Under Review Found! Ye Olde Smelt Articles

[Jeshal the Ironclaw]

(Here I be hoping to post a bunch of recovered Smelt articles Jeshal located in an old safehouse. If any of the original authors wish for anything to be redacted, let me know!)



Bugs 3, Yr. 1723



Verily, a Notice of New Scheduling

By Editor; The Saturday Evening Smelt

Attention, dearest readers,

Due to circumstances of the most regrettable nature, the Saturday Evening Smelt will be published throughout the week, and not, as was hitherto the case, on Saturday evening.

We sincerely regret any confusion this may cause our noble readers.​

Better Wheel Invented; Rolls Away

By Spencer "Sparky" Walton

Special to the Smelt - Bugs 3, 1723

In a move that earned the instantaneous ire of the Ministry of Innovation, upstart inventiveness firm Unbridled Initiative Inc. brought forth a more efficient wheel today.

Chief Cogitator Marcus Brommel boasted of the wheel's "increased durability, extra-stout spokes, and unequalled roundness", the sum of which will make the rustic, ramshackle wheels of bygone years quickly obsolete.

Although the wheel rolled away almost immediately upon its completion, observers confidently claim that its performance nothing sort of astounding.

MinOInn officials did not immediately respond to inquiries.

​

Ministry Debates - MinOMis 4; MinONice 20

By Spencer "Sparky" Walton


The debate between representatives of the Ministry of Misanthropy and the Ministry of Niceties was extended into sudden death extra-time earlier today, before being brought to a raucous conclusion by the fantastic actions of Gregory "The Gripper" Marlowe.

The MinOMis squad had attempted the classic Murgerburger Feint at the start of extra-time, charging down the alley with shrieks of murderous rage. At the last possible moment, they split apart, with the left and right wings leaping over some crates. Offensive Striker Reginald "Rigger" Minkus swung mightily with his chain, narrowly missing MinOInn Forward Roderick Jones. Jones struck back with his modified cudgel, knocking Minkus unconscious. Things looked grim for the MinOMis lads, but Marlowe came blazing out of the shadows, delivering two stunning blows with his bat to Jones, and Everly, the Left Defender. Both feel to the ground, and Marlowe bellowed triumphantly.

Victory celebrations were cut short by the arrival of the Stoatorian Guard. Marlowe made off with a breastplate, while Minkus, having been revived, scrawled propaganda on a nearby wall.

This latest victory brings the MinOMis' record to 6-1 this season. 0


Emperor Stubbeth His Toe; Quest for Answers Continues

By Spencer "Sparky" Walton

Shockwaves of awe and consternation were felt throughout the Imperium today as reports flooded in that the Emperor had, to the horror of all present, stubbed his toe on a rock.

The Stoatorian Guard immediately sealed the Palace grounds, arresting all citizens within fifty feet of the walls. As of press time, no fewer than four hundred suspicious characters were being questioned.

The Minister of Misanthropy was called upon for comment.

"Yes? Well? So what?" was the reply, demonstrating His Excellency Monteroy's famous rapier wit. These comments were accompanied by a long, level stare.

Several merchants retired for the afternoon upon hearing the news. Naps were had by all.

The Emperor, The Smelt is happy to report, is in stable condition. The offending rock is in the custody of the Stoatorian Guard.


Certificate of Valour Awarded to Thaddeus D. Cully
​

By Spencer "Sparky" Walton

The Minister of Misanthropy wished the following announcement to be made:

"In honour of his conspicuous valour and gallantry in the face of commerce, Thaddeus D. Cully, corsair and entrepreneur, has been awarded the Emperor's Certificate of Valour. Bless the Emperor's divine benevolence!"

The Smelt wishes to extend its congratulations to Cully, and to all who would be favoured by His Extreme Unctionousness, the Emperor.

 

[Jeshal the Ironclaw]

Macabre 2, Yr. 1723

Why The Kreehold Carry With Them An Incredible Stench

By Awarr N. Jerarrr

It all started when, amidst attack by nefarious pirates, my captain asked, nay - demanded! - that I clean out the privy with the same vigor and enthusiasm that a raw recruit seeking to impress would embody.

I scowled, eyed, nosed, nostriled! To no avail, I would be stuck, for the third time in a row, with the ominous privy duty. Going in, I took the peg off the door, and stuck it on my nose. But seeing me, a cowardly pirate stalked, and attempted to strike me from behind. At that time, I was fishing the remains of a rotten fish from the rubbish bin, and spinning around, I slapped him! Within seconds, he was on the floor, writhing in agony (though nasal or physical we cannot tell). I leapt out, envigorated, and dealt enormous danger to the pirates until the Captain encountered me, and lead me forcefully back to the privy.
​

A Look At Misanthropy

By Capatrease D. Cuttooth

Over years Misanthropy has changed its ways. It began as sharp pointy rocks and sticks, went to sharp pointy pieces of metal, to really sharp pointy pieces of metal, to doorknobs, to Citizen Morovias S. Houndestoothe’s cooking, and eventually Pudding, also a part of Morovias’s cooking. Amongst them all there was perhaps one that stood out the most... and it was none other than Morovias’s cooking. Doorknobs also played a major roll, being very complicated and stuck in their ways of turning and somehow refusing to turn. This seems to be how the phrase “I bang the door and, yet it shakes, it never turns or falls or breaks!” came along. Although the unpleasantness of doorknobs is great, Pudding outweighs the horrors of doorknobs, pudding being classed as “nightmare”.

In its golden years, pudding tortured thousands, bringing forth cries of “Ugh... just... one... more... bite!” and “Ahg, torture!” if placed on the back where a beast may not reach for it. But perhaps the most satisfying effect is tying the victim to a tree and placing a bowl of the mess just out of reach. This one has been abandoned as a bad idea because of the number of trees pulled down in the struggle to get to the pudding. Although the effects are well known some have come to question the greatness of pudding! Minister of Misanthropy, Ramsay P. Monteroy, stands out. It is well known that he disagrees with the use of pudding and is fixed on jello. However, the use of jello on victims has always been met with cries of “Pudding, please!” Wouldn’t you, the citizen, rather be tortured with pudding rather than jello? We must hear the voice... of the drunken. And remember, “If you think that jello’s good, it is time you understood!”
​

The Stones Hit the Ground Rolling!

By Teresa A. Doxtrod

Last Thursday afternoon the hot, new singing sensation, the Stones, were seen rolling from their customary cart on their way to a concert. The lead singer and manager, Calvin C. Droopysnout had this to say about this bizarre incident.

“Oh, fritters and cat fishes! I allus said I didn’t like things with these new fangled wheels. What ever happened t’ the days when a poor beast could take a nice stroll to his concert wit’out gettin’ afeared that ‘e’s gonna dive off o’ a wooden cart!?”

The Stones did carry on their concert as usual and have scheduled yet another for 7:00PM in the Bilge in the Bucket on Friday.



'Official Dolfin (and shark) Riders of the Coast’​

By Calantorntain S. Pickwic

After wrestled a bowl of runaway pudding to the ground the mayor dideth declare that Capatrease D. Cuttooth was to be the owner of the ‘Official Dolfin (and shark) Riders of the Coast’ badge. This prestigious award has only been Macabre 2, Yr. 1723d one time in the known history of the Vulpine Imperium, and that was to Demedicin L. Longfur, who was eaten by a shark (that he had claimed was ‘surely a dolphin in disguise’) exactly 31 minutes after the badge was Macabre 2, Yr. 1723d. When Capatrease was asked if he was worried about suffering the same fate as Demedicin, he replied testily, “Go away, please. Can’t you see I am in the middle of a game of poker? And who is Domi-something, any way?” The reporter tried to explain the history of the dolphin rider, but the murderous glares (and poison tipped daggers) of the other poker players (who thought the reporter was revealing their cards to Mr. Cuttooth) stopped him short, and this story would have been lost had the reporter not been writing everything down (his last written words were, “… ande thine furret hath two captans, a admeral, and a sewen. Ande now thiey drawth thine dag------“).

[Jeshal's note: No clue why a date printed in place of two words in this article, perhaps some sort of censor of the times?]
​

Missertross Carrier Goes Postal

By William IV

A Missertross carrier has recently caused a deal of fright among Imperial citizens by his odd method of delivery. Tying a rock to the message, he will, from a great height, fling the messages down to bonk their recipients on the head.

So far, he has not once gotten the right recipient, but the rumor says that he is just starting, and should be given a bit of leew

(Editors note: William was found unconcious over this article, a message reading, "Hah! This'll prove you wrong!" tied to a stone and resting on the table near his head.)​

 

[Jeshal the Ironclaw]

Macabre 15, Yr. 1723

What be worse?

By Harry M. Lancaster

Throughout the Imperium, a single question has been debated back and forth, quite often resulting in bloodshed between two beasts or two groups. This terrible question haunts the minds of everybeast in the Imperium. “What is worse? Pudding or Jello?”

Early yesterday, the Ministry of Innovations called together a press conference to announce their solution to the question. As it is known, the MinInn invents things thus, their answer to the question was to introduce a new product into the mix. What was this fearsome product? Jello flavored pudding cream pies. Already an uproar has arisen through the Imperium that such a radical idea should even be discussed.

The Ministry of Niceties immediately began polling beasts throughout the Empire to find out what they thought of this new development. Current figures show that 30% of beast say pudding is worst, 20% of beasts say jello is worst, 25% of beasts say that jello flavored pudding cream pies is worst. 25% of beasts remain undecided at this time. The MinnoNice was careful to point out that their pole has a margin of error ranging from 75% to 95%.
​

Sea Monsters!

By Capatrease D. Cuttooth

Breakfast is something that tends to linger in the minds of many. You’ve got the types who like eggs, the martens that like “E Ole Weed”, special to the Imperium, the rats that like other rat’s, and then in a class far from the rest, you have the sea monsters that like just about anything that comes floating (or flying) their way. Breakfast seems to be a morning thought, and it was just what was on the mind of this sea monster as it surveyed its surroundings on Monday at around 6:00am Imperium Shadowlong Savings Time. If, in fact, it actually surveyed its surroundings. There is no proof that it actually did.

Somebeast else also happened to be surveying its surroundings on Monday at around 6:00am.

Lookout Steelfang T. Hardbite, on duty that morning, looked across the open seas, wondering why on earth there needed to be a lookout. He was still pondering this when a set of eyes (supposedly) poked its head from the sea and peered at him like Steelfang would peer at a potential breakfast right now. It took several moments of scratching of head, peering at the eyes... scratching again, before it suddenly struck the rat that something was definitely out of the ordinary. He started and was suddenly yelling about monsters at a volume you wouldn’t want to be woken up at. A hurried conversation between Hardbite and Cuttooth was reported like this.

Hardbite: “It was right there!” *add emphasis to “there” and much poking of finger*
Cuttooth: ... Wot?... the stick?
Hardbite: *head in hands* Nooo, no... It’s-Not-There-Anymore.
Cuttooth: *recognition* Oh! Sooo... you’re saying there was a monster there... and a stick?
Hardbite: *frustration* Yes yes, a stick too but that’s not important.
Cuttooth: ...Sooo... you’re trying to tell me...
Hardbite: Uh huh, yes...
Cuttooth: ...that there was a monster there...
Hardbite: *relief* Yes!
Cuttooth: ...hell’s fangs... I don’t suppose that’s good.

The creature was named “Ee Bulle” because of being found in bully harbor. The monster was viewed only briefly and only by Hardbite so we guarantee nothing; however, we would like you to keep an eye out for anything out of the usual. Eat breakfast, just DON’T BE breakfast.
​

Minister of Innovation, Despyrate, Seekes Laste Minute Articyl from Shephyrd!

By Coriander L. Shepherd

Not Four Minutes Ago, the esteemed Lord Minister of Innovation, the Colonel Retto A. Arbach, contacted the esteemed Lord Minister of Niceties, the landed gentlebeast Coriander Shepherd, in desperate need of One Last Article!

While Shepherd said "Hmm" began typing this very report INSTANTLY, the Colonel waited without word of confirmation. Finally, in panic, the ferret said "...that's a "no" isn't it?"

Neverbefore has such an exchange been printed on the pages of this esteemed NEWS-SHEET!

Arbach, still waiting, was, according to our sources, VERY IMPATIENT! He is reported to have asked "When will it be done?"

In response to this, the Ministers of Niceties answered: "NOW!"

[The editors would wish to note two things:
- The esteemed Minister of Niceties seems to have forgotten Colonel Arbach's species
- The esteemed Minister of Niceties is supposed to be overseeing the Smelt himself.]

​

Skeered Attacked! Returns To Port.

By Bjorn Redtail

RATSWORTH VALLEY, BULLY HARBOR- Today a battered and burnt Skeered of Nothing pulled up to port at the newly re-built Ratsworth Valley shipyard and navel complex. Apparently, they were attacked by a heavily armed frigate, identified as a member of Kreewhut, an infamous guild of privateers. The attacking craft managed to set fire to the aft deck, oddly enough resulting in the burnt appearance of the craft today. The hostile craft managed to land a boarding party, but it was repelled mostly as a result of the mizzenmast falling upon an enemy NCO. With the other hostile petty officers afraid another mast would fall on them, they fell back, then ran. Then the rest of the enemy troops realized, and jumped ship too. With the Kreewhut craft routed and sailing away, the heavily wounded Skeered limped back to port. With the lucky lack of weather to speak of, and some well improvised repairs the Skeered survived the trip to port.

Observers rate the damage done as very heavy, being quoted by saying, “That's 10,000G damage, I tells ya” and “Makes ya wonder what kind of damage they dished out during such a battle” and finally “I got to get me whatever theys was fighting!” “A vessel of the Imperium has taken damage, and as being repaired an appropriate facility.” is the only official word so far, from spokesrat, Buer A. Crat. The observers believe repairs will take one week to complete, and that the craft will leave for sea on the usual schedule.
​

Duel at the Bilge

By A Totally Unbiased Observer

'Twas 3:00pm, Imperial Time, in the Bilge and the Bucket, in the grande Bully Harbor. Things were going well, the drinks were flowing...yes. it was a good day.

Then in burst an intruder, cloaked in darkness and filled with anger. He was a rebel, blindly despising the norm. "You shouldn't be drinking at 2:00 on a fine day!" he proclaimed.

"'s 3:00" someone advised the treacherous fox.

"It most certainly is Two in the Pee-Emm."

"Is not."

"Is too." And this is the point where any honorable creature would challenge this naysayer, this foul rumor-spreader, to a duel. Someone, thankfully, stood to represent all which was good and true about Imperial Citizens. "I shall fight you over it!" they said. Fancy like that, too.

They drew swords, and through foul trickery - ouch! be careful when you're rippin' those things off. Wait, what're you writing? No, stop, fiend! I'm not dictating ennymore!​

 

[Jeshal the Ironclaw]

Smarch 19, Yr. 1724

The Rich History of Dolpin Riding-One of a Special Series

By Capatrease D. Cuttooth

“There are those who fall from great heights to die
sudden and unpleasant deaths, those who’d rather be
simple about it and stick themselves with swords, and
those who ride dolphins.”-Quoth the Encyclopedia
Imperiatia, 5th edition: page 2338, Dolphin Riding
Over the Ages, paragraph 4.

Indeed, some would say, dolphin riding is a dying
profession and a fool’s idea in the first place.
However, it has not gone to the grave yet; as there
are still those few, who are brave, daring or very far
out of their minds (as it proves to be in most cases),
who still ride.

The earliest recorded time that a dolphin was ridden
was in the year 354 PI when a young ferret by the name
of Frog from the Isles of Zapalatchu whose ship had
been destroyed in a gale, cried out the name of the
Great Sea Shark, the Death God of his people, to take
him twixt its mighty jaws and end his pain. As legend
has it, the shark never came and instead his
apprentice and messenger, who happened to be a
dolphin, showed up and said the rather well known
words, “I’m sorry, Death can’t be with you at the
moment but if you’d please come back at a more
convenient time I’m sure he’d be more than happy to
schedule an appointment for you.”

So Frog got to talking to the dolphin for a while and
managed to get a ride off him back to Zapalatchu and
so all were immensely happy and wore coconut shells on
their heads for five days and nights before
considering it a rather silly idea and all went off to
see if they could ride dolphins as well. And thus did
start the art of dolphin riding which a few citizens
of the Imperium still practice.

Pick up a copy of the Smelt next week for a beginner's
guide to the art of dolphin riding!
​

The Ides of Smarch

By Eiko Fireye

Mass destruction. Bonfires. Riots. Beasts running amok
through the streets of our fair city. All these can be
found as part of the great holiday known as the Ides
of Smarch. And much more than just these can be found,
including, but definitely not limited to, a rich
history of the overthrough of the evil Democracy and
the revels of rum.

This momentous date was initially made to commemorate
our deliverance from the evils of Democracy. The last
President, one Naplin Figgs, was brutally mauled by
his cabinet on this day. At least, so sources
indicate. One wonders if it were by the wonders of the
first MinoInn that his cabinet did him in.

Following that event, the government was reformed
through a series of reformations, always with the
promise of the dawn of a new age. An age where all
beasts were equal. And where everybeast had a job. An
age, in short, where everybeast served our blessed
Emperor.

The exact year that we were freed from Democracy is a
hotly debated topic. Most experts agree, however, that
it was sometime prior to the establishment of the
Imperial line by Milarkus the Malcontent. Although he
was the first, though not the grandest, he only
reigned for one week, two days, and eighteen hours.
The current Emperor, direct descendant of Milarkus and
17th Emporer could not be reached for comment on this
fact.

That is the extent of the History we shall cover in the
Smelt. The rest of our observations have to do with
the revels of rum. The Ides of Smarch is, these days,
mainly a drinking holiday, like most others in the
Imperium.

This may explain the increase of fires seen over the
last few days. A fox by the name of Bleidd Brushtail
has been set fire by unknown sources. He could not be
reached for comment about the wonders of the Ides of
Smarch.

All the staff here at the Smelt would like to wish you
a Happy Ides of Smarch. Remember, don't forget to
teach your children about the evils of Democracy. And
the joys of rum.


A Conspiracy Unmasked!

By Anonamouse.

It is my sad, or perhaps proud duty to inform you of
the great charade that is carried on before our very
eyes. We have all been blinded. Nay, not one has seen
through the facade. But never fear, I have come, that
you may see the light.

Hast any of thee ever met the one known as the
Emperor? Mar'kan the Second, he is called. Have you
even looked upon his face? Verily, verily, I say unto
you, such a thing has never been done by one such as
I.

We are all of us deceived. The power, entrusted to the
Emperor by we the people, has been squandered among
the Ministers. And never is the Emperor seen.

"Ah," thou says. "He is but a ways off, out of our
sight." "The island is large, and we are but small."
The cries of your lips deceive you. For do not the
royal troops come and go, but never commanded by the
Emperor. Always one of his vile Ministers is seen at
the head of such processions.

If exist the Emperor does, he is but a weak puppet in
the paws of the Ministers. And so, that is the reason
that constantly they fight between themselves, seeking
to wrest power to their own ends. 'Tis like a game
called King of the Hill, they play. And if there were
an Emperor, there would be no fight, because that
position would be taken.

This situation is in dire need of reparation. The
private wars of the Ministers rage in the streets of
our fair city, disrupting the lives of every common
beast. I call for clear evidence of the power of the
Emporer, or a revelation of the truth I've brought. So
ends this Epistle to the Imperial Citizens.

Signed,
Anonamouse


A Riot of Art

By Kettlelina Spoon

A riot was raged outside the Imperial office last
Tuesday. Torches flared, lighting up the macabre
instuments of the fracas. Beasts jostled, pushed,
elbowed and outright attacked each other. Screaming
crowds threw themselves against the walls, demanding
that their works of art be taken out of the dusty
archives and finally judged. One concerned group of
citizens brought out a relic of war, a battering ram,
and supervised its instrumentation...

Well, maybe that's what the riotorous crowd
wished would've happened. It would have brought
faster action, one might think. As it were, a motley
group of about fifteen-odd odd beasts stood patiently
holding signs protesting the Art Gallery's Inactivity.
A few of them scribbled grotesque murals of what
appeared to be the MinoNice, Coriander Shepherd, being
set on fire and attacked by a giant crab.

This Miniature Riot, or maybe it was the threat of
attack by the Giant Beast-Eating crab, appears to have
worked in the favor of all the Imperium artists.
Whichever the reason, the riot seems to have brought
about the updating of the Gallery. Now a poor searat's
mum has her portrait hanging for all to see, the many
artists of the Imperium are a good bit richer and the
taverns and shops are doing quick business fleecing
the suddenly be-gildered artists.

All this has left many a beast wondering who
exactly is in charge of the gallery. Is it still in
the care of our Respected MinoNice? Was he attacked by
the monster Crab and forced to yield? To quote the
good-natured Miss Firestorm-Vansquod, "It most likely
wasn't the MinoNice, as he hasn't been seen in the
imperium in a few weeks." Our conclusion drawn from
this? Maybe it was a beast on even higher levels.
Perhaps it wasn't. Whatever happened, the riot was
averted and the artists are now happily occupied with
their soon-to-be-wasted gilders.


Death of a Dragon

By Dalliance Edwards

On Smarch 9, 1724, Drengull E. Hooangle, was found outside of the Imperium in the middle of a lonely road by one, Rumer Hale. He was dead, as all reports indicate.

Rumer Hale, the ferret who found the deceased, claimed that it was not she who did him in. On asking around, it was found that Hooangle, an officer lately of the Golden Hide, had many enemies. All those contacted replied that it was not they and somebeast had beat them to it. Some replied that such questions could get a ferret killed. As I am a weasel, I was much relieved.

After asking many questions around, one humorous anecdote from the life of the monitor lizard was brought to light. On reviewing other stories, this one
was decided to be included in the deceased's eulogy.

All beasts, or at least most of them, feared the monitor lizard Drengull Hooangle. Even the officers feared him and would not punish him for his wrongs
against themselves and the Imperium. All except one captain, one Agle P. Eagle.

