PaxLair Statehood, Chesapeake (PaxLair Times) – November 27, 2012 – by Winfield – The next meeting will be held as follows:
PaxLair Press, Chesapeake (PaxLair Times) – November 25, 2012 – by Ashlynn – The month of november has been a busy one for some here at the Times as writing endeavours eat up much of our time rather like a ravenous bogthing. However, I suspect that the new king does not intend to introduce BogThing Time (BTT) to account for such busy months any time soon. Perhaps readers could suggest alternatives for the abbreviation BTT for review by the Royal Council and whoever is in charge of royal timekeeping.
It was discovered recently that while Exodus has been vanquished, his ghost lingers in the realm of the living amongst the crumbling ruins of Ver Lor Reg. Some have speculated that his presence was so great that it left an imprint upon the world of Britannia – a stain if you will. One that can never really be erased.
The Royal Guard sent an expedition to the ruins a few nights past and succeeded in striking down the mechanical apparition. Unfortunately the nature of the spirit means it can never know a final death.
The Winter Banana Darts contest was held yesterday and proved to be something of a hit (more so than some of the contestants who had difficulty hitting anything). The format was more elaborate then most darts contests. As well as prizes for highest and lowest score for an individual round, players also earned tickets during each round depending on their score. Tickets could then be spent at the end of a round to get extra throws or redeem a random prize from the prize boxes.
In all, 18 rounds of darts were played. Lady NyPaige took the high score position with a total of 118 points. Lord Nanoc managed to scoop the Banana Dart trophy with a low low score of 1 point!
Congratulations to everyone who managed to win a prize and I hope to see you all at the next contest! (Which will no doubt include another strange prize system.)
The votes are in for the Autumn Story Contest held some weeks ago. In all eight people managed to cast votes, half via personal message due to a few issues with the voting system.
The joint winners are Lady Winmere with her visual story Autumn Falls, and Lady Samara with her tale of Johnny Appleseed.
Prizes will be presented at the next Statehood meeting!
Several nights ago, Dragon’s Watch led an expedition to the Island of the Soulbinder. It had been decided that Corgul needed to be relieved of the burdens of all the treasure he had accrued lately and we would be the ones to do it.
We sailed by ship (for none of us can fly and the island has a habit of moving around) and soon reached the tiny isle. We first began by terminating the contracts of those in Corgul’s employ before seeking an audience with the Lord of the isle himself. Unfortunately, it seemed as though Corgul was not particularly happy about our interference in his affairs and he immediately attacked.
After dealing with Corgul, the island shook and began to slowly sink into the sea. Curious as to what would happen to those who stayed on the island, I suggested Ozog remain. He did. I believe it was a long swim back to shore.
Information sought on the “Shrine of Companionship” that has appeared on some maps found within the realm of Britannia. I have certainly never heard of, or seen such a place.
If anyone has any information about it, please contact Ashlynn or perhaps send in a short article about it. Perhaps we can even launch an expedition of our own to see this place for ourselves.
Shrine of Sobriety, Trammel, Chesapeake (PaxLair Times) – November 14, 2012 – by Ashlynn – There will be a darts competition on Saturday 24th November at 8pm EST.
Prizes will be distributed in an interesting manner (oh yes – there will be some) and there will also be a prize for the worst score. That doesn’t include hitting someone else in the eye with a dart though. We may or may not use a captured goblin as a more dynamic dartboard though I’ll need a tattooist to ink some target circles on various parts of it’s body first.
The competition will take place at the Shrine of Sobriety. The shrine can be reached via the alliance teleport hub located at the Tea House in the village of PaxOku (which itself can be reached by heading north east up the road from Homare-Jima moongate, or via the Luna Township Hub).
Everyone is welcome though the competition is only open to humans and elves as apparently, gargoyles can’t use a dagger. Grow some proper digits, silly gargoyles!
Good luck!
The Ether, Chesapeake (PaxLair Times) – November 11, 2012 – by Ashlynn – Voting is now open for the entries in the story contest. Voting is open to everyone so include so long as you read the entries. I have still not received Zanku’s story so you will need to read the abridged version at the shrine!
