Gareth and the Lost Island - A Fantasy Adventure Comedy Audio Drama Series
Gareth and the Lost Island
Episode 1 - The Spirits Merchant
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[VDM Logo music] Quack-Quack-Hiss
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NARRATOR: Venomous Duck Media Presents:
Gareth and the Lost Island
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Disclaimer:
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This audio drama should be considered rated PG-13 for discussions of sexual hijinks,
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drinking, consuming questionable potions, brief moments of violence,
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crude language, and even cruder humor.
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Please use caution when listening in public, as this story may cause audible laughter.
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Venomous Duck Media is not liable for any strained abdominal muscles you may receive while listening,
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or the strange looks you might get from other commuters.
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If laughter persists for more than four hours, seek immediate medical attention.
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NARRATOR: Gareth and the Lost Island is the story of a young professor named Gareth Mintel,
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and his adventures dealing with pirates, reptilian slavers, irritable skeletons, and a vicious venomous duck.
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Now, to best understand Gareth, and the world that made him,
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we need to go back to the beginning, and by that, I mean the very beginning.
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[Time rewinding]
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NARRATOR: Before luxuries such as time and space existed, there was nothing.
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[cricket chirping]
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NARRATOR: I said, there was nothing.
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CRICKET: Sorry.
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NARRATOR: As I was saying, this complete lack of anything left the goddess Fate with very few entertainment options.
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FATE: Bored, bored, bored.
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NARRATOR: To relieve the tediousness of non-existence, Fate decided to try a little experiment.
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FATE: I wonder what would happen if I do...this.
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[Big Bang]
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NARRATOR: FATE’s experiment had created the very first something.
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That something was an explosion so intense, it spawned not one, but an infinite number of universes.
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FATE: Huh...cool!
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NARRATOR: The universe we are interested in is one that somehow managed to meld both magic
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and science into a unified set of laws that governed how things worked.
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FATE: Yep, that was me.
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NARRATOR: If we narrow our focus even more, we come across a solar system with seven planets orbiting a bright, yellow sun.
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One of the planets just happened to be in the perfect spot to have life spring up.
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FATE: That was me too. You’re welcome.
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NARRATOR: Thanks to the combined powers of Magic and Science, several sentient races evolved on Hadronus.
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Just like intelligent life throughout the multiverse, the sentient races of Hadronus managed to royally cock things up.
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FATE: Okay… that was totally not my fault.
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NARRATOR: The pride, and jealousies, of the different races lead to two separate wars
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that almost left Hadronus bereft of intelligent life on both occasions.
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These wars were later referred to as the First and Second Great Apocalypses.
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FATE: Hey, Narrator!
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NARRATOR: Um...yes.
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FATE: While I’m immortal, the listeners aren’t.
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You might want to speed this up a bit.
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NARRATOR: Yes, yes of course. Let me see…
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[pages flipping]
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NARRATOR: Ah...here we are.
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Thousands of years after the Second Great Apocalypse, the intelligent
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species on Hadronus pulled themselves up out of the ashes, and gave civilization a go once more.
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Of the remaining 12 intelligent species, humans rose to be the most dominant of the lot.
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Humans, just being human,
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[bed squeaking]
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NARRATOR: bred like bunnies, and soon overrun the borders of their home in the Southern Continent.
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During this time, the 12 intelligent species on Hadronus, including Humans,
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lived in a golden age of magic crystals, and steamwork gears. Eventually we reach the point where our story takes place.
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FATE: About time...
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NARRATOR: I’m sorry, what was that? I didn’t hear you.
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FATE: Nothing, go on with the story.
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NARRATOR: Despite the University he worked for being mired in greed and politics, a young professor still found reasons to celebrate,
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and made his way to the local pub with his adoptive father. This young professor’s adventures would eventually
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make him a household name across Hadronus. Not to mention the tales of his experiences with a certain questionable
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magical talisman would be used to frighten children, and those with sensitive noses, around campfires for generations to come.
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FATE: Yes! Finally, we get to the good stuff.
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NARRATOR: But we’re getting ahead of ourselves. Before he changed the world, Gareth Mintel got really, really drunk.
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[scene change music]
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NARRATOR: Gareth and the Lost Island Episode 1: The Spirits Merchant
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[Theme]
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[tavern ambience] TRALNIS: All right Gareth, you know the traditions of the Spirits Merchant.
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It’s time for you to stand, and give your nightly toast. Remember, it can be about anything.