Agle P. Eagle, as the bravest fox captain, took it into his head to punish Drengull. In fine Imperial fashion, he did so by punching the lizard and throwing him overboard. Even the Minister of War, it is said,
was too scared to do this thing. There was much cheering after this brave act.

It must be noted that Agle P. Eagle was promoted to Admiral, his bravery most likely part of his superiors selection.

So passes one of the Imperium's worst and best.​

 

[Duke Talinn Ryalor]

Approved!

 

[Jeshal the Ironclaw]

Soggus 4, Yr. 1724

I Serve the Truth

By Anonamouse

To the Brethen and Sistren of the Bully Harbor,

Blessings and Tidings of Great Truth be amongst thee, inhabitants of the Imperium. For, lo, I have seen fit to reveal more to thee in another missive. To remove the blinders that thou have hadst over thy eyes, some for even the whole length of their lives. Some for merely the time since thee joined the Imperium. Some, though few, already know what I shall reveal. Count thyselves wise, thee of the last, for thou art.

Many of thee, it seems, missed the point of my earlier epistle. My point was not, and may lightning strike my humble body, that the Emperor exists or does not. There is too little to be seen either way in that matter. The message that I sent you was one that thee must always question the reality that thou art surrounded by.

Indeed, just because thou art told something, does not mean it is. How is it that thou knows of the Imperium’s mastery of the seas? Only by the words of her accursed Ministers. Hast any of thee actually engaged in the rumored battles of which they speak? Nay, I say that nary a one of thee has. This one knows that he has not.

No matter thought, for this is but a support to the Message of the missive. The Great Truth that I reveal to thee is this: The Truth must be ascertained at all costs. Even if that means questioning thy entire way of thinking, or even the committing of treason, or even death, then so be it.

For if we live life believing a lie, than what use is that life? Because of the belief, it would be a false one. For this reason, we must reject all lies. The lies we’ve believed since birth, the lies taught us by our parents and friends, and even those insidiously inserted by the Ministers. Remember, no cost is too great to obtain the Truth.

Yours always in the Truth,

Anonamouse​

Items of Interest in the Imperium

By Dorimeer Thorn

Waill, seein’ as I’m new to a the Smellt, I figure I’d better inter-, intra-… Tell y’uns who I is. The name’s Dorimeer Thorn, of Tenpenny Alley. Coates, cloakes, shirtes, pantes and other itemes of clothing washed fer the same price as the alley’s name. Just aske fer Missus Thorn, ever’beast’ll be able to tell y’uns who I am.

Now, as t’the point of this article an’ what you can expect from me in the futures. As a washerstoat, I ‘ears menny interesting items of noos and consider it my dooty to inform you. At least ‘tis me dooty as long as I get payed for it. Hear that, editor fellah. I get payed for this!

Any alley, the first peice of interest I bring to y’uns is a notice of a dance doon at the Marketplace. Started by one Raserei, a wildecat of no bad looks, this dance looks too be a doozy. Everybeast is encorraged to find a partner and head doon there to have a good time. After I writes this missive, me’n Mister Thorn are going to have some funne there.

The second piece I bring you this Saturday Evenin’ is of the aims of a singular fox maiden. Calatnorntain Pickewic is a bootiful fox maiden of no mean status in the Imperium and she is searchin’ for a mate. Not just any mate, at that, but one in partickellar. A fellow resently raised to the pozishun of Ministeer of the Imperium in the realm of Misanthropy. This foxe, however, has refused all addvances on his person by the bootiful fox maiden churlishly. It is my opinion that he is a cad that cannot see the benifits of such a union. Calantorntain is one of the most powerful beasts in the Imperium because of her grande riches. An union of these two foxes would not only give Ironpaw Skarblade a large supply of funds for his less-savory connexshuns, but it would also give him the attenshuns of one of the most bootiful foxes in the Imperium. He is a coward to shun one of the fairer sex, too. He’s afraide she’ll leave him when she sees who he is. We wimmin aren’t like that an’ he should know.

Onto less fiery pashunnate things though. I have speaked to one of the new recruits of the Skeered, one Tirete U. Meier and have heared interesting things about the future of the ship. According to his words, and I quote, “Too long has the crew rested in idility. Things will change.” And I say it is a good thing. The crewes are all lazy beasts who do little for the Imperium. I hope that he is right an’ things do change.

Until the next time you see this column, I remain firmely in yer service an’ ‘opefully yer pay. Now me’n the Mister’s gonna skiv off to the dance. Ta, luvs.

​

Self Swabbing Deck Swabs Away!!!

By Harry M. Lancaster

Today, the Ministry of Innovation unveiled its most useful invention yet; a creation that will save crewbeasts countless hours of menial work, a conception which will allow captains more opportunity to order their crews about, the brainchild of countless scientists and shipbuilders: The self-swabbing deck.

The whole of the Vulpine Imperium turned out for the beginning demonstration in a smoky Bully Harbor. As one of the Ministry's top scientists began to show off the latest contrivance, a fantastic liquid that when applied to the deck, allows anything and everything to slide off, a horrible fact was quickly made obvious to all.

During the exhibition, two problems were swiftly discovered. First of all, the deck became so slippery that nobeast could set paw on it without falling flat onto their snout. Secondly, as the deck became increasingly slick, the liquid actually began to eat away at and dissolve the wood planking until finally, there was naught left but a few nails.

"But you see, with no more deck, there is no need to swab the deck!" one Junior Scientist excitedly exclaimed. "Eureka! We've done it! We've done it at last!" At press time, said scientist is no longer employed with the Ministry of Innovation, and the self-swabbing deck product has been pulled from the market before ever being released.

​

Dolphin Riding, A How-To

By Capatrease D. Cuttooth

Here we are one week after your introduction to the history of the grand sport of dolphin riding. Many of you may be thinking of how much you’d like to participate. You’re in luck today, following are the entire steps of how to ride a dolphin. LEARN THESE STEPS BY HEART BEFORE ATTEMPTING FIRST RIDE

1. Collect necessary equipment: Saddle (if wanted) and hat of some kind (very necessary).

2. Locate a dolphin near you.

3. Stand around making odd noises until you find one that pleases it and will bring it in.

4. Once close enough jump on back and prepare yourself for a brief diving period in which you should definitely hold your breath.

5. When the dolphin comes to surface again take hat and wave it around wildly in the fish’s eyesight. For some reason hats have always greatly intrigued dolphins and they are drawn to it. Move your hat in the direction in which you wish to go and the dolphin will follow.

6. Enjoy the ride.

How to saddle and ride the fish:

Remember, however quiet and peaceful dolphins may sometimes seem there is always a little bit of danger involved. You always need to place the saddle behind the dorsal fin, which is probably the most life threatening part of it. The dorsal fin is very sharp and in the opening leaps and dives of a dolphin it is not very uncommon that a beginner is impaled. Make sure the fin guard of the saddle fits well over the dorsal. It is always good to dig your toes into the gills for extra control.

The first rides are hardest but once the dolphin gets used to you the ride will be much more pleasurable for both you and the fish. If you use the same one every time and keep your dolphin in a storage tank which you can build using the “Guide to Dolphins” by the author of this article.

Remember, if you don’t feel confident in yourself it’s always best to take lessons from an experienced dolphin rider.... and you are doing this for fun, so if you get frustrated take a break and come back to it later. Good luck.

​

Fire Erupts! Hundreds Flee in Panic!

By Calantorntain S. Pickwic

Bully Harbor was ravaged yesterday afternoon by a raging inferno that flared up when a hapless stoat misfired his flaming arrow. Upon perceiving the conflagration, the luckless beast attempted to flee, but was quickly accosted by the Stoatorian guard. The unwitting perpetrator was held for questioning, and was unavailable for immediate comment.

Informed sources who were at the scene of the incident claim the miserable creature was firing his arrows in a fruitless attempt to impress a Certain Female, whose name shall be kept confidential for the retainment of her dignity.

The scorching blaze forced hundreds of roosting seagulls to flee the wholesale destruction, catching the attention of Local Hero Sniptooth. The beast was quick to douse the flames with a full mug of grog, causing a rather inflammatory response. Some Responsible Citizens were alerted by the screams of a singed Sniptooth. The Responsible Citizens quenched the fire, and for this Fearless Deed, they shall be awarded medals.​

 

[Jeshal the Ironclaw]

Merry 9, Yr. 1724

The Evils of Dolphin Riding

By Anonamouse

To the Brethren and Sistren of the Imperium:

What is this heresy that has reached my ears? Though I see only through a glass darkly, there seemeth to be an exploitation of innocent beasts amongst thee and none standing against it.

Exploitation! Thou dost shout. Heresy! Thou dost scream. Yet thee dost not change, because thee canst not change. For thee hast not been taught the error thy ways. The error that thee hast perpetrated many times in the past.

What is it of which thee speakest? Thou dost ask. My words point to the cruel usage of the our very Brethren of the Waves, the Dolphins.

Shock, surprise, denial, that is the hallmark of thy replies, is it not? Do not lie, for hast thou not burdened the poor beasts, Nay! I say not beasts, for they art our friends. Hast thee not burdened them with thy bodies for no reason than that? These noble friends, who have time and time again saved drowning officers and the few landlubbers from a watery death in the Deeps.

But now a new craze has swept this Imperium, reaching even into this once-upstanding Proclaimer and Declaimer of the Truth. Do not be fooled by the lies that spread even as I write. The Dolphins be not among the inferior ones like many birds and fish. They are at a level like unto we, but only speak a language not like unto our own.

For though the Imperium is the Master of the Waves, the Dolphins place in this world is that of Master of the Deeps. Think now what wouldst happen would they choose to act against us? No more rescues. Even worse, attacks on beasts that fall in the water. They shall confine us to our ships.

Think thee on these things the next time thee dost see one of the heretical Dolphin Riders. I urge thee to action.
The Servant of the Truth,

Anonamouse​

Danger to the Imperium

By Dalliance Edwards

MARKETPLACE, BULLY HARBOR - In the last [REDACTED] of the Saturday Evening Smelt, notice of a grand party hosted by Captain Raserei Gotalmo was posted in an article by our very own Dorimeer Thorn. A good number of beasts, the writer included, came to the dance, but that, my readers, is not the point of this article. The [REDACTED] that this article is to address what happened after the dance ended.

Midway through the dance, Joachim Gotalmo, uncle of the hosting Captain, attacked. Although it appeared that his aim was only to take out his nephew, he brought a small army with him. Only moments after he had attacked Captain Gotalmo, his beasts flooded into the Marketplace, all wearing black and wielding weapons. Seeing as they had come for a dance, not a fight, the Imperium beasts were horribly unprepared for the attack.

Towards the end of the battle, Joachim Gotalmo backed off to hide behind a hostage vixen, threatening her death if Captain Gotalmo attacked. In a stupid move that only worked because of the cowardice of the beast holding the hostage, the Skeered of Nothing’s Captain charged to kill said beast, releasing the vixen. This poorly judged move left him open to his uncle, who then plunged a dagger into his side. Captain Gotalmo is currently in the Infirmary recovering from it.

Shortly after the wounding of the Captain, Joachim was convinced to retreat by one Isolde Vixen, the Mistress of Poetries. In the time after Joachim’s army withdrew, many beasts were taken to the Infirmary and many more to Isolde’s house. The wounds suffered were great and they had to be treated before anything else.

Though I am only too glad to see Joachim Gotalmo and all his ruffians gone, I feel that it is my responsibility to inform you that you are still in danger. In the villain’s parting words, he swore that he would return when the Captain was healed to face him once again. One day, not too long from now, he’ll be back, and he’ll know that we’re expecting him. He’ll come back with a bigger horde next time. And he might not be persuaded to leave again.

When questioned about whether he knew that his uncle was going attack, Captain Gotalmo replied that he had known, but was sorry such a thing had happened. Although it was not said, the Smelt assumes that he had not known the time of the attack.

In answer to the Smelt’s query of why he stayed within the Imperium, thereby bringing much danger to its inhabitants, he said that he had a duty to the Imperium and could not leave it. To the Smelt it seems that his very duty, the rank of Captainship, has set Joachim against the entire Imperium. When asked if he thought this was so, he said to keep his personal record separate from his military one.

It is the considered opinion of the Smelt that when an Officer’s personal life causes military and fiscal harm to the Imperium, they must both be considered highly. For this reason, the Smelt has decided to respectfully decided to call for the demotion of Captain Gotalmo until the threat from Joachim is resolved. It is, however, also the opinion of the Smelt that he is more than adequate for the position, yet not worth the danger he brings.

[Jeshal's note: This also seemed to have words censored with dates. I have written redacted for clarity]
​

Two Stoats Devoured!

By Aedan Kingussie

THAT ONE PLACE , BULLY HARBOR - Several crew members aboard the BlackShip were shocked and frightened last week when two honorable stoats, named Killwallopthunk and Bloodwhackchop, were cruelly and unjustly eaten by said ship's resident crab, Hubert.

Killwallopthunk was last heard telling Bloodwhackchop "'M 'ungry. Want a bite ter eat," whereupon his comrade answered, "Want ter eat. Lesh go ter the galley. They got food. Food'sh good fer eatin'."

It is said that both stoats were obviously inebriated at the time. The two entered the galley, five minutes later a lot of screaming and agonised yelling was heard, and the pair was never seen again. However, a lot of suspicious-looking bones were tossed out of the galley shortly afterward.

Investigators said that the cause of death was "Attempting To Steal Comestibles Out Of The Resident Crab's Cupboard While The Cook Was Not Looking." Said cook was not available for comment. Hubert, however, was arrested and taken into police custody for questioning. Unfortunately he ate the interrogator and escaped on Monday. Police are still searching for him.

The beasts aboard the BlackShip will never forget their crewmates, so recently departed. "They was just like brothers, they was, though I didn't know 'em," wails a rat. "I tole 'em not ter go in th'kitchen. There's a crab in there, y'know, Seige an' Aedan takes care of it, but if'n yer tries ter ste - take vittles widout askin' it'll eat yer up quick. Wait, what was we talkin' about?"

Seige and Aedan have agreed to deposit Hubert at "We Take Care Of Pets," the local pet-care, for a few weeks, or at least until everybeast forgets about the victims.
​

Seaweed, Seaweed, Everwhere...

By Harvey Kinnon

“ Swyche a feste is the Imperiume!
Seyen we in pur delirium.
The toune sche is our dayly bred,
The Herbowre Salade verraily led.”

So began an old poem about thievery in the Imperium by Arrus T. Gates. As a result of this poem, he died before he could realize the truth of his metaphore, “The Herbowre Salade”. It seems that he named many of the mob bosses within its lines and they were understandably wroth. He and the “Herbowre Salade” became one in death.

For countless seasons Bully Harbour has been known for its ridiculously large crop of seaweed. And for all of the many Imperium beasts who regularly help out at the docks, sorting through all washed up refuse, it is a head-scratching matter. Where does all the seaweed come from?

The fact of the matter is that nobody is totally certain.

"It has been deliberately put there by the Ministers to make life interesting for captains of deep-draughted boats," said local fisherbeast and bar-time philospher, John Marcher. He was last seen fleeing the Imperium, fearing prosecution for his libelous statements.

A small community that call themselves the 'Scientists' believe that the abundance of seaweed is due, "not only to favourable climatic and tidal conditions, but also overfishing in the harbour." Clearly the definition of 'Scientist' is 'one who lacks imagination.'

Despite the negative impact the seaweed has on small-time boating and recreation, it forms an integral part of the Imperium. It is an important ingredient in many of the Imperium’s famous dishes and beverages such as Seaweed Grog, “World-Faemusse in ye Impeeryium”. Not only that, it is also a thriving export to many lands where the quality of seaweed is much less than our own.

When asked for comments, local businessfox Alfanr Arildson, co-owner of the Despoiler’s Pouch, simply stated, “Why must you keep speaking into that painted wooden spoon?”

So, next time a merchant vessel greets the Imperium with a friendly "Salad ahoy!" we can respond with a smile and wish her safe cabbage.

​

Items of Interest in the Imperium

By Dorimeer Thorn

‘Allo an’ how goes it? Well, I ‘opes. This is me, Missus Thorn, once ag’in. And I’ve come withe more to share withe you in this ishoo of the Smelt.

The first thinge I’m gonna tell you about is the app- appar- a-, showing of a competin’ paper. A small rag of a t’ing ‘as been circling the Bully Harbour. It deals wit’ the evils of the MinoMis, IronPaw SkarBlade. An’ I don’t minde tellin’ you, I agree with a lot of it. He’s a nasty, scumbag of a beast. Just look at how he ignores the faire Calantorntain Pikwic. That’s enough to send ‘im to prison, that is.

The seconde iteme is news of a birthe of a new young’un aboard the Blackship. A wildcat kitten was borne to Second Mate Calria Eagle and Admiral Agle Eagle on Soggus the Fifthe. It was named Emily Espet Eagle. The dear thinge is the first kitten born in the Imperium. If you happen t’see either of the parents, give them my good wishes.

The laste thing I bring to you is a notice of the apparent diss-, disa-, Our Editor is missing. One Dalliance Edwards has not been seen since he went to the Marketplace to picke up a noo veste to replace the onne he loste in helpin’ Cap’n Gotalmo withe his wounds. Any noos of where he be will be a- thanked.

Until my next piece, ta.​

 

[Jeshal the Ironclaw]

Merry 15, Yr. 1724

Tail of a Tale

By Harvey Kinnon

Searat newcomer to the Imperium, Tom Salton, was arrested yesterday evening at the Wet Whistle Tavern. It is reported that he was escorted from the premises by two beasts under the employ of the Minister of Misanthropy. The precise nature of his crime is not yet publicly known, but reportedly the charge being laid is that of inciting unrest within the Imperium.

However, the general consensus is that the arrest was made without solid justification. Those acquainted with Salton retort that he couldn't hurt a fly... unless it really deserved it. Deserving it being the state of A) Landing in his drink, B) Crawling on his toes or C) Being generally annoying.

Witness to the arrest, fox Jim McRanald, says, "He was harmless really. Just a washed up old salt with a tale to tell."

Indeed, many stories have stumbled into the Imperium over the seasons, mostly through the ale-impeded muttering of passing mariners and merchants. It would seem at first that Salton's tale is little different, yet none have of late inspired as much rumor.

Is there really a treasure to be found? What dark secrets does an aging seabeast hide? The circumstances of the arrest only raise these questions to more minds.

A great understatement would be made in saying that local conspiracy theorists are having a field day. One such person is John Marcher, recently returned from an extended fishing trip.

"Some say we are pawns," responded Marcher, "I say we are below pawns. We are mere coloured squares, the playing grounds for a game of blind man's bluff, acted out in wooden miniature."

Marcher was last heard discussing the annual migration of the stickle-backed tuna.

So where is this recent tension bound? Ministry officials were unavailable for comment at the time, though reassurance is offered that a full investigation into the affair is already under way.
​

Trust Nobeast

By J. A. Missaflaw

Something must be done. We do not blame His Grace the Emperor or the Ministers, nor do we charge them with neglect. Doubtless they are formulating a remedy at this moment, and doubtless the original problem is no fault of their own, but, in the meantime, we have a severe calamity on our paws.

Wealthy beasts fear for their hard-earned gilders (not that their gilders were ever particularly safe, but we would not dream of charging our most excellent and efficient government with neglect). For those who have just entered port, the situation is this: ever since tales of a lost ship and its treasure began circulating throughout the Imperium, the entire region has been gripped by treasure fever. At this point, the supply of ancient maps and texts pointing to riches cannot meet the demand. This would hardly be cause for concern, were not a large percentage of these documents the recent work of our many fine artisans.

Only yesterday, this author was approached by four different beasts, each claiming to possess secrets leading to treasure. Said author was, unfortunately, convinced by the first beast, and paid a considerable sum of gilders for a map later proven to be useless, except as fuel for said author's fireplace. Think not that this is an isolated incident, or a problem which threatens the upper classes only, for, over damson wine and blackberry tarts, said author held polite conversation with others of her acquaintance, and heard similar anecdotes.

At this point, we should admit, as certain officials advised us to, that there are some advantages to this bleak situation. For one, our experts in antique appraisal are now in great demand. In addition, the moneys and products of adventurous foreigners are flooding the markets of the Imperium. Unfortunately, only a small number of the population is able to partake of these benefits. The rest of us are left with lighter purses and scores to settle with some opportunistic businessbeasts.

What is to be done? The answer, as His Majesty and the Ministers undoubtedly know, is simple. Once they know everything that everybeast does at all times, the problem will be resolved. After all, we are supposedly under their protection, are we not? Then, let them protect us. Let them simply keep track of all maps within the Imperium, and our troubles are over. And let us hope the wait for this remedy is a brief one.

Some of you may hear the lower classes speak flippantly of this [REDACTED]. I tell you now that it is a grievous day indeed when the citizens of this great Imperium cannot join together to protect one another from fraud and deceit. Especially considering the fact that the lower classes tend to be the perpetrators of these frauds, and the upper classes, the victims. Therefore, I implore you all: watch your neighbor. Trust nobeast.
​

Decree of Mar’kan

By Mar'kan II

On thys, ye fourteenth of Merry, 1724, ye following ys decreed by Hys Eminence, ye Emperor, ye First, ye Last, ye Onlye, Mar’kan ye Second.

Ye first, and, as yt may happen, onlye crewe and Captain that returns ye treasure so lost by ye unfortunate crewe and Captain of ye Glorious Dubloon to ye Imperium shall be rewarded by ye Emporer’s Smyle, a grand and glorious gyft notte seene in years. Yn Hys great generosity, ye Emporer has also offered ye goodly sum of Ten Thousand Gilders to ye selfsame crewe and Captain.

Any Captain with a Ship and an Able-Bodied Crewe ys encouraged to undertake ye mission. Such encouragement ys also provided by ye gallows which have too long layn empty of Captains not fully devoted to ye Advancement of ye Imperium.

