The Last Spoiled Frontier

Now that we know there isn't an ancient city hiding on the moon, where am I supposed to have my bold adventurers go? Wait a minute, did I just write "on the moon?" I just checked, and I did. Sublunarian expeditions await! Until we do that too, at which point I dunno. Maybe something in Montana. Nobody checks anything that's claimed to happen there.

Q&A Corner

Q. When should I use meed and when should I use guerdon?
A. If you're using either, you no longer care what people think.
Q. I have a similar question about raiment and habiliments.
A. I have a similar answer.

The Inscrutable Meed of Valor

After the battle, the great spirit Elgophan addressed Jinios thus: "You, a mortal man, have made an unforgettable exhibition of your might and bravery against these baercaces. I am minded to exchange gifts. Here, I will have that shield, rent to uselessness save as a trophy, and take you this lizard canister."
"A . . . what?" The firmament sent down a single of its jewel-like stars which resolved itself in Jinios's hands as a canister some eight inches long. Its surface had a dull sheen to it. "Oh, a canister, that I suppose contains a lizard possessed of peculiar virtues." "There is no lizard inside it."
"Oh. Can it contain a lizard?"
"Certainly."
"Can it be filled with things other than lizards?"
"It must be so, before the end."
While Jinios examined it the mysterious gift, Elgophan disappeared, and never again did they meet.
Years later, the theft of the Gochish Arract from the despot's vault succeeded as far as the acquisition, but the extraction was another matter. Jinios acted to assist the rash but likable thieves by hiding the Arract on his person, but the thorough guards restricted their examination in no way at all.
"Nothing on this one, but what might he be hiding in here?" The guard held up the canister and shook it.
"Haven't you ever seen a lizard canister? All you're doing is agitating the lizard. And wasting time."
With that, the canister was handed back to Jinios, who, awed at the manifold windings of fate, then recalled the final words of Elgophan.
Finis

Addendum

The smooth maneuver is to label your pages wrong on purpose so that readers (and eventually non-readers) argue over the proper scores, make competing guides/wikis/apps, and generally generate a whole lot of fuss. Every entertainment product needs a little controversy, but don't get despondent thinking it has to be in the text.

The Newest Page Breakthrough

From now on, the numbers on pages will indicate not their order, though you can keep those if you're feeling old-fashioned, but how plot-relevant the page is so readers can skip all the filler. I have gathered from online discussions that pretty much everything is filler, so don't try to fool us by giving every page a 7+.

Monster Popularity

Have slime monsters fallen out of favor now that we're all sure they're somebody's fetish? The question has two parts, the first being whether slimes have fallen out of favor, which itself requires determining how popular they ever were. The point isn't to get an asnwer. It's to start a conversation. Have you ever had someone tell you that, or "I'm just asking questions?" That person is lying to you. He is coming at you with an anti-slime agenda, or maybe a pro-slime agenda, I'm unsure, and you shouldn't fall for it.

Alternative Explanation

Elves are usually described as long-lived, but what if they just all look the same so nobody can tell? And they have a small pool of names. You could get away with a bunch before regular censuses.

Addendum

"A man can be eaten but once, but a pummeling may be profitably multiplied." - an evil wizard deciding whether to give his horrible creations extra heads or arms

Anatomical Musings

In the light of day, thousands of years later, I'm starting to think that having multiple heads doesn't make a monster any scarier than it would be otherwise.

Apotheosis Dawn

For assorted reasons, some of them exciting in their own right, a traveler wandered untracked lands, lonely and anxious about his prospects. When he came across a stone building that resembled him in its solitude, a suspicious sight, he reckoned the risk of disaster better than the certainty. There he found succor.
"Welcome, traveler, to Yulril Abbey. You may stay here one day and night and then go away provisioned."
"Thank you. To what god is this abbey dedicated, that I might thank him?"
"We're waiting to find that out ourselves. Perhaps we erred in our order, but we trust one will come to us. Hm. You are the first layman to visit; are you perhaps the very god?"
"How could I be confused for a god?"
"No, of course that's impossible. Please come this way."
At the time the traveler thought nothing of having someone agree with him, but after he recovered his place in society, the abbot's tone became in his memory somewhat excessively firm. Nettled, he embarked on a course of greatness in both the political realm and in feats of personal courage, succeeding so well that the great admiration he earned during his life tranformed into a hero-cult after his death which justified itself to the priestly community through numerous confirmed miracles and prophecies. Yulril Abbey's cenobites never heard of it so far as anyone knew.
Finis