Its been a while since the Great White sage has put scribe to parchment, it has been a long hot summer in the great Northron regions and much has transpired.
Battles fought, wars raged, friends made and friends lost. Such is the price of conquest.

We have much to put to parchment and much to tell, so lets begin, shall we.

Near Castle Catalano, over the bridge guarded by trolls, lies the kingdom of Lord Lysander, THE BLACK KNIGHT.
A scoundrel if ever their was one, a tall, formidable man, with long flowing hair, arms like tree trunks, not a man like you or I. Very similar to Homer from the land of the stumprangers, although, a true mans man. Wenches swoon when he walks by, bosoms heaving with anticipation.

Lysander; pirate, black knight, liar, cheat, scoundrel, just a despicable excuse for a man.
He kicks puppies, kills fairies, knocks down old women, and flatulates and belches at will.
A vile, egotistical, maniacal pile of lickspittle. But,Something gleams inside Lysander, the Great Gumba knows not what yet, but he is patient and will wait.

Anyway, Lysander lives not far from Castle Catalano, actually he lives between the Great Gumba and Prince Loughdaugh, therefore he dare not wage war for he would be crushed.
Actually Lysander wages war away, the Great Gumba new not of the Black Night until just recently.

His land is fertile, much grows on this land, besides contempt, and ill will.
Flower gardens in which to attract Fairies (hint), low grass and shady spots for puppies to play and romp, (hint) and windmills to move the air about, as such, there is always a breeze over the meadow, (hint). I digress.

Lord Lysander and the Great Gumba met at a tournament, the Gumba had actually met his match with a broadsword, for days the two battled, sweat pouring from each of their brows. Swing after mighty swing, blow after mighty blow, the great warriors battled, not to the death but for sport.
Mournblade singing as it struck Lysanders great blade, needing to taste blood, being denied by the Gumba, for this was sport, no blood will be spilled today.

Days went by, the great warriors swung and swung, not a single blow met anything but steel, steel upon steel, time after time.
The challenge, DO YOU YIELD, spoke by both combatants, always the same reply, NEVER!!!!!.

Finally, after days, they both agreed it was time for honey mead. Weapons lay still, Mournblade sheathed, all great swords peace tied, for it was time to drink.

Many barrels of mead were opened and many more barrels of ale were drank, for days the two mighty warriors fought, neither giving quarter.
Tis true, the Great Gumba did not unleash all his weapons as he did on the Red Prince, so we shall never know if Lysander is as great a warrior as the Red Prince, maybe we do not need to know.

They talked and drank, telling of battles and friends and foes alike, of wenches from long ago and many other wondrous things.

Today; the Great Gumba has found another ally, nay, another man to call friend.

Huzzah to Lord Lysander and his kingdom.
Huzzah to the Great Gumba and all he calls friend.

So sayeth the Great White Sage of the Northron Region.