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GARETH: Um… let me think. Oh, okay, I got one.
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[internal dialogue] All right, Gareth, you can do this. Stand up slowly. And… the room is spinning.
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Come on walls, behave like you’re supposed to, and stay still. Hey look, I’m not falling over. Now raise your glass, and try not to spill too much of this mead.
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[public speaking voice] A toast to misplaced accent marks!
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TRALNIS: Not that I’ve ever found a reason not to drink to something, but what in the 34 layers of hell
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does an accent mark have to do with anything?
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Gareth: Why everything of course, and hopefully it should secure my tenure at the University Arcanum...num..numnums...mmm now I'm hungry.
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TRALNIS: Huh?
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GARETH: One of the most boring tasks given to a first-year student studying Issian
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is to translate the works of the Issian philosopher, Dravis the Martyr. The other professors say it’s supposed to build character, or some rubbish like that.
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My discovery will take Dravis’ works from being a tedious chore to something that people will beg to translate.
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TRALNIS: Riiiiight.
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GARETH: No, really. I was working in the library, and came across an original copy of the first volume of Dravis’ works.
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It turns out that whoever made the copies to be translated by students routinely put the accent mark in Dravis’ title in the wrong place.
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You see, Issian has very few words, and the placement of a single accent mark can change the meaning and context of an entire sentence.
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My first clue to the difference was how his honorific actually read. Instead of Dravis the Martyr, his real title was Dravis the Hung!
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TRALNIS: No offense, Gareth, but only a language scholar like yourself could get excited about a little change like that.
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What does it matter if some poor dead sod is known as a martyr, versus that he was killed by hanging?
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GARETH: That’s just it, Tralnis, Dravis died happily of old age, and what I suspect was total exhaustion.
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TRALNIS: Hold on a moment, Gareth. I need more ale if we are going to get any deeper into linguistic history.
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[sipping ale]
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GARETH: Dravis’ title had nothing to do with his demise, but everything to do with how much the women from his village
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(and a few of the men) were impressed by the size of the equipment below his belt.
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[spit take]
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TRALNIS: Sorry, here take this napkin, and wipe off your teaching jacket.
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[wipes jacket with napkin]
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TRALNIS: Now then, it’s safe to say you have my complete attention, Gareth!
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GARETH: Knowing where the accent mark was supposed to go completely changed how Dravis’ first work read.
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As it turns out, it was just an introduction for the other six volumes, which documented all of the numerous techniques Dravis developed over his lifetime of shagging
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Of course, once I learned that, I had to find the other six volumes.
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TRALNIS: Now that sounds like a set of ancient texts that I could appreciate.
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I knew I raised you right. You might be a human, but you have the heart of a Dwarf.
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Like I’ve said before, the only thing we Dwarves do more often than drink ale is have sex, and we drink a lot of ale.
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GARETH: I dug through nearly every storage room in the library’s basement, and must have sifted through several tons of parchments
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before I found the collected works of Dravis. They ended up being in an unlabeled box in the back of an alcove that was set aside for cleaning spells and rituals.
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Dravis might have had the appetites of a Dwarf, but he was nothing if not thorough in the documentations of the techniques he had either learned, or developed on his own.
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Volume 3 is well… let’s just say that I had to take a series of cold showers while I translated it.
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TRALNIS: Hold up for a minute, Gareth, it looks like a pretty little Dryad is headed our way.
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Judging from the wood grain pattern I can see; I would guess her bonded tree must be an elm.
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One thing I’ve always wondered about Dryads is how they manage to keep from tearing their leaf dresses, considering how large their breasts usually are.
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I hope this one shaves down below. I hate getting moss on my tongue.
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Hello gorgeous, my name is--
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MELINDA: Excuse me for interrupting, Scholar, but the Issians were friends of my people before the Second Apocalypse.
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Dravis is very much revered by those of us from the Great Forest. Have you truly discovered the lost texts?
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GARETH: Well… uh… yes, actually.
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[bump into table sound]
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GARETH: Whoa! You lifted me off the bench with only one hand.
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MELINDA: We Dryads are stronger than we look. You should see what we can crush with our thighs.
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Anyway, I’ve rented a room upstairs. Let’s see how much of Dravis’ teaching you were able to retain.
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GARETH: I would love to go with you, but I just have to know which one of you is asking.
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The pretty Dryad on the left or the one on the right?
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TRALNIS: You’re seeing double Gareth. Now where did I put that blasted vial. [slapping pockets]
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TRALNIS: Ah there it is. Here Gareth, drink this.
