So, today I went for a stroll down the docklands of Thakria, wading in the shallows by the dock, smelling the salty whiff of fresh picked bukandas in the air, the sun warm on the sleeves of my black garb - all in all a lovely day. Who should I encounter there but my good friend Zamphere and his trusty bear companion Jarlaxle. They stood up from the herb gardening they were doing (wirren, by the looks of it), brushing the soft sand from their hands and waving at me in greeting.

\"What a pleasant surprise finding you here! \" Zamphere enthused.

\"Err- yes... \" I conceded, trying to ignore the blatant wail of trumpets from somewhere in the near distance. \"It's a lovely day, isn't it? \"

\"Aye,\" Jarlaxle agreed, raising a hand to his brow to shade his eyes from the sun. \"Perfect day for gardening, we've been at it all morning! \"

I smiled at them, happy that we all shared this benign pastime of nurturing curious and exotic plants.

\"We were just about to go in for a spot of tea,\" Zamphere began, gesturing towards his guildhouse. \"Would you care to join us? \"

\"Certainly! \" I agreed, and we all proceeded back to the Warlock's Den for a pleasant afternoon of tea and chit chat. On the way, we encountered Phalant, looking a bit lonely with the Angel of Death in tow.

\"He's in one of his moods,\" Phalant explained, nudging the angel. \"Doesn't want to speak a word to anyone. I'm beginning to think those afternoon outings with Orinoko weren't such a good idea. \"

Chuckling, Zamphere unlocked the door to the Warlock's hall, and ushered us inside, quickly laying a hearty spread of teatime delicacies - smoked haddock, chocolate cake, tizer, bird pie, stale buns. An excellent selection, we all agreed.

Just as we were pouring the second pot of tea (Jarlaxle slipping corneliusfolly into his cup, when he thought nobody was looking), we heard a thunderous crash at the door. Jumping up in consternation, we made our way to the entryhall to see what the racket could be.

To our chagrin, we espied the dubious \"Sir\" Dunccan, the erstwhile paladin and High Priest of Justice, looming outside the doorway.

\"FEE FI FO FUM\" he roared, his voice shaking the rafters and his breath wilting the nice crop of yarl growing in the planters. \"SOMEONE'S HAVING TEA, WHY CAN'T I COME?! \"

We tried to explain to him that we didn't know he was in town and it was merely an honest mistake, and besides, even if we had invited him, there would have been immense difficulty in levering his head through the modest sized door to the guildhouse. We simply were trying to find the most amicable situation for all parties. He roared aloud in frustration at our response and proceeded to hurl himself against the door in a most unbecoming way. Failing to gain entry through that method, he then proceeded

to magically traverse himself into our little tea party.

Of course, once he gained admission, he discovered that Zamphere had forgotten to lay out a selection of apple pies (Zamphere's quite logical protest of \"But it's not apple season yet! \" was ignored as Sir Dunccan began to gnash his teeth and work himself into a frenzy). Despite my attempts to calm him with a soothing balm of mandrake root, he soon began lashing out and we, the set upon tea partiers, had no choice but to react before he upturned the table and spilled all the tea!

Of course, he did not appreciate this, and his roars continued to echo back up the riverways to the empty harbor, as he boarded the ship of death which we had (quite thoughtfully) summoned for him.

We then settled down to continue our pleasant afternoon, but it was not in the cards that day! Sir Dunccan returned to his home city, gathering up fellow zealots to attempt to take over our party by force.

\"I hope THEY remember to bring apple pies! \" Zamphere shouted, over their crashing attempts to storm the guildhouse. \"Of course they will,\" replied Phalant, offering some tequila to the Angel of Death, in a hope to cheer him up. \"They have Fatalus, remember, the Apple Baron, monopolic owner of all the apple trees in the Greater Greenwood! \"

\"Well why not storm HIS tea party then?! \" Zamphere asked in frustration, rolling his eyes at the ceiling (which was now sporting ominous-looking cracks, spidering outwards from the battered door). \"Erm... \" Phalant looked at Zamphere like he was insane. \"It's FATALUS. You crash his tea party, you'll never see enough hemp to weave a rope again, much less a fishing net. I've heard of whole cities who have fallen because they provoked his ire with bad iron trading prices... \"

And on that note, an eerie silence fell upon the room. We quickly glanced around, knowing that a full scale assault was bound to occur... and occur it did. Dunccan suddenly burst into the room, Tazius, Flamestrike, Sajora, Denzeldash and Artecspirit in tow. The air shimmered around us, and the Prophetess Eloire let forth a mocking laugh as she began to negate rituals from the safety of her tower high in the northern city of Springdale. \"Forget the apple pie, will you?! \" she taunted. \"Experience the wrat

h of the hungry hordes! \"

\"But Eloire,\" I screamed into the air. \"You don't even like apple pies, you say they make you fat! \"

The shimmering waves of magic faltered for a moment, then a wave of slothful energy swept over us. \"DON'T YOU DARE CALL ME FAT!!! DUNCCAN!!! THEY ARE ABUSING MY SOUL!!! AVENGE ME!!! \" And with that, the battle was joined. Bodies fell on both sides, hitting the floor with sickening thuds (too many bird pies, perhaps), the tablecloth was whipped through the air, and, I am sad to say, more than one teacup was inadvertently dashed to the ground.

Finally, the dust cleared, both sides lay bruised, bleeding and broken. Hastily grabbing my cloak and unstabling my eagle, I skipped over the bodies, shouting a hasty thanks to Zamphere before slipping off into the sewers. Behind me, I heard the bellowing roar of the irate paladin, his voice raised in a cryptic message I still puzzle over to this day. Was it a prophecy? A warning? An enigmatic thank you for the haddocks (they were quite tasty)...Help me, oh readers, decipher the riddle the knight left

with me, the meaning of which still eludes this humble thief's grasp -

\"Lol you know what. let me explain something toyou i'm tired of you all teaming my order mate soooo uwoaime whatever is going to recieve my attentions from now on\".

And thus ends the tale of one cheerful, balmy summer's day.

Written by my hand on the 20th of Skyelong, in the year 1152.