Don't violate board rules, keep it serious, only add one sentence per post...you know the drill.
To start off:
Three weeks since the first snow fell, and still the ground rose by a foot everyday.
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Don't violate board rules, keep it serious, only add one sentence per post...you know the drill.
To start off:
Three weeks since the first snow fell, and still the ground rose by a foot everyday.
Three weeks since the first snow fell, and still the ground rose by a foot everyday. When the ground reached sky-high, the airplanes became grounded.
Three weeks since the first snow fell, and still the ground rose by a foot everyday. When the ground reached sky-high, the airplanes became grounded. All attempts to clear the snow had now ceased, it having been deemed wiser just to wait for the snow to stop falling.
Three weeks since the first snow fell, and still the ground rose by a foot everyday. When the ground reached sky-high, the airplanes became grounded. All attempts to clear the snow had now ceased, it having been deemed wiser just to wait for the snow to stop falling. that would be nice, except it never stopped!
Three weeks since the first snow fell, and still the ground rose by a foot everyday. When the ground reached sky-high, the airplanes became grounded. All attempts to clear the snow had now ceased, it having been deemed wiser just to wait for the snow to stop falling. that would be nice, except it never stopped! In celebration, Megas Methuselah baked a cake.
Three weeks since the first snow fell, and still the ground rose by a foot everyday. When the ground reached sky-high, the airplanes became grounded. All attempts to clear the snow had now ceased, it having been deemed wiser just to wait for the snow to stop falling. that would be nice, except it never stopped! In celebration, Megas Methuselah baked a cake. Megas was a foul man, a selfish old man who loved winter and hated the summer.
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
Three weeks since the first snow fell, and still the ground rose by a foot everyday. When the ground reached sky-high, the airplanes became grounded. All attempts to clear the snow had now ceased, it having been deemed wiser just to wait for the snow to stop falling. That would be nice, except it never stopped! In celebration, Megas Methuselah baked a cake. Megas was a foul man, a selfish old man who loved winter and hated the summer. He lived in a small cave in the hills, cackling and prancing madly to himself at the sight of all the snow.
The Vuk did see the spammy outcome of his beautiful and perfect thread, and lo! A spirit of anger did come upon him and he did smite the spammers with the unholy power of his righteous wrath!
:furious3:
What part of serious did you guys not read? Shall we start again?
Fine...but it already doesn't make very much sense. :P Thank you for standing up against spam sir. :bow: Have a balloon. :balloon2: (and have another :balloon:)
Three weeks since the first snow fell, and still the ground rose by a foot everyday. When the ground reached sky-high, the airplanes became grounded. All attempts to clear the snow had now ceased, it having been deemed wiser just to wait for the snow to stop falling. That would be nice, except it never stopped! In celebration, Megas Methuselah baked a cake. Megas was a foul man, a selfish old man who loved winter and hated the summer. He lived in a small cave in the hills, cackling and prancing madly to himself at the sight of all the snow. Megas was the archmage of the Council of Ice, and his mission was rid the world of all things good and warm, till all was as cold as his icy heart.
The bit about the snow being so high it grounded the airplanes makes it a bit unrealistic...
In any other thread I support spam but yours is the exception :wink:
Three weeks since the first snow fell, and still the ground rose by a foot everyday. When the ground reached sky-high, the airplanes became grounded. All attempts to clear the snow had now ceased, it having been deemed wiser just to wait for the snow to stop falling. That would be nice, except it never stopped! In celebration, Megas Methuselah baked a cake. Megas was a foul man, a selfish old man who loved winter and hated the summer. He lived in a small cave in the hills, cackling and prancing madly to himself at the sight of all the snow. Megas was the archmage of the Council of Ice, and his mission was rid the world of all things good and warm, till all was as cold as his icy heart. People always saw him as the senile person, the lonely decrepit plotter, he was never taken seriously. Now was his chance to change the discriminative mind and views.
Three weeks since the first snow fell, and still the ground rose by a foot everyday. When the ground reached sky-high, the airplanes became grounded. All attempts to clear the snow had now ceased, it having been deemed wiser just to wait for the snow to stop falling. That would be nice, except it never stopped! In celebration, Megas Methuselah baked a cake. Megas was a foul man, a selfish old man who loved winter and hated the summer. He lived in a small cave in the hills, cackling and prancing madly to himself at the sight of all the snow. Megas was the archmage of the Council of Ice, and his mission was rid the world of all things good and warm, till all was as cold as his icy heart. People always saw him as the senile person, the lonely decrepit plotter, he was never taken seriously. Now was his chance to change the discriminative mind and views.