You can take part in the poll here. In the end, UOForums seemed the most convenient place. You can view all entries right here!
I shall not be voting because I’m the organiser! Good luck to all participants!
PaxLair Statehood, Chesapeake (PaxLair Times) – November 6, 2012 – by Winfield – The next meeting will be held as follows:
The Lost Lands, Trammel, Chesapeake (PaxLair Times) – November 3, 2012 – by Ashlynn – “Murder! murder! The Commander has been murdered!” came the cry from one corner of Serpent’s Hold several days ago. I might have thought it a prank had I not seen it with my own eyes – Commander Foxx slumped over his desk, a small cloud of flies already buzzing around his decaying corpse. An ignominious end for the prodigal drunk.
I gave thought to who might be responsible for such an act. An associate of Morrow or Scarlet? Captain Gwen (who will surely receive a promotion in the absence of any other candidates)? A tavern owner or brewer angry over an unpaid ale bill?
Two of the Royal Guard were already on the scene, one whom offered us the use of a few investigation kits if we wished to help. I couldn’t help myself so grabbed a bag and decided to take a look at the body.
With the aid of the other guard’s expertise in forensics I soon discovered the Commander’s blood was tainted with an exotic poison of some kind, possibly wyvern poison or something similar. A small empty vial was also found nearby covered in small dainty fingerprints. Finally, one of the guardsman informed me that tracks had been found leading to the nearby cave of Fire.
By now others had taken an interest in the murder and it was decided a trip to Fire was in order. The trip turned out to be fruitful as we discovered an old rusty grappling hook near the lost lands entrance, the makers mark informing us that it was crafted by Tomas O Neelen of Trinsic.
The grappling hook was an uncommon curiosity and if we wanted one of our own, we’d need to run a little errand for Tomas. Naturally it involved a brush with death and the infiltration of a den of evil. It would appear the role of Royal Investigator is one fraught with perilous mundane tasks, but we were successful and soon had a hook of our own.
However we now seemed to be at a dead end – that is until word of another killing reached our ears. Lord Valyon of Britain had been murdered along with one of his servants. The Royal Guard were once again first on the scene and believing it to be related, we decided to see for ourselves.
A horrific sight lay in wait for us at Valyon’s Candlewynde Estate. The servant’s corpse had been carved up and Lord Valyon lay sprawled out on his chamber floor, the walls painted with his blood. Taking a closer look, we found wet muddy footprints everywhere, possibly the same size as those discovered near Fire. Muddy splinters (possibly from Lost Lands flora) were found swimming in the sea of blood and one of the guardsmen had found a piece of a leather glove with a Delucian makers mark.
Putting all the pieces together we concluded that everything pointed to the Lost Lands. If we wanted to find the killer or their hideout, we’d need to search there.
It was eventually Lauren of Dragon’s Watch who first discovered the old shack hidden by a river bank, accessible only by the use of a grappling hook. Inside was alchemical apparatus used for making poison and a journal that appeared to belong to the killer.
The killer however was long gone, the trail cold beyond the discovery of the shack. More worryingly, their writings suggest a descent into madness and I fear this is not the last we have heard from them. When they do strike again perhaps we will pick up their trail once more and bring them to justice.
PaxLair Statehood, Chesapeake (PaxLair Times) – October 30, 2012 – by Winfield – The next meeting will be held as follows:
Shrine of Sobriety, Trammel, Chesapeake (PaxLair Times) – October 29, 2012 – by Ashlynn – There were a number of submissions for this season’s story contest and due to a rather chaotic turn of events and a few absentee storytellers, the format will change slightly with voting on the stories listed below. These are all delightful stories and I hope everyone enjoys them as much as I did.
Details of how to vote will be coming once all entrants are up.
Autum beees also called FALL bees FALL cause dats when trees habe der lebes FALL to ground.