Ye Captains are advised to take extra weaponry to fend off ye Pirates and ye Brigands that stalk ye Waters surrounding ye Imperium. Any Captain that undertakes thys mission ys duly warned that if they surrender ye treasure to any ship besydes one of ye Imperial Navy, said Captain and crewe shall be declared traitors to ye Imperium and ye Wrath of Mar’kan shall consume them.

Glory to ye Imperium.​

Bets Galore

By Kitty McWhiskers

"I’ll see yeh forty gilders an’ raise yeh another ten,” a local shopkeeper replied when asked to participate in a bet on those going for the treasure. In case you haven’t yet read, treasure is rumored to exist and the entire Imperial Navy has been mobilized to find it. Bets have been placed as to which ship will bring the treasure back to the Emperor. As far as the Smelt has gathered, the upper limit of the betting is quite near fifty thousand gilders, almost five times the amount of the prize.

The businesses and individuals of the Bully Harbor have been chit-chatting this way and that about which of the four Imperium vessels are going to find this treasure first. The Blackship, captained by the young marteness, Myrhakel Greenfire, has the current favor, but that is only by a short margin. All ships are currently deadlocked, eager to find the supposed booty. Nary a single beast knows its location, but there are many willing to give you an answer ... for a fee.

"Gimme twenty gilders, an'll tell ya." a fox, one Damni Quintas, said when I asked him the location to the treasure.

"Give me the answer, and I'll think about it,” was my well-timed reply.

"No gilders, no answer." At this juncture, the Smelt as personified by my self, deemed it time to give him a reason to reconsider his position. Namely, being picked up off of the floor by a single arm with a pair of feline claws digging at his throat.

"The location, last time."

It shall remain un-disclosed for now, due to the nature of its origins. The Smelt is not entirely sure as to its authenticity, and shall safeguard it until further notice... Any approach to the Chief Editorial Officer, Dalliance Edwards, must be proceeded or accompanied by large amounts of cash. Even so, he may choose that it remain secret until we can convince the Imperium to loan us a decent-sized skiff.
​

Retraction

By Dalliance Edwards

In the last Smelt, it was noted that Admiral Agle Eagle and Blackship Second Mate had had a wildcat baby. This, unfortunately, was a piece of misinformation. They had a fox kitten, as is normal for their species. The Smelt apologizes for any mishaps caused by this lapse of factuality.

 

[Jeshal the Ironclaw]

Thermidor 10, Yr. 1724

On vegetablef & thur inherent evylneff

By Aedan C. Kingussie

It has long been known among the honourable residents of Bully Harbor that vegetables are bad for you. But why? Upon interviewing said residents, we were only able to glean the following replies:

"'Cos mum said they was good, an' so dey carn't be."

"'Cos they're green."

"'Cos I jus' don' like 'em, all right? An' don' go pokin' yer snout inter stuff wot don't concern yew, or ye'll en' up jus like dat stoat over there - deaaaaaaaaaaagh! Owowowowowow! Git this crab off me footpaw! Owowowowow!"

"More beer."

As you can see, nobody is really very sure why vegetables are bad for you. But with the help of Phil the Hobo, our resident amateur scientist, we have been able to present to you a few hypo - hypothe - hy - reasons.

1. As our second interviewee so eloquently stated, vegetables are green. When your water is green, what is it? Bad. When your bread is green, what is it? Bad. When your cook's Super Tuna Surprise Stew is green, what is it? Bad. And what does Hubert eat? Green stuff. Therefore, vegetables are bad.

2. If vegetables are so good for you, why don't they taste good for you? The answer? THEY'RE NOT GOOD. If they're not good, what are they? Bad.

3. Vegetables are almost always clean. And what is clean? Bad. Therefore, vegetables are bad.

We hope we have left you with some good information. So remember, next time some goodbeast has you at swordpoint, open your mouth wide and breathe out. 'Cos brushing is bad, too.

​

Ye Expose' Concerning Ye Eventes Betwixt Ye Captaineff an' Their Officerf!!!

By Calria E. Eagle

It haf come to my attention, as I rumage through the paperwerk in my offife and in the offifes of my hufband the Admyrale and of my much efteemede and worthy Captaine that certain accusasions haf beyn made, wich I shood verry much liek to adreff.

I waf theer, on ye night in questionne, and did see the way in wich eventf did unfawld, and I am truelie suprifed that any of the good offiferf of ye Imperiumm wouldst contunyue in such a fashionne, when it haf been mayd perfectley obviouff to all that thees accusasions are unfoundede and rootleff. My Captaine would neverre act in such a fashionne towardf one of her fellowe Imperialle servanteff, but my own worde on thiff haf littel bearring. Instede, allowe me to tele the storie of that fatefulle nighte.

It waf nearly dusk as I approachede the taverne, Darkwoode Taverne, to be spefific, and all inside, includeinge myfelf, were tenfe with memoriese of ye recente eventf conferning the Treazuref and ye Ministrie. It waf, indede, harde to even holde onto my drinke, my pawf were shakyng so harde. Stille, I uphelde my dutee to shippe and to captaine, and staid amongst the otherf. There is no doubte in my mynde that manee of the otherf theer wantede nothyng more than to have it oute in the openne, and settel the differenfef betwixt them with a nife fiyght.

Still, goode cordialitee remainede, and ye Captaine Raseri made hif speeche plainlee and withoute praylude, stateyng hif porpoife, an' it waf one with wich I hade much simpathee, as did my shipmatef and my much esteymed captaine, the good lady Myrhakel Greenfire. The eventf that followed are committede into ye gossipe throo-out ye Imperiumme, but the fact remainf that Raseri, beinge a wildcatte of lowe moral fibre and lower scrooplef, did poisonne himfelf, then letting hif crewebeastf use thif fact to implycate my good captaine in his attempteed myrdur, wich simplee did notte happene.

I pray to ye goode vermyn of ye Imperiumme to truste the wyrds of a good offifer of ye Navye of ye Emperore, and beare in mind ye corruptiones of ye captaine Raseri, wich hafe before beene pointed at my captaine, wich before caused hif inslavemente, and wich shoulde cause it onfe againne, as punishemente for hif crymef against my captaine!
​

Forbidden Forest

By S.S.S.

It has been well known for a while that when the Imperium ends, the forest begins. This is true, but one must wonder, where exactly is the blasted forest? Some Adventurers have claimed it doesn’t exist, having not been able to locate the realm. Others simply say they were heading in the wrong direction. Some researchers propose a hypothesis to locating this so called mystery forest. They suggest heading towards the moon’s direction, heading towards Amarone in a sharp northeastern turn. This has been speculated by many of the officials, yet it is still a mystery has to how one could miss such a massive* forestry.

As well, this seems to be the perfect location for beasts to ‘disappear’ to. Beasts such as Fireeyes Z. IcegripII have been reported as last seen in this dense forest. No one as yet knows the whereabouts of this missing polecat youth, but further investigations are taking place in order to find out.

Other beasts have been found dead in this Forbidden forest, as adventurers call it, swearing never to return to such a nasty place again.

At times, this forest is covered with a thick mist, giving it an even more haunting cover of mystery, and death.

* No one is exactly sure how large or small the actual forest is, but it assumed massive.

​

Life on The Mar'kan's Glory (As Witnessed By A One Luietenant)

By Seige T. Cielcosk

Well this is my first week aboard the Glory and things are being Fine. The Glory is a bit smaller than my old ship (the BlackShip) but I am slowly getting used to it as, I am sure you will too if you decide to join it (the Glory). But be carefull of the sails for they may make you dizzy for a few days.

Captain Teresa is A Real Fine captain. She is polite and Sinseer. First Mate Longbrush I have not had a chance to speak with just yet but, I have found that she dislikes Drinking On Duty so be carefull; she may know all the good hiding places also. I hope we are at least allowed water.

Second Mate Morovias is also A Fine One, but be sure to keep your distance. So far I've only seen one of his Turns, but I hear he is prone to many at a time. Mayhap his recent marriage to Surry K. Horne has toned him down a bit, for which I am gratefull.

Zigro Bladetail is the cook on the Glory, and is Quite Fine Also. He has thrown a party for the crew not long after I came Aboard. It is an interesting Occurance that I have found the time during the party to throw a fruit tart into his face but, I hope we shall become better friends soon enough for we are to share bunks for a time. The food on the Glory is good enough for several captains and officers. I am still in Fare Health.

But the Best thing about the Glory would have to be the aide-de-camp who, is lovely beyond all measure, and also More than Fine. I of course am talking about Miss Vulpera Errul who, is soon to also be my wife, for which is the reason I came to the Glory.

Though Marriage might not be your reason for joining us on this Fine Vessel of The Navy, I can safely assure you (it is Punishment to beat up an Officer) that you should enjoy your Time here, because if you don't then you must be on the BlackShip which I still remember Fondly.
​

Witless Robbery

By Staff

Yesterday evening, there was a robbery at a well-respected shop, “The Black Market.” Apparently, a weasel by the name of Terrance Phillipson held up the shopkeeper, who was just closing up. The shop was otherwise empty.

“He jus’ came up to me all regular like, an’ I told ‘im, ‘no weapons,’ an’ he just drew the cutlass an’ ‘eld it up to me throat. ‘Gimme all yer gilders,’ ‘e said. ‘E looked like a weasel, but ‘e had a big ole bag o’er his ‘ead.”

So the shopkeeper, one Bikken Margol, gave the robber a sack with all his gilders, but the sack had a hole in it. As the weasel fled the scene, he left a trail of gilders. The Imperium Guards followed the trail, and what did they find? Terrance Phillipson, knocked out cold in front of a wall. You see, not only did he leave a trail of gilders, he also forgot to cut eyeholes in his disguise. Now that’s what I call a witless weasel!​

 

[Jeshal the Ironclaw]

Dismembre 22, Yr. 1724


'Tis the Wrong Season

By T.S. Ripshank

The cataclysmic events of the past few days have shocked males across the Imperium. Homes were once places where a beast could, after a long week of pillaging and plundering, put his footpaws up on the table, digest untold amounts of grog, and say things like, "My breeches need cleaning," without fear of reprimand or the double-edged "You do it, they're your breeches," being shot back at them. Recent horrible events, however, have caused these once-respectable homes to become places where one cannot even enter a room without sneezing one's nose off as a result of off-season cleaning.

Whether it began with females who've had to pick up Mr. Itchy-Ears' cloak one too many times, or males simply fed up with kicking Old Phil out of their homes on account of his thinking it was a dump, I cannot say. But I can say that if it were to happen again, we'd all be better off hiding in each-other's closets, preferably under the box of embarrassing paintings. No one wants to look at those.

What was at first a simple quick sweep-out of dust and a few minor roof-repairs before the snow unfolded into dams bursting, captain's husbands being seen carrying dresses, and quite a lot of sneezing. While these may be perfectly ordinary occurrences, it must be made known that they were done without audible complaints. Is this what centuries of discontent, laziness, and fighting have come to? Grown beasts cleaning and repairing, without pay, without complaint, without orders?

And that's only half of it. When the events were over, there were huge mats of dust outside disgustingly fresh, lemon-scented dwellings, like snow. Some young beasts had made dust-bunnies, then gutted them with pointy sticks, no doubt stolen from under their parents' beds. Some lay in the thick blankets of light gray dirt and made odd prints. Some had even been seen shoveling it from the doorway. But at least these youngsters had the decency to grumble about it.

Then the winds came, and what happened? Why, the dust blew all the way into the sea, where it sits right now, only a few miles from the furthest docks, Dust Atoll. Efforts of colonization have thus far been futile, as it is only a few centimeters deep at its thickest point. We must mourn the lives of the brave explorers who drowned beneath it. Then we must go get a drink.
​

The Grande History of Our Imperium

By Daed Eye Truflight

To begin, I would like to take a brief paragraph to tell you that I will be doing a column every month for the Smelt. My column will be a History Column of the Vulpine Imperium. I aim to make our glorious history known to newcomers of the Imperium.

This month, I would like to take the time to write about not an event, but a person who no longer lives. I am most familiar with this topic, so I find it easiest to get out in the short time I have. This person is no other than one Ex-Captain Silver Tounge D. Blackmore.

Silver Tounge was an enormous lizard, probably one of the biggest the Imperium will ever see. Markings covered his face, all signs of the JuskaWong. He was always found with a giant yew bow, almost the size of a rat. He rarely wore a shirt or uniform, even following promotion to Captain. More often than not, he wore nothing on his upper body. Due to this, one could clearly take note of a long scar that ran from neck to tail-bone. When in battle, Silver Tongue often wore black armor, embroiled with the markings of the JuskaWong clan.

Silver Tounge came to the Imperium on Bugs 8, Yr. 1723. What we know before that is that he had been a fighter in the now nonexistent JuskaWong clan. The clan became weak, and he left to find his own way. He traveled to the Vulpine Imperium where he soon joined the Navy. He was a fighter, and did not have many friends. Admiral Eagle, who at the time was only a Captain, earned his great respect. Blyst T. Bladewake was another great friend of his. Silver Tounge was reported to have gotten into quite a few fights, and after talking with old Fogey members, we discovered that Silver Tounge had been arrested 13 times in his career at the Imperium.

Still he raised rank, and made his way up to rank Officer: Ensign. We learned that he bullied quite a few people around, and thus he was no favorite among officers in the Navy. Soon Minister Retto announced that three Captains were retiring, and that the Navy needed three able bodies to Captain the Golden Hide, the Skeered of Nothing, and Our Salvation. Silver Tounge threw in an application, and came out victorious. He was made Captain of Our Salvation on Thermidor 13, Yr. 1723. For some unknown reason, the crew loved him. One old crew member is even reported to have exclaimed, “Silver Tounge? Best Captain ever! I mean he was incredible. I wish I still served under him!”

It is amazing still that Silver Tounge gained friends, though he seemed to have some type of enmity with the other two new Captains, Kenshin and IronPaw, both Ministers now. Silver Tounge also had some unsavory friends. At one point, a large scandal occured in which more then 200 double shots came onto the Public Market for free. Silver Tounge was one of the first to be informed, and quickly he nabbed all 200 for free. From there he made the mistake of trying to sell them all, and was caught. The first ever Full Court was called, and he was put on private trial. We know not the details, but he came out with just a warning.

Unfortunately, Silver Tongue continued to go down the wrong path, soon disguising himself. He went to IronPaw and threatened the Captain, while impersonating Captain Kenshin. Reports from his “minions” state that he was trying to cause a feud between the other Captains, while he kept out of a battle of any sort. But once again he was discovered. This time he went to Court with both Kenshin and IronPaw present. He pleaded guilty, and was arrested. The rank of Captaincy was torn from him, along with any possessions he owned. He was thrown onto land, and ordered never again to join a crew. Blyst gained command of the Salvation, and Silver Tounge walked away.

He was made the laughing stock of the City; contests to make fun of him were held. He turned to drinking, and was often found in crummy parts of the Imperium. He was arrested twice more for fighting. He was always drunk. His brother, one Dragon Eyes Blackmore, was seen often pleading with him to stop. Alas, he did not.

Finally, he was found dead, or so we believe, on Humidor 29, Yr. 1723. His brother committed suicide soon after, and the Blackmore family was killed off. The place where he was buried is unknown to all. Only but ten creatures came to his wake; he was unloved by all.

Silver Tounge D. Blackmore is a black blot on the history of the Vulpine Imperium. It came to everyone’s attentions soon after that Imperium Captains were only rodents, and could go bad. They were not invincible. Fear resided in many hearts. Could not another Silver Tounge come along, someone who might use his rank for his own benefit? Silver Tounge almost caused a full-out war and feud between two Captains and their crews. He had spies on other ships. Many try to forget he ever existed. None of the Courts were ever made public; most information of what he had done was kept quiet. After his suicide, many were sorry. They had pushed him too far by embarrassing him. IronPaw, his long time enemy, even felt some remorse.

And so it is that Silver Tounge lays buried somewhere, a dark mark on the Imperium’s fine history. We know now that even Captains can turn sour. Hopefully, we can learn from our mistakes. Thus is the History of Captain Silver Tounge D. Blackmore.
​

Progreff in Ye Imperium

By [REDACTED]

Today was a grand day indeed. It seems that the Ministries of our fine Vulpine Imperium have joined together and gotten a move on. Ministers are now getting people to work for them, getting more Masters of Stories, Poems, Pictures, and Riddles. They have started to hire out military units. It seems that our great Imperium will be entering a new Golden Age!

It started around Dismembre the first. Minister Varen of the Ministry of Commerce had called on one Dead Eye Trueflight, and the next day Dead Eye came out as Captain of the Kreehold Mercenaries. For those who don’t know, the Kreehold are a mercenary squad that has been taking housing in the Imperium for some time. Minister Varen has often used them for minor jobs. A month or two ago, the Kreehold were almost wiped out, their Captain slain. No one has made any move to regroup them until now. Dead Eye and Varen combined have made progress with the Kreehold. They have put up a sort of tavern/barracks, and Varen has put one Kreehold on each ship to ensure the Captains are giving him and the Ministry the money that is due.

We have news that a little meeting went on on the Skeered between Captain Dead Eye, Minister Varen, Minister Kenshin, Minister IronPaw, and Captain Gotalmo on Dismembre 6th. No fighting took place, but the matter of the Ministry and such were discussed. Only a day after, creatures could find poster boards hanging all over [REDACTED] by Ministers Varen and IronPaw. Some asked for new creatures to join the Stoatorian Guard, a group that has been absent from all Vulpine affairs for quite some time. Some asked for creatures to help in grading submissions. Some asked for special jobs for the Minister IronPaw. A new Smelt editor was obviously put into position, one Silvix SkarBlade.

Beasts have been complaining for some time about the Ministry and its lack of development. An Imperium-wide petition was set up to choose a new Mayor and Minister of Niceties. We have been informed that though a new Minister will not be coming in the near future, a new Mayor is certain, as the old one has been dead for some time.

It seems that everyone in the Ministry is getting at last taking some initiative in the development stage. One might wonder if these new developments could lead to some sort of feud, since things like Kreehold inspectors correspond directly to the fact that are not paying as much as they should be. Hopefully no civil war will break out, but one must wonder. These positions are being fulfilled, and now truly the Ministries will begin working to their full effect. In many creatures' eyes, this is wonderful news.
​

Seeke Ye the Truthe

By [Anonamouse]

To the Brethren and Sistren of the Imperium:
I hath heard, in recent days, of many a beast consumed with greed, as well as the desire to possess riches at any cost. Be thou not deceived; they are fools beyond all measure. If thou dost value gilders and gold above thy friends, family, and especially the Truth, cursed shalt thou be beyond all curses.
But what, thou asketh, of the emperor? He dost have immense riches and power. Is he not happy? I tell thee verily, he is not. If he were happy, would he not freely distribute his gold to all his subjects in the sheer joy of it all? Yet he fails to do such, and thus it may be concluded that riches cannot possibly be the source of happiness. What then is this mysterious source for which so many tirelessly quest?

I tell thee again, it is the Truth. Yea, there exists no greater source of understanding and knowledge but the Truth, and what other pursuit could ever truly bring happiness? Turn away from your riches and embrace the Truth.

Anonamouse​

[Jeshal's note: Unknown why some beasts' names be smudged out on these old editions, excepting Anonamouse, which is self-explanatory]

 

[Jeshal the Ironclaw]

Frimary 14, Yr. 1725

Rash of Furniture Making Baffles Guard

By S.T. Vibriskie, Unlucky Spectator

As if the rioting in the Marketplace caused by the Mayoral Campaigns weren't enough, several new fights have broken out in past days following the MinoInn's new law, stating that furniture made by Imperial citizens is now allowed to be sold in bulk.

Being a witness to these events, I can safely say the following from the bottom of my shell-shocked heart: Hammers, though mainly used for nails and the occasional excuse for swearing, can hurt. And don't get me started on the many uses of the common woodworking plane.

On the one side of the street, we had the Gothics, who knew the pointy spirals on their furniture like the backs of their own paws. Of course, this was before the Quibbenesque woodworkers got at the Gothic's paws with the ducks adorning their furniture. As the two factions battled it out, houseowners applauded each well-conceived attack. Following a Gothic biting the hat off' one of the Quibbenesque's ducks, a whole new riot began. Cries of "It's 50/50, honest!" and "I'll show you bent table legs!" could be deciphered amidst the flurry of fur and what seemed to be a few Missertross birds.

On the other side of the street, a whole 'nother war was occuring, while a peace treaty was being eaten by a Baroque woodworker. This inspired the Contemporaries to no end, and I've no doubt there's going to be a few unlucky beasts who'll never look at a couch the same way again. A few worried creatures clutching books and bottled boats and those nifty fruit carvings scuttled away before too much blood was shed.

It was the Rustics that had it the worst, being attacked from all sides for their simple, nostalgic designs. Old Phil the Hobo, having acquired a stool of his very own, led them through the tribulation to the end of the street, where they met with the Stoatorian Guard, who promptly arrested each of them. Phil was led away back to his box in the alley by the Bilge in the Bucket with a nicely-worded yet stern warning.

The chaos ended at roughly midnight, when the remaining beds were dubbed "comfortable, even if it's Baroque" by many a tired carpenter.

​

Current Events on the Mar'kanf' Glory

By Ternep, Glory Crewbeast

*Opinions expressed in the article belowe do not neccessarily represente those of the Smelt Staffe. Then again, perhaps they do, but it is not advisable to question such things. Unless, of course, you enjoy poison.*

It has been an interesting time aboard the Imperium's flagship, the Mar'kan's Glory, as of late. Following the recent disappearance of its long-time captain, Teresa Doxtrod, a swarm of newly appointed officers and Assorted Others has nearly caused the ship to tip into the sea, although not quite literally.

One of the main changes has been in the food. It is debatable whether this is for better or worse: the cook has been promoted to the position of Bosun, leaving a myriad of eager young gourmands to fill the position as needed. Over the past few days we've had tucker ranging from Burnt Fish Shards to Gooey Substance Dipped In Syrup, as well as one case involving a baby and a pie crust, which I must admit was my favourite dish: Spender a la Ferret. The crew is at least thankful that not everything tastes like mint, or, for that matter, elderberries. The smell is quite enough.

