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Circulation: 194,011,715 |
Issue: 732 | 13th day of Hunting, Y18 |
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Trophies That We Actually Regret!
Inspired by the ironic notion of actually REGRETTING one's trophies, I thought I'd write this article! Most Neopians are eager to accrue as many trophies as possible. Yet there are also those motley players who actually REGRET the trophies they own!
Here are some of the reasons why we might regret some of our trophies!
Other Stories
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Messi's Meowclops' It was the year 18 in Neopia and a small litter of new meowclops had wandered through the Haunted Woods toward the magical smell of Faerieland. There were four of them in the family and they had been separated from their mother for a few hours now.
by wildprincessxoxo |
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My Wandering Lady – A Faerie Tale A large fire burned in the gypsy camp tonight. Around it sat a ring of Neopets. Not gypsies, these. No, they were Meridell locals who had come from all the lands 'round about. For tonight was a special night. Tonight, the Teller of Tales would tell the story of the Wandering Lady.
by reiqua |
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Put Your Party Pants On: TVD Tyrannian Victory Day is upon us once again, and you know what that means, a 24-hour long PARTY! But what does one wear to a Tyrannian Victory Day party, you ask? Wonder no more because I am here to help.
by oreo2135 |
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Zombie Mortog Invasion First, let me correct what you’re already thinking. No – this is not an apocalypse. To say that we’re experiencing a catastrophic disaster in danger of ending the world is not quite accurate here. We’ve got it under control, as you can see.
by redken9x9 |
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The Vine of Destiny: Book 1, The Apprentice Pirates: Part One “By Fyora…” Jacques gasped, “Who would be crazy enough to sail a dinghy in the middle of the Maraquan Circle?!” “Somebody who doesn’t know the first thing about the sea would be my guess.” Garin replied as he looked through a spyglass and spotted a pair of Neopian girls clinging to the mast of their dinghy as it was tossed by the waves.
by teamchao466 |
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Sakhmet Stories - The Witch And The Thief: Part Four The sighs of melancholy were all that one could hear in the streets of Sakhmet. There were no children laughing in the sandpits, no market women squabbling over who saw the ripest ummagine first, no men laughing as they share a chilled glass of sand shake. Instead, the only sound that permeated through the thick silence were the soft sighs of the grey Neopians who roamed aimlessly through the streets
by iamnotaaron |
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