Buts 1st alla lebes turns pretty colors, red, orange, yellow. Afters awhile dey turn brown and FALL to da grond. Makes ground alla covered in brown cruchy lebes. meees habed funz walkin in crunchy lebes. But they was thik meees trips on sumting, FALLS on mees butt. Gets ups din ina few steps FALLS ahain. Not mees bouttts really hurts. Mees looks around see bih pile ob lebes against sum rocks. so mees crawls ober to dem, thros meees self ina da pile an scoops dem ober mee. Bees toasty warm and meees FALLS asleep.
dat why it bees calls FALL (aka autum)
Autumn in Skara Brae is a time of moderate temperatures and coastal rains. It’s a time we rangers celebrate and show respect for all life. The turning of the leaves are a sign that life is always undergoing change and we to must change. Autumn is a time to celebrate, in Skara we have a fair that we celebrate the mages that frist opened the moongate and made life safe for all to travel.
Time was running out for Talendril. The veins that fed her limbs with nutrients for life were fading. The wooden chimes adorning the forest rang out announcing the impending Long Sleep Initiation. Talendril would need her blessing soon.
Ellundari was racing through the damp undergrowth. Though the seemingly never ending rain had finally given way to sunlight, the wetness covered his leaf armor and leather shoes, slowing him down. He had hoped it wouldn’t prevent him from reaching his goal before time ran out. Normally, he would take heed to the other sounds of the forest – deer, rabbits, men, water, and fellow elves. But today was not the day for caution. This task was not one for taking lightly. He had come too far for that.
Talendril didn’t think it would come to this. Each year, as the weather turned colder, and as her leaves turned from vibrant leathery green to a bold pallette of reds, oranges, and yellows, the Long Sleep Initiation was a time of celebration, hope, promise, renewal, and remembrance. An annual tradition of honoring between the high elves and the great trees of the forest. However this year, a strange evil was preventing the elves from bringing the sacred water from the Aldunth River to where Talendril and her family of trees stood, deep in the midst of the forest.
Ellundari had heard rumors of a group of men. A trio of dark mages, knowledged in the dark arts of necromancy. It had been said that these men were doing all in their power to prevent the Long Sleep Initiation and the survival of Talendril and the other great trees to gain access to their spirits. The trees, while living, were too great of a strength for the dark mages to capture their souls and command through their spells. But great trees that did not receive the blessing of the Aldunth River water would be subject to many evil torments as their life force waned through the cold winter months.
Then it happened. A shreaking crack. So deafening to Ellundari that he was thrown to the ground, sliding on the mud until he crashed into a fallen log. He could hear one man chanting a spell. Then another started. He was not practiced in dark arts, but he knew many languages, including some not spoken in many ages, and recognized a few dark words. He rolled over the log, feeling warmth on his back and then the smell of burnt wood. The spell had just missed him and made contact with the log that was now protecting him.
As fast as his body would allow, he swung the bow from over his shoulder and strung an arrow to the cord, fiercely pulling back. He was ready to shoot, but where would he aim? And then the chants began again. Imediately, he jumped to the end of the log, pointing his bow in the durection of the sound. Fortunately for Ellundari, what the men posessed in magical skill, they lacked in aim. Another missed spell. Ellundari had no time to think as he released the line from his hand, sending the arrow through the air in the direction of the chanting. And then a scream and a thud, as one mage was fallen. Not knowing where the other mages were standing, Ellundari began to run to where he knew more elves were waiting. To where he hoped on hope that others would be able to help him.
To Talendril.
After leagues of running and dodging spells, he had made it to the trees of legacy. He began to open his mind to the trees and mentally shouted for assistance. They were not as strong as they were just months before, but surely they would hear him. The remaining two mages were closing in. Their spells were weakening but the necromancers’ casts were beginning to find their target as Ellundari was slowing from exhaustion.
