A Yurble stole my cinnamon roll! Circulation: 194,192,475 Issue: 745 | 19th day of Hiding, Y18
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"The Mutant Conspiracy" by fleurdust
The boards creaked under the young Shadow Kyrii’s feet, and she paused, testing out their strength before putting her full weight down. After the night she’d had, the last thing Kyra Talehunter needed was to plunge through a rotten pier and into the icy Krawkian sea. Warf Wharf at night holds all sorts of disquieting things, and even though Kyra had come prepared (pockets stuffed with Dubloons, a trained Pawkeet so she looked a little less like a complete tourist, and a scowl she’d spent hours practising to deter most unsavoury passers-by), she'd found herself well out of her depth. The Pawkeet had flown away in about three seconds, squawking something about ‘pieces of eight’; she’d lost all but a handful of her Dubloons playing a confusing game called Krawps, the rules of which she suspected her pirate opponents were making up as they went along; and her scowl had disintegrated into a look of exhausted and terrified despair. All she wanted was a story for Mutant Day. As a Junior Reporter for the Kiko Lake Herald, she was normally tasked with writing fluff and filler—10 Ways Landelbrot Is Ripping You Off, 21 Things You Never Knew About The Altador Cup—Number 9 Will TERRIFY You!--and she was beyond tired of it. Her latest lead, if it panned out, was her chance to catapult herself onto the front page and beyond. The Neopian Times would be in her sights, if only she could get this scoop. Kyra had dragged herself all the way out here looking for some place called Peg Leg Paddy’s, because according to a tip-off, that was where her source was likely to be. Clenching her teeth to stop them from chattering, she squinted up at the sign above her. It might have been a green and gold shamrock, as she'd been told to look out for, but it was hard to tell through all the scratches and faded paint. It might also have been a seasick Bearog. Steeling herself, she pushed open the door anyway.




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