ode to Tangor
Deep beneath our fair Neopia
Lies an unsuspected core;
A city with a history
We are destined to explore!
No matter what we find,
We always must have more.
And all at the expense
Of crafty tinkerer, Tangor.
Holed up inside his workshop,
Bent over scraps and stone,
Turning tiny little gears;
Shiny obsidian he does hone.
Tinkering and toiling,
He makes no profit of his own;
Fashioning Petpets for the masses,
Tangor sits alone.
So before you blame TNT
And Moltara underground
For missing raw materials;
Take a long, hard look around.
Tangor's creations leave the shop
Where he himself is bound;
Yet he continues, Dal after Oop,
Without a single sound.
Atlas of the Ancients -- Chapters 4 & 5
"Where to next?" Roxton enquires,
"The tome says Faerieland," it transpires.
Roxton hesitates to go,
Wishing this step he could forego.
Clara taunts him and becomes instructor,
But in Faerieland storms are disrupters.
Another passage about the seasons,
Beyond the seeker of peace, the tome reasons.
Clara follows the ancient passage,
While Jordie is fried by violent static.
Roxton insists the Healing Springs will help him,
Without forgetting that he is not welcome!
A golden statuette catches his eye,
A clue, he thinks, before being hit by a tide!
That tide was the Healing Faerie's wrath,
Still not amused by Roxton's past.
With another clue collected, there's no time to stay,
Clara distracts the faerie for them to run away!
"Quick thinking, Clara!" Roxton praises.
"It's not about you," she rephrases,
"We're here to save Neopia, remember?"
Clara is still top contender.
Jordie steps outside to regain some colour,
The ship does shake and it shudders.
A storm rages and sky pirates attack!
No going home and no going back.
Yet the crew navigate through the gales
And weather the storm-brought hails.
To destination Terror Mountain,
Who knows what might happen!
Will they survive this horrible journey?
Will Neopia continue forever turning?
Fighting hard in their tiny sky-boat,
Roxton, Clara and Jordie are soaked.
If I Told You There Was a City
If I told you there was a city
where the citizens' hearts beat in sync
because they're all a part of the same machine,
tell me, what would you think?
Can I tell you about a city
where metal flowers grow silver and gold,
and the gears are hiding a secret more ancient
than any tale that's ever been told?
Do you believe that there is a city,
underneath the soles of your feet?
Can you hear the sounds of the city clock
tick like a metal heartbeat?
The longer you listen to the city,
the more you start to be one;
with the magma that flows and the city that grows,
though its citizens do not know the sun.
If I told you there was a city,
where the Neopians are shrouded in secret,
and they live alongside the scorching hot lava;
tell me, would you want to see it?
Psellia's Faerie Song
Scintillation from up high,
A shimmer through the haze.
Dainty faerie, lost in thought,
Such daydreams in her gaze.
Delicate her footfalls seem,
As on cloud she doth tread.
Lost in thoughts of pure joy,
Behind her, wings do spread.
Sweet Psellia, of the clouds,
A faerie of the air.
A guardian of Altador,
A lady good and fair.
Rescuer of those who fall,
So held in high esteem.
Cast in stars in shadowed sky,
Still lost in idle dream.
Chosen one of ancient realm,
So honoured by her King.
Recognised for her true worth,
And what good she could bring.
Six small stars in evening sky,
So shape The Dreamer's form.
Dull within the daylight time,
At night, she doth transform.
Innocent of evil deeds,
Remembered in old tome.
Telling tale of her brave deeds,
Within her ancient home.
In a hall that stood so long,
Her statue dwells with grace.
Still a daydream in her gaze,
And soft smile on her face.
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