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GARETH: Three quick questions for you first. 1) What is it? 2) Why is it an unnatural green color?
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And C, I mean 3) Is… is it moving on its own?!
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TRALNIS: Three quick answers then: it’s the sobriety potion I’ve been working on, I’m not really sure, and yes, yes it is.
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Look, you don’t have to drink it, but you’ll want to be sober to fully appreciate all a Dryad can offer. Plus, I think this beautiful sapling here would like you to be at the top game so to speak.
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MELINDA: Yes, I most definitely would. There are several positions I would like to try with this young man,
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and most of them require fairly good balance from both of us. Thank you, kind Dwarf.
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GARETH: That has to be the best argument for drinking a potion I have ever heard.
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All right, nothing ventured, nothing gained.
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[cork pop, gulping]
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GARETH: [gagging noises] Good gods, Tralnis! That tastes worse than your cooking!
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Wait… the room stopped spinning, and there’s only one Dryad standing next to me. You finally got the potion to work!
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Don’t wait up for me.
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[footsteps up the stairs]
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TRALNIS: Aaannd they’re gone. Time for my toast it seems. I just have to stand on this bench so everyone can see me.
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Tonight, my son has done that which many, including myself, never thought possible.
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He managed to attract a beautiful young woman who approached him, and nearly dragged him off to her bedchambers.
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[good natured laughing]
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TRALNIS: Fellow scholars, that was not the impossible deed of which I speak.
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My son is a handsome man, and several women have hoped to ensnare him before this.
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No, the seemingly impossible feat was that the young woman was insistent he bed her not despite him being a language scholar, but because of it!
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[crowd noises stop / record needle screech]
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LEAD BRUTE: I call dragonshit on that. Everyone knows you short little Dwarves like to tell tall tales.
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Now if you would be willing to swear it upon one of the accepted gods, then maybe we will believe you.
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TRALNIS: I’ll do you one better, you bigoted arse. I will swear on something more important to a Dwarf than any imaginary person in the sky.
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I swear upon this fine ale in my mug that what I said is the truth, and if I should have lied, may my ale taste like Scaled One piss for the rest of my life.
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[taking a loud drink]
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TRALNIS: Yep, still tastes as good as the first ale I had when I was just a wee lad.
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To Gareth Mintel, may he continue to do the impossible.
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[cheers]
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[bar ambience resumes]
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TRALNIS: Now then Tralnis old chap, time to see who might be up for a tumble. Can’t let my son show me up after all.
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Hhhhmm, those two over there wearing the gold sleeve stripe of the School of Mechanical Sciences look like they would make for an enjoyable, and sweaty evening.
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I can’t decide if the young man, or the young woman, is the better looking of the pair. Not that it really matters, either one looks like they will put a smile behind this handsome beard of mine.
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[scene change music]
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MELINDA: This is my room, scholar. Let me unlock the door for us.
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[unlocking, opening door]
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MELINDA: After you.
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GARETH: Wow, I didn’t know the Spirit’s Merchant even had rooms this nice.
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I definitely wasn’t expecting matching furniture, or such a large window.
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The only drawback is the fact the window, which does provide a pretty view of the twin moons, opens up right above the stables.
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MELINDA: Unlike the rest of the sentient races, my people find the smell of fresh fertilizer to be
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very enticing. It promotes growth, and new life after all.
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GARETH: I never thought about it like that, but it makes sense for a species that is equal parts plant and animal to appreciate that smell.
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MELINDA: Now excuse me for a moment while I lock the door.
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[door shutting, multiple locks being set]
[brief Horror music]
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GARETH: Uhh… that seems like an awfully large number of locks for a rented room.
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MELINDA: This is the room I usually rent when staying here. The owners of the Spirits Merchant know that I hate to be disturbed when entertaining myself
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and others, so they installed these locks for me. You don’t want to be disturbed tonight, do you?
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GARETH: No, no I don’t.
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MELINDA: I didn’t think you would. Now, let’s see about getting you out of those delicious clothes.
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I have always had a thing for the University Arcanum uniform with that smart looking, burgundy jacket and sharp gray trousers.
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GARETH: Wait! Before we go any farther, shouldn’t I least know your name?
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MELINDA: Do we need names to do what our bodies crave?
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GARETH: No, I don’t suppose we do.
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MELINDA: I didn’t think so. Now let’s get rid of those clothes of yours.
