A quiet muttering is heard from the back of the room.
"No Douglas, not seven years bad luck; though I commend your originality there. You are clearly the very manifestation of hilarity. In fact it is rather closer to seven seconds of very bad luck indeed. Anyhow, until the situation changes I am circumscribing the use of Ulrich’s Thousand Fragments and any other incantations of that ilk; the punishment will be post-humus expulsion.
"That said, I’ll get on with today’s lecture... oh, Tanya, you have a question before we start?"
"Umm, it’s about a strange dream I had."
"A strange dream? You haven’t been walking that place out of class hours, I trust?"
"No... no, it was nothing like that. My husband was killed in Africa a few years ago and, well, I often dream about him..."
"Ah yes, I recall now; torn apart by werewolves, wasn’t he? We were all sorry to hear about that; Edwin was a good student and would have been a fine mage."
"The thing is, I didn’t dream about him last night. There was this beautiful woman instead..."
An uncomfortable silence follows.
"I see; ahem, well it’s good that you’re moving on but..."
"No! It wasn’t like that! She said that if I truly wanted her to she could challenge the very Queen of Thorns on my behalf, but that maybe instead I should forget about him and that I should love myself instead... well actually she said that I should love her, but I think it was a metaphor or something."
"That is indeed strange; why it almost sounds as if... my goodness, I bet she really has! Joy as Lovers, eh? And after the pickle she made of the Dance. Hmmph, I shouldn’t think that’ll work at all."
"Errrm, so am I alright?"
"Oh yes, yes you’re fine. Don’t worry about it; I should think it’ll sort itself out quite quickly, one way or another. Anyhow, let’s address ourselves to the problem of inscribing the fifth pentagon into Oghum’s Mandala..."
I saw the wake of the Storm, and the peace of the Rain, and the rebirth of the Seas.
- Tell me more, Dolfod, I grow sedentary in my age and I travel little and see less.
Squall rules the Storms now, and the Storms are now aright. The rain calls the name Arek as it falls, as the son of Arenmei now rules it. The seas returned as the world-tree released its load, and its creatures are renewed and refreshed. And yet, I am troubled.
- Troubled?
The rain falls too easy, the waves crash too simply. And there are unusual signs in the Night. Arenmei's gift of invention returns, it seems - I have seen dark shapes move back and forth in night's dark veil, I have the music of darkness herald the coming of the Sun, I have thought to read messages in the dark clouds. And the constellations have become clearer, and begin to dance - who knows what the Starsinger is trying?
- Dolt! I see the constellations, and see they have returned to their old shapes! What a day, when New Gods remember not how the sky was when the stars were right! Truly an age has passed. Where do you go now, Dolfod?
I go back to the road - until the next time, brother.
"Welcome back listeners, you're listening to our first broadcast from our new broadcasting tower on the island of Manhattan, brought to you by the K Group and the Nihonese Dragons of Earth. The past two years have really turned the east coast