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THE FAERIES' RUIN SPECIAL
Hanso the Thief
A dashing, young blue Ixi,
Can he be trusted, or is he just a thief?
Will he be the faeries' saviour,
Or will he be the cause of more grief?
He sees no wrong in pocketing
A jewel, or maybe two or three,
He takes whatever is unguarded,
As if everything were free.
He would like to take advantage
Of those seeking from him information,
Five Neopoints a word, really?
Does this one care of the faeries' salvation?
But a thief may not be truly bad,
Does he have his heart in the right place?
Will he help Kings Altador and Jazan,
In solving this unsavoury case?
There is little we know of Hanso --
Is he good or just a downright cad?
No one can say for sure right now,
But I hope that he's really not all that bad!
The Faeries: Set in Stone!
With bated breath all did await
The break of dawning day,
A festival for faerie folk,
Where all could feast and play.
A day where those who flitter forth
Would all unite as one.
A festival, the time drew near,
With rise of golden sun.
And aye, at first, I tell you, friends,
It seemed that all was fine.
The faeries gathered, fluttered 'round,
Took time to dance and dine.
Gifts they gave to one and all,
A book, a gem so bright.
Alas! Without a warning then,
We saw not all was right!
For scene was by now rather changed,
As horror did unfold.
The faerie folk were set in stone,
Their eyes were vacant, cold.
Which beast could pull such horrid stunt?
How could this be undone?
Join me, friends, a plot seems near,
The mystery has begun!
Just gone out for a walk;
Gone out past the heather fields,
Entered the forest stooped and
Lost in complicated thought.
Trudge along the muddied ground,
Kick at leaves and stones;
No song is playing in this head,
But just a repeat of a single sound.
Broken stems in a passing breeze,
Tumble along end-over-end,
Leaves rustle over stone,
Sighing faint wearied pleas.
Over yonder, that shadow feigns
To be colour, but is rather grey;
Away somewhere, a Beekadoodle cries,
And blue silence reigns.
Clear the forest's thin fringe,
Deep within the woods now,
And then to see them --
See a merry gathering, where now
Faces are stilled mid-cringe.
A scream now has split the air,
And decked the statues round
Where sound meets stone
And grey has crept early over hair.
The scream drifts back and carries,
Now weaves among the pedestals;
The owner left it behind
And runs now far away
From all of these stone faeries.
The Faeries' Ruin
It's that time of year!
The joy, the glee, the love!
The Faerie Festival is here!
Send your luck, a card, a dove!
But didn't you hear?
Someone is not pleased;
It is said they hate a cheer --
Their anger cannot be eased.
The goal? To inflict fear.
None saw it coming,
None saw it happen,
None heard the incident,
Only to see the aftermath.
The disaster struck like lightning
And is talked about loud like thunder.
Neopia is in despair:
All the faeries are stone!
Completely empty, the land of air,
Only to leave their royal throne,
The kings come to see for their own.
To be greeted by a thief,
But with no one else to trust,
They must go against their belief
And do Neopia just!
The villain can finally give a grin,
For he has caused the Faeries' Ruin!
The Stone Faerie Garden
The silence is loud, profound,
So loud I can hear nothing else.
I see but not hear wind bending the grass,
The butterfly lilting down on stone flesh.
There is beauty here, no doubt, trapped.
In cores of stone, steel, iron --
Like deep embers, burning bright,
Yet fading fast, warmth leaving, cold.
Expressions are etched in rock,
Eternally frozen -- until the plot reveals the twist.
Or, rather, until I save the day.
Yes, me, this dark Ixi
With sly eyes and crooked smile.
With a shady past, you hate to trust me,
But you have no other, I can see your reluctance.
My pockets are filled with ill-gotten goods,
But don't judge me, I'm not the villain yet.
Look at this garden, this Faerie Festival.
Crushed down, stopped, by magic forces.
The cheer has stopped, free gifts too,
What will become of Neopia,
If you don't take my word?
The world is silent, the atmosphere is stoic.
It is as if the world has always been this way --
Frozen in joy.
They're eternally busy
With tasks they will never complete,
Expressions made with half-grinned smiles
And blinking eyes,
Contact not quite made,
Words not fully formed float,
The air is dense.
Hot sun beats down and stone figures
Almost look as if they'd like to sweat,
Perhaps take a break from their post and
Finish the motions they began days ago.
The Faerie Festival is in full swing
They're singing without sound --
The air is heavier than it has ever been.
The Day They Turned to Stone..
It started as a normal day,
Until the spell came their way.
They look to have turned to rock,
And can no longer talk or mock.
Silent as the night is dark,
They seem to have no life or spark,
They can no longer sing and dance,
As if they've been put in a trance.
Fyora clutches a rose,
As if bringing it to her nose,
The light faerie holds a flute,
Stuck with it as a mute.
The air faerie raises her pie,
That she was so kind to supply,
The Soup Faerie grasps her pot,
A delightful blend best served hot.
Two faeries are stuck in a chat,
Earth seems to be stuck sat,
Fire has been left to stand,
Stuck to look at earth's hand.
If you happen to pass by
And are acting rather sly,
You may be one like Hanso,
Who aims to steal their jewels and go.
Or you may be strong and keen,
Who aims to help and right this scene,
If this seems so,
Then it is you who must read below.
Frozen in time by a mysterious source,
It's up to you to break this force,
Unknown to all it will be hard,
Don't take this mission with light regard.
The Faeries' Plight
We are stone.
Stone lips. Stone eyes.
We are grey.
We are stone.
We are cold.
Once our light
filled this world;
we were stars
among the darkness.
But we are stone.
A punishment not
A fate, a destiny
For we are stone.
Our wings move not.
Our hearts do not beat.
No single thought.
Nor do we speak.
We shall not cry.
We shall not plead.
If only you repeal
We would ask you,
But we cannot.
There is no laughter
All faeries equalised
beneath a single
One blow, one act, one curse.
For we are stone.
Upon a morning of early waking,
I went for a walk in Faerieland
And found something so surprising,
I thought the end was at hand.
For the Faerie Festival was today,
Of that I was absolutely certain.
A day for Neopians to laugh and play,
But the faeries weren't even stirring.
The faeries had all been turned to stone;
No movement came from them.
Their joy and laughter had simply all gone --
Did someone try to curse them?
Dismayed, I asked around Neopia.
Who could be so mean
To turn to stone our faerie friends?
Who would do such a thing?
I sit and ponder by the Healing Springs,
What will become of Faerieland?
Of Fyora and Illusen
And all their faerie friends?
I hope someone will find the cure
And return the faeries back for good.
For Neopia won't be the same, of that I'm sure,
Until all is returned back to be as it should.
The Day the Faeries Stood Still
'Twas in the month of Gathering
When the faeries turned to stone.
The Faerie Festival ground to a halt,
And we all felt so alone.
No Wheel of Excitement or Healing Springs,
At least not for a while.
Oh, will we ever see again
Fyora's beatific smile?
"A plot, a plot" the users cried,
But no proof of this have we.
"We must know now, oh, tell us, please!"
Guess we'll all have to wait and see...
All across Neopia,
not a single smile is seen,
For what a tragic event has occurred,
on this day of giving.
Not a single smile has been seen,
near or far,
As all of Neopia
searches for a festival
that should be celebrated and heard
from miles away.
Kauvara now searches for a potion
that will cure Fyora
from her stone entrapment.
Nervous twitches of tails and wings
can be seen from every citizen of Neopia,
as every heart asks itself the same thing.
If Jhudora is now a beautiful, entrapped figure
in a stony casing,
Then who is to blame for the sadness
that has enveloped all of Neopia
on the greatest day of the year?
Who will save the faeries now,
and wipe the stone tears from the eyes of all?
Encountered an abrupt end,
Rigid stack of greying stones,
Whom can she defend?
Lightly folded wings,
Transparent upon her back,
Stop cold in their fluttering,
Such powers she lacks.
Elegant purple locks,
Spun of lavender thread,
Once cascaded down her neck,
Now frame her face -- frozen in dread.
In their hands a pie or fedora,
Even Jhudora and Fyora.
All of them stopped,
Trapped in stone prison,
Statues far more graceful,
Than any sculptor could envision.
One lone figure pleased.
With a cackle of delight,
The culprit begins to hiss,
"Faerieland will be mine,
Now is my time for bliss!"
This wrongdoer advances,
Approaching the Queen's rocky disguise,
Repeats the speech, laughs, then frowns,
Seeing a glint in Her Majesty's eyes.
Stone Cold Holiday
Today marked the Faerie Festival,
Items to be had,
Full healing to be done!
Bursting with excitement,
I entered Faerieland.
I dashed for the Wheel of Excitement,
And prepared for my prize.
Horror overwhelmed me,
As I saw the horrible sight before me.
All the faeries were stone!
And I was left alone...
No items to be had,
No healing to be done.
This Faerie Festival,
Turned into a stone cold holiday.
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