The fabled Vuk, who walked with giants and was a hero of old, rose from slumber to prominence in a bold attempt to recover his past glories and reverse these tragic turn of events.
Don't think you will get out of this that easily sir. ~;) :clown:
Three weeks since the first snow fell, and still the ground rose by a foot everyday. When the ground reached sky-high, the airplanes became grounded. All attempts to clear the snow had now ceased, it having been deemed wiser just to wait for the snow to stop falling. That would be nice, except it never stopped! In celebration, Megas Methuselah baked a cake. Megas was a foul man, a selfish old man who loved winter and hated the summer. He lived in a small cave in the hills, cackling and prancing madly to himself at the sight of all the snow. Megas was the archmage of the Council of Ice, and his mission was rid the world of all things good and warm, till all was as cold as his icy heart. People always saw him as the senile person, the lonely decrepit plotter, he was never taken seriously. Now was his chance to change the discriminative mind and views. The fabled Vuk, who walked with giants and was a hero of old, rose from slumber to prominence in a bold attempt to recover his past glories and reverse these tragic turn of events. The ancient pack now broken, and their glory of old faded to a memory, Vuk now had to hunt alone.
Three weeks since the first snow fell, and still the ground rose by a foot everyday. When the ground reached sky-high, the airplanes became grounded. All attempts to clear the snow had now ceased, it having been deemed wiser just to wait for the snow to stop falling. That would be nice, except it never stopped! In celebration, Megas Methuselah baked a cake. Megas was a foul man, a selfish old man who loved winter and hated the summer. He lived in a small cave in the hills, cackling and prancing madly to himself at the sight of all the snow. Megas was the archmage of the Council of Ice, and his mission was rid the world of all things good and warm, till all was as cold as his icy heart. People always saw him as the senile person, the lonely decrepit plotter, he was never taken seriously. Now was his chance to change the discriminative mind and views. The fabled Vuk, who walked with giants and was a hero of old, rose from slumber to prominence in a bold attempt to recover his past glories and reverse these tragic turn of events. The ancient pack now broken, and their glory of old faded to a memory, Vuk now had to hunt alone. And then he pray to the God, to stop the blizzard from falling, so all the rest of the men would be free from the frozen jail.
Guys, pay attention to paragraph changes. New paragraphs are easier on the eye and are part of the literary arts.
Three weeks since the first snow fell, and still the ground rose by a foot everyday. When the ground reached sky-high, the airplanes became grounded. All attempts to clear the snow had now ceased, it having been deemed wiser just to wait for the snow to stop falling. That would be nice, except it never stopped! In celebration, Megas Methuselah baked a cake. Megas was a foul man, a selfish old man who loved winter and hated the summer. He lived in a small cave in the hills, cackling and prancing madly to himself at the sight of all the snow. Megas was the archmage of the Council of Ice, and his mission was rid the world of all things good and warm, till all was as cold as his icy heart. People always saw him as the senile person, the lonely decrepit plotter, he was never taken seriously. Now was his chance to change the discriminative mind and views.
The fabled Vuk, who walked with giants and was a hero of old, rose from slumber to prominence in a bold attempt to recover his past glories and reverse these tragic turn of events. The ancient pack now broken, and their glory of old faded to a memory, Vuk now had to hunt alone. And then he pray to the God, to stop the blizzard from falling, so all the rest of the men would be free from the frozen jail. Alas, it was not to be; Rhyfelwyr of Wales, a renowned thief and vagabond, had steathily advanced towards Vuk as he knelt in prayer and, with a quick hand, snatched the fabled one's staff.
Three weeks since the first snow fell, and still the ground rose by a foot everyday. When the ground reached sky-high, the airplanes became grounded. All attempts to clear the snow had now ceased, it having been deemed wiser just to wait for the snow to stop falling. That would be nice, except it never stopped! In celebration, Megas Methuselah baked a cake. Megas was a foul man, a selfish old man who loved winter and hated the summer. He lived in a small cave in the hills, cackling and prancing madly to himself at the sight of all the snow. Megas was the archmage of the Council of Ice, and his mission was rid the world of all things good and warm, till all was as cold as his icy heart. People always saw him as the senile person, the lonely decrepit plotter, he was never taken seriously. Now was his chance to change the discriminative mind and views.
