Vol. 2 No.1www.talesofedbaker.comTuesday January 6, 20091 page
Tiny Monsters In the Enchanted Forest
-by John Huntsman

John Huntsman the Royal Huntsman here.   Once again I was hunting near the enchanted forest when I nearly tripped over something of an unusual nature.  It was small and furry and I realized that there was more than one when a whole passel of them tried to climb up my leg.  At first I thought they were kittens that had been tossed out of a witch’s cottage when her cat had a big litter.  When I picked one up, however, the only part that looked like a kitten was its furry little body, because its face looked like a small child’s.  That’s when I knew they were baby manticores, only shrunk down till they were no bigger than baby rabbits.  The critter I picked up trumpeted like a bugle and banged my wrist with the ball at the end of its tail.  Gave me a right good wallop - left a bruise and everything.  I let it go after that, mostly because I figured it was too small to do much harm.  A couple of the tiny beasties called me names and hit me on the ankle when I was walking away, so I thought I’d best warn you to wear tall boots when you go in the enchanted forest in case the little manticores are still hanging around.   Their claws are sharp and the balls at the ends of their tails are hard.  It looked to me like they enjoyed using both.  

I have told Princess Emma about the little manticores.  She said that she will investigate and see if she can find out where they came from and if they offer any real danger to the subjects of Greater Greensward. 

Letter to the Editor – The Quality of Products Available at the Magic Marketplace
- from Snardley Bingwart
Purveyor of fine products at the Magic Marketplace

I’m tired of all you whiney people complaining about the quality of goods sold at the MM, as we merchants call it.  I sell wind in bottles to anyone what needs it, and I ain’t never had no complaints, but I’ve heard some of the bellyaching that my neighbors have to put up with and it’s right pitiful.  Do you know how hard it is to get the goods we sell at the MM?  We don’t buy them from some slick haired merchant with a chew root dangling from his lip.  No, we have to go out and find them or make them ourselves, which can be downright scary and dangerous.  Maggery, the old lady that sells dragon talons and werewolf fangs has to crawl around in dark caves, or send her nephew Filbert and put up with his whining when he gets bit.  It’s true that Peapod McDwayne buys his giant seeds, but he has to go to the giants to get them and that’s right dangerous, too.  He was almost killed last year when a giant dropped his change.  As for me, why I have to go to the Cave of Winds when the seasons change – that’s four times a year for you what doesn’t know – and fill up as many jars as I can carry.  Then I have to tippy-toe my way back home so I don’t shakes up my jars too bad.  Now, I ain’t revealing where the cave is, but let’s just say that it ain’t anywheres close by, and the peoples what lives there are none too friendly and don’t take kindly to my tramping through their rice paddies. 

  Now, I must admit that once in a while someone sells some less-than-perfect merchandise.  This may well be because the packaging got damaged and some of the goods escaped, or maybe they’re a tad old and getting tired of being confined.  Once in a while you get a product that was magicked and the magic is wearing off, but that’s the fault of the witch what done it, not the merchant what sells it. 
Anywhoo, I just wants to say that you people what buys our goods should be more respectful of us merchants.  We’re good honest folk, at least most of us are, and we don’t take kindly to being bad-mouthed, unless you’re talking about goblins and they likes it fine. 

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Yet Another Letter to The Editor-

Dear Editor-

Do you know what it’s like to have a stenchy stampede of strangers commandeer your family home and pillage your water, food and bog-cider supplies in one afternoon? I do, and seventy percent of the time I hate it.
Thanks to a certain meddling royal (whose name rimes with Brassina), my Brickadilly Bog was recently invaded by a flock of harpies. The girls I don’t mind so much—some of ‘em are right pretty and their aroma tickles my nostrils in a certain, piquant sort of way, and I’ve already picked out my first two wives in that flock, which my girlfriend doesn’t appreciate. But I fully resent that my home was considered a dumping ground for your unreasonable intolerance for sub-species. I have rights, the girls have rights and the royal family gets my tithe for the use of the land—but all of these things are ignored. We deserve more respect than some people would give us. Shame on you.

Disrespectively,
A disgruntled goblin.




Congratulations Brune Hildey
by- Bob Stableman

It is with great pride that I announce that the Moat Monster of Greater Greensward has given birth to a medium sized school of 32 baby Moat Monsters. Great job Brune Hildey you've done it again. These tykes are quite adorable, what with their oversized flippers and new baby belly fuzz. Be sure to visit them while they are still in the friendly stage. (Which should last till the next full moon.) 

I would like to add, however that these babies do like to play tricks on anyone going over the drawbridge. So don't say that you weren't forewarned. I've got Piccadilly Billy posting signs around town, so don't forget to read them.  That includes you John Huntsman!!!