Which brings us to the matter of the First and Second Mate, IceRain A. Sleet, also Captain of the Stoatorian Guard, and Vulpera C. E. Cielciosk, mother of the aforementioned pie filler, respectively. IceRain's tyranny, while sufferable when she was Second Mate, is now to the point of Unbearable, especially for those who are not impervious to flame. Vulpera, however, is a nice break from the usual. She doesn't seem to have her husband's flair for shouting or being Randomly Incompetant, and the word "please" is heard at least once a day.

If that's not enough of a change, something seems to have prompted the new captain to appoint Keinruf Wright, a new beast in our fair Imperium, to the job of Aide-de-Camp. Wright is a decent fellow if you use large words, but fairly equals the First Mate when it comes to cruelty; it's no wonder the Kreehold also made him their Master of Torture! His newest scheme in tormenting the crew has been to purchase what he calls a "harp-cord,” a large box that makes more noise than should be possible. Although Wright and Miss Sleet are, in the bluntest terms, enemies, they have paired up with a few other crewbeasts in making what they call a "band." Apparently, the purpose of a "band" is to have late-night practice sessions in the Mess. Not that the beasts on Late Night Watch Duty are complaining. Along with being kept awake, the sound seems to have an effect on all enemy vessels encountered on the open sea, seeing as we haven't been attacked since the "band" formed. They are still arguing about the name.

Not a lot can be said about the new Captain, Longbrush Dirgesong, apart from her acquisition of the crab "Hubert" who is currently suffering a lack of Stoat and letting the world know in the clearest ways. Miss Dirgesong, before becoming captain, has held just about every other position on the ship, including cook. I hear she makes a wicked stew, but I shall say nothing more because I fear the ingredients may include a bit of weasel...​

A History of the Ministry of Commerce

By Dead Eye Trueflight

The Ministry of Commerce, Finance, Trade, and Business is located in the Hrumvet Hooper Building, a large and beautiful edifice that's 10% offices, 30% presses, and 70% vaults. That is all the news one may receive off hand of this part of our Ministry, but there is obviously more, I assure you.

When the Imperium was first settled, all sorts crowded the streets. Merchants, thieves, gamblers, and all manner of beasts. The Emperor set it upon one of his fine beasts (name cannot be found) to settle these matters. The first Minister of Commerce was a brawny creature, and quite the businessbeast. His first action was to set up two parts of the Imperium, the Public Market and the Auction Block. Here, he told the citizens, one could sell items, either by open market or by auctioning it off.

From there, the Ministers of Commerce took care of quite a few details. The second Minister was the first to set up our tax system. Afterwards came a number of decrees, some smart, some outrageous. One Minister of Commerce set the tax rate up to 50%, an action that angered our citizens. They stormed the Hooper Building and beheaded that particular Minister. Our seventh Minister helped establish the Merchant Core and Navy, which is known throughout the lands. One Ragel R. Gilderoy was the renowned beast who set up Ye Olde Epicurean Banke. He was rather pleased with the results. Unfortunately, he was dragged by the keel of one of our fine ships for trying to steal from said bank, may he rest in peace.

Throughout the years, Ministers of Commerce have done this or that. Our Minister now, one Lord Varen S. Vanderloth, is a gambler. Lord Varen has done great things here. He is cruel, but has raised the gilders coming into the Imperium. Verdeloth is also known for hiring the Kreehold Mercenaries for many causes, and is very tight and strict; many a beast has been slain by his orders. Of course, if you give him a cookie, he gives ye a gilder.​

Embarrassing Mistakes

By In-Deep Rat

On Dismembre 24th, one Minister Kenshin R. Bladedart recruited Harisar Vernum to become the Last Quartermaster of the Stoatorian Guard. Many beasts shot doubtful looks at the Minister, seeing as Vernum has a reputation of being somewhat of a sneak. These suspicions should have been announced in public, because they were soon confirmed. On Primary the 5th, Vernum was removed of his position. This reporter has the exclusive story behind the reason.

It seems that Harisar had been planning a hostile disposal of Dalliance Edwards, the Imperium's esteemed new mayor. Unfortunately for Vernum, his allies were not really such; as soon as the plot was discovered, they quickly passed the news on to the Captain of the Guard, IceRain Sleet. Sleet than reported it to Minister Bladedart, who ordered Vernum to make no moves against the Mayor. Vernum disobeyed, of course, and plotted still. Bladedart discovered the rebellion, and was swift to relieve Vernum of his position. When he tried to go back and pass the blame onto other beasts, Edwards found out, and the planned assassination was over.
Unfortunately, there are no laws against Murder of the Mayor; one must wonder if this is wise. One must also wonder if the Minister was in his right mind when recruiting such beasts into positions of power. If this is how one Lieutenant of the Guard turned out, what can the Imperium expect from the rest? Can we feel protected at night, knowing this is the sort of creature the Guard pulls out? Do we really want someone like Minister Bladedart as our Minister of War, with his recklessness?

The worst part is, Bladedart's audacity doesn't end there. He comments, “I am thinking of giving him a new, freelance job.” When propositioned, Vernum agreed to the job; after all, it's better than Last Quartermaster!
For some strange reason, despite disobeying orders, Vernum is receieving a better job from the Minister of War. This is an outrage, and one must truly wonder what is going on. Harisar Vernum is an embarrassment to the Ministry of War and Peace, and to the Stoatorian Guard as well. Why would Minister Bladedart hire him once again? One must wonder if Bladedart needs a physiologist, and if Vernum belongs in jail.
​

Tobacco Scandal Ties with Grog Famine, and…the MinoComm?

By D. Leffer

This last week was a rather embarrassing one for our esteemed Minister of Commerce, Varen S. Verdeloth. For some unknown reason (sources point toward Minister SkarBlade), a large group of Guard and Fogey beasts showed up at the Minister’s giant Baroque Architectural Masterpiece in the Insanely Rich Area. They raided the building and found not only papers, gold, and innumerable items of value, but... tobacco!

As we all know, tobacco imports were banned in response to a public movement for a healthier lifestyle. Of course, many beasts were outraged. This prohibition soon resulted in underground mafia tobacco rings. Tobacco came in from all over: islands, inland Mossflower,everywhere! That is right when the Minister came into the business; Varen was quick to buy up all products coming into the Imperium.

Soon, when the dreaded Grog Famine came, sailors found the bootleg tobacco as an excellent substitute mind-altering drug. This boosted the illegal tobacco trade, which the Minister was pumping into foreign grog markets. With more money allocated for grog production, those particular excise taxes were dropped so more alcohol could be made available. The Minister had a nice little ring now, and was gaining large amounts of money, not all of which went into the Ministry. It was around this time that his four buildings in the Insanely Rich Area were purchased, along with his house in Zann’s Backyard. The Minister got the credit for the end of the Grog Famine and had the bootleg tobacco profits to boot.

Unfortunately for him, there was a leak somewhere; somehow word got around, and the Guard and Fogeys were sent in. The Minister is under investigation, though for some odd reason the key detectives have all mysteriously disappeared…​

 

[Jeshal the Ironclaw]

Merry 28, Yr. 1725



A Reasonable Outlook

By Another Imperium Citizen

Sure, he is a power hungry fox who will eventually take over all of the Ministries, but that isn’t a problem. At least we will always know who we are talking about when we say 'The Minister.' Also, it has its perks: who wouldn’t want to have angry mobs to fight off every time you go out? It would keep you fit, unless you have the underbeasts do the fighting for you. Then, I suppose, you would just become another fat old geezer. (No offence, of course.)

Back to the real [REDACTED], I think he’ll make a good MinoWar because of all sorts of new programs that will be good fun. Until they become tired of him; then a rebellion will come about, but who doesn’t love a good rebellion? Assassinating and plotting is what everybeast needs once in awhile. Take for instance, Ye Committee of Publyc Safetee; after awhile, it will serve more than it’s original purpose. Of course, that is how many organizations end up after a few insane leaders. Hopefully, under IronPaw’s rule the Imperium shall prosper as we did under Kenshin’s rule. Mulling along as simple seabeasts who do what they are told unless said beast has an Education. As we all know that IronPaw has had. Do you really expect a stupid beast to become MinoWar? Maybe insane, but never stupid, unless said beast is Lucky. Lucky beasts tend to have more bad luck than good, but that isn’t the point. Getting back to my article, in my opinion it is because he is a smart beast who figured out how to get what he wanted; power, a very simple thing, but most times hard to get.
​

TinClaw Scabknife: A Profyle

By A Reporter

Mynyster TinClaw Scabknife is a Joke! Hys recent attempt at Mutiny Against our Moste Beloved Mynyster Bladedart is a ridiculous attempt at Pouring hymself another Cup of Power. Someone put some poyson in it!

We, the authors of thys artycle, have it on Goode Authority that Mynyster Scabknife plans to Selle Off all the Goode Cytizens of the Imperium who rebel against his Rule as Slaves to a certain Vilu Daskar. Once TinClaw has all Cytzens as slaves, he plans to Rule the Imperium with hys Cronies as a new Gabool the Wyld, most feared and moste crazy of Vermin.

Deluded and half-mad, TinClaw will stop at nothing to Get his Claws on the power of the Imperium. Already we see he has attempted to overthrow Lord Bladedart, a Moste True Mynyster and Loyal to the Imperium.

Captain IceRayn Sleyte of the Stoatorian Guard has been asked to comment on this moste Devilish happening. Her comments were, “I’ll rip him open with my bare paws, stuff him with garlic, and roast him over a slow spit, then feed him to the Crabs!” She then ran off after a Black Foxe, whom we believe to be Dead Eye Trueflight of the Kreehold. We are uncertain if Captain Sleyte’s comments are Relating to Mynyster TinClaws or Trueflight.

Mynyster TinClaw also has in his possession Five Thousand Bottles of Odde Tinge*, which he plans to Mix with our Moste Precious of Artifacts, Ye Bottle. He then Plans to Cast the Ensuing Mixture over the Entyre Imperium, dropped by Specially trained Seagullys. What Chaos this may cause, We Do Not Know.

All We can saye is, be loyal to Bladedart, do not allow the Evil of TinClaw to pervade Our Lives! And May you Never Run out of Odde Tinge!

* Editor’s Note: He didn’t pay, either.
​

#####!

By #### ###

On Merry ##, 17##, #### IronPaw R. SkarBlade installed himself in the position of ####. The former ####, by the name of ####, was removed for ####. The residents of #### gathered in #### in order to welcome the new ####. Shortly afterward, #### SkarBlade created an #### known as the #### of Public ####, led by Captain ####. The #### is currently open to all who wish to enlist.

Reactions to the #### are mixed. "I'm personally all for it," said ####, a member of the #### mercenary group. "It's about time someone took over. The old ####, ####, couldn't do anything right. Under IronPaw, #### will be a lot better. Not to mention the #### will have a good deal more power." In fact, most of the #### mercenaries are enthusiastic about the #### for various reasons, and they claim that #### SkarBlade will make #### a better place to live in.

Not so, says ####, who identifies himself as 'a supporter of ####, the true ####.' "Are you kidding me? It's obvious that SkarBlade took over the #### by #### methods. Follow ####, and don't be deceived by all this #### he’s feeding us!" Unfortunately, further attempts to interview #### were in vain, as he vanished mysteriously in the middle of the ####.

We hope this #### was informative and we thank you for ####.

[Jeshal's note: It was like this when I got here]
​

A Doctyr’s Opinyon offe Mynister SkarBlade’s Menteel Healthe

By A Concerned Doctor of the Imperium


As a long time resident of Bully Harbor I must say that the current events are quite disturbing. Only once have I seen such ludicrous plots underway and that was when Old Murphy attempted to raise the bandits of the city in an effort to over throw the Minister of Commerce. Such a plan did not work however and it should be noted that Old Murphy was renown as a complete lunatic, (most likely what history will remember Minister SkarBlade as if I know my historians of the Imperium well.)

I have put together a psychological profile of the Minister to point out several key points that may prove that the newly decreed MinoWar is quite out of his mind:

1. The Minister is egotistical enough to appoint himself without the Emperor’s approval – The last time a creature tried this under the 13th Emperor he was found several years later in a tavern, in pieces, in a box, under several layers of dust, in the wine cellar.
2. The Minister hath decreed himself to be in charge of both Misanthropy and War – This is an unprecedented move which entails a beast who hates everyone to be in charge of peace, law and order in the Imperium
3. The Minister has denounced three of the Imperium’s most influential beasts, all of them vulpines of Vulpine Imperium as himself – This move is truly mad as the Minister seems to be underestimating the combined strength of such beasts when they all band together with their own powerful allies

It is most truly unfortunate to see that one of the Imperium’s Ministers is out of head, but perhaps somebeast will do him the favor of knocking it off through all of this wretched business.​

To The Editor of The Smelt

By An Imperium Citizen

In the past few days we have seen chaos in Bully Harbor, chaos that will affect the entire Imperium. Our entire way of life has been thrown into this bedlam by the sly and treacherous activities of the Minister of Misanthropy, IronPaw R. Skarblade. This fox has gone behind the back of all his fellow Ministers, the peaceful beasts of the Imperium and all who live in Bully Harbor in his dastardly attempt to overthrow the true MinoWar, Lord Kenshin Bladedart. He has kidnapped innocent children, blackmailed high-standing citizens, and forced many to join his side. There is no end to his guile.

I strongly urge all creatures who make the Imperium their home to stay with Lord Bladedart, and fight against the evil of Skarblade! An Imperium with Skarblade as MinoWar does not bear thinking about. He will cause the fall of the Imperium from it’s glorious heights. Do not surrender our lives to his dominion! Rally to Lord Bladedart, and you will be well rewarded.​

 

[Jeshal the Ironclaw]

Bugs 11, Yr. 1725


Announcymente From Ye Smelt Staffe

By Seige Cielciosk

With the recent and, also very urgent, political happenings within the Imperium, we have not yet been able to properly introduce ourselves. As you have seen since, you are reading this, the Smelt has once again acquired a new Editor. In our case, two new Editors. M. ferret Seige Cielciosk once, a Lieutenant of the Navy and the BlackShip's cook for some time is, in charge of the Smelt's finances and other such things. M. weasel Montblanc Waters, who until recently has, not been well known in the Imperium is, the one in charge of the actual editing. You may remember M. Waters from our book Vershiedene Zielsetzungen; M. Waters, along with M. Kingussie had, been the ones to fix up the odd spelling and grammatical error.

M. Cielciosk has kindly requested that I stay away from his commas. I said to him: Fine, I wouldn't go near your commas with a halberd the length of Lord Kenshin's stories, nor would I want to. Whereupon M. Cielciosk scratched his ear, for he has fleas, and made a pot of coffee, which tasted of, of all things, mint.

In our last [REDACTED] one of the articles was accidentally titled "####!" It seems that the Missertross bird with which we had sent the finished Smelt to the printers had been intercepted. Thankfully the interloper only had time to censor that one article before being apprehended by a well-doer who, then completed the delivery. We hope to dispel any further incidents like this from occurring.

It is also of our concern that you please stay away from the construction zone between 7th Rising Duck and Turmoil Street with any inflammable products as, construction would all ready be complete if not for the various fires that have occurred. Several lives have all ready been forfeit to this area and, we have the public’s best interests at heart when we tell you this (unless, of course the public’s interest is, to be slain by construction accidents.)

[Jeshal's note: Presuming word 'edition' caused some upset in the old presses?]
​

Grande History of Ye Imperium- Death of Ye Admiral and His History

By Dead Eye D. Trueflight

Admiral Agle P. Eagle was found poisoned to death on Smarch 25, Yr. 1725, a sad day here in the Imperium. The Admiral, recently divorced to Captain Calria Eagle and father to Emily Eagle and Richard Eagle, had become quite detached from everything after living a respectable and grand life here.

Agle came to the Imperium on Bugs 1, 1723, or at least came into the news. It seems that Agle was an… acquaintance to at-the-time Minister of War, Pylaris Maximus Cotsifas. Agle agreed to a duel with Cotsifas, believing himself a grand duelist. The fox used a bow on that day, and he knew if he lost he could not pay the bet. But he let his arrow loose, and it hit its target. Or rather, the wall. But luck was with the respectable Agle that day, for the arrow bounced back and hit Pylaris in the rear, and Agle won the duel.

Agle grinned with pleasure as Pylaris granted him his prize, 2,000 gilders and the rank of Captain. Agle went straight into the construction of his ship, the BlackShip. Because of lack of wood, Agle was forced to use black barked wood, but it was strong. His ship became as grand as the other ships under the Imperium flag. And he became the first Non-Minister Captain.

Agle soon became renounced for his work in the Navy. The love of his life, Calria E. Eagle, soon joined his vessel. They married and grew merry. Agle soon was dubbed the first Admiral in the Navy since Minister Retto. Life was good for Agle. On Soggus 5, Yr. 1724, Calria gave birth to hers and Agle's first child, a daughter named Emily Elspet Eagle. Agle stayed aboard the BlackShip with his wife and child.

The Admiral had a number of victories in and outside the Imperium. He won in many arguments in official matters, and pretty much kept the Navy going straight and fine. And his battles that he fought in were… are considered some of the greatest battles in Imperium history. He did a many fine deeds, and all loved him as Captain and Admiral.

Disaster struck, though. Soon after Calria’s promotion to Captain of her husband’s vessel in Milarkus, 1724, the couple started arguing, and divorce stuck. Agle was thrown into turmoil, never truly recovering. He became less active in affairs dealing with both the BlackShip and the Navy. He was often found in his study or cabin by himself. He barely acknowledged his newly born son, Richard, who was born late in 1724.

So he was discovered on Smarch 25, Yr. 1725, poisoned to death and on the ground. He left no note of reason. The Admiral was the pride of the Imperium, and he shall be dearly missed, not only by his crew. Everyone loved him, and the Navy is left in sorrow for his death. But hopefully, some of his legacy shall live on. Yes, between his wife and two children, hopefully one may still see a glimpse of one of the greatest Captain and Admirals the Imperium has ever known. Rest in Peace Admiral Agle P. Eagle.
​

Too Much Rebellion For Your Grog?

By Silver

Here it was told that a male ferret, upon waking up to his burning house during the overthrow of the MinoWar by the MinoMis did not in fact get out of his house. Instead, he made himself breakfast, cooked some salmon, despite the smoke that emitted from the ceiling, and had a thing of grog while he ate. The fires consumed him in the afternoon of the next day, when little was left of his house or of his property. It was assumed that this beast was so intoxicated that the smoke had appeared to aid him in his state than to induce pain to his body, such as eye or mouth problems. It was later found that this beast was an avid smoker with a record of buying pipes from overseas and anywhere he could find them in the Imperium. His pipes, located outside on his patio with his chair that he so often smoked at, were completely unharmed.

The other residents of the area said that they were not home to witness the fool die in his burning house because they were out in the square enjoying the developing scene. He did not have any children, nor had he ever married (which actually makes us breath easier.) We suggest that next time your house or someone else’s is on fire, stop drinking grog and be out before you too are a victim of mass fire. The culprit who started the fire on the house was never found, due to the fact that many beasts were doing the same thing, in lighting houses afire and fighting each other for a sip of free grog (which was stolen.)

No one yet knows why he did not realize his house was burning down, or why he didn't stop eating his food even when his body had caught ablaze, but the future now knows that that ferret will never again pick up another grog or another pipe to smoke.
​

How the Blaggard Took Me Nose

By Q. Yun

(The following is an interview with Midget Floppyear, one of the guards who was most viciously attacked by the ex-MinoWar)

Quest Yun (Interviewer) – “Now, Mr. Floppyear, would you care to tell us precisely what happened?”

Midget Floppyear (Interviewee) - “Oi was only doin’ me civic duty, watchin’ fer that traitor, Bladedart, at ‘is ‘ouse when two beggars show up. Takin’ pity on ‘em I walked out t’ th’ gate where they was waitin’ an’ then Oi saw th’ ol’ fox beggar fiddlin’ wit’ th’ lock an’ tryin’ t’ open it. ‘E does an’ Oi git right in there path t’ stop ‘em from tryin’ t’ rob th’ ex-Minnyster’ ‘ouse while ‘e was away an’ then th’ stoaty beggar pulls ‘er blade on me!”

Q. Yun - “Please do go on. What happened next?”

M. Floppyear - “Well, youse c’n guess that Oi was worried boi then. So’s Oi take me cutlass an’ head fer me mates, yellin’ ‘bout crazy beggars come t’ rob us. We try t’ head inside t’ keep ‘em locked out but th’ ol’ foxer seems t’have a skelly-ton key wot does th’ job o’ gittin’ ‘em in! They fight us back int’ th’ libr’ry an’ th’ fox gits all uppity an’ goes an’ starts readin’ while the stoat tries t’ fight off me three mates an’ Oi.”

Q. Yun - “The nerve!”

M. Floppyear - “Aye! So’s Oi tells me mates, Oi tells ‘em: ‘Keep that stoater occ-u-pied while I git th’ fox!’”

Q. Yun - “Good for you! What did the terrible todd do next?”

M. Floppyear - “Well, Oi made it past th’ stoat an’ that’s when they starts talking t’ each odder callin’ each odder Rain an’ Kenshin. So’s Oi knew then that they was th’ ex-Minnyster an’ th’ Guard Cap’n ‘o was defectin’! Oi knew Oi ‘ad t’ stop ‘em so’s Oi was jist about t’ cut ‘is ‘ead off when th’ blaggard o’ a ex-Minnyster tossed ‘is book at me an’ ‘it me in th’ nose. Oi’ll never be th’ same now that Oi gotsa have ree-con-sruct-if sur-jury.”

