|Enemies||Boiler guards, Mr. Mad, Mrs. Mad, Nellie Mad, Wolves, Zombies|
|Music||Village of Madness|
|Mini game(s)||Duck Shoot|
|Previous level||Inside the Asylum|
|Next level||Scarecrow Fields|
| Waking up the Neighborhood|
Start the Sleeping Village level.
| Chalice of Souls|
Fill and obtain 7 Chalices.
| Chalice of Heroes|
Fill and obtain 15 Chalices.
| Feeling Refreshed|
Acquire 4 Health Bottles.
| Dan the Unstoppable|
Acquire 8 Health Bottles.
| Dan the Invincible|
Finish a level outside of Dan's Crypt and Gallowmere Plains without taking damage.
| Dan the Merciful|
Finish the Sleeping Village level without harming the townsfolk.
Sleeping Village (also known as Gallows Town) is a level in MediEvil: Resurrection.
Dan's Private Journal entry
OBTAINING THE SHADOW DEMON CLAW
The deranged inhabitants of the village have been hassling me something rotten, takes all my discipline to stop from slicing and dicing them into possessed pieces.
After much Mayorally contrived shenanigans with a cast, bust, bellows and crossless church I finally have the key to the Mayor's safe!
Blimey O'Reilly - the whole village is crawling with Boiler Guards, back from their tea break.
Opened the Mayor's safe. Inside is a grizzled looking, desiccated old chunk of limb. No, not one of Al's leftover kebabs - the Shadow Demon Claw! Time to make my escape.
Hurrah! Once again the decomposing but plucky Captain Fortesque shows Zarok's men a clean pair of heels! Quite literally, given my lack of Achilles tendons.
The Voodoo Witch's fortune
- Main article: Books in MediEvil: Resurrection
ANGRY NOTE TO THE GARDENER
Until you get rid of those psychotic ducks from this pond garden once and for all I am locking you out!
Now get out on that jetty and unleash a duck apocalypse.
Signed the Mayor.
P.S. Remember to vote for me in the upcoming election - if you value your job that is.
THE WISHING FOUNTAIN
A premier village tourist attraction, fed directly from the nearby river.
I threw in a rune key and made a wish that the residents of the Sleeping Village would chill out and HELLO? Nothing happened, they're still trying to kill me. Now I can't even get my rune key back.
A crucifix once stood here but the Mayor has removed it.
Find a replacement cross and see how this church should really look.
To whichever of my lovely constituents finds this letter,
I must make haste for Zarok's men will be here within the hour. I have taken the crucifix from the church. No time to explain properly but the cross is the key to a key. I used it to make the attached cast, then I had it destroyed.
It is my hope that this cast falls into the hands of a just and good hero, or at least someone who is good at metalwork.
P.S. Remember to vote for me in the upcoming election. I'm running on an Anti-Zarok and No-To-Church-Theft platform.
Old man Willy Green of Gallows Town was awarded Smithy of the Year by our readers. His outstanding casts have produced many intricate and hard-wearing iron goods and sculptures. Willy only works with the finest of metals, and is particularly noted for his magnificent busts, a particularly beautiful example of which may be found in the local public house.
See center pages for litographs of Willy relaxing in his best leather apron.
The Mayor's house is off limits due to ongoing ransack operations.
Apologies for the inconvenience, now CLEAR OFF.
By order of the Chief Boiler Guard, loyal servant of Zarok.
Bust of Mr Shanks, Landlord of the Troll's Head.
Lower pedestal to clean statue.
HISTORY OF GALLOWMERE
It was a dark and heckish time for Gallowmere. Zarok, the court magician, had exceeded his job description and taken on extra responsibility. Usually this sort of initiative is to be encouraged in an employee, but noble and wise King Peregrine, monarch of the fair lands of Gallowmere, was less than impressed. For Zarok had begun a series of outlandish experiments on the bodies of the dead - without so much as a diploma in Corpse Messing. Thus did Zarok the Former Children's Entertainer become Zarok the Necromancer.
"The dead are to be honoured, not kept as the playthings of former balloon animal makers!" declared the King, banishing Zarok from the castle. Zarok's collection of living dead, now to be seen wondering the castle grounds emitting unearthly moans like work experience kids on a gardening placement, were rounded up and destroyed.