But Talendril heard the cries! She awoke with a fire. She could see Ellundari running as fast as his failing legs would take him. It would take almost all of her remaining strength. The ground began to rumble, the mages tripping, firing off whatever spells their mouths could sound out. But it would be their last battle. The ground opened, as Talendril shifted her roots to ever-widening gaps, swallowing the mages whole. And without pause, the ground was filled once again as Talendril returned her roots to a proper placing.
Ellundari couldn’t breath. He couldn’t stand. One of the elders of his family came to him and began chanting healing spells to restore his health and stamina. Others followed. He finally caught his breath, stood, and brought the Aldunth River life to Talendril. This would not be the last Long Night Initiation. Ellundari and Talendril had saved the trees this year.
When I was young, there was a waterfall coming out of the mountains near Yew. It’s gone now, all dried up, but you might still find some evidence of it among the rocks and logs strewn about.
Anyway, my friend Dalton and I played in a cave behind the waterfall. It was like our secret hideout. We’d bring some food and games and even wood to build a fire.
One day, late in autumn after the fall harvests were done, an old man came to the waterfall and sat on a log just outside our cave. We were playing in the cave, but he didn’t hear us.
The old man tossed a fishing line into the water and then seemed to fall asleep. We thought it would be fun to pull a prank on him by sneaking out and cutting his fishing line.
We made our stealthy move … or so we thought … out of the cave and along the shore.
Just as I pulled my knife out and was ready to cut his fishing line, the man turned his head and said “Trick or Treat!”
We were startled and jumped back! “What do you mean, old man, Trick or Treat?”
He set his fishing pole down and looked at us. “Just that,” he said. “Trick or Treat! What will it be?”
We were a bit confused, but I thought quickly and said, “We want a Treat! Yes, we do!”
The old man reached into his backpack and pulled out a fish that must have been in there a week. It stank.
“Here’s a nice treat! Now run along.” Then he turned his head, picked up his fishing pole, and closed his eyes again.
I took the rotten fish and we scampered back into the cave. The fish stank, so we threw it into the waterfall.
After a couple of minutes, maybe fifteen or so, the water from the waterfall seemed to slow down to a trickle. It exposed our cave inside and we could see out.
We saw the old man still sitting on his log, fishing pole in hand, and his eyes closed. But he had in his hand a blue orb. Then the waterfall stopped completely.
Dalton and I stepped out of our cave, a bit afraid of the old man with a fishing pole in one hand and a blue orb in the other.
“Now do you want to see a trick?”, the old man said opening his eyes. We stumbled back a bit, but stood our ground.
“Did you stop the waterfall? What is that blue orb you hold?” Dalton said.
The old man looked at both of us and just said, “Do you want to see a trick now? Yes or no?” We looked at each other and both said, “Yes.”
The old man grinned and threw the blue orb up into the air … it hovered above the stream … then it burst info flames!
We shielded our eyes and heard a huge growl … like that of a dragon! It was a dragon!
We ran back into our cave as we saw the wings of a huge blue dragon flap up and down over the old man.
The dragon roared, and the old man stood up and walked over to us. “Do you like my trick?”
Scared out of our wits, we nodded our heads up and down.
“Oh, don’t be scared,” the old man said. “This is Xontera, she is a young dragon. She is my pet.”
We both blinked, and it seemed like the dragon smiled at us.
“It’s… it’s a nice dragon,” I studdered.
“Glad you like it! She’s yours!” And with that said, the old man reached into his bag and pulled out a red orb. We were so scared, puzzled, and excited all at the same time, we didn’t remember the first orb was blue, and this one was red. He threw the red orb to me and I caught it.
“There you go, lads. Just toss that orb into the air and your dragon will come to you. Have fun!!”
Then the old man and the dragon vanished into thin air, fishing pole and all.
Dalton and I looked at the red orb and thought about this old man and his “Trick or Treat”. Well, we seemed to get a nice treat! The things we could do with a dragon!!
We nodded to each other and I tossed the red orb into the air. The orb went up and up and up, then exploded into a hundred red dragons!! Oh my! What had we done? …
I know what you’re thinking. This is the children’s story about the man who cheerfully planted apple seeds across Britannia. The strange fellow, with a pot on his head, who loved apples so much he wanted to share them with the world. I’m here to tell you that this is no such story. In fact, this story is of a much darker nature. Tonight I will share my collection of articles, journals, and diaries from my research that tell the true story of Johnny Apple Seed.