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[clothes being removed]
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[dresser being bumped]
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GARETH: (Internal dialogue) Ouch! That drawer handle is definitely going to leave a bruise, but so totally worth it.
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MELINDA: Now that we have you out of your clothes, I must say I chose quite well tonight.
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I especially like your sandy blonde hair, and beautiful violet eyes. They remind me of lilacs in the summer.
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It seems like I am terribly overdressed for the occasion.
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One of the nicer perks of only wearing this dress is how quickly I can return to being naked as Mother Hadronus intended.
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GARETH: [whispers] Rake thåä oniut oo, b’doa chi Hadronus - you are truly beautiful, child of Hadronus.
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MELINDA: You can speak the Language of the Forest? I haven’t heard anyone speak it in years.
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GARETH: Of course, I do. Being able to speak the Language of the Forest is a requirement for all professors in the School of Languages.
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MELINDA: Aren’t you a little young to be a Languages Professor?
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GARETH: Why yes, yes I am.
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MELINDA: Well in that case, let’s see how much of a cunning linguist a young man like you can be.
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GARETH: Oof! Bed’s a bit firmer than I was expecting. Is this custom made?
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MELINDA: Focus, Professor.
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GARETH: Right, sorry.
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MELINDA: Any other questions, before we consummate our evening?
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[knocking on door]
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MERCHANT: Melinda? Melinda… I know you’re in there my love. Open up my little shrub!
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MELINDA: Wood Rot! Bastard wasn’t supposed to be back until next week.
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GARETH: Uh… actually, I do have a question now that you mention it. [nervously] Who’s at the door?
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MELINDA: My husband.
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GARETH: Your husband?!
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[louder knocking]
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MERCHANT: Melinda dear, are you alright?
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Something must be wrong! Boys, break it down!
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[door slamming sounds]
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MELINDA: You might want to get dressed.
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GARETH: Right!
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[gets out of bed]
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GARETH: At least the two moons are providing enough light for me to see by. Now where are my trousers? Oh, there they are.
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And now my shirt…
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[louder slamming on door]
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MERCHANT: Why am I employing you if you can’t even break down a simple door?! Try harder, you fools!
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GARETH: Okay, I’ve got my shirt, socks, trousers, and right boot on, but where in the hells is my left boot?!
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MELINDA: Oh... ah...try next to the window.
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GARETH: You’re right, thanks!
[puts on boot]
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GARETH: Whoa!
[falls over]
GARETH: I’m okay.
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MELINDA: You are going to want to go out the window.
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My husband always has several bodyguards whose second most favorite activity is beating people to death.
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GARETH: Yeah, cuz being dead would completely ruin my plans for tomorrow.
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GARETH: [internal dialogue] Wait a minute… I’m not fully dressed for a proper member of the University Arcanum.
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Melinda, toss me my jacket!
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MELINDA: Gladly! I wouldn’t want my husband to suspect anything.
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[door breaking / shattering]
MELINDA: Here!
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GARETH: Not in the face! [jacket to the face] GARETH: Oof! Oh bugger! [sliding down tiles, splash]
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TRALNIS: Wonderful… just when I was about to have a literal roll in the hay,
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some arsehole falls into an oversized horse trough not 6 feet away from me.
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[sigh] Sorry you two, but it looks like we’ll have to try this again some other night.
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It would probably be best if you both left quickly. I have a feeling things are going to get very tense in a few moments.
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[hay rustle, running footsteps]
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TRALNIS: Time to have a stern talking to with whomever it was that interrupted my fun.
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[water splash], [Gareth coughing]
TRALNIS: Gareth?! Let me help you up!
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[more coughing]
GARETH: Thanks, Tralnis.
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TRALNIS: My pleasure, or at least it was going to be before you interrupted it. Tell me lad, did you fall,
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or were you pushed?
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GARETH: I fell.
TRALNIS: And just why did you fall off a roof?
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GARETH: Her husband got home early.
TRALNIS: I hate when that happens.
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If I had an IRD mark for every time that happened to me, I would have a huge pile of cash,
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twice the size of the one for every mark I got for a wife coming home early and catching me.
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Come on, let’s get you out of that oversized bucket, and back home for some dry clothes.
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GARETH: Thanks. You don’t happen to see my jacket, do you? I lost track of it after it hit me in the face.
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TRALNIS: Looks like it landed in that pile of horse shite over there on the right.
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GARETH: Great. [sniffs] Oh gods, that reeks! Could this night get any worse?
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TRALNIS: You know you just jinxed us, right? [brutes running into stables] Told you so.