The fabled Vuk, who walked with giants and was a hero of old, rose from slumber to prominence in a bold attempt to recover his past glories and reverse these tragic turn of events. The ancient pack now broken, and their glory of old faded to a memory, Vuk now had to hunt alone. And then he pray to the God, to stop the blizzard from falling, so all the rest of the men would be free from the frozen jail. Alas, it was not to be; Rhyfelwyr of Wales, a renowned thief and vagabond, had steathily advanced towards Vuk as he knelt in prayer and, with a quick hand, snatched the fabled one's staff. So vuk drew his sword and left the thief's head lying in the ever rising snow.
Three weeks since the first snow fell, and still the ground rose by a foot everyday. When the ground reached sky-high, the airplanes became grounded. All attempts to clear the snow had now ceased, it having been deemed wiser just to wait for the snow to stop falling. That would be nice, except it never stopped! In celebration, Megas Methuselah baked a cake. Megas was a foul man, a selfish old man who loved winter and hated the summer. He lived in a small cave in the hills, cackling and prancing madly to himself at the sight of all the snow. Megas was the archmage of the Council of Ice, and his mission was rid the world of all things good and warm, till all was as cold as his icy heart. People always saw him as the senile person, the lonely decrepit plotter, he was never taken seriously. Now was his chance to change the discriminative mind and views.
The fabled Vuk, who walked with giants and was a hero of old, rose from slumber to prominence in a bold attempt to recover his past glories and reverse these tragic turn of events. The ancient pack now broken, and their glory of old faded to a memory, Vuk now had to hunt alone. And then he pray to the God, to stop the blizzard from falling, so all the rest of the men would be free from the frozen jail. Alas, it was not to be; Rhyfelwyr of Wales, a renowned thief and vagabond, had steathily advanced towards Vuk as he knelt in prayer and, with a quick hand, snatched the fabled one's staff. No one knew why a Vuk -a wolf- would carry a staff, but Rhyf knew that it must be truely important, for Vuk would never do anything trivial or stupid.
:laugh4:
well now i'm feeling a little left out, i'll just go sit on the swings all alone and leave the big kids to play on the fort~:mecry:
rotfl
I DID!!!!
oh, well, i was trying to be kind of serious. :sweatdrop:
I'll try again tomorrow after a good night's sleep
Three weeks since the first snow fell, and still the ground rose by a foot everyday. When the ground reached sky-high, the airplanes became grounded. All attempts to clear the snow had now ceased, it having been deemed wiser just to wait for the snow to stop falling. That would be nice, except it never stopped! In celebration, Megas Methuselah baked a cake. Megas was a foul man, a selfish old man who loved winter and hated the summer. He lived in a small cave in the hills, cackling and prancing madly to himself at the sight of all the snow. Megas was the archmage of the Council of Ice, and his mission was rid the world of all things good and warm, till all was as cold as his icy heart. People always saw him as the senile person, the lonely decrepit plotter, he was never taken seriously. Now was his chance to change the discriminative mind and views.
The fabled Vuk, who walked with giants and was a hero of old, rose from slumber to prominence in a bold attempt to recover his past glories and reverse these tragic turn of events. The ancient pack now broken, and their glory of old faded to a memory, Vuk now had to hunt alone. And then he pray to the God, to stop the blizzard from falling, so all the rest of the men would be free from the frozen jail. Alas, it was not to be; Rhyfelwyr of Wales, a renowned thief and vagabond, had steathily advanced towards Vuk as he knelt in prayer and, with a quick hand, snatched the fabled one's staff. No one knew why a Vuk -a wolf- would carry a staff, but Rhyf knew that it must be truely important, for Vuk would never do anything trivial or stupid. Indeed, despite the fact that the snarling Vuk had recently befriended Miotas the Sheep, Rhyfelwyr of Wales still had a stubborn belief in the wisdom of the fabled Vuk.