Zarok, having developed the kind of ego that seems to go hand-in-hand with two-bit illusionists who believe their own publicity, went into hiding. He vowed to wreak his revenge on the king. And rubbed his hands together a lot. And probably bought a wig.
As time passed, rumours of continuing misdeeds spread throughout the land. And this time it wasn't just what the witches got up to in the forest when they'd knocked back a few mushrooms. It was whispered that Zarok had employed the aid of Shadow Demons to help build a vast castle and get back to work on his Necromancy Project. It's not clear which bank in Gallowmere helped refinance his effort, but if you were ever looking for an example of an irresponsible investment policy, that one's a boo-boo.
With the help of an ancient artifact called the Anubis Stone, Zarok soon had a vast army of undead at his command. One can only imagine what it smelt like in that castle - like Lazarus's jock strap probably. And then, under the cover of night, the hideous host spilled forth from its corrupt haven.
The army marched south across the Silver Mountains and through the Silver Woods. Soon afterwards even the Pumpkinlands belonged to Zarok - and Gallows Town looked to be his for the taking. The people of the town cried out for help. "Save us King Peregrine!" they whined. And to think that only the year before they'd been clamoring for a democracy.
King Peregrin wasn't one to bear a grudge, however, and he got his army together and marched against the undead multitude. Retaliation was swift, decisive and satisfyingly violent. The King's forces - led by the dashing Sir Daniel Fortesque - drove Zarok's army back from Gallows town. There was much rejoicing. But the war was not over yet.
Zarok's zombie army - which in happier times might have been a good name for a lute band - regrouped and fought back. They took the flood lands. This caused much concern - especially among Gallowmere's Environment Agency, who'd spent a fortune redeveloping the margins with sustainable planting to protect its valuable ecosystem and wading birdlife.
From this vantage point Zarok could march West to take the Enchanted Forest. This sacred place would prove a bitter defeat if it fell into the hands of the evil sorcerer and his hygienically-challenged army. Once again, the King's troops rode out. And once again, it was Sir Daniel Fortesque who led them, vowing to rid the land of the demon multitudes once and for all.
Yet the evil mage - perhaps not unexpectedly - was cunning. He had prepared an ambush. A titanic battle ensued.
It is said that the day, the battle and - yes - the war would have gone to Zarok, but for the skill and valor of one man: Sir Dan Fortesque led the charge deep into the massed ranks of the undead. He felled Zarok's bodyguard, the fearful Lord Kardok and before finally succumbing to his own mortal wounds, slew the traitorous sorcerer Zarok himself with a mighty sweep of his sword. (Sir Dan's sword, not Zarok's. Zarok preferred a sort of pansy magic wand effort, curse his girl-like ways.)
And so the forces of evil were destroyed - but at a terrible price. None but a handful of the King's men returned from that field. Gallowmere lost a whole generation of young men that day, including Canny Tim, the legendary crossbowman, and Fortesque's second in command, who fell in the first volley of arrows.
Zarok's body was never found. If it should lie unmourned in an unmarked grave, then no one in Gallowmere would shed a tear.
The Shadow Demons that had fallen under Zarok's banner were unnatural entities and all but impervious to permanent harm. With no way of slaying the hellish creatures the King declared that they be entombed beneath the pure earth of the Enchanted Forest.
So it was that the demons were imprisoned deep underground within an impregnable box of the King's own design - for he could turn his hand to many things, among them needlepoint, ice sculpture and box design.
The tomb was magically sealed so that only the touch of a Shadow Demon could open it. Before the tomb was sealed an arm was severed from a Shadow Demon and forged into the artifact known as the Shadow Demon Claw. Its touch alone formed the only key to the prison. The land of Gallowmere, at last, was safe.
TOURIST GUIDE TO GALLOWMERE
The land of Gallowmere is a wondrous land of breathtaking sights and adventure.
If it's beauty you are looking for, be sure to check out the sights of the Enchanted Forest, where happy fairies flit from tree to tree crying "Chase me, chase me" as cheerful members of the local constabulary set off in pursuit.
Scale the heights and see the nests of giant Dragon Birds, seek out weird and wonderful plant life. Join the Dragon Toad Safari, where you'll meet and pet these playful critters in their natural environment.
(Hard hat and goggles required).
Or why not take a walk through the Pumpkin Valley? The place where all your vegetable-themed dreams come true!
Pumpkin is Gallowmere's favourite dish, and about now the valley is just bulging under the weight of young podlings awaiting harvest. Yummy!