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LEAD BRUTE: Well, well, well, look what we have here boys?
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Looks like that uppity Dwarf from earlier, and the idiot the boss wanted dealt with.
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TRALNIS: Just the four of you? You might want to go get some reinforcements!
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LEAD BRUTE: We don’t need to.
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TRALNIS: I guess we’ll see if the four of you can take us then.
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LEAD BRUTE: No shorty, I meant we don’t need to go and get reinforcements. They should be here in two shakes of a melon lizard’s tail.
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In fact, I think I hear them coming now. [more stomping into the stables]
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TRALNIS: Gareth, I hate to say this, but we’re screwed, and not in a fun way.
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MERCHANT: I should have known, scum from the University judging by those jackets. My Melinda is pure as driven snow, and would never betray me.
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It must have been that...that blasted magic you freaks teach there that swayed and seduced my little shrub! Don’t you agree, boys?
[silence]
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GARETH: Is it just me, or are none of these brutes willing to look their boss in the eye?
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TRALNIS: Looks that way to me, and that one over there is pulling up on his collar, trying to hide a rather obvious hickey.
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Damn, I think that lass must be part Dwarf.
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MERCHANT: Shut up you… you middle-class person!
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As for those of you employed by me, we will talk about this after you kill these two, and give their bodies to the sea!
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LEAD BRUTE:You heard the boss! Time to have some fun.
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GARETH: Not as much fun as a night with Melinda, right guys?
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LEAD BRUTE: Ain’t that the truth… I mean… um… uh… shut up, you! Get him boys!
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GARETH: I wouldn’t do that if I were you.
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LEAD BRUTE: And why not?
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GARETH: Like your boss said, my companion and I are from the University Arcanum. We possess magic you’ve never dreamed of.
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IDIOT BRUTE: I don’t know about that. After me mum’s squirrel and parsnip stew, I have some really weird dreams.
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LEAD BRUTE: Tell me again why I let you into the gang? IDIOT BRUTE: I think it was because you married me sister.
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LEAD BRUTE: That’s right, and not a day goes by that I don’t regret both of those decisions. Now shut up while I’m talking!
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What sort of magic are you threatening us with, Scholar?
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GARETH: Nothing less than a Kraunish protection talisman. You know, the Kraunish…
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a civilization between the First and Second Great Apocalypses, known for their powerful rune techniques.
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You lot have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?
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TRALNIS: I think you lost them at, ‘Nothing less.”
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GARETH: Anyway, this particular talisman is said to call forth the Unholy Winds to "lay low the user’s enemies!”
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[whispers] Tralnis, grab my arm.
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Ta’shennish!
[crickets chirping]
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TRALNIS: GARETH, nothing is happening.
[brutes laughing]
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GARETH: I don’t understand. I took the talisman to the guys in Applied Magics,
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00:29:44,947 --> 00:29:57,911
and they said that not only was it magical, but fully charged as well. Oh wait, oops, I had it turned around in my hand. Ta’shennish.
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[Unholy Winds magic spreading out]
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LEAD BRUTE: What the hells is that? I… I… I don’t feel so good. [farts]
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IDIOT BRUTE: Yep, just like me mum’s stew.
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[more farts]
Ahhh, my stomach!
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GARETH: Uh oh, we might be in even more trouble.
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TRALNIS: More trouble? How is that even possible?
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TRALNIS: In the Spirits Merchant’s stables, of course.
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GARETH: Uh-huh, a stable full to capacity with horses, and a magical wave that's spreading outwards.
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TRALNIS: Oh…
GARETH: Don’t say it.
TRALNIS: … shite!
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[horse farts] [farts ongoing in the background] LEAD BRUTE: Oh gods, my mouth was open. I can taste it!
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TRALNIS: We should leave now.
GARETH: Good plan.
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[outro music]
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NARRATOR: This has been Gareth and the Lost Island. Starring:
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Peter McGiffen as the Narrator
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Jenna Oliver as the Goddess Fate
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Allen Pettey as Tralnis Granitestaff
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Patrick Mallard as Gareth Mintel
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Robin Regaloto as Melinda
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Alain F D'Regel as the Lead Brute
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O J V A as Melinda’s husband
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and Tedd Garmon as the Idiot Brute
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No horses came down with chronic flatulence while recording this show.
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When asked about himself, the director said that was a rather personal question, and then asked us to pass him the air freshener.
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Gareth and the Lost Island was written and directed by Patrick Mallard.