Three weeks since the first snow fell, and still the ground rose by a foot everyday. When the ground reached sky-high, the airplanes became grounded. All attempts to clear the snow had now ceased, it having been deemed wiser just to wait for the snow to stop falling. That would be nice, except it never stopped! In celebration, Megas Methuselah baked a cake. Megas was a foul man, a selfish old man who loved winter and hated the summer. He lived in a small cave in the hills, cackling and prancing madly to himself at the sight of all the snow. Megas was the archmage of the Council of Ice, and his mission was rid the world of all things good and warm, till all was as cold as his icy heart. People always saw him as the senile person, the lonely decrepit plotter, he was never taken seriously. Now was his chance to change the discriminative mind and views.
The fabled Vuk, who walked with giants and was a hero of old, rose from slumber to prominence in a bold attempt to recover his past glories and reverse these tragic turn of events. The ancient pack now broken, and their glory of old faded to a memory, Vuk now had to hunt alone. And then he pray to the God, to stop the blizzard from falling, so all the rest of the men would be free from the frozen jail. Alas, it was not to be; Rhyfelwyr of Wales, a renowned thief and vagabond, had steathily advanced towards Vuk as he knelt in prayer and, with a quick hand, snatched the fabled one's staff. No one knew why a Vuk -a wolf- would carry a staff, but Rhyf knew that it must be truely important, for Vuk would never do anything trivial or stupid. Indeed, despite the fact that the snarling Vuk had recently befriended Miotas the Sheep, Rhyfelwyr of Wales still had a stubborn belief in the wisdom of the fabled Vuk. Having fell and cracked his head off a rock, Rhyfelwyr remember that he is in fact not Welsh, but due to the ancient Brythonic languages of his Scottish homeland, had given himself a very unfortunate name, which led to much confusion over his nationality.
Three weeks since the first snow fell, and still the ground rose by a foot everyday. When the ground reached sky-high, the airplanes became grounded. All attempts to clear the snow had now ceased, it having been deemed wiser just to wait for the snow to stop falling. That would be nice, except it never stopped! In celebration, Megas Methuselah baked a cake. Megas was a foul man, a selfish old man who loved winter and hated the summer. He lived in a small cave in the hills, cackling and prancing madly to himself at the sight of all the snow. Megas was the archmage of the Council of Ice, and his mission was rid the world of all things good and warm, till all was as cold as his icy heart. People always saw him as the senile person, the lonely decrepit plotter, he was never taken seriously. Now was his chance to change the discriminative mind and views.
The fabled Vuk, who walked with giants and was a hero of old, rose from slumber to prominence in a bold attempt to recover his past glories and reverse these tragic turn of events. The ancient pack now broken, and their glory of old faded to a memory, Vuk now had to hunt alone. And then he pray to the God, to stop the blizzard from falling, so all the rest of the men would be free from the frozen jail. Alas, it was not to be; Rhyfelwyr of Wales, a renowned thief and vagabond, had steathily advanced towards Vuk as he knelt in prayer and, with a quick hand, snatched the fabled one's staff. No one knew why a Vuk -a wolf- would carry a staff, but Rhyf knew that it must be truely important, for Vuk would never do anything trivial or stupid. Indeed, despite the fact that the snarling Vuk had recently befriended Miotas the Sheep, Rhyfelwyr of Wales still had a stubborn belief in the wisdom of the fabled Vuk. Having fell and cracked his head off a rock, Rhyfelwyr remember that he is in fact not Welsh, but due to the ancient Brythonic languages of his Scottish homeland, had given himself a very unfortunate name, which led to much confusion over his nationality. In the end, Rhyfelwyr of Wales had come to the conclusion that he was, in fact, Cornish.
So you all know, I am posting the completed story along with a list of contributers in the Mead Hall once it is finished, so do your best to make it a serious, good read. ~;) (or as serious as we can salvage out of this :P)
Three weeks since the first snow fell, and still the ground rose by a foot everyday. When the ground reached sky-high, the airplanes became grounded. All attempts to clear the snow had now ceased, it having been deemed wiser just to wait for the snow to stop falling. That would be nice, except it never stopped! In celebration, Megas Methuselah baked a cake. Megas was a foul man, a selfish old man who loved winter and hated the summer. He lived in a small cave in the hills, cackling and prancing madly to himself at the sight of all the snow. Megas was the archmage of the Council of Ice, and his mission was rid the world of all things good and warm, till all was as cold as his icy heart. People always saw him as the senile person, the lonely decrepit plotter, he was never taken seriously. Now was his chance to change the discriminative mind and views.
