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Background Voices of Neopia: Lord Darigan

by too_kule


Name: Lord Darigan

Species: Big-eared, uh, thing...

Location: Darigan Citadel

LORD DARIGAN’S CHAMBERS - Here’s the thing about citadels: nobody goes to citadels. Ever. They’re cold, damp, lack any sort of beachfront property, and almost always seem to be inhabited by deposed despots walking around in their bathrobes. I can also name one particular citadel where one wrong step off the edge will turn you into a helpless meteor screaming toward the Neopian surface until you land face-first in a farmer’s freshly manured field. Let me tell you, you’ll never once catch me in a citadel, no-sirree-Bob.

Now, here’s the thing about dedication: it makes you do things you’d rather not, like visit those cold / damp / beachless / get-dung-all-over-your-clothes citadels. When it turns out that the subject of your next interview just so happens to reside in Darigan Citadel, you hold your head high with dignity and bravely do it anyway, as any devoted reporter would.

EmeraldBlitz: TK... you chose Lord Darigan as the interview subject yourself. You decided to come to Darigan Citadel!

Hush, you. We’re still doing the introduction. We’re not at the part of the interview yet where everything we say is denoted by fancy boldy typeface, so hold your Headless Horsefishes. As I was saying, being incredibly brave and dedicated, I decided to endure untold dangers–

EmeraldBlitz: You got your pant leg stuck in a thornbush.

–withstanding the harsh, cruel elements–

EmeraldBlitz: It’s mildly overcast outside.

–and do battle with numerous feral creatures–

EmeraldBlitz: A blind Symol tried to eat your sock. I believe you ran away screaming.

–as I made my way across Meridell to the Darigan Citadel. Fortunately, my brave steed just so happened to be a Darigan Zafara, allowing him to fly me right up to Lord Darigan’s Chambers.

EmeraldBlitz: Call me a steed again and I swear I’ll sic that Symol back on you.

Today, we at Background Voices of Neopia will interview the once-feared Lord Darigan, who, since terrorizing Neopia back in days of yore, has had *things* (yes, “*things*”) to take care of, or so it says when you check out his chambers. Now, while most would assume Darigan has seen the error of his ways and become virtuous, this sleuthing reporter won’t be so easily fooled.

EB: While this Zafara is currently resisting the temptation to push his owner off Darigan Citadel’s edge.

TK: *ahem* Ah, yes. Now, you are Lord Darigan, I presume?

EB: Do you see any other seven-foot demonic overlords in the room?

Darigan: Uhh, hello there...

TK: Now, word has it that you’ve given up your orb-stealing, peasant-terrorizing, knocking-over-the-Potato Counter ways. My first question is, who do you think you’re kidding?

Darigan: I... I beg your pardon?

TK: Do you really expect us to believe that with the flip of a switch you’re suddenly this instant nice-guy, eh?

Darigan: It was hardly through the, ah, flip of a switch that I became this way. Why, my ordeal with Meridell lasted in excess of one and a half years–

TK: Uhhuh. Yeah. Sure. If you’re such a nice guy, tell me what you’re doing in this photo?

Darigan: Um, I believe that’s a video of a dancing Bruce.

TK: Mmhmm, yeah, okay... how convenient for you! Tell me, then, what’s going on with you in this photo?

Darigan: Again, I’m not in that photo. That’s a bunch of Chias gathered around a trampoline.

TK: Fine, then I present to you once and for all objective evidence that Lord Darigan is indeed evil here!

EB: TK, that’s a picture of your Tonu.

TK: Oh, well, he’s such a cutie, I just thought I’d bring that along...

Darigan: I fail to see what any of this has to do with anything... at all.

EB: Don’t mind TK here. He’s just a couple of googly-eyes short of a Spardel. Now, as a fellow creature of the Darigan inclination, I was just wondering, once and for all, what species are you?

TK: Yeah... no offence, but you’ve got the ears of a Korbat, the horns of an Ixi, the body of a Kyrii, and the bad breath of a Skeith powering back Pickled Onions like there’s no tomorrow.

EB: The meaning of “no offence” is entirely lost on you, isn’t it?

Darigan: I... well, I was a Korbat, but years in my environment has distorted my appearance past recognition.

TK: So if I hung out in a dank flying castle, I’d be a hideous freak, too?

Darigan: I... uh...

EB: Just say yes.

Darigan: Yes. Absolutely.

TK: Score! Now, I must admit, those are some monstrously large feet you’ve got there... like, heinously large. I could write an entire epic poem about how big your feet are and copy it out onto your feet and the entire length of the poem would only take up the area of your one toe. How big are those clunkers of yours, anyway?

Darigan: I absolutely refuse to answer that question.

TK: Okay, fine. How, then, does it feel to know that your army was almost taken down by a humourless Skeith monarch and a bespectacled Aisha in a frilly skirt with some of her schoolyard chums?

Darigan: I... my foot size is twenty-nine.

TK: That’s what I thought.

EB: So, what have you been doing all this time? The fiasco with Meridell ended a number of years ago. What plans have you been piecing together here in your chambers that’s taken so long to orchestrate?

Darigan: Yooyuball training, pretty much.

EB: And you guys took the Altador Cup last year!

Darigan: I’d definitely call those four years well spent.

TK: *cough*HauntedWoodswipesthefloorwithyou*cough*

Darigan: I beg your pardon?

TK: Uh, that would be my allergies acting up. They do that now and then.

Darigan: You’re allergic to a solid stone castle flying half a mile above Neopia?

TK: I... er...

EB: Just say yes.

TK: Yes. Absolutely.

EB: Now that it looks like Darigan Citadel’s glory days with the Altador Cup have finished, how do you plan on spending your time?

Darigan: Well, I’ve done the whole diabolical tyrant thing and that didn’t go over so peachy... and I’ve pretty much seen the Yooyuball circuit through, so it looks like my future’s up in the air. I might retire to Mystery Island, take up croquet with the Island Mystic, have Jhuidah teach me knitting. Or I might just hurl a fireball at Meridell Castle and brew up another war for old time’s sake. We’ll see how I’m feeling in a month or two.

EB: That’s just great. It looks like I’ve gone through all the questions I jotted down earlier, unless you have anything else to ask, TK?

TK: Oh, I just brought the photos. I’m actually not really paying attention anymore.

EB: Right. Well, Lord Darigan, it’s been a pleasure. Have you any last questions before we part ways?

Darigan: Yes. Mind the Symols on the way out.

Those little pests were nipping at my socks the entire way out of Darigan Citadel! Nonetheless, the loss of my socks was a small price to pay for the incredible wealth of information and perspective I’m assuming I acquired from this interview. And, of course, one can’t forget that most important piece of knowledge all investigative reporters must keep in mind during interviews: always bring extra socks.

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