Q. Yun - “Well there you have it, beasts of the Imperium! Straight from an unfortunate creature who encountered the devilish Kenshin R. Bladedart, ex-MinoWar. Be wary or you, your brother or child just might loose your nose too!”

[Jeshal's note: Regret the unfortunate and poor taste forename of interviewee in this old edition but kept in for historical accuracy]​

 

[Jeshal the Ironclaw]

Thermidor 2, Yr. 1725

Ye History of the Guard

By Dead Eye D. Trueflight

The Stoatorian Guard. Known and feared throughout the land. But has anyone ever stopped and think, where the bloody hades did the Guard come from? What is the Guard? Well, as Chief Historian for the Grande, the great, the incredible Smelt, I have the answers.

To trace the History of the Guard, one must go back to the founding of the Imperium Monarchy and Ministry. As soon as Democracy died, the Guard began. It seems (Though one could possibly die trying to find this information) that the first Emperor created the Guard to protect himself and grip his fist and power upon his Empire. From there, the Guard became the ultimate policing force of the Imperium.

The Emperor gave the charge of the Guard to five members, The Black Five. The leader of this glorious group was none other than his Minister of War. There was also the Captain of the Guard, Last Quartermaster, Master of Keys, and the Smith. One can merely go to the Public Library to learn of each of these jobs.

The Captain of the Guard has ultimate power in the Guard, 2nd only to the Minister. Famous Captains include Captain FireMane. He was a fox, born and bred in the Imperium. Legend goes (that is if one believes the Guard’s own historian) that the Ministry was angry at the decrease of arrested beasts. So for some reason, only after a year in office, the Captain had arrested a whole gang (of fifty-three members) of criminals. They seemed to be under disguise of Imperium Tax Collectors…

The Guard has on record put down thirty three revolts, stopped one hundred and three riots, arrested five thousand two hundred and fifty three beasts, and killed ten thousand nine hundred and thirty three beasts. Of course, it was all in the line of duty.

In the past 2 years the Imperium has had two Captains, but for a period of one and a half year had no one holding position of Last Quartermaster, Smith, or Master of Keys. This all, fortunately changed. First Captain Leofwine W. von Scipu came into office. He was unusually peaceful for a beast in his position. He vanished some time ago, and the Guard was left crippled.

But this all changed on Notempre 30, Yr. 1724. Ye Minister of War and Peace put up signs, looking for beasties to join the Guard. And he got those. On Dismembre 20, Yr. 1724 Harisar E. Vernum was given a job as Last Quartermaster (see Frimary edition of Smelt) From there Minister Kenshin gave jobs to a few on the 23 of Dismembre. IceRain Sleet became Captain of the Guard.

So far the Guard has been relatively quiet, though there have been two mobs put down and two fights with Kreehold. Arrests have risen since IceRain became Captain to an all time high. There have also been reports of abuse of power, though these are not confirmed and it is a common trend in the Guard. IceRain is known to hold grudges and those who she holds grudges against have even blown up into flames or been arrested…

Comments from the good Captain could not be held, seeing as when we sent reporters there, they were also arrested…
​

Ship Lost At Sea; MinoInn Suspect

By R. Lusitsa

It is this reporter's sad duty to inform the populace of the Imperium that a ship has been lost at sea. The White Sea, a merchant vessel, was on a standard mission of trade when they decided to undertake an expedition around the island of Magh. The island of Magh itself is the subject of many tales, most believed to be mere fantasy. Stories about tunnels that had been carved into the cliff-side of the island by a certain Ministry. These tales are, of course, not usually considered fact, and are mere stories told to entertain young ones by the fireside. Or so many believe.

In their last received Missertross Poste (as sent by carrier gull), the White Sea mentioned that they were attempting to find the entrance to a long-lost tunnel as made by the Ministry of Innovation in previous years. This reporter managed to retrieve said Poste, and will now recite some of said message to the public.

Bugs 15, 1725
4:52 AM

We have circled the Southern coast for a good number of hours, but to no avail. There appears to be no opening in the rock face of the island that could be conceived as a tunnel. Nay, there seems to be nothing but sheer rock up to the cliff-top, which appears to be three times the height of our small merchant ship. Only the Western shore seems to be accessible from the sea, as it is the only coast that has a beach low enough to step onto.

We have sailed round the island to the Northern tip, where we have indeed found the legendary tunnels that have been mentioned so many times before. It seems that the tales of the MinoInn's forays into the seas were not so much tales of fantasy after all. The tunnel appears big enough for us to enter, so we are going to sail into it in an attempt to search further. We will send word after we exit the tunnels, giving notice of our findings. Expect to hear from us no later than a week into the future.

That was the last Poste ever received from any member of the White Sea. Needless to say, they have been assumed lost at sea, and we are not expecting to see any merchants from that ship again. This reporter offers his condolences to the families of those aboard the White Sea; may your loved ones memories live on forever.

This is not the first time a ship has gone missing around the island of Magh; nigh on a year ago, almost to the date, an exploration vessel, the Farcoast, disappeared off the coast of Magh as they too were searching for the same tunnels as created by the MinoInn.

It is this reporter's opinion that these fairy tales of tunnels in the island of Magh's cliff-face are no longer fairy tales, but, in actuality, real tunnels that have been created. Whether by a beast's paw, or by Mother Nature's, no one can tell for sure. But, given all the evidence, they are real, and obviously are things that are not to be trifled with.

At time of publication, the MinoInn was declined to comment, which, in and of itself is a bit odd behavior for said Ministry; usually at least the bare minimum of comments are made, following along the lines of pity to the lost crew. Instead the Ministry of Innovation's representatives were declined to comment on this situation, which merely stimulates the mind as to what reasoning they'd have behind staying silent. Perhaps guilt is their motivation, or merely disinterest. This reporter will make no judgements beyond to say that it is quite odd behavior to such a "cheeky" ministry.

In closing, this reporter leaves the Imperium's populace with a warning; if you are sailing near the island of Magh, neither sail into the tunnels on the North cliff-face, nor even sail around the North tip of the island. There have been unexplainable happenings around that area, and this reporter wishes to see no more vessels be lost.

​

Ye Olde Imperium Gossipe

By I. Nose

Well, it seems Cupid, (that delightful and finicky little cherub,) has once more decided to take a vacation to our Imperium. One would think that spring would be the season for romance, but it seems the cheery blossom of love is blooming late this year.

Now you didn’t hear it from me, but it seems more than one minister has been stuck as of late by an arrow of romance. The young, pretty vixen, referred to here-in as Scottish Firefly to protect her identity, has taken the hearts of both, (also referred to by carefully designated names to keep secrecy,) Ministers Codfish and Slippery Deck. But poor girl, these aren’t the only suitors Scottish Firefly is dealing with! No! There’s another fellow, (known in this article, once more for privacy as,) Burd after her as well. My my, but it seems dear Scottish Firefly has quite a wide variety to choose from. Does she take the fallen-heart Codfish that she might redeem him to righteousness once more? Or perhaps the mysterious Burd with whom she’s had one of the longest connections? And there’s always the perfect love of Slippery Deck with his romantic and scholarly air to take. What will Scottish Firefly do? Perhaps we’ll find out next [REDACTED].

Romance isn’t only present among the ministers though, for it would seem a few naval captains have been taken by love’s embrace, (some willingly and others not.) It would seem, (as known in this article,) captains Kit-Kat, 9 Iron, and Elderberry Wine are all deeply engrossed in romances of their own with, (referred to by alternate names for confidentiality,) Body Guard, Punching Bag, and Cap’n Merc respectively. However, while Kit-Kat and Body Guard’s foray beyond friendship seems likely to culminate in the Big Question soon, 9 Iron and Punching Bag’s love, like Elderberry Wine and Cap’n Merc’s, has gotten off to a shaky start. What ever the outcomes of the relationships though, I’m sure we’ll all have fun watching them soar into realms beyond our comprehension as love so often wings us to dimensions unknown.

Finally, it would appear that it’s not just the high-ups in the Imperium’s rank and file that have found true love. Though I understand that they’re attempting to keep it covert, a beautiful young couple known as, (in these pages at least,) Pyro and Peace Maker have appeared and I feel it my duty to let the rest of the Imperium know about it. This romance as well seems likely to hear the wedding bell’s toll quite soon if I’m not mistaken.

So that’s what we know so far about Cupid’s doings in our dearest Imperium. Tune in soon and perhaps we’ll even have the latest developments on these matches made by the stars!

​

New Instrument Developed, Lower Tone Given

By Vespero DeVispilio

(Editors Note: Due to a certain misfortune at the printers, this article was left out of the last edition.)

The Imperium has often been blessed with marvelous sounds, some emanating from the singing voice of a particular beast (preferably female to the majority of the population), or perhaps instead from their skill with an instrument. Be it the flute, lute, or even the harp, there is usually some quality of sound that we all can find pleasing to the ear. It is through this thought that we can appreciate music and it’s simultaneous complexity and simplicity in its entirety.

It is also through this that we have a new innovation in the field of musicology. A brand-new instrument has been created, giving a completely new outlook on what a band should sound like, or even how to play instruments by itself. While this new discovery is not anything overwhelming, it is still quite amazing, in this reporter’s opinion, when looking at how it differs from the “conventional” instruments we have now.

Having simply enlarged the body of a standard lute, it has been discovered that you can produce a much deeper sound than a regular-sized specimen. In conjunction with this enlargement, the standard set of six strings has been replaced with four, slightly larger, strings. Beyond that, the neck of the instrument has been narrowed to accommodate the lesser number of strings, as well as elongated, giving a further range of notes. All of these factors combine into creating a completely original sound, which is quite a deal deeper than a regular lute (for those with musical knowledge, it is an entire “octave” lower than a standard lute).

While this innovation has not been documented in the past, seeing as how it has only now been created, it is in this reporter’s opinion that such a device will undoubtedly change the music industry in the months and years to come. Upon interview, the designer has commented on the given name of the instrument, entitling it a “bass-lute”. It has yet to be openly marketed, and will not be open to the public market; instead, the creator has decided to create only a handful of these specimens and deliver them to undisclosed citizens around the Imperium. News updates on production may come in later editions.

In a related story, one Vespero DeVispilio is searching for fellow musicians to accompany him in his attempt to orchestrate the formation of a band. Having recently acquired a bass-lute himself, Mr. DeVispilio has trained himself to an unprecedented standard on his instrument (unprecedented only because no one has played this instrument before). He is in search of other musicians to accompany him in his endeavours; preferably being able to play the lute, though training with any instrument will be considered. Please direct all inquiries to either Mr. DeVispilio himself, or through the Smelt in reply to this ad. Mr. DeVispilio would like to thank all considerations of his request, and hopes to form a band in the near future.
​

New Mayor Returns

By Harvey Kinnon

The wild exit of the previous Mayor, Admonis G. Belsemenar, was the culmination of a long backslide in community disinterest from the Mayoral office in Bully Harbour. The Bully Harbour Police, AKA "the Fogeys", appeared to have disbanded after the event, with only a dwindling remnant to be seen walking the streets, if any. This forced several governmental factions, namely the Stoatorian Guard, to extend their jurisdiction in an effort to maintain some semblance of Law and Order in the town, while elections were held to fill the Mayoral office.

The induction of Dalliance Edwards, former Smelt Editor, brought a breath of hope and promise to the general populace. Finally there would be someone to combat the influx of tax-evading tourists and sneezers. Finally the profit-sapping evils that are fire hydrants would be restored to their rightful places on the scrap heap. There was a bright new dawn ahead.

But days past and the Mayoral residence stood empty. There was no sign of the new Mayor. Rumours began to spread. Had the Mayor been removed from power already? Had he perhaps departed in the same fashion as the previous Mayor?

"He's gone. I bet one of them Ministers did it," said Local Publican, James Bartlett, "Power, that's all they want. They couldn't have someone like the Mayor using up their leg room."

Indeed, many groups would have had something to lose by the presence of a new mayor. A revival of the Police Force would prove detrimental to the numerous underworld organisations which have sprung up in recent times, as well as impinge on the duty and powers of the forces under Ministry employ.

Alfanr Arildson, bodyguard to the Mayor during his campaign, had this to say on the matter: "[The Mayor] shall be back. As I understand it, business has forced him to delay being in office, but you can bet your money on his returning."

Despite boundless conjecture against it, the Mayor has indeed returned. Now, in the middle of an escalating conflict between various Ministries, the Mayor has been spotted in Bully Harbour. We can only wait and see what's in store for the township, and indeed the Imperium at large.​

 

[Jeshal the Ironclaw]

Thermidor 26, Yr. 1725



Grogge of Doome!

By Narcissus

Ye citizens of the Imperium, be warned! The pub, the "Orange Lion", has a murderous new drink, recently named the “Lungbuster.” Already it has been used in warfare between rivaling gangs and the Law. It seems to be a great product for assassins, for it is cheap and effective, as a drink and projectile both. A group of Fogeys found one of their officers, a weasel, lying dead in an alley. Beside him was an empty mug. Drend G. Possende had been a great officer who had never touched a drop in his life.

The Emperor has banned this drink from Bully Harbor, after requesting that advertisements for willing taste-testers be put up in the classier taverns. A special task force of Fogeys raided the "Orange Lion" yesterday, and took the offending mugs into custody. The barkeep denies all involvement with this incident. He has been taken into custody, and will remain under questioning for an indefinite period of time.

Meanwhile, the grog has been investigated, and it has been found that it is a failed attempt to re-create the fabled “Red Stuff” made famous in the story of the Bow of Drunken Amnesia, which is owned by Calria E. Eagle. However, a flaw in the mix causes it to merely poison one’s lungs. When encased in airtight glass for a few minutes, shaken, and released, the vapors become deadly until the air becomes clear again.

Already the Infirmary is full, packed with unknowing grog lovers and assassination attempts alike. Dr.Iama Fraud had this to say: "If this keeps up, it'll pack every hospital, every ship’s sickbay. We are under serious stress. We’re having to turn beasts away until we can figure out if this is some sort of disease that may spread."

Dear Citizens, Ye have been warned to not accept any drinks from fellow beasts in the city! Any evidence of “Lungbuster” must be reported immediately to the Stoatorian Guard, or the closest entity of authority!
​

Dear Torl

By Torl

Dear Torl, my husband, whom I have been married to happily for several years, just went off to dinner with a mop and a bucket. With a mop and bucket. They were both dressed up-- my husband and the mop and bucket-- just like on my wedding night. The mop had my dress on. Since my husband is not a janitor (he is in the navy), I am wondering, do I lace his breakfast with poison, or do I save the poison and the food and not expect him home for some time? -- Irked In The Slups

Dear Irked, if you want to save the food and the poison for later use, just take all your husband's junk and dump it on the front lawn, or auction it off and buy some tasteful furniture. As for your husband, if he ever does come home, make sure the broom is wearing his best uniform. Hopefully the mop and bucket will realise its mistake and leave your husband alone. If the cleaning implements run off together, follow them and get your clothes back.

Deer Torl, my mam ses I kant stay up layt on akownt of it bein dark, How do I tell her I kan? She wont lissen to me. -- Joey

Dear Joey, your mom sounds mean. You can try screaming at the top of your lungs when it's bedtime. She'll probably let you stay up late as you want. If it works really easy, you can keep screaming until she gets you some sweetmeats.

Dear Torl, I run a shop down near 12th Setting Duck street; we sell weapons. Recently, my brother was smacked by a stoatwife with a frying pan. I've come to the logical conclusion that the General stores are undercutting us Blacksmiths, as frying pans, when used as weapons, are normally reserved for Beat A Sean Day, and thus fall under our jurisdiction for sales. But if citizens are turning to frying pans for everyday use (besides eggs) then the Blacksmiths are losing money. We hardly make any nowadays anyhow, with customers threatening the storeworkers with our own merchandise, but this is the last straw! Can you list the reasons why the Imperium's citizens should not use frying pans until Beat A Sean Day and publish it in the Smelt? -- Going Broke In 12th Setting Duck Street

Dear Going, (and citizens) frying pans make horrid weapons. First off, there's no way to stab with them. Secondly, your eggs will start to taste funny after a few whacks with one. Thirdly, Going, you should start a General store. And why's your brother allowing himself to be knocked senseless by a stoatwife?​

Lacke of Brig Prisoners Investigated!

By James Thogelthrope

As many seabeasts know, the brig of most ships is where prisoners are supposed to be held. However, there has been a surprising lack of brig prisoners in recent times, with the most recent incident this reporter can remember being when His Lordship Kenshin Bladedart, Minister of War, was imprisoned on his own ship by pirates. However, this occurred when Bladedart himself was captain, which proves it was a really, really long time ago. Inspired by this mystery, and the current deadline, this reporter decided to investigate-- and not too soon, either.

The population of the Imperium, and Bully Harbor in particular, can be divided into three major groups, namely The Snobs, The Officers (including Captains), and The Broke (or The Others, depending on your political correctness). These three groups of the population were polled (and rather quickly, due to lack of funds and time). There was far more variety in those questioned than the answers, and those which were said more then twenty-five times are listed below, in order from most to least popular:

1)"What 'e said."
2)"What? Oh, because, um, no one needs to go there. Yeah, that's right. An' I ain't holding no stolen gold. Nope."
3)"WHAT! Are you trying to tell me how to run my ship, you little insolent--"(At this point, this reporter ran away).
4) "'Hic’... got 'ny grog? I reckon I could use some... 'hic’." (The beasts usually faint at this point.)
5) "Well, now that you mention it... I don't really know..."

These findings suggest one thing, and one thing only. There is, quite obviously, a monster with 5 mouths and 40 bug eyes living in the brig, therefore explaining why it looks so much like a jail. So it kind of seems that our captains really do care for us... how sweet of them.​

Forthcoming of The Mayor

By Dead Eye D. Trueflight

Here in downtown Bully Harbor, this reporter has just saw a forthcoming that has been awaited for many a day. We all know that a few months ago a decision was made to hold elections for a new Mayor, our old beloved having been dead for quite some time. Today, the new mayor has shown himself.

It came as no surprise to see this beast made Mayor of Bully Harbor. His other opponents, one Emily Eagle, and a few drunken beasts, were both looked at as kind of crazy and silly, though Emily almost beat out our new Mayor in the elections. No, the new mayor is one Dalliance Edwards! Dalliance who? Well, let us jog your memory.

Dalliance Edwards started his life very differently than many of his family. He grew up around books and scrolls, quite a scholar. He married, but soon his wife ran off with another beast. He was banished to Bully Harbor to make a living, where Dalliance worked hard for some time, and soon became our very own Smelt Editor. Some of you may remember his publications during the year of 1724, printing them out much faster than the editors before him.

Disaster struck, of course, as it seems Dalliance is jinxed at leading a problematic life. Due to his reporters dying, quitting, getting drunk, being idle, sailing, arrested, forcefully taken from their homes, leaving the Imperium, being knocked unconscious, beaten, mugged, eaten by large fish, stranded at sea and being left at barbaric islands, becoming priests, living with crabs, earning billions of gilders through relatives, loosing their memories, forgetting where the Smelt building was, marrying, having children, trying to break the record for longest underwater swim and failing, and many, many other reasons rendering them unable to contribute, his paper soon became inactive. He was fired.

Dalliance did what any self respecting Imperium citizen would do at this point. He sold hot cinnamon buns on street corners. And he did awful. Terrible. I’ve tried some of those things he called buns before. I think it’s good he now has a personal chief. Trust me; do not eat this beast’s food. You will die. I mean, seriously. But, anyways, Dalliance sold buns. Until he ran for Mayor. And won.

Dalliance is now the new Mayor of Bully Harbor. He has reorganized the Fogey police squad, and has already made some new laws. The Smelt backs him fully, and from all of the Imperium, the reign of Mayor Edwards has just begun!

​

Ye Historie & Uses of Ye Woode Beetle

By Calria E. Eagle

Ye woode beetle is a curious beastie, being found mainly in the woode of ye ship, and quite vicious in suche places when it is disturbed. Many would think that suche a beast should be driven from the ships, and such a thing has been done many a time. However, such beetles should not be taken from their rightful homes! They are verye usefulle! They also are posessing of a mystical and beautifulle historie which cannot be ignored!

Ye woode beetle was, for example, ye firste beast to ever wear ye Imperialle Crowne, one having lived at ye Crowne Shoppe Imperialle. The crown maker used this beetle as a modele to size ye crown, being of the belief that ye emperor's brain was of ye same size. Ye crownemaker was, of course, correct. Ye modelleing beetle was then named Ye Beetle Bob, and lived out the remainder of his life in comforte and ye luxurye.

What, then, are ye uses of ye beetle residing in yon ship woode? If ye do not owne a Crowne Shoppe, there are stille many happye benefits of ye beetles.

Beetles improve cooking. They add a certaine flavour and crunch which can be gotten in no othere place. It is well-knowne among ships' cookes that a goode seagulle bake cannot be made withoute crushed woode beetle.
Beetles also are used in ye making of ye inke,
without which we woulde have no Smelte in which to reade about ye uses of ye woode beetle.

Beetles are highly intelligente. When there is a leak, they have been seene to flee the shippe, obviously sacrificing themselves in order to make roome for the crewbeasts of ye leaky vessel.

There are manye other uses and benefites of woode beetles not listed here... sadly, howevere, they are biting my taile againne. Yargh.​

 

[Jeshal the Ironclaw]

Humidor 20, Yr. 1725



Feuding of the Mercenaries and Gangs

By Into-Deep Rat

A record high of fights and feuds have broken out in Bully Harbor during Thermidor this year. First of course, we have the now famous Kreehold Mercenaries, who graced us with their presence in Dismembre. They were alone as the Harbor’s only permanent mercenary “squad.” Unfortunately, we have been graced with gangs and mercenaries of all proportions as of late.

Of these groups, Dular came first. They are a mercenary group that was thought long dead. Once, during the time of the 10th Emperor, they were the biggest mercenary group in the lands. They came here from the inland, trying to break into the Imperium’s policies. Their leader actually believed that they could show themselves as a better fighting force than the Stoatorian Guard, and tried to become the Minister of War’s new governing force. The Minister decided against it, but the Dular decided to stay here, selling themselves. After many years, they began to crumble. They were almost completely dead as a group until Shade Darkblade not only put himself as their leader, but started recruiting halfway through Thermidor. They are now nearly as big as the Kreehold, specializing in assassin work.

