The Lost City of Warshinton

Radley consulted the guidebook again, confused and feeling lost.

"Over here!" Beau waved, and Radley rolled to his feet and lumbered across the mucky ground. "Look!"

It was sunk almost completely in the swamp, a flash of white against green and brown, a bearded marble face peering up at a changed world. It looked tired, and sad.

"I think this is him," said Beau excitedly, consulting the guidebook. "Ablaham Linkin, the Emancipator."

"I thought he'd be bigger," Radley mumbled. "More muscles. A sword or something."

"Yeah, he doesn't look like a president." Beau scratched his head. "I don't think he could suplex anyone"