*fumbles with a ragged stack of papers, trying to order them*
The story begins in the early years of Britannia. This was during a peaceful time, where even theft was uncommon; an uncorrupted age for Britannia. It is during the autumn that these events take place, and the coming winter will spell irreversible changes for all citizens.
Vesper Barmaid Lisa, September 22nd: “Ever since the recent bodies were found outside Vespers, a strange outsider has found his way to town. You can’t miss him! Dark, matted clothes, unshaven face, hair over his eyes. He carries a large pack with him, wherever he goes. Who knows what is in that bag. Oh yeah, and the shovel; that’s the strangest part. He carries a blue valorite shovel with him. He looks like a gravedigger of some sort; perhaps he’s going to take advantage of these recent murders. Maybe he’s responsible for them.”
Vesper Farmer Olaf, September 25th: “Now don’t go tellin’ me this is just some pack of wolves. These murders is gruesome! Men, women, and even the children were tortured. I seen what it is tho. Its some kind of demon folk, that have found their way from the ground. Even the guards know it and won’t come an’ help.”
Vespers Town Crier, September 27th: “Unknown man ends Vespers murder spree! Town guards offering a reward for any information!”
Anonymous Vespers Submission, September 28th: “Yeah, I heard what they’ve been saying in the streets. What they don’t know is how it happened. I saw it all. This gravedigger that came into town, that shovel ain’t no normal shovel. He set upon those demons like an unleashed lion with it. Afterwards, he did some kind of ritual. He sprinkled something all around the area. When he left, I picked one up and it looked like an apple seed or something.”
Vesper Guard Jamison, September 30th: “Well, the demons are gone and so is that strange fellah. Want to hear something odd? He said he came to plant apple trees. Something about warding off evil and sealing the boundaries between here and the underworld. Ha! Can you believe it? What a nut! I don’t know how they grew so fast though. Its a good thing this John Doe is movin’ on. He should call himself Johnny Appleseed”
Minoc Stablehand Ariel, October 10th: “I would have lost everything if it weren’t for that Johnny Appleseed. Zombies attacked Minoc last night, and his arrival couldn’t have been more timely. He said that the undead would stay clear as long as we took care of these new apple trees”
Britain Innkeeper Nathan, October 16th: “So I asked this newcomer how he got rid of these ghouls in my cellar. He waived off my question, but I could see he wearily held a strange shovel. He told me these trees would bear fruit that would protect me here as long as I took care of them.”
Trinsic Town Crier, October 23rd: “Johnny Appleseed saves Trinsic from cannibals! An apple a day, keeps the cannibals away!”
Moonglow Mage Octavia, October 31st: “This is the most ridiculous of new holidays from the King. Dress like ghosts, demons and skeletons and handing out sweets to each other? Now that we’re all safer, it seems his majesty thinks it proper to make fun of recent events. Only a week now since the last was killed in Trinsic.”
Foreign Huntsman, November 10th: “You know them apples this Johnny fellow has been planting? One of them contained something wicked and may have killed a young lady here. She was a beautiful lass, her skin as white as snow.”
Foreign Lumberjack Golemn, November 22nd: “The forests have become sparse. I’ve had to resort to chopping down some of these apple trees. I didn’t know they’d fight back! And now, they attack anyone along these roads. Just last week, they hit with me so many apples that the juice began to rust me right through! I was stuck for two weeks til this young girl and a bag of hay came to save me. ”
Yew Citizen Evelyn, December 12th: “I discovered the largest apple tree i’ve ever seen. Johnny Appleseed is in town and I aim to show it to him. It looks like a giant Yew tree, but more gnarled, and the apples are bright red. I want him to see it first before I pick any of the fruit, but I just can’t resist. I’ll try just one”
Yew Town Crier, December 15th: “Johnny Appleseed gone missing! Only a bag of seeds and torn cloak found!”