If it's mystery you're looking for then the seasoned adventurer should travel to King Peregrine's towering castle.
Yes, this is the fortress where King Peregrine held court over a hundred years ago! It is said that the King's crown was lost in the dungeons below the castle and that his Royal Ghostliness now haunts those cold stone passageways. Spooky!
Why not take to the coast and seek out the racous thrill of Scurvy Docks, home to Gallowmere's saltiest of seadogs. This colorful harbor town offers up a blend of fun, press-gangs, and watery danger that only the ignorant and uncool of travelers could resist.
Sign up today!
HEROES FROM HISTORY: A retrospective
Extract from Elbows Akimbo, "Gallowmere's leading arm-wrestling journal" : "Hew" Wotta Scorcher! Iron Hewer Strikes Again!
Stanyer Iron Hewer crushed all before him once again last night, in the annual All-Gallowmere Arm-Wrestling Championships at the Doggit and Heave Inn. It is the fifth year in succession that he has won the title. The organisers said he can now keep the magnificent trophy, The Palm D'Awe.
Iron Hewer is officially the World's Strongest Man, and a black smith of some repute, he once said, "I LIVE to POUND! Anvils, wrought-iron garden furniture, the squishy skulls of my enemies' heads - all are but tiny TEACAKES beneath the awesome power of my vengeful WARHAMMER!" He was never again asked to judge the Gallowmere Bonny Baby Competition.
From The Mongolian magazine's Weekend Supplement:
Born a humble peasant to one of the nomadic tribes from the Eastlands, Bloodmonath Skull Cleaver gathered an army of horseman and swept over half the civilised world. When he finally died, attempting a single-handed attack on a garrison in the North while armed only with the spike on his helmet, he was the richest and most powerful peasant of his day.
Bloodmonath Skull Cleaver what is your idea of perfect happiness?
Taking LIMBS off with single SWING - ker-CHUNK - of shiny BEAUTIFUL AXE! And gouts of blood and stuff. Mmm. Pretty.
What words or phrases do you most overuse?
TOUCH my MOUSTACHE and I EAT your EYELIDS on TOAST, girlie-girl!
What keeps you awake at night?
Whimpering and howls of FOOLISH people who have DARED to CROSS me or short-CHANGED me!
What is your greatest fear?
How would you like to die?
WHAT!? WHAT you say at Blood Monath!? How YOU like to DIE - huh? HUH? Wet-mouthed PENCIL LICKER! Like THIS maybe? With HEAD bouncing down street, boink-boink - ?
Interview inadvertently terminated.
Obituary: Karl Sturnguard
Karl Sturnguard, noted warrior, spent most of his formative years under siege at his family castle.
The siege ended when Karl yelled a five-week long lecture on defense over the battlements in heavily-accented English. The attacking forces become so bored they went off to become celebrity chefs.
In later years, this prolonged period of enclosure led him to develop a mild form of agoraphobia. As a result, he often wore a helmet visor with really tiny holes, and he became uncomfortable in the presence of pictures that used perspective.
With his impregnable magic shield, Sturnguard's motto was "The BEST form of ATTACK is DEFENSE for sure!" (Hardly surprising, really, with a magic shield). Sadly his shield couldn't protect him against poor eating habits, and he choked to death on a jumbo bratwurst he had failed to chew.
My Hero Weekly
Q&A: Woden the Mighty
MHW: What is your greatest fear?
WTM: Are you quite MAD? I'm undefeated in mortal combat! EVER! The very sight of me strikes fear into the hearts of friends and enemies alike - not to mention close family members and pets! I'm called Woden the MIGHTY, for Lord's sake, not Woden the Trembly! You're lucky I don't use the skin off your back as a moist towelette, you pinheaded upstart!
MHW: Sorry. Er... what single thing would most improve the quality of your life?
WTM: To be able to walk down the street without being pestered by hundreds of scantily clad dancing girls. Celebrity can be so terribly oppressive at times. But ah - I LOVE me public.
MHW: What do you consider the most overrated virtue?
WTM: Personal hygiene. If men were meant to smell like flowers, God wouldn't have given us armpits. You can't beat the stench of raw sweat on a battlefield to strike fear into the heart of the enemy. Except maybe men in tights playing flutes.
MHW: What would your motto be?
WTM: Get the hell out of my way, you algae-slurping pond-life.