The Kreehold and Dular are now almost bigger rivals than any other two factions, always fighting for jobs. Even though the Kreehold have served the Minister of Commerce, they also serve any one else who pays them. With another mercenary group, they are cut short of jobs, and money is lacking. Many can now witness these fights breaking out in the streets due to this. The two mercenary gangs are at each other’s throats, and if something is not fixed, a simple match will not only consume these two groups, but perhaps our whole Harbor.

Worse to come are the days still ahead. Our city is now plagued with gangs not under Misanthropy control; thieves have now joined in paws to form their own gangs, and robberies are now most common. And these gangs have found double the way to make profit. They allow others to buy out their services as robbers, and take some of the loot for themselves. Kreehold and Dular heard of this, and now search the streets to find these “new mercenaries.”

So Bully Harbor, we have a crisis. Not only are our streets filled with mercenaries, but gangs of thugs and thieves not under Misanthropy control, and all these groups allow themselves to be sold. Yet it seems that Bully Harbor only has room for one hired-hand group. Are our Fogey and Stoatorian Guard up to the challenge of stopping these cold-blooded killers from killing each other? One can only hope.
​

New Ranks In The Imperium

By Vespero Vespillio

Ranks in the Imperium always seem to be such fickle things; they’re always changing paws back and forth as if they were nothing more than strategic placements of certain individuals. Of course, in this reporter’s opinion, that is all they ever were, but that’s beside the point.

Recently, we have had quite a number of new appointments and promotions given to beasts all about the Imperium, both inside the ranks of the Navy, and those even higher up in the Minister’s positions. For instance, on Humidor 1st of this year, Raserei Gotalmo, recently the Captain of the naval galleon the Skeered of Nothing, was promoted to Commodore of the Imperial Navy. A great congratulation is extended to the new Admiral, and we hope that his reign is as illustrious as the late Admiral Eagle’s was.

Before moving any farther away from the Skeered, we must first look to see who has replaced Commodore Gotalmo as the Captain of the vessel. In that regard, we must look no further than IceRain A. Sleet, the Captain of the Stoatorian Guard. Though the rank of Captain was appointed to her in regards to leading the Guard, we now find that she has taken it both in the naval sense as well, as she is now the head of the Skeered of Nothing’s crew. Another series of good wishes is bestowed upon the newly appointed Captain; may she lead forever.

Moving a little higher up the ranks, we have found a new Minister of Niceties in Teresa A. Doxtrod-Lancaster, and, in this reporter’s opinion, a finer example could not have been chosen. Prior to this appointment, Minister Doxtrod-Lancaster had Captained The Mar’kan’s Glory, but, due to some less notable circumstances, that rank was taken from her. However, she has proven herself time and time again, and will make a capable replacement for the previous MinoNice, Coriander L. Shepherd.

Yet another new Minister has been found in Calria E. Eagle, as she took the head seat of the Ministry of Commerce. Prior to this appointment, Minister Eagle was the Captain of The BlackShip, which she had held for quite some time (far longer than this reporter can remember) where she held quite a notable career. Replacing the previous Minister, Varen S. Verdeloth, this reporter offers his congratulations to her, as he is certain she will make a fine addition to the rank of Minister.

Moving back down the ranks of the Imperium, we find ourselves wondering who is replacing Minister Eagle as the Captain of The BlackShip. In that regard, we find ourselves looking upon a newcomer to the Imperium, one Captain Castrigg Waters. Though this seems to be an unprecedented occasion, we have witnessed a very sparsely known individual appointed to the rank of Captain. Though this reporter has never interacted with Captain Waters, he has heard tales of some of his exploits, and, though normally a higher-ranked individual may have been given control of a ship, it seems this beast has had quite a distinguished career so far, and will make an able addition to the naval higher-ups.

And there you have it; all the new Ministers and Captains have been accounted for. This reporter would like to extend great congratulations to all of these individuals, and wishes them long life and glorious careers in the Imperium.
​

Ye Grande History of Ye Mayor and Fogey Police Force

By Dead Eye D. Trueflight

We all know of the police force that governs the Harbor; they fight criminals, arrest drunks, stop smuggling, stop riots. Crime is their enemy. That is, any crime against their fine Mayor. Yes, the Fogeies (plural form of Fogey) answer to no one but their superiors, who answer to no one but our Lord Mayor.

It is simple to start in the beginning. When the First Emperor took down Democracy and began his take over of the Imperium and his island Empire, he began with the island he lived on, Vulpinsula. Only after a few years did he have the people under his control. Bully Harbor at the time was a small docking city. One of the Emperor’s better ideas was to use it as a key city of his Empire. He quickly replaced the democratic mayor at the time, Mayor Mule, in favor of his third cousin, Mayor Flemmings. Flemmings was an idealist. In his vision he saw the crime ridden city would become a great city.

He quickly set up post, and soon had the city moving faster in the ways of improvement than any other city. Local crime leader, Fat Toadkill, was shocked that his city was now under the control of a new mayor. He soon tried to disrupt the progress. Flemmings was not one to step down from a challenge. He quickly gathered beasts, and created the local police force, the Fogey Unit.

The Fogey Police have been a working police unit since the First Emperor, and they will more than likely still be running after the last Emperor (which could only be our Emperor at this time, as he is immortal. May his long and eternal life always grace us). The Fogey Police enforce any local laws that the Mayor decrees. They are known to be violent, harsh, cruel, and sadistic, but they keep order.

Famous Fogeies include Chief Commissioner ArrowPaw. The Commissioner not only put down a whole fifteen gangs in his time, but dared to challenge the Minister of Misanthropy over “the raising of havoc and criminal activities in MY harbor!” Arrowpaw was found hanging in front of the Fogey headquarters only twelve hours later. He was a true Fogey…

The Fogey Police Force have follow the Mayor’s orders to the later. The new Mayor, Dalliance Edwards, has already used them time and time again in his advantage, and I do believe that we will see them following his orders many a time more. Their new Chief, Alfanr Arildson, is a ruthless beast. He is known for his tactics and cunning planning. One can only be prepared to see tremendous things in these days of the Fogey Police Force of Bully Harbor.
​

Dear Torl (Second Edition)

By Torl

Dear Torl, I've got a small problem. I'm a stoat on the Mar'kan's Glory, and every time I go past the Captain's cabin, something huge keeps trying to eat me! The rest of the crew won't tell me what it is. Can you help? - A Terrified Stoat.

Dear A, I know exactly what this is-- it's a large orange bird called "Cindy", and apparently she eats stoats. But only on Tuesdays, you see. The rest of the week, she's known as Captain Dirgesong, and the only thing very dangerous about her is the type of literature she reads. So just stay away from the Captain's cabin on Tuesdays, and stay away from her books the rest of the time.

Dear Torl, I've had this crush on another beast ever since I met him. He's kind, sweet, and fun to be around. I just don't know if he notices me. How can I obtain his affections? - Roo

Dear Roo, your beasts sounds like a real winner. Take up singing lessons for a few weeks, and make sure to practice while he's around. If that doesn't get his attention, Missertross him a deceased kipper with a note saying: 'Though this fish is dead, my affections for you will remain alive forever.' Any male worth their tail knows if a lady is tough enough to stuff a week-long dead kipper into an envelope, she's the one for them.

Dear Torl, Where does our land tax go to? - Anonymouse

If I knew, I'd have gotten myself some bigger pockets by now.

Dear Torl, I have a new Captain that I just don't like as much. He's ugly, snobbish, and really mean. He actually wants us to clean the decks. What next, no pointy things in the mess hall? Torl, should I mutiny, or learn to live with him. - I already have the supplies for mutinying

Dear I, this is that Waters fellow, isn't it? His brother pays me five hundred gilders to answer these questions, so I can't go about saying 'Mutiny all you want if you got what you need.' My advice is to merely offer to do his laundry. Chances are he reads the Smelt as well, so it might not work, but once he agrees, be creative about it.

Dear Torl, I'm a very artistic beast and I find that Bully Harbour is a very artistic place. Except where I live, the Slups. This poor neighborhood needs money from the mayor to keep its business alive. I saw an old female rat rob a young lady by whacking her on the head with a purse, only to get whacked by another old weasel down the street. I'm afraid of letting my children out on the street. My wife is calling me a coward for hiding under my bed at night. What should I do? - Troubled Citizen of the Imperium.

Dear Troubled, stop being such a wimp! Let your children run amok in the streets, maybe the elderly will take fright and stop all this unashamed whacking of heads. I'm sure an artistic beast like yourself can find some sort of art in the Slups. I myself used to write questionable words on the walls in my younger days. If you want money from the mayor, send your complaints to his office, not my advice column.​

 

[Jeshal the Ironclaw]

Notempre 11, Yr. 1725



Ye Hubert: Ye Crab of Ye General Mysterioufneff

By Grolgum Z. Kildee III

Some of the fine readers of the Smelt may have heard of Hubert the crab. In this article, all stereotypes concerning Hubert will be shattered. Where is he from? Where is he presently? Who is his cousin? Who are his parents? And, most importantly, does he really like Odd Tinge?

Hubert is said to have originally been owned by Seige Cielciosk. Unfortunately, this beast of questionable origins was unavailable in the time span provided to write this article (that of five minutes.) Therefore, Hubert's ownership is brought into question. A quick browse in Ye Court House turned up an interesting contract, entitled; "Offical Doc-yew-mint of Ownership of Hubert The Crab". The verbatim of this contract is as follows: "This document shall serve as the offical certificate of the owner ship of one Hubert, blue, crab, male, that this beast is no longer the response-ah-bil-ity of one Seige Sharptail C. (Sable ferret, male) , but belongs now to one Longbrush Lockjaw D. (Red fox, vixen) All medical bills and such now become the duty of aforemention Longbrush D." The signatures are both present, therefore Longbrush now owns Hubert, therefore Hubert must presently be on her ship, the Mar'kan's Glory. (Ed. Note: Who’s “Sharptail”?)

That answers the question of where Hubert is now, but where did he come from? Seige is said to have gotten Hubert from various places. According to a few street sources, Hubert is either from "'Oy, where's the Bilge?", "Some-thingy-place", or "Ye Myfteriouf Island"*. According to some records of Seige's life, he at one point visited said Myfteriouf Island, and around the same time found Hubert the Crab. Further investigative reporting on this Island is coming soon.

So, Hubert comes from Ye Myfteriouf Island, and is residing on the Glory. As far as his cousin and parents are concerned, time constraints and a general liking of this author's limbs attached to his body prevent a voyage to the island to look for them.

Odd Tinge. Everyone who has a small brain and a violent demeanor love Odd Tinge, therefore, the conclusion that Hubert must be addicted to it, the poor thing. Odd Tinge is capable of doing things to a beast that normal bartenders and temperance protestors can only dream of. Hubert is made up of a hard, crusty, and shell-like body, therefore he might be one of the few beasts able to hold Odd Tinge.**

Again, time constraints prevent this reporter from truly entering the psyche of Hubert. This article has hopefully piqued your curiosity and has given you reason to rebel against all regulated things, especially Odd Tinge. Watch for a Comprehensive Guide near you coming out with the biggest Hubert article-

Strike last paragraph. Start again.

Er. Hubert is very interesting. Yes.

*Thanks to Drunkard, Other Drunkard, and Large Sign Used As Defensive Weapon for this information.

**Subtly mocking Minister Eagle? Me?

​

State of the MinoMis

By Thaddeus D. Cully

Ladies and gentlebeasts, Esteemed Ministers, Our Majesty... the state of Misanthropy in the Imperium is -- shady. Oh, like you didn't expect that old joke. Moving to matters more pressing, however, the Ministry of Misanthropy will be changing and reorganizing in the coming months. There will be a variety of actions on our new agenda - new hirings, new policies, and new faces. The old traditions shall live on, however. Since the ministry came into being we've taken that time-honored oath of, "A sack. A stick. A directive," and we still live by those terms.

Now, our first order of business is that we are looking for some stalwart beasts to carry out that 'Directive." We need sharp, disciplined souls to work for the Ministry. This job has its risks, of course, but it also has its perks. Of course, a set pay each month is a given. Also, a worker for the ministry is reimbursed for any on-duty injuries. A certain amount of power is offered, as you receive orders from the Ministry itself. We also provide cheaper housing for our agents, if it is required. And who can forget the pride and prestige of working for the greatest Ministry under our Emperor?

Another item on our agenda is the matter of these new, tiny gangs of beasts popping up. Hear this: any actions you are planning require two things. They rhyme, so they should be easy to remember: permission and commission. Should you try to enact any plan without first gaining permission and consultation from the Ministry of Misanthropy, and signing a binding contract, expect repercussion. Almost certainly of a violent nature. Remember this, it is we who are entrusted by Our Emperor to control the underground in this Imperium.

Which brings me to our next topic, contracts. The Ministry is taking on a policy of paper. We will conduct business with no one, unless both parties have signed a contract, and we expect receipts for everything. Unless signatures are present from both a Ministry official and a member of the signatory's group, we shall enact nothing on said groups behalf. This is for archival purposes, and to allow the Ministry to keep records of all transactions that may pass through it, for legal and financial reasons.

Now, I'm also happy to announce more plans for the future of this Ministry. Crooked Coffers, Incorporated will be diversifying, extending its reach into a myriad of fields. We'll be offering new incentives and bonuses to shareholders after we restructure, as well as more stores to our repertoire, in a continuing effort to offer the most to our customers. We will continue to push for another ship to be commissioned, to aid the honorable Minister of War in his quest to glorify The Emperor. Also, we will soon be providing low-income housing for the new and downtrodden in the Imperium, through rent-to-own deals. We wish to announce, in addition, an upcoming series of soirees to be held, starting with the first annual open-doors, formal, Ministry of Misanthropy Masquerade Ball, already in planning. Finally, in the interest of allowing all a fair voice, and increasing awareness of current events, we wish to announce the introduction of what will soon be the Imperium's second publication: The Night Owl.

And, while Ironpaw is still acting Minister of Misanthropy - I, Thaddeus D. Cully, am acting on his behalf while he is away on business. I have no official office under the ministry, and simply act in a consulting role. However, given Mr. Skarblade's absence, he has asked me to put forth this address in his stead, and see it brought into fruition.

Thank you for your time, and Mar'kan Bless.
​

Captains, Coloured Slippers

By Seige Cielciosk

Imagine this: Imagine you’re a Kreeholder who, just woke up one morning, looking forward to a day full of being paid to do jobs nobeast else cares to do. You arrive at the Kreehold Barracks bright and early and, sit down for a spot of flapjacks for breakfast. Yet before you can eat the Barracks are attacked by a riffraff gang for no apparent reason. As if this sudden attack wasn’t bad enough your, Captain comes down the stairs wearing nothing but a bathrobe and pink slippers and, begins to thrash the riffraff with a broom.

If you can imagine that it is because, you have witnessed it-- for surely nobeast else could re-create the scene in its entirety in their mind but, those who were there.

For, you see this story is entirely true. Not long ago in late Macabre, the Kreehold Barracks were attacked by a street gang called, The Smelly Slayers, or somesuch rot. Captain Dead Eye Trueflight, armed with nothing but a broom and pink slippers came down, and fended most of them off. Cludd Smashpaw also deserves credit for this deed though, I am sure most of us would have preferred if the Barracks and Kreehold were destroyed.

This is not the only incident of a beast ranked Captain wearing slippers in public. Captain: Commander Castrigg Waters of the BlackShip has been seen out on deck one night in yellow striped pajamas and matching slippers. Yellow is not a very frightening colour but, what makes Waters’ slippers so notable is that the toes are shaped into what seems to be hares’ heads complete with, long ears and little black buttons for eyes.

I have tried to ask both Captains about their nocturnal footwear. I only just survived meeting with Captain Trueflight who, didn’t even answer with words-- afterwards I was taken aside, by one of the few female Kreeholders, Leite Kiefer, and she explained “They’re not pink. They’re salmon.”

I of course, was not able to confirm this. Not only am I colourblind but, I find it hard to believe somebeast can confuse salmon with pink slippers.

My meeting with Captain Waters went somewhat better. I was able to ask him why his slippers were in the shape of hares’ heads when, he looked me in the eye and said thoughtfully “The brig is very empty.” I of course, scarpered. I managed to find his wife who, informed me that they’re not hares, they’re rabbits and they were a present from her on their fifth Anniversary and, she is surprised he still wears them since she tried to throw them out five times.

The Smelt staff is currently looking into what the other Captains of the Imperium wear in their high-ranking slumber. We have run out of volunteers to investigate Captain Sleet of the Skeered of Nothing, however, after the first two were found in the burn ward of one of the Imperium’s privately owned infirmaries.
​

Dear Torl (Third Edition)

By Torl

Dear Torl, I want to thank you for the advice you gave me in your last column. Now, you see, there was this one night where I was practicing fighting against three beasts. They got tired, and I think they tried to kill me. One jerk stabbed my shoulder. In the end, I killed two of them, and seriously wounded the jerk who stabbed me in the shoulder. I hear that guy is working for the Smelt now. So my question is, how do I get candy from the doctor without having to get hurt? A way that doesn't involve stealing would be good. - Can You Guess?

Dear Can, what in Dark Forest does that story have to do with your question? You've just wasted several lines of very valuable page-space, which I could have used to do a proper rant! And now you want candy without pain or having to steal. Oh, well. I tell you this, Can: Bribery. Get some poor sod of a kit who's never even seen a half a gilder's worth of sweetmeats, and pay him a small, dry twig for his services, which should include being careless with cutlery, crying, and giving you anything he gets from the doctor, because good gauze doesn't come cheap these days, and the urchin will be happy to patch himself up again with a few dead leaves.

Dear Torl, I recently shattered my best cast-iron frying pan over the head of an annoyingly inquisitive stoat who appeared to be picking my pocket. This is, as you are well aware, a most serious situation, as I was quite fond of that frying pan, and moreover the dress I was wearing that day did not have any pockets. Do you know of any establishments within Bouillabaisse Harbor that would sell frying pans of fine quality and large size? Sincerely - Stoatwife With A (Broken) Frying Pan

Dear Stoatwife, if you care to check a few Smelts back, I do believe there was mention of a place on 12th Setting Duck street, but the owner (if he's still in business) seems to hold the belief that frying pans are only meant to be sold on the days surrounding our beloved Imperium's much-esteemed holyday, Beat a Sean day. So why don't you just finish mourning the loss of your pan, and buy a good broadsword? (P.S. I know a tailor on 5th and Frothing can sew you some pockets for that dress, only for a few gilders; it's not polite, giving budding pickpockets such a hard time by not having any pockets with which to have picked.)

Dear Torl, I have three incredibly annoying kid brothers who won't leave me alone. The smaller two I can handle but one of them got bigger and stronger than me. How can I get him to leave me alone without one of us ending up deceased? Sincerely - Irked Older Sister

Dear Irked, you don't have to kill to break a few kneecaps. Likeminded, if you don't want to do the job yourself, find a nice tall tree, preferably one with some sort of edifice in its higher branches. Such places are usually all ready populated, so lure out the urchins in the edifice with doctor's candy so you can get up yourself. Make sure to pick a tree that requires a ladder to climb, and then pull the ladder (rope, if you're lucky) up with you. Instant alone-ness, and anybeast tries following you up, they'd find themselves short a few working limbs. Unless they're pine martens, or just lucky. So bring a large bag of rocks along with, and a stick. Or more doctor's candy. Send some my way, too, while you're at it. ​

A New and Very Deadly Weapon

By Vyrsa Rysk

In this our wonderful Imperium, the most common job and source of income is being a member of the Emperor's navy. It is a decent livelihood, most beasts are able to do it, and it is a wild and exciting way of life. Most beasts can be relatively safe from most harm if they practice with their weapon of choice and have useful accessories and trustworthy friends by their side. Unfortunately, there is, as of yet, one attack that no sure defense has been devised for besides simply not coming into contact with it. It is an attack on the brain, if you will; invented by those soft but entirely too cruel beasts who have the luxury of sitting around all day.

This weapon goes by the name of “Algebra.” Now, in and of itself this does not sound like the evil thing that it honestly is. In fact, on the outside these are mere spoken words, or perhaps a book with numbers and odd signs all over its pages. But, when any average citizen of our Imperium tries to read this and understand it, an odd phenomenon will begin to take place. At first it's not overly bad, only strange strings of numbers and symbols surrounded by good text that tries to explain them. When reading these words, some amount of sense is made, even when rectangular groups of numbers, supposedly called matrices, appear and change a good many of the rules previously learned.

But it goes downhill from here. Up until now, every creature has known, or thought that he did, that there are only real numbers, like one, two, three, and on and on, as well as all of those in between, like 3.14, 5½, etc . We now find in the pages of this cursed book that there are more than these: there are imaginary numbers that are represented by and only by a letter of the alphabet. I myself have only read of one of these such atrocities, but there are dark hints of more. Think, now, of a number that cannot be expressed by numbers themselves? It is against all sense this world has, and our minds cannot understand it. I speak truly and honestly to you, my fellow members of the Imperium.

How can an honest creature live in a world such as this? Why are simple real numbers not good enough? There can only be one cause: it is a heinous plot to destroy the minds of the simple warriors of the Imperium. This is a weapon that we have only the smallest defense against. I move that we find some means of protection against this! Call forth the Minister of Commerce! Call forth any beast that has a purported understanding of numbers, and have them find a way to come victorious through this weapon of Algebra.​

 

[Jeshal the Ironclaw]

Soggus 8, Yr. 1726



Dillying and Dallying

By Nadya Volimova

Welcome, dear readers, to our latest publication of The Saturday Evening Smelt. As some of you may have noticed, we have not been on the stands in quite some time; a matter of a few months, at the least. But fear not; we have returned, and in quite such a force that one might indeed wonder if we were ever gone in the first place. Obviously we were, but that is beside the point; we here at The Smelt like to use a little thing called dramatic flair, which, in short, translates to lying with a twist. But that is neither here nor there. (Ed. Note: It, in fact, lies in, a third place entirely.)