The fabled Vuk, who walked with giants and was a hero of old, rose from slumber to prominence in a bold attempt to recover his past glories and reverse these tragic turn of events. The ancient pack now broken, and their glory of old faded to a memory, Vuk now had to hunt alone. And then he pray to the God, to stop the blizzard from falling, so all the rest of the men would be free from the frozen jail. Alas, it was not to be; Rhyfelwyr of Wales, a renowned thief and vagabond, had steathily advanced towards Vuk as he knelt in prayer and, with a quick hand, snatched the fabled one's staff. No one knew why a Vuk -a wolf- would carry a staff, but Rhyf knew that it must be truely important, for Vuk would never do anything trivial or stupid. Indeed, despite the fact that the snarling Vuk had recently befriended Miotas the Sheep, Rhyfelwyr of Wales still had a stubborn belief in the wisdom of the fabled Vuk. Having fell and cracked his head off a rock, Rhyfelwyr remember that he is in fact not Welsh, but due to the ancient Brythonic languages of his Scottish homeland, had given himself a very unfortunate name, which led to much confusion over his nationality. In the end, Rhyfelwyr of Wales had come to the conclusion that he was, in fact, Cornish.
The hunt had begun, for Vuk knew that if he was to save humanity from the menacing old Megas, he would need the powers of the shadow staff that the foul taffer had stolen.
Three weeks since the first snow fell, and still the ground rose by a foot everyday. When the ground reached sky-high, the airplanes became grounded. All attempts to clear the snow had now ceased, it having been deemed wiser just to wait for the snow to stop falling. That would be nice, except it never stopped! In celebration, Megas Methuselah baked a cake. Megas was a foul man, a selfish old man who loved winter and hated the summer. He lived in a small cave in the hills, cackling and prancing madly to himself at the sight of all the snow. Megas was the archmage of the Council of Ice, and his mission was rid the world of all things good and warm, till all was as cold as his icy heart. People always saw him as the senile person, the lonely decrepit plotter, he was never taken seriously. Now was his chance to change the discriminative mind and views.
The fabled Vuk, who walked with giants and was a hero of old, rose from slumber to prominence in a bold attempt to recover his past glories and reverse these tragic turn of events. The ancient pack now broken, and their glory of old faded to a memory, Vuk now had to hunt alone. And then he pray to the God, to stop the blizzard from falling, so all the rest of the men would be free from the frozen jail. Alas, it was not to be; Rhyfelwyr of Wales, a renowned thief and vagabond, had steathily advanced towards Vuk as he knelt in prayer and, with a quick hand, snatched the fabled one's staff. No one knew why a Vuk -a wolf- would carry a staff, but Rhyf knew that it must be truely important, for Vuk would never do anything trivial or stupid. Indeed, despite the fact that the snarling Vuk had recently befriended Miotas the Sheep, Rhyfelwyr of Wales still had a stubborn belief in the wisdom of the fabled Vuk. Having fell and cracked his head off a rock, Rhyfelwyr remember that he is in fact not Welsh, but due to the ancient Brythonic languages of his Scottish homeland, had given himself a very unfortunate name, which led to much confusion over his nationality. In the end, Rhyfelwyr of Wales had come to the conclusion that he was, in fact, Cornish.
The hunt had begun, for Vuk knew that if he was to save humanity from the menacing old Megas, he would need the powers of the shadow staff that the foul taffer had stolen. In response, the aged and despised Megas Methuselah, archmage of the Council of Ice, drafted together a strike force of Finnish conscripts; it was their goal to capture Rhyfelwyr of Cornwall and enact brute torture upon the thief before stealing his stolen staff and returning it to their lords and masters in the Council of Ice.
Three weeks since the first snow fell, and still the ground rose by a foot everyday. When the ground reached sky-high, the airplanes became grounded. All attempts to clear the snow had now ceased, it having been deemed wiser just to wait for the snow to stop falling. That would be nice, except it never stopped! In celebration, Megas Methuselah baked a cake. Megas was a foul man, a selfish old man who loved winter and hated the summer. He lived in a small cave in the hills, cackling and prancing madly to himself at the sight of all the snow. Megas was the archmage of the Council of Ice, and his mission was rid the world of all things good and warm, till all was as cold as his icy heart. People always saw him as the senile person, the lonely decrepit plotter, he was never taken seriously. Now was his chance to change the discriminative mind and views.