Yew Shepard Adam, December 16th: “My wife came home from her sister’s place yesterday. She brought home a bag of apples and a blue shovel. I asked her what we needed this shovel for, but she insisted it was valuable. The apples on the other hand are delicious and unlike any other. We plan to plant some of the seeds and sell the fruit. A shame about that Johnny fellow.”
Vesper Beggar Shamus, December 21st: “I know what happened to that Appleseed! I seen it myself. Swallowed up by his own trees into the underworld. Almost took this lass too. I guess the underworld changed strategy and planted its own seeds! haha Is that enough for 8 gold coins? For 8 more i’ll tell you Governor Winfield’s fishing secrets!”
Sweep, Sweep, Sweep the leaves of gold, red and yellow.
The autumn leaves resting gently on the pathway.
Rake, Rake, Rake the remaining leaves from the lawn.
Mutters to self “I could be doing this til dawn, waiting on the rest to fall.”
Bag, Bag, Bag the damn leaves of summer.
“Hurry Northwinds and blow leaving behind your white blanket of snow”
Shovel, Shovel, Shovel the five inches of the new fallen white blanket of snow the Northwinds left behind.
Mutters, “DAMN I wish I was sweeping the gold, red and yellow leaves of Autumn.”
Chesapeake (PaxLair Times) – October 26, 2012 – by Ashlynn – Just a quick reminder for those curious as to what is happening this weekend!
Friday Night Adventure – This would be tonight at 8pm by the eastern clock. Meet at the Tea House for fun and adventure and possibly a high attrition rate in terms of party casualties. But there may well be riches too!
Autumn Story Contest – The hottest event (or maybe the the wettest) of the season! Come tell a story on the theme of autumn at the Shrine of Sobriety at 8pm on saturday. You might even win something!
So join us!
Trammel, Chesapeake (PaxLair Times) – October 24, 2012 – by Ashlynn – As part of a new feature here at the Times I have asked people from across the realm to send in their favourite (and not so favourite) dishes, where they come from and how they are typically made.
I must add there are certainly some strange dishes out there and I intend to cover more in future editions!
One of the lesser known dishes of Gyldenfeld but a local favorite nonetheless is Braised Bear Steak. Many years ago, Lissa Eldi, whose home is at the northern edge of town, would often toss food scraps out her kitchen window. Over time, this had the unwanted effect of attracting curious bears from the forest beyond town.Despite complaints and admonitions for her to cease this somewhat dangerous activity, the bears still came looking for an easy meal. Lissa swore up and down to the Eight Virtues that she had already stopped feeding the bears, although many townspeople believed this oath with a smile. Nonetheless, the bear problem wouldn’t go away despite the best of intentions and wishes.
Finally, one day, a lass by the name of Faith took it upon herself and her bow to solve this domestic issue and shot a rather large bear dead with but a single arrow. Truly, an amazing shot, but one problem solved led to a new problem: what to do with a giant dead bear laying in the middle of town? A stodgy old cook by the name of Alton took it upon himself for the greater good and dragged the carcass back to his bakery. While he was well-known for his pies and cakes and weekly batch of cookies, he’d never been much known for else.
He took the bear, skinned and then quartered it, then took the fattiest pieces of the rib and short loin and braised them quickly in bear fat. The meat was then removed from the searing pan, salted with the somewhat expensive Nujel’mer salt and dashed with Old Maginician pepper before tossing the mess into a roast pan with locally grown potatoes and carrots with a few bulbs of garlic taken from a dead orc (claimed the orc stench actually gave an earthy note to the meat) and roasted for 3 hours.Everyone walked around town with drooling jaws as this bear meat bubbled and popped away in Alton’s oven. When he at last pulled the steaming heap out, the aroma was heavenly beyond description, orc funk and all. The whole town sat outside Alton’s bakery, right in the road, as we feasted on this tasty bounty. A problem well resolved, the braised bear was long remembered as one of the finest non-holiday meals in town memory.