In the not-so-short absence that we experienced, The Saturday Evening Smelt here underwent some changes. More precisely, the positions within our organization, and the people holding them. Most of you may know one Seige Cielciosk as the Editor for The Saturday Evening Smelt. (Ed. Note: No mention of Montblanc Waters my, co-editor? I am the one who, is in charge of the money. Montblanc is in charge of the grammar. I should think he deserves mention.) However, what some of you may not yet know is that, for a time, Mr. Cielciosk was not the Editor. Indeed, the position was thrown up into the air, a matter of what is regarded in the legal sense of "first come, first served". Obviously, this by itself can constitute why The Saturday Evening Smelt had not been published for quite some time, but there is still more.

There was talk of a new Editor coming to take over the publishing duties of our paper (an individual who this reporter, unfortunately, could not identify), but, apparently, those plans fell through. As is evident, with our lack of publication. Yet I digress. Truth be told, the staff of The Smelt (those who were working here before Mr. Cielciosk and Mr. Waters left the company) were causing quite a ruckus in The Saturday Evening Smelt's headquarters. It is, in fact, quite true that the building is in the stages of reconstruction after one 'celebration' became much wilder than usual. (This was a result of one of the senior writers finding a hidden stash of Odde Tinge left behind by Mr. Cielciosk. The exact details of his hallucinations are unknown; suffice it to say that he managed to set himself and the building on fire, screaming something regarding "snakes and ivy".)

In conclusion, dear readers, I am writing this article to announce the reinstitution of The Saturday Evening Smelt into publication once more. We will be hitting the stands on as consistent a basis as before we disappeared. (Ed. Note: Hopefully a bit, more consistent than before!) Stay tuned, and keep reading.
​

The Love Weevil Infestation

By Nairet Hrev

Perhaps it is that spring is in the air... perhaps that there are just more creatures taken by the idea... or maybe it is for some other reason. But whatever the reason, there seems to be a rather large amount of married and engaged couples in his Majesty the Emperor's Imperium. Of course, there is an older couple, who were unfortunately not able to be interviewed, for reasons stated here as said by the two ferrets, Seige and Vuplera Cielciosk themselves, "Well, we m-- SPENDER! OCEAN! Drop that match!" The two have one son, Spender, and an adopted stoat son, Ocean. Word has it that they also have a daughter, though she was stolen by pirates. (Ed. Note: I apologize for, the carpet, by the way.)

Minister Teresa Doxtrod-Lancaster was married quite happily to one Harry M. Lancaster, though he has passed out of the Imperium. All ye pay your respects to the good marten. Admiral Raserei Gotalmo has just recently been married, though, and he and Shia Corico, the Second Mate of the Skeered have just been blessed with a beautiful kit, Sapphire.

Now, among the Captains of the Navy, two have a significant other: Captain IceRain of the Skeered of Nothing, and Captain Skeenie of the Golden Hide. The former, a white pyromaniac stoatess, is married to Vespero DeVispilio, doctor and anti-flamant aboard the same ship. Captain Skeenie is married to Gordon R. Freemont himself, a beast who is reputed to be the mayor of Bully Harbor in the near future.

And, if we take a small step down the chain of command, there are all the first mates. Aboard His Majesty's ship, the Mar'kan's Glory, we have Aedan Kingussie. Our reporters have come back and reported ('s what they do, after all) that he had been in love with one Amanita Gerruk, though since then she has unfortunately passed. The mate of the BlackShip, one Leite Kiefer, is, and has been, in love with the Captain of the Kreehold Mercenaries himself, Keinruf Wright. Aboard the Golden Hide, it is Tanya Rainblade and the aide of the same ship, Falun Marcolini. And lastly, aboard the Skeered of Nothing, Vladimir Ullyanov and the aide, Vertherian Nightarrow, have both been bitten by the little bug of love. We have also heard that former First Mate of the Hide, Firefur Bowbeast, has been seen with Allen Ralg.

Other officers have also been found spending time with certain beasts dubbed special by them. One Marquo Senderjay, Second Mate of the BlackShip, with Dionne Sylane, for instance. Mackenroe Rokford, the friendly orange salamander himself, even, has found a lizardess who goes by the name of Thalas Skimya.

Now, of course there are more couples. Some among former officers, such as Cludd Smashpaw and Daisie Greenhowe of the BlackShip. They already have a lovely young rattess child by the name of Larkspur. Greck McClarior and Penny Sarfe, ferrets, have also been married. Jaundice Christof and Kaeldra Slyf, and Plugg and Romalla are also married. Alabastor and Saturn are also a couple, though they are not married at this time.

But there are at least two other couples who deserve our attention. Theirs are sadder stories, as at least one lover out of each couple is dead. One is that of Karken Vansquod and Athena Firestorm. It is Athena who has died and left Karken alone to still work slowly in the Imperium. Grolgum Kildee II and Myrhakel Greenfire were also married, though recently Myrhakel has died, and our reporters have not been able to find out whether or not Mr. Kildee is alive. His son, Grolgum the III is doing very well, though.

And one last couple deserves recognition. They left the active scene around the navy some time ago, but last we heard both are still working hard for the Mar'kan in the background: Pylaris and IceFall Costifas. Pylaris is the former MinoWar, and his wife, IceFall, is Captain IceRain's own sister.

Now, as the evidence clearly shows, love is able to thrive well in the Imperium, and it only seems to be getting better. Out of twenty active officers aboard the four ships, at least eleven are or were in a relationship of some sort. The moral of this? If you want to have a "special friend," come to the Imperium and join the Navy.
​

The Emperor's Decree

By Montblanc Waters

Quite recently there has been an outbreak of beasts with their heads shaved of fur, wearing white robes and banging strange drum-like instruments parading slowly down the street, chanting. It is my opinion that this is very unprofessional behavior that these beasts are exhibiting, and they are to be spat upon whenever possible, preferably from above where they can’t throw their drums at you.

The main point of this article, however, is that there is a new group of beasts, a faction, if you will, who call themselves “The Emperor’s Decree”. Having done some research, it appears this faction is devoted to history and law. Some ranks in the faction include those of Historian and those of Judge. While we were unable to locate any beasts that were Judges, there were a few Historians who, tired of their dusty studies, were quite happy to be interviewed. I swear I did not offer them cucumber sandwiches. At least, not just cucumber. There might have been a bit of seagull involved…

The nice beast whom I talked to first, (name disclosed), explained his position in The Emperor’s Decree to me kindly:

“Firs’, we sorta sit ‘roun’, an’ sometimes look at ol’ maps an’ stuff. We shuffle papers ‘roun’ a bit, tryin’ t’look busy in case th’boss is in, but mostly we play cards. I’m usually th’dealer.”

Another beast, this one a female, had this to say:

“He cheats, I tell you! It’s like he’s got an extra deck stuffed up the sleeves of his dusty historian’s robe. You ever seen three Admirals in a row? Followed by three Admirals in a row? I have.”

At last I was able to speak with the Head Historian:

“Decree? Oh… Oh, yes, that’s right. Yes, the Emperor decreed us to sort out the Imperium’s history books… Oh, no, not all the time. Sometimes there’s huge chunks of it missing, so we just make it up. When we’re not playing cards, anyways. I think the dealer cheats… What? Alphabetical? What a novel concept! I must tell the others about this discovery. Judges? Well, we’re not all that up to the sort of legal jargon we’ve got to write down, y’know! Are you going to eat that last sandwich?”

So, fear not, fellow citizens! This new faction seems harmless enough. We have more to fear from bald monks than from a few historians cheating themselves at cards!​

Dear Torl (Fourth Edition)

By Torl Wafflepaw

Dear Torl, do you have any suggestions for keeping kits away from your ink bottle long enough for you to finish your paperwork? - Overwhelmed on the BlackShip

Dear Overwhelmed, I have several ways of doing just that. One of my favourites is to give the kits their own ink bottle-- by the way, do you know black ink is an excellent stain remover?-- and letting them run loose in the streets. If you're too cheap with ink to try that, you could always tie the kits up, upside-down or otherwise, they won't care. Just make sure to gag them as well. If all else fails, douse the paperwork in gravy and let them eat it while any higher ups you may have to report to later watch the spectacle. You'll have a perfectly valid excuse for having not finished your paperwork, and you'll save a few gilders on lunch for the kits.

Dear Torl, I am kept up two or three nights a week at the very least by some very inconsiderate beasts running across my roof, occasionally accompanied by screams and or sounds of fighting. As a result, I am so tired when I need to get up in the morning to run my shop that I've fallen asleep at the counter four times in the past week! I can't keep going like this, but I don't know what to do, since I'm afraid that the beasts on the roof will kill me if I go bother them. - Sleepless in the Trenches

Dear Sleepless, the solution to your problem is one of the simpler ones I've ever faced. Simply get onto your roof during the day and loosen some (or all) of the tiles. Or, depending on how your roof is build, weaken it any way possible. Leave pokey furniture about the place in the weakest spots (chairs and upturned tables are good), along with knives, any and all spare weaponry, and any glass artifacts you've never liked. Then rent a small apartment elsewhere for a week, and move your valuables there. If you need to, tip off the Guard about your roof, and just hope it isn't them in the first place who's been running about up there.

Dear Torl, not too long ago I invented a new piece of hardware that would make any homemaker's life easier. It was an ingenious piece of technology; a frying pan that would also double as a paddle for argumentative children (not to mention wreaking havoc on Beat-A-Sean Day). I even took it to the Ministry of Innovation to show them. They took it from me, booted me out the door and then proceeded to sell them for their own gain, without even giving me a mention as the inventor. What can I do? - Sore And Poor

What is it with you beasts? You’re obsessed with Beat-A-Sean Day! It’s over! Anyhow… It was your own stupid fault, taking your invention to the MinoInn. Any inventor can tell you they’re paws are covered in sticky jealousy and greed—all the better to grab onto your inventions and whisk them away, as happened to your good self. Slightly-less-evil-than-evil self. What you should do to get back at them requires a long, thin pole-arm of some sort, maybe a spear or a farmer’s scythe, four bottles of Snodgrass’ Special, a rat’s pelt, fifteen pounds of cobblestones, Calantorntain S. Pickwic, the mayor’s boots, and a house that isn’t yours. Or mine. It took me fifteen minutes to think of the things you’d need, so I’ve pretty much forgotten what the end result was supposed to be, but I’m sure you can think up something good with it. Hoping to see you in the news, Torl.

Dear Torl, just yesterday, I was sitting at home, minding my own business, when a drunken Fogey burst through my door and demanded that I cook him a hot meal of fried haggis and tater-tots. Since I didn't have any haggis at-paw, and I don't even know what tater-tots are, I couldn't do so. He then decided to take one of my five sons as collateral. So, I was wondering, what are tater-tots? - Much Too Matronly

They’re what you eat with fried haggis, obviously. Anybeast worth their fur knows that! Since you’re not worth it, I’m hoping you’re a rat. There’s a beast who needs a rat pelt for some retribution against the MinoInn.
​

Ye Imperium Advertisements

By The Smelt Staff

Pyromania Classes
Weekends, 50g per hour.
9.am sharp
25 Blackwater Street
Imperial Condos
Steel Box required

Certificate VI in Captaincy
Required class for all new Navy Captains
Subjects include;
"How to Steer a Ship"
"The Way to the Crewbeast's Heart"
"Galley and Rum Management"
"Captaincy and You"
and more
Enquiries at the Ministry of War

FOr SaLE
klear Kohler's Water
1000gilderz
askk Olgi in ther slups

Looking to buy a tavern preferred, new/slightly used,
Upstairs rooms for family w/ tables included,
Large kitchen a must. Stock not needed.
Lingering decay, smell okay. Near main street.
Willing to pay 20k gilders + repair expenses.
Missertross Seige Cielciosk at, the Smelt offices

Need muscles? Steel? Paws to help steal something?
Call the Kreehold! Located next to the MinoComm offices,
Use the smaller door for entry.
Thievery, assassinations, torture, tax-collecting,
on-Vulpinsula smuggling, caravan guard, muggings,
distractions for personal heists, heavy lifting, etc.
Will not offer – daycare services, quilting, road repair
Hire now and receive a 25% discount on payments!
Offer expires Soggus 6th​

 

[Jeshal the Ironclaw]

Bugs 8, Yr. 1726



Dear Torl (Fifth Edition)

By Torl Wafflepaw

Dear Torl, I have been looking for work in the Imperium for several weeks now, but I can't find it. You see, I want to join the Imperial Navy, but there's one problem... I get seasick very easily, and would not be worth anything aboard one of the ships except maybe ballast. On land, no one seems to want to hire me, either, and I don't know why! I'm young, strong, and willing, but they just glance at me and then shake their heads when I ask for a job. I can't figure it out! I mean, I know I tend to pick things up and put them in my coat, but I don't do it to the things in their shop! Any help you can give would be most appreciated. ~ A Bored Fox

Dear A, Your problem is, sir, that the shopkeepers are several disappointed in your services. Don't you know how it is with these stores? Before you ask for a job, you've got to prove your worth. Take a look around some old antique's shop, for instance-- all that junk lying about on the shelves! The shopkeeper of that store is far too busy to clean up things himself, so you'll need to help him. Show him how hard you'll work to keep his shop clear of this junk and he'll be sure to hire you next time you ask!

Dear Torl, I am deathy afraid of heights. I'm afraid there's nothing doing about it-- even as an adult I prefer to slink close to the ground rather than stand up straight, because otherwise, I get violently ill from the space between my head and the ground. I've tried everything, from getting drunk and climbing to the crow's nest of the Skeered of Nothing to spending two months of my life trying to glue bird feathers to my arms and telling my friends to call me a seagull and feed me rotten fish. No matter what, I still pass out when I get too high. Can you help me? ~ Sick of Vertigo

Dear Sick, Have you tried fresh fish? Give it a few weeks-- you might feel a little healthier after a while. Also, tar and feathers is the way to go. Remember: think like a seagull!

Dear Torl, Your "advice" column is horrid, nothing you say ever really works! Thanks to you, my wife has kicked me out, my boss has laughed himself to death at my ink-stained shirt, I've got several charges against me from the Stoatorian Guard for "tampering with rooftiles" and the Kreehold have been hired to coat me in mud and roll me down Fallsborough Hill every morning for the past two weeks. This morning I rolled straight into a farmer's produce cart loaded with rotten pumpkins from what I'm guessing is last autumn's crop. I hope the stench of this paper gives you fleas, you elderberry-scented scum-stoat. ~ Wondering Where You Get Off At

Dear Wondering, It smells delicious, just like my aunt's pies. As for your troubles: So? I've given your Missertross address to the Guard, by the way. Stop putting those dead halibut on my porch now. Your wife sends her regards. When my wages run out, the Kreehold will leave you alone. (By the way, I've switched to "Peaches'n'Cream" now.)

​

The "Smelting" Corner

By Nadya Volimova

Wherein our reporter extracts information by "beating" answers out of her interviewees.

Lately in the Imperium, there has been talk in Bully Harbor. Talk of a radio show being broadcast from the Bilge in the Bucket. Now, most of you may be wondering, what is a radio? And what is a radio show? And what does 'broadcast' mean? Well, we interviewed the producer of this show, one Rex Plushpaw, to learn these answers.

Nadya: Hello Rex, thank you for your time.

Rex: Hullo there Nadya. Beautiful name. Flows off the tongue, Nadya, Nadya.

Nadya: Well, thank you very much. Rex is a very... interesting name as well. Shall we start with the questions?

Rex: Of course. I hope you don't mind I'm recording this. [Taps on the spearhead he is holding.]

N.: [Looks around.] Not at all... Perhaps we should start at the beginning. What is a radio show?

R.: Good question. A radio show is a method of spreading out sound waves of the news to the listening ears of the Vulpine Imperium in a very efficient method of sound transmissions and complicated technology.

N.: Uh huh... And how do you transmit these "sound waves"?

R.: Wires, a few brooms and stuff. Switch knows the technicalities of it. I think he got a degree at MIT about it.

N.: Ah... Two part question: Who is Switch, and what is MIT?

R.: Ah, Switch is my ever resourceful pal and soundrat for the show with a really cool accent. MIT is the Mossflower Insistute of Technology. (Ed. Note: The MIT Asylum [which actually stands for Marquistry Cape Institute for the Terminally Insane] is located just outside Marquistry Cape. Also, the correct abbreviation is actually MIT. We do not know why.)

N.: Wonderful. We'll have to ask him some questions later. But, for now, we still have some for you. How did you come up with the idea for the radio show?

R.: Well, it all started because the Smelt is a weaseling murker of a news-script that failed to see the value of my rhetoric and personality. I suggested the idea of a movie review article and they promptly kicked me in the tail into a mud puddle where I was hauled away by the Stoatorian Guard to a charming state of residence with cushiony walls that were a bit of fun to bounce off. They said I was mad or something but I didn't feel the least bit angry. While I distracted myself with the echo effect in the room, I started thinking about sound, then I started thinking of talking to other beasts, and then I started thinking of the other way to spread news and then I had a muffin for breakfast and met Switch. We left that strange inn, Switch gave me this microphone, and I decided to start a radio show to spite the Smelt. No offense.

N.: None taken. Not like I was Editor at the time, anyways. Now, for the question that I'm sure everybody is asking themselves: What is a radio?

R.: It's a box for listening to a radio show. I guess Switch's explanation would be more suiting to the public though.

N.: I... see... Perhaps we should ask Switch to elaborate, then? Switch?

Switch: Lurrhergeer Ubbberliggggrrrre milllerbrrglililil perterigilerre.

N.: ... Uh... [Looks at Rex.]

R.: See? Makes a lot more it makes a lot more sense when he explains, though some of his technology jargon goes over somebeasts' heads.

N.: Ah... Yes. [Coughs.] Indeed. Much easier to understand... Well, thank you both very much. It has been a pleasure interviewing you both, and we look forward to the next edition of your... show.

R.: Ah, the pleasures all mine, fair maiden. You wouldn't be open to possibly be a co-anchor or something, would you?

N.: Oh... Well, I thank you very much for the offer, but I do believe that my duties as the new Editor of the Smelt will keep me much too busy in the future to do so. Perhaps we could collaborate or something, though. Yes?

R.: Oh, absolutely. I shall now consider the Smelt a friend of the Unauthorized Vulpine Imperium Radio Show...soon to be authorized once I hunt down one of those ministers...ur...I mean, have a meeting with...yeah.

N.: [Looks around.] Indeed. Switch, any closing statements?

S.: Werrrrileerriblierebbisrersic, dude.

R.: What?

S.: Urreerb.

R.: Oh.

N.: [Whispers.] What did he say?

R.: [Whispers.] He thinks you’re hot.

N.: [Coughs.] There you have it, folks. Everything there is to know behind the Unauthorized Vulpine Imperium Radio Show. Big thanks go out to Rex Plushpaw and Switch, who volunteered their time for this interview. Remember to check out our next edition of "The Smelting Corner", when we will find another beast to interview. 'Til next time, dear readers!
​

The Imperium’s Nessie; The Ferret’s Report

By The Ferret

A few weeks and days ago, on Frimary 15th, one Hide beast was on duty when he/she (the beast would like to remain anonymous) saw a strange, fishy-eel-like creature in the water circling the docks, as if waiting for a beast to come swimming, where it would take its gruesome fangs and chomp you to pieces with no mercy.

This is how he/she described it:

“’Twas THIS BIG!” he/she stated, holding his/her paws far apart. “Only ‘t was bigger than that. Much bigger! Must’ve been more’n th’ dock. An’… an’ ‘t was all slick an’ shiny an’ slimy lookin’ an’ had big teeth an’ HUGE eyes that were all evil lookin’ an’ all!” He/she held his/her paws a foot or so apart when describing the teeth. “’T looked all mean an’ mischievous-like! Like it wan’ed t’ eat me! Ah thin’ ‘t would’ve, too! Oh, ‘t’s too terrible t’ even think about; dying at th’ teeth o’ a monster! Don’ go in th’ water at all, mates. Not u’less ya wanna die…” At this point the beast closed his/her eyes and began to shake.

Science-beasts believe this to be a fabled beast called a Loch Ness monster. Nobeast has ever clearly seen one, but they are believed to be longer than that of a regular eel. (The average Imperium eel is about ten to twenty feet. They are only found in deep waters far outside the harbor.) Science-beasts also think that this monster is blood hungry. If the Hidebeast is correct, then the Loch Ness is quite dangerous. The Chief Science-beast thinks that this Nessie isn’t just passing by; the creature looked dangerous, having large fangs and all (it probably had terrible claws, too!). He also thinks that it may be related to the Deepcoilers at the lake that holds Marlfox Isle (bless the poor foxes!) The Chief Science-beast will be conducting studies north of Bully Harbor. Volunteers will be needed as bait.

Some beasts are quite worried. They are afraid that this monster will become a threat to them when they go swimming. Science-beasts think so. Here’s the thought of the Chief Science-beast:

“Well, my team of science-beasts believes that this monster won’t pass soon, even if there haven’t been any sightings of it by anybeast as of late. Only time can tell. Swimming won’t be safe at all, so parents are advised to tie ropes to their swimming kits in case of emergency so they can pull them back to shore. You shouldn’t really swim at all, let alone letting your kits swim. Who would let their child swim in monster infested waters? An idiot would, or someone who really, really, really does not like their child. Though, that’s what orphanages are for, right?”

Keep reading dear readers for more updates about this creature! Expect an update every Smelt edition, along with some other tid-bits of information.

This Smelt’s tid-bit-- Nadya Volimova is now editor. Oh happy day.
​

Bouillabaisse Harbyr Opyra Hausse Opynes!

