Stories from the Kingdom of Klah

Cavern in Aemarak, West Klah. Although discovered many years ago, parts of the cave have never been explored properly, partly due to the spitting bats that lurk amongst the stalagmites, and partly due to the stalagmites themselves, which have an infuriating tendency to ask passersby questions such as "What are you doing with your life?", and "Do you think your goals are realistic?" and "What's your plan B?" Few explorers can sustain such questioning, and most run screaming from the cavern within minutes of arrival. Tourism Klah recommends experiencing the cavern through pictures such as this one, and has given it a danger rating of 14 / 16.4

Horatio had been Guardian of the Limes for a long time now, and he was very proud. It is not easy to become a Guardian for the tests are rigorous: you have to fight large insects with your bare hands and be able to identify the limes from the tangerines pretending to be limes, and the tangerines from limes pretending to be tangerines, and as the fruits in Klah can change their colour, this is not as easy as it sounds.

Horatio had succeeded though, and he felt this made him the second most successful member of his family, after his grandmother who had invented a telephone that could whisper jokes to you when the person you were talking to was incredibly dull. The telephone of course never got used on Horatio, as his life was anything but dull, he always had thrilling work stories about battling flocks of crows that tried to peck at the limes or having to use his own body as a shield when it hailed.

Horatio felt a bit like a superhero protecting the world, for it was said that one day the limes themselves would save Klah, though no one had any idea how.

The mysterious blob shadow of Battinyak Castle, believed to be the ghost of Lord Pudding (1726-1781), a rather rotund gentleman who died after gobbling so many apple pies he fell asleep face first into one and suffocated on a ball of cinnamon. Since his unfortunate death the blob shadow has been seen roaming the castle corridors, sweets have periodically disappeared from the kitchen and apple pies have had to be taken off the menu altogether. This year the Battinyak family will produce three times as many small cakes as required for Klahmas to ensure they don't go hungry. 

This is the grave of Barnabas Bell, also known as the invisible man of Vindlekind. Little Barnabas caused great confusion when he was born, ordinary in the sense he was screaming his lungs out and flailing tiny fists, but completely invisible. His mother sewed bells into all his trousers so she could find him, but she could never quite be sure he was really eating all his brussels sprouts. When he was older he became a brilliant portrait photographer, capturing people, animals and rocks in unaware, relaxed states. He now rests in Vindlekind Cemetery, and although several engravers have tried to inscribe his name upon his headstone, each time all sign of their work has vanished by morning.

In Iffleclop Bay, South Klah, there is a cloud that has fallen in love with a patch of sand. Locals say the lovecloud first appeared during the storm of 1982, and has remained hovering there ever since. The cloud himself describes it as "love at first sight". "I'm a cloud of the world," he says, "and I've seen a lot of sand in my time. I've never thought much of it, seemed a bit much like clouds really, always shifting shiftily about and can't keep itself together. But the moment I saw this patch I knew it was different from the others. Something about the way it sat there, golden, radiant, santabulous. I knew it was for me. The one. And even though I'm not much to look at, just a wispy fellow, I haven't been asked to move on, and that my friends is true love." The sand has declined to comment, or at least, didn't respond to us when we tried.