The fabled Vuk, who walked with giants and was a hero of old, rose from slumber to prominence in a bold attempt to recover his past glories and reverse these tragic turn of events. The ancient pack now broken, and their glory of old faded to a memory, Vuk now had to hunt alone. And then he pray to the God, to stop the blizzard from falling, so all the rest of the men would be free from the frozen jail. Alas, it was not to be; Rhyfelwyr of Wales, a renowned thief and vagabond, had steathily advanced towards Vuk as he knelt in prayer and, with a quick hand, snatched the fabled one's staff. No one knew why a Vuk -a wolf- would carry a staff, but Rhyf knew that it must be truely important, for Vuk would never do anything trivial or stupid. Indeed, despite the fact that the snarling Vuk had recently befriended Miotas the Sheep, Rhyfelwyr of Wales still had a stubborn belief in the wisdom of the fabled Vuk. Having fell and cracked his head off a rock, Rhyfelwyr remember that he is in fact not Welsh, but due to the ancient Brythonic languages of his Scottish homeland, had given himself a very unfortunate name, which led to much confusion over his nationality. In the end, Rhyfelwyr of Wales had come to the conclusion that he was, in fact, Cornish.
The hunt had begun, for Vuk knew that if he was to save humanity from the menacing old Megas, he would need the powers of the shadow staff that the foul taffer had stolen. In response, the aged and despised Megas Methuselah, archmage of the Council of Ice, drafted together a strike force of Finnish conscripts; it was their goal to capture Rhyfelwyr of Cornwall and enact brute torture upon the thief before stealing his stolen staff and returning it to their lords and masters in the Council of Ice. It was now a race to see who could find the crafty thief first.
Three weeks since the first snow fell, and still the ground rose by a foot everyday. When the ground reached sky-high, the airplanes became grounded. All attempts to clear the snow had now ceased, it having been deemed wiser just to wait for the snow to stop falling. That would be nice, except it never stopped! In celebration, Megas Methuselah baked a cake. Megas was a foul man, a selfish old man who loved winter and hated the summer. He lived in a small cave in the hills, cackling and prancing madly to himself at the sight of all the snow. Megas was the archmage of the Council of Ice, and his mission was rid the world of all things good and warm, till all was as cold as his icy heart. People always saw him as the senile person, the lonely decrepit plotter, he was never taken seriously. Now was his chance to change the discriminative mind and views.
The fabled Vuk, who walked with giants and was a hero of old, rose from slumber to prominence in a bold attempt to recover his past glories and reverse these tragic turn of events. The ancient pack now broken, and their glory of old faded to a memory, Vuk now had to hunt alone. And then he pray to the God, to stop the blizzard from falling, so all the rest of the men would be free from the frozen jail. Alas, it was not to be; Rhyfelwyr of Wales, a renowned thief and vagabond, had steathily advanced towards Vuk as he knelt in prayer and, with a quick hand, snatched the fabled one's staff. No one knew why a Vuk -a wolf- would carry a staff, but Rhyf knew that it must be truely important, for Vuk would never do anything trivial or stupid. Indeed, despite the fact that the snarling Vuk had recently befriended Miotas the Sheep, Rhyfelwyr of Wales still had a stubborn belief in the wisdom of the fabled Vuk. Having fell and cracked his head off a rock, Rhyfelwyr remember that he is in fact not Welsh, but due to the ancient Brythonic languages of his Scottish homeland, had given himself a very unfortunate name, which led to much confusion over his nationality. In the end, Rhyfelwyr of Wales had come to the conclusion that he was, in fact, Cornish.
The hunt had begun, for Vuk knew that if he was to save humanity from the menacing old Megas, he would need the powers of the shadow staff that the foul taffer had stolen. In response, the aged and despised Megas Methuselah, archmage of the Council of Ice, drafted together a strike force of Finnish conscripts; it was their goal to capture Rhyfelwyr of Cornwall and enact brute torture upon the thief before stealing his stolen staff and returning it to their lords and masters in the Council of Ice. It was now a race to see who could find the crafty thief first. The thief however, had fled Cornwall sometime back, and was now hiding in the far away land of Indostan.