By A. Kingussie

BULLY HARBOR, VULPINE IMPERIUM -- Several months ago, the Harbor experienced its first taste of high culture when the Bouillabaisse Harbor Opera House opened in Satire Square. The opening was met with mixed reactions from the citizenry.

"I dunno wot it's all about," declared Grubby Waffler, who attended a recent performance of Die Verstimmtekartoffeln. "There wos singin', I fink, an' there wos summat about everybeast dyin', only I couldn't make that bit out 'cos I wos tryin' t'keep me son from throwin' peanuts at th'stage. Waste o'good peanuts, that. Any'ow, 'twas a waste o'gilders, in me opinion, though 't did get me away from th'missus for a few hours."

When confronted with the fact that he had stolen the tickets from a corpse lying behind the Opera House, and that he was neither married nor had a son, Mr. Waffler became extremely red-faced and hurriedly excused himself. The cause of this response is still unknown.

Nathaniel Polycarp Robitussin, Esq., on the other paw, had a different opinion. "It's an excellent establishment, in my opinion," remarked Mr. Robitussin. "It's a refreshing hint of high culture in this pit of filth that is Bouillabaisse Harbor. It almost warrants descending from the fresh atmosphere of the Insanely Rich Area once a week. We haven't got an Opera House up there, you know. It's quite an outrage. But what I'm trying to say is that it's an admirable effort to educate the lower class. And they sell good peanuts there, too."

Other citizens of the Imperium, when interviewed, responded with such enlightening answers as "They serves good peanuts," "Ahwannafish," and "Lobster! Microwave thrice tiny purple gravies," which was all very confusing as microwaves do not seem to have been invented yet. (Ed. Note: We bloody told them not to interview Phil the Hobo, all right?)

After these interesting testimonies by the general populace, we decided to investigate this Opera House and see whether or not it really was as wonderful or terrible as we had heard. Unfortunately, we were unable to purchase tickets, that evening's performance of Non Possiamo Cantare having sold out the day before. After a few hours of waiting, however, we did manage to accost the famous baritone, Luciano Havabiscotti, as he exited the rear of the building.

Unfortunately, it seemed that he was unable to speak Our Language properly. We had barely begun our interview when we were rather rudely ushered away by a young fellow with a ridiculous hat who declared that "You're not allowed around here sirs! A beast could get robbed around here sirs!" and very nearly forcibly shoved us out of the alley.

All in all, it was a rather tragic affair, and not particularly enlightening. We have been informed by the managers of the Opera that seats will be reserved for us for the next performance. The authors of this piece would like to express their anticipation for the upcoming event, as they have not experienced fine art, Bouillabaissean culture, or good peanuts in quite a while.
​

Ye New Taxe

By Freddy "Growltiger" Gingertail

As has been noted by many old wives of Bully Harbour, the price of wool has risen considerably. There have been many different explanations for this sudden price hike, ranging from the sensible to the downright insane. I mean, who ever heard of sheep going on holiday to the sun? The idea is frankly absurd.

However, after much poking, prodding and turning of stones, the Smelt has discovered the true source of this sudden and most unexpected price increase.

It would appear that our great and glorious Emperor has imposed a new tax on wool of all colours. To find out exactly why our wise and benevolent ruler has done this, we sent our finest and least intimidate-able reporter to the Ministry of Commerce where a representative of the Ministry gave us this statement:

“This new tax on wool is at the behest of our great Emperor Mar’kan II. The Emperor has become fed up with the numbers of horrific knitted jumpers an elderly Aunt has sent him for Giftsgiving every year since he was a small boy. After receiving an especially eye damaging example this year he has finally decided to do something about it. Wool will now be taxed heavily until such time as the Emperor feels the knitting community have learned their lesson. The offending Aunt has also been arrested on charges of crimes against fashion.”

When pressed by our reporter as to when this tax would be lifted, the official replied, “I’m a very busy beast, now get out of my office before I set the Kreehold on you!”

As this tax has been imposed by the Emperor himself, the Smelt supports it wholeheartedly, and only hopes that this dangerous and subversive practice known as “knitting” ceases to offend him as soon as possible. Long live our glorious Emperor, Ye First, Ye Only, Mar’kan II.​

 

[Jeshal the Ironclaw]

Thermidor 1, Yr. 1726



A Travesty In Innovation

By Nadya Volimova

Early this morning, a ferretwife and her rat accomplice were apprehended by the Fogey patrols that guard the Barracks and Imperial Condos district. They were found fleeing the scene of a daring break-and-enter attempt (and success) on the Imperial Library archives. It is unclear as to their true intent, but the female was found carrying the original copy of the infamous "Paddle-Pan 1700", patent number 245387. This product has brought only limited success to the Ministry of Innovation, though it most prominently became a best-selling item during this past Beat A Sean Day (Frimary 18th).

Upon the starting of the case, and the searching of the direct vicinity of the Imperial Library archives, investigators were surprised to find a large contraption of sorts propped up against the Western wall of the building. Investigators were unsure as to what exactly the purpose of the device was, not to mention what it's components it was composed of, but it seemed quite evident that this was what the duo had used to break into the building.

When asked to comment on the case, the head investigator said: "It is a travesty that such a crime could take place here in the Imperium, never mind when it is directed at one of the very Ministries that helps run it. Our investigations have led us to believe that one Calantorntain S. Pickwic was involved, possibly having supplied the funds to make this daring attempt at theivery a reality. She will be questioned as soon as possible."

A technological officer had this to say about the device the ferretwife used to gain entrance to the archive building: "It's a rather ingenious design, really. I'm not exactly sure how it functions, or if it even functions at all, but, suffice it to say, it worked quite well to serve its purpose. Whatever that was. I'm most intrigued at the rat's involvement in the device, however; it seems almost as if he sacrificed his own pelt for the device to work properly..."

Upon questioning, the ferretwife merely repeated the words "Dear Torl" over and over again, while the now half-hairless rat sat quietly off in the corner, rocking back and forth in a rather comical fashion. Their court representative merely stated: "My clients have no comment at this time, beyond the referral to a continuous Smelt article, which goes by the name of 'Dear Torl'. We are currently looking to speak to Mr. Torl to continue the process of this investigation, and relinquish my clients of any guilt. Thank you."

Though the trial is still a few days off yet, it is almost certain that the ferretwife and rat will be charged with Breaking-and-Entering and Theft of Ministerial Property, though the ferretwife will also be charged with Cruelty Towards Fellow Beasts. It is this reporter's opinion that the two accomplices should be punished to the full extent of the law.

The where-abouts of the original "Paddle-Pan 1700" are unknown at this point in time. We will continue to cover this story, and let you, the loyal reader, know how it all turns out. So keep reading.
​

The "Smelting" Corner

By Nadya Volimova

Wherein our reporter manages to "mold" her interviewees in such a way that things become much clearer.

Not too long ago, the Imperium was given a brand-new Minister of Niceties. This new Minister, one Miles S. Mistoffelees, used to be a singer in the Opera House located in Satire Square, but decided to move into politics. We interviewed Mr. Mistoffelees to discover why.

Nadya: Hello, Minister Mistoffelees. Thank you ever so much for devoting some time today to us.

Miles: My pleasure, madame. Sorry about the crumpets.

Nadya: Oh, not at all. They were quite delicious, even if they were a bit burnt. Shall we begin?

Miles: [Nods.] Yes, of course...

N.: Wonderful. Why don't we start from the beginning; when did you decide to join the opera company here in Bouillabaisse Harbor?

M.: Oh, that. It was quite sudden. My gran always said I had a good voice, and I just loved music, so when auditions came up, I tried out. Not to mention the wages were far better than my previous job.

N.: I see. Has your grandmother always been a big influence on your life and the decisions you make?

M.: [Shifts uncomfortably] In the past, she has been. She was dead set against the opera when I asked her to attend, so I haven't... actually told her about my becoming tenor in the productions I've been in.

N.: Ah, I see. Well, let's just hope she doesn't read the Smelt, eh? [Giggles]

M.: Oh, she can't read. She says it's a waste of time.

Though she is proud that I'm the Minister of Niceties now, she still refuses to let me teach her.

N.: Ah, yes, thank you for reminding me. How ever did you decide to make the transition from opera tenor to Minister of Niceties?

M.: It was perhaps even more sudden than the previous transition-- I'd arrived a bit late to the show one morning, the morning when the Unsmudgables were giving out those little forms, and so I was temporarily fired until the next production began. I had nothing to do all day, so I figured, why not fill it out?

N.: Interesting. So you're telling me, and the public, that the only reason you were given the position of Minister of Niceties was because you filled out an application sheet the Unsmudgables were handing out?

M.: Well, yes. That was how it was being done.

Of course, there was a week or two of more questions. Drills and things I had to know before I could honestly be considered.

N.: Oh? What kind of drills and things?

M.: Mostly how to not die if the Ministry went up in flames. I think they made me do them partly because of the new Minister of War, but I don't quite see why.

Then there was all that "what would you do if this happened" sort of questions. They wanted me to speak them in person, rather than on a parchment.

N.: You mentioned the new Minister of War. Have you had much experience, or problems, dealing with her? (Ed. Note: The new MinoWar is one IceRain Sleet.)

M.: I honestly haven't had the chance to talk with her much, though I've met her. If I recall, it seemed to go well. So, no, no problems yet.

... Yet.

N.: That seems like quite an ominous addition. Are you expecting to have problems while dealing with her?

M.: From all reports I've read, it's inevitable. Every Minister and Ministry has, in their career, had their spats with their fellow Ministers. There was only one Minister who never did, but that was because he was so disliked they assassinated him four hours after he was appointed.

N.: Ah, quite intriguing. Don't you think, though, that, as the Minister of Niceties, you should try to put the "right paw forward", as they say, and at least attempt to make sure such an encounter doesn't occur between you two?

M.: That's the problem right there. I'm the only Minister expected to do that-- and while I will, it will either come at a time when such a gesture will be the wrong one to make, or it will turn War's thoughts about me the wrong way-- or the right way. She is, after all, a beast of action and temperment. Appearing friendly is to appear weak, which is to be no use to the MinoWar, which is to become annoying, a thorn in her side.

Suffice it to say that I don't believe the Minister of War to be an easy beast to get along with, for anyone.

N.: My, that was rather poetic, and still managed to carry a rather concise point to it. I suppose that's just another reason why you were chosen to be the Minister of Niceties, no?

M.: I suppose so... in the opera, you sing this sort of thing all the time-- poetry with a point. Usually a point that can be made in less than half the time it takes to sing about it, but that's opera.

N.: [Giggles] Indeed. Moving on. I don't suppose you ever had any dealings with the previous Minister of Niceties, Teresa Doxtrod-Lancaster?

M.: Very few. At the time of her, shall we say 'reign', I was just one of the many sweepers in the Niceties' museums. I've caught glimpses of her, exchanged pleasantries, but I've never had the chance to go beyond that.

N.: A pity. She seemed to have held quite an established persona around the Imperium. Do you think you can live up to the legacy that she left behind?

M.: Me? Well... I honestly can't say for certain. There are simply too many variables. I may be able to live up to her legacy-- or -a- legacy. But I just can't say.

I suppose if I want to... I better quit and join the Navy for a few years, first. But I'd never do that.

N.: [Giggles] Oh, you are a rather amusing fellow, you know. And rather handsome, as well. [Bats eyelashes.]

M.: So it's often said.

N.: I should dare say. You must have to fend the females away, what with all your power, good looks and personality. Or are you married beast?

M.: [Coughs distractedly] Well, I would be, but my gran... Well, would you like another crumpet?

N.: [Bats eyelashes] Perhaps later, over some tea. I just have a few more questions...

M.: Mm, yes?

N.: After being given the position of Minister of Niceties, one of the first things you did was create a brand-new holiday, which has become known as Flinky Day. I must confess, this is a bit of a two-parter, but, for those who don't know, could you tell us who exactly Flinky was? And, likewise, could you explain why you decided to create the holiday in the first place?

M.: Hm. Well, the Imperium often celebrates the birthday of Beetleborb, perhaps our most famous composer of music. But there was no holiday in celebration of our grandest poet, Flinky-- ah, he has no last name. Flinky was a stoat who lived ages ago, absolute ages. While his poetry is somewhat outdated, his influence pretty much made our modern poems what they are today.

I was unable to find Flinky's precise birth date, but the 16th of every month is, to me, a very special day.

N.: Oh? Is there a reason for that?

M.: Indeed there is-- Tradition is a long-standing... er, tradition, in my family. Every 16th, my gran makes waffles instead of pancakes. So I suppose Flinky Day's original name could be Waffle Day.

N.: Fascinating. Your grandmother really has had a big influence on your life, hasn't she?

M.: Ah, yes, she has. Though the Imperium may rest assured that she's not the true Minister of Niceties. [Chuckles]

N.: [Giggles] Quite. Well, I thank you very much for your time, Minister. Perhaps after we finish, you'd be able to give me a tour of your beautiful homestead here.

M.: [Winks] Perhaps.

N.: [Titters] Oh you.

M.: That's a quaint accent you have there, madame, I quite like it. (Ed. Note: It should be noted that, though it is not evident in our written publication, our head editor, Nadya Volimova, does, in fact, have an accent. A rather lovely one, if you ask me. And I'd know.)

N.: [Blushes slightly; waves paw at him] Stop... [Titters] Oh, you're almost too much. [Bats eyelashes]

Well, we thank you all very much for joining us for this edition of the Smelting Corner. And, once again, thank you Minister Mistoffelees for taking time out of your busy schedule to talk to us today.

M.: You're welcome, madame.

N.: Be sure to keep reading, as we find another individual of the Imperium to interview.

Now... [Giggles] About that tour...

M.: I really am sorry about the crumpets...

N.: Until next time, dear readers!
​

Crazy Circus Clown Consumes Camera Crew

By Nicholas Snider

N. Snider: "We'll get back to you once we find out what a "camera" is, but in the meanwhile we've journeyed inside the stomach of a mad clown to get an interview with the crew he's swallowed! So, what do you all have to say about this horrific event?"

Camerabeast: "Shut up, Dave-- What? Oh! Sorry, mate. It's horrific, you know?"

N. Snider: "Of course, we all understand. Bully Harbor and its citizens weep for you tonight."

Soundbeast: "Well, it's not so bad, really. There's a good show at least."

N. Snider: "Pardon?"

Soundbeast: "I guess you haven't seen it ye-- Oh, here it comes now!"

Stomach Acid: *Gurgle*

N. Snider: "Was that a--"

Dave: "560? Oh, yeah." [Jeshal's note: Unsure if 560 is correct. Article is smudged.]

Crew: "Shut up, Dave."

N. Snider: "So, how long have you lot been trapped in here?"

Camerabeast: "Three? Four days? It's a bit hard to tell the time in a creature's stomach, you know? We've been judging by when the next globs of food rain down on us from up there."

N. Snider: "Just so all you folks know, Mr. Camerabeast is pointing at the hole that leads to the clown's throat. Really, though, how have you been surviving?"

Dave: "Peanuts."

Camerabeast: "Shut up, Dave. The stomach acid has been bringing us peanuts from somewhere. We're not sure from where, but they're better than the ones at the Opera House and we suspect it hoards certain foods here, you know?"

N. Snider: "Right. Just a few more questions and I'll let you get back to your misery."

Soundbeast: "That's mighty decent of you."

N. Snider: "Company policy. Anyway, just what is a camera?"

Dave: "Well, it mimics the eye in that--"

Camerabeast: "Shut up, Dave! If we told you we'd have to kill you, you know?"

N. Snider: "Oh, er... moving on. Does the clown's stomach acid do parties?"

Stomach Acid: *Gurgle...Gluch*

N. Snider: "Do you have a card? Or contact information?"

Stomach Acid: *Rumble...Gluch...Gluch...*

N. Snider: "You read it here, ladies and gentlebeasts! Just contact the Saturday Evening Smelt if you'd like to learn how to obtain the Crazed Clown's Stomach Acid for your next get together! I'd like to thank this valiant camera crew, by the way. We all wish you the best of luck."

Camerabeast: "Better to be 'eaten alive' than 'swallowed to death', you know?"

Soundbeast: "At least there's a good show. Oh. My. Fates. That was so a double-back flip, reverse somersault combo!"

Dave: "Peanuts?"

N. Snider: "No, thank you. Next edition we'll delve into the mysteries of cameras and maybe even hear about the latest escapades of the Stomach Acid. Until then, I'm Nicholas Snider. Good night and good luck."​

Dear Torl (Sixth Edition)

By Torl Wafflepaw

Dear Torl, What happened to the candles? I've eaten dinner in the dark for three weeks now! I've had five forks poked into my face, broken six plates, and as for the neighbours coming over for dinner, don't ask. What's the point of having a Mayor if our candles are running late? Yours, ~ Blind & Hungry

Dear Blind, since you are so, I have taken it upon myself and finally actually used my research privileges. I hope you're happy. I was on a roll there. As I found out, the Mayor doesn't have anything to do with candles. Your question should be, Why have the candles run out the same time we got a Mayor? The simple answer is that Mayor Freemont is a beast who enjoys the simple pleasures of life. The difficult answer is that Mayor Freemont's idea of simple pleasure is to steal all our candles and eat them for dinner, with a side of honey and pepper. He will not be content until we are all out of candles and he is fat as the former Co-Editor of the Smelt. In the meanwhile, I suggest getting somebeast who can see to write a letter to your parents explaining that they did a lousy job with you as a kit, and that you still need their help when it comes to feeding yourself, you disgusting slob. What did you do, poke your eyes out as well? Hoping like 'Gates you're not Mine, Torl.


Dear Torl, I am a scribe that serves at the Ministry of War, and have had that position for quite some time now. I served under the previous MinoWar, Kenshin Bladedart, and we got along quite well. Now, however, with the appointment of IceRain Sleet, things have become that much harder. I'm having trouble doing my duties having to wander around in a haze of smoke and a pile of ash. Do you have any suggestions that could help me?
~ Asthmatic and Distraught

Dear Asthmatic, what you need to do, is start a network marketing corporation. It's a simple process: You tell somebeast to give you a thousand gilders, and then they can hire as many other beasts as will pay for another thousand, though five-hundred of that thousand goes to your good self. The beasts they hire then hire more, who give you two-hundred-and-fifty of their profits, and so on until you've got beasts telling you to pay them a thousand gilders (or nine hundred-and-ninety-nine.) At this point, laugh them off and tell them that for two thousand gilders, they get a free pair of galoshes as well. It worked in Southsward, and the king there is very proud of his galoshes.


Dear Torl, Hello again. I wonder if you remember me? A while ago you gave me some advice on how to get back at the Ministry of Innovation for stealing my invention. Well, I took that advice, and I succeeded in getting my frying pan-paddle back. Just before I was apprehended by the Fogeys. There should be an article in the Smelt about it all, just like you hoped. I am writing to you from my cell in the jail, and I just wanted to thank you for your advice. Also, is there anything you could suggest to help me get out? Thanks in advance.
~ Sore, Poor, and Indoors

Dear Sore, I am sorry to say that I do not remember you the slightest, and that I have not yet read the Smelt, as I am currently getting filthy rich writing for it. While your problems are none of my concern, I do have a suggestion for you-- have you tried the doors? Most of the guards only pretend to lock them. When you walk out, try to glimpse the faces of the lifers. Oh, and jiggle the keys on your way out. And give my regards to my cousin, Farl. He's the one with the funny looking whiskers. He once killed eleven different ferret jills in a day because he dreamed that a female ferret would tell him his shirt wasn't matching his hat.


Dear Torl, I am just the clumsiest of beasts. I spill everything I touch. It's so bad that I've had to hire a scribe to write this for me, as the last twenty times I spilled the ink all over it. Every day I have to wear new clothes, and everybeast can see what I did-- or didn't-- have to drink and eat by the end of the day. I've lost so many gilders out of my purse that I suspect Phil the Hobo is going to start a rival bank to Ye Olde Epicurean. I've been to the Bilge every other day, but have never woken up with a hangover. As you can see, this is a desperate situation. What do you recommend to still my paw, so I can stop spilling stuff on everything?
~ Miss Clumsy

Dear Miss, what you do is take a left at Setting Duck street, and go down Anomalous Street to Satire Square, it's the one with all the artists in. Then go down Frothing and Ninth, and fourth door to your left once past the yellow building is where Elton the Blacksmith has his shop. Glad I could help you.​

Flinky Jr.

By Firefur W. Bowbeast

(Ed. Note: As most of you already know, the 16th of every month has been designated Flinky Day, as decreed by our new Minister of Niceties, Miles S. Mistoffelees. However, what might not be evident to everyone is why. Well, we hired one of our reporters to look into this matter, and this is the information they gained through their investigations.)

One day, Crinktail, mate to Flinky, gave birth to a son. He looked very much like his father.

Flinky Junior grew up with a small band of vermin. He was treated like a god. Many beasts, including two certain beasts, often sung song about his father, though he claimed they were about him. One was so awesome, it was made the Theme Song of the Whole World and everyone had to sing it everyday before school, because Mini-Flinky had won over the world with his wonderful Flinky Original-like self.

One day, Flinky Jr. came to the VI and appointed himself Emperor. No one argued. Flinky-the-little-one is good friends with the MinoNice and the weasel Miles created Flinky day. Of course, this only worked until everybeast realized it was not the true Flinky.

The real Flinky came and strung his son by his toes saying, "It's not good to act like me! Only silly little stoats do that and then they get strung by their toes."

Emperor Mar'kan became Emperor again. Flinky and his son, which he decided to rename Sorry after his grace the MinoNice for creating Flinky Day, have since decided to leave our Imperium, and many beasts are saddened by this fact.

It is said Flinky was so handsome that, when he passed by a beast, they swooned over with nobeast to catch them, because everybeast swooned too. Many beasts have bumps on their heads currently because of Flinky's recent visit.

May his Grace Flinky live forever in the hearts and souls of Imperial beasts forever. Oh, yes, Mar'kan, too.​