The following week, it was noticed in passing that food scraps were mysteriously flying out of Lady Eldi’s window once more.
Editors Note: Naturally the description I got from the goblin was in “Pidgin Britannian” or whatever their strange tongue would be called. Still I think you can get a basic idea of the history of their (in)famous ice cream.
Just one more thing – there are no cows on Pitmuck island. So you should draw your own conclusions on that front.
Well mesanna gibed usins majik spell. wees casts it on ebery batch. Make the ice creams taste like wot ebery you. any flavor. Ozog founds ice creams when himz left da abyss. some how he got to ice island and started makin ice creams din himz went to luna and was gibin it away.
One of the best things about visiting new places is usually the cuisine. The spiced meats of Nujelm, the shark fin dishes of Buccaneers Den, and the delicious fish pie of Cove. All these I have tried and all of them I found to be wonderful or at least tasty. But occasionally you stumble across something a little less palatable – something one would not dare eat. In this case I speak of Gazer Eye Soup.
Delucia is somewhat isolated, located in a valley over a mountain range that must be passed through rather than crossed. There is no moongate and trade caravans must take a long and perilous journey to reach it. With so little farmland, the Delucians seem to consider anything edible including the large juicy eyes from gazers slain by adventurers and hunters alike.
The recipe is simple – the gazer eyes are removed from the creature’s corpse and are then boiled in a simple root, herb and vegetable stock for twenty or so minutes and then it is served up.
As for what it tastes like, I could not tell you. In the ended I opted for the roasted ostard ribs.
When I was a young man, or perhaps a very old boy, I wandered the
streets of Britain in the olden days, always ready to make a profit, enjoin to some hare-brained enterprise or join some ill-begotten foray into some dreary old dungeon too naive to know any better. In those days, too put it mildly, adequate funds were seemingly always more of a goal than a reality. Living in the rough and tumble alleyways of Britain was often a tenuous affair and young persons such as myself often scraped along by whatever means necessary.
Now in those olden days, the truly foolish attempted to pick the pockets of traders and adventurers doing their business at the bank. I pursued a more earnest and honest means of viability, and specifically when it came to procuring foods. One of my favorite dishes came out of pure coincidence, that being my somewhat honorary title of Royal Rotted and Over Abundant Fruit Minister. The funny thing about that title was no one ever asked me from whom it was bestowed and at this point it has long, long faded from memory.
Anyway, so I’d pick the King’s fruit from his very orchard within the grounds of Castle Britannia. Nothing was ever too fine for such a high and glorious man, so it was my royal duty to ensure he may never pick an apple that was not at the absolute peak of ripeness, crispness and sweetness.I routinely picked and ate fruit to ensure it was not in an imperfect state. My premise was that apples only achieve purity of perfection for but an hour or two in their whole life. Of all the apples I ever picked, with honor in my heart, I never once ate an apple that should have been ideally suited for the King Lord British himself .Better yet, those apples, when I’d eaten my fill each morning, made the best project for each afternoon to make into a fine dessert for the evening.
Take a dozen apples, crush and pulp half of them until there’s nothing but juice, strain out and pour juice into a pan. Add a hand-cup full of water and then set to a medium fire for about 15 minutes, or until the mixture is slowly bubbling from within. Drop in the remainder of the apples, skinned, seeded and quartered and simmer another 10 minutes. Pour into an unbaked pie crust, crimp shut the top, draw your favorite tax collector’s fat, stupid face, bake for 30 minutes and then enjoy. Nothing beats walking around the bank and waving at the tax collector as you bite into one of these pies. Other variations include cutting in a pattern of the trade guild’s logo you seek concessions from into the top crust and bringing along as an icebreaking gift during negotiations.Otherwise, crosshatched lacing is always the mark of a cook who knows his pie, not some sloppy square lattice, the true work of an amateur!
No matter the bakeries in Britain, for all their 5-gold coin pies, mine always tasted the better as the best things in life are always free!