From the epic poem: She Scared Their Breeches Off - A Heartfelt Tribute to Imanzi Shongoma (Please Don't Hurt Me)
Doughty warriors formed defenses
and ye Amazons attack'd;
led by one gargantuan Damsel
who wath seriously stacked.
As she bounded down the hillside
all ye men were took aback,
staring wide-eyed at an Bosomme
like two Footballs in a Sack
Wielding her spear madly,
she went through them at the run,
slaying four-and-twenty Soldiers
'fore ye fight had scarce begun.
As ye fields got dark and blood-drenched,
she howled "That's what I call fun!"
Buttocks gleaming in the sunlight
like two massive Breakfast Buns.
My spy tells me the menfolk of the village are off on a "hunting trip". In other words, the travelling tinker's turned up with quality Begian ale and they're all off in the woods necking barrels of the stuff. Excellent
We launch our sneak attack. Or as near to a sneak attack as we barbarians get: our first wave charges headlong into the village, shrieking, waving swords and banging kettles with ball-peen hammers.
No sign of attackers returning. Seems very quiet. Doubtless they are feasting on victims' home-made soup, bones of slaughtered cattle, accidentally squashed pets, etc.
I have got to the root of the problem. Apparently there's a homicidal lunatic female by the name of Megwynne Stormbringer in the village. She has a baby under one arm, a pitchfork in the other and is standing on a pile of dead barbarians and shouting very loudly in an indecipherable Welsh accent. Looks like it's going to be one of those days.
After tending the wounded I sent in a second wave of fearless barbarians: 90 men, plus one goat with an attitude problem. I have pointed out that we are deailng with just one woman, here.
Twelve men return. One has no legs; one no arms; other are gibbering wrecks. Give them a severe talking-to and point out that WE are supposed to be the barbarians. Gather together our remaining forces - some 40 men - and launch a determined assault on this pestilential lady.
Thunderbolts? Where does she get THUNDERBOLTS? Not only is that not FAIR, it contravenes Ye Geneva Convention, for heaven's sake! Half my men are on fire - and the others will never need an eyebrow comb again, that's for sure. Oop! Look out - here comes ano -Diary ends.
Obituary: Dirk Steadfast, professional swordsman
The pride of the North East (of Gallowmere), Dirk Steadfast became a professional swordsman at a young age. Critics said that he only did so because it was easier to stab someone than get them to understand his accent. Tellingly, they did not say so to his face.
His deadly magical sword made Dirk Steadfast a fearsome opponent in combat, especially when combined with his firmly-held belief that "Only WOMEN defend themselves man - real men always attack, like."
He was a friend and contemporary of Karl Sturnguard and was with him even to the end: it was while Dirk explained his outspoken views on Sturnguard's shield during a feast, that the latter, outraged, choked on a Bratwurst. Steadfast himself followed shortly afterwards in an unfortunate shaving accident.
Extract from Cheerio! magazine: At Home With Prince Ravenhooves
It comes as no surprise to find that Prince and Jemima Ravenhooves the Archer's home is palatial - largely because it is a palace. It has everything that the last of the great centaur Princes requires - including 26 bedrooms, 11 bathrooms, a purpose-built archery range, sunken spa and mucking-out area.
The Prince claims no credit for the decor in this beautiful residence, however. "All this that you see, it is down to my beautiful wife," he smiles charmingly, drumming his hooves on the piano lid. "All I do is provide the money for the frittering away of."
But, where does he get the funds to maintain such a lavish lifestyle? "My family was very rich, of course," he murmurs. "I won more than my fair share of flat races, too."
"We are very lucky," he adds. "We feel this every day. Particularly my wife, because I tell her she is."
Descended from the finest centaur blood stock, Prince Ravenhooves the Archer is the last prince of his people. His people would be proud of him. A haughty aristocrat, he is an accomplished hunter, sportsman, duelist, and three times Derby winner.
It was a privilege to see inside his home. Although we're sending him the bill for the shoe-cleaning.
copyright Cheerio! magazine.
Captain of the militia in the time of King Peregrine, Sir Daniel Fortesque found fame when he killed the renegade wizard Zarok. A career soldier, raised in the Royal household, he was adored by the men under his command and renowned for his loyalty to Gallowmere. It was said that Fortesque was always destined for greatness. With his square jaw, steely gaze and thick shock of hair as black as raven's wings, he looked every inch the hero.
In other languages