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The Snuffly's Curse
The Snuffly's high shrieks rang over the land,
Echoing over the desert's vast sands,
He cried to the places where he had been banned,
Banned for a crime which he didn't commit.
They called him a thief, a liar, a cheat,
He was thrown out of town into sweltering heat,
The Snuffly sat down to rest his sore feet,
If he wanted to live, he would need his wit.
Then suddenly, it seemed that the sky was ablaze,
A dark faerie materialized out of the haze,
She fixed the Snuffly with a powerful gaze,
Her eyes were as dark as a bottomless pit.
She told him "I'll help you return to the town,
But first, you must stop making that sound,
Then stand up; get up off of the ground,
Then obey me for all that I see to be fit."
From that day on, the Snuffly's no more,
He continues to blatantly break the law.
Over Neopia, he cackles and soars,
After all, the new Pant Devil's never legit.
Earth and Fire
(Water and Air sequel)
The ground shivers with anticipation,
Growing and thriving its recreation,
Who commands such an untamable wild,
The Faeries of Earth so gentle and mild,
With tree brown locks and emerald gaze,
Forest's a playground not so much a maze.
If food is what you need and crave,
There shall she be there to save the day,
For all creatures that are under her care,
There will be Plain Faerie Cake for all to share,
And even though her wings are for skies,
On the ground is where she rests her eyes.
As caring and generosity so nice,
Can she compete with the fire faeries' spice,
Strong and brilliant,
Your needs' fulfillment,
Fire is red and wild fire,
Nature is Earth's desire,
But both have a little piece of our heart,
They have been with us every step from start.
A crackling fire visions of flames,
They dance in tight circles with little games,
And commanding the brilliance is she,
A Faerie of Fire the one who warms thee,
Fire so sardonic in ways of the wind,
Flames become reborn with embers from kin.
Scorching new outfits and ember hues,
We can only guess next will be shoes,
We can only watch while the Fire Faerie,
Drives away all the fear and what is scary,
Her shimmering fire burning so bright,
Be reassured you will make it warm all night.
The Question of Jhudora's Quest
Asked the Shoyru to Jhudora,
"Why should I do your quest?
Illusen is also asking for an item.
What makes your job the best?"
Jhudora smiled her sweetest smile,
trying to pin an innocent look to the letter.
"It's quite simple," she quickly answered,
"The prizes I give are better."
The Shoyru didn't seem convinced,
as he leaned forward to ask,
"Doesn't the better item usually equal
a much more difficult task?"
Her dark smile slipped just a notch,
and she squirmed slightly in her seat.
"That's not the case," she replied,
"My tasks are easy to complete."
Growing bolder, the Shoyru continued,
wanting to learn even more.
"I just don't know," he mused aloud,
"What do you want these items for?"
Her smile was now only a shadow,
for her patience was truly spent.
"Let me assure you," she simply stated,
"that my intentions are innocent."
"I'm still not sure," the Shoyru said,
"I just don't know what to do.
Between yourself and Illusen -
why should I choose you?"
Jhudora jumped up from her chair,
eyes blazing with a frightening glow.
"Why should you do my quest?" she growled,
"Because I told you so!"
The Shoyru did the quest,
without so much as a suggestion,
for he had learned a valuable lesson:
it's safer with Jhudora not to question.
Bloodroot vines and Scarab wings,
salted Slorgs and grosser things,
smoked and soaked and ground to test.
All for a cure to put guilt to rest.
From sun's first rays that scald off mist,
'til moonlight silver on treetops kissed,
the fire burns, the cauldron steams.
Glass alembic distills hope and dreams.
My brother's fate a twisted brute,
his future in tincture of leaf and root.
A cure I'll find though he denies,
his loss, his face, his massive size.
Another potion come to naught.
I'll seek again, this cure I've sought.
I cannot dream of other goals.
To cure will bring our halves to whole.
Where rests the remnants of plots gone by?
Not in the graveyard beneath cloudy skies,
Not in the darkness where villains have died,
Not in the twinkle of the Dark Faerie's eye.
The passion for life in Neopia remains
In the bread wrought of Meridell's grains,
In the blood drawn from Altador's veins,
In the potions concocted in Edna's name.
As each sun does rise and each moon set,
The gamblers among us gather 'round to bet
And romantics swap stories of love to forget
And bankers sip coffee and swap tales of debt.
Neopia, in each of us, exposes a core;
For some, the freedom has opened a door.
For others, avarice takes root: "Give me more!"
But friends, step inside my shelter by the shore.
Light the campfire and share your great tales.
Speak of adventures in chasing old trails.
Tell us of failures, for each time one fails,
A new tale is woven and a new flagship sails.
Neopia is born in the spirit of the good,
And although the wicked may lie where they stood,
The better sort found good homes where they could
And built greatness, in warmth, as one should.
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