| The inside scoop on Jelly W-argh! *choke* |
Circulation: 194,549,696 |
Issue: 772 | 10th day of Running, Y19 |
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Continued Series
 | The Beast: Part ThreeHad “The Beast” had a door put in the side and changed his mind? What kind of “Beast” puts an easy entrance on the side of its evil lair? They hadn’t even vocalised any of these questions, but all of them had a lot of questions about the doorway.
by zirr |
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"The King of Qasala" by seraphfire
Jazan contemplated telling them about his fears, but decided against it. He couldn't bear the thought of bothering Nabile with such concerns, and was worried that the Nightsteed would do something rash to settle the issue.
Of course, the general public of Neopia was under the impression that his father HAD returned, bound under tight control, for last year's Heroes vs. Villains Daily Dare, but the truth was that was simply a robot that the Avinroo family commissioned a team of Moltaran and Kreludorian scientists to create a robotic likeness of him. Jazan felt so much disgust at the event. He did not consider himself to be a hero, and felt unworthy to serve as the mascot for that side of the challenge. He also thought that the robotic form of his father was a terrifying abomination. He feared the mere sight of it, and had even speculated that it could possibly serve as a vessel for his father's spirit to return to Neopia. His father was knowledgeable in arcane arts from all around the world, and it wouldn't surprise him if Mystery Island or Shenkuu or even the nomadic tribe living in the nearby Haunted Woods had an long forgotten spell that could allow him to control a likeness of himself.
Other Stories
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 Regret
The year was young, and two Skeiths sat at a round red oak table adjacent to each other. The older Skeith with a plumper belly and blue body wasted no time devouring his hash and potatoes, while the emerald Skeith hadn’t touched his silver embroidered Shenkuuware yet. Instead, he sat stiffly with his nose buried in a book.
by alienspacefairy |
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 We Are Made of Choices
Perhaps not so much reading, as reminiscing. His paw pads traced the titles on the spines of the history books, reminding him that he actually remembered so much of what they called “history” these days. In Neopia, he thought, heroes never died—they just went away for a while.
by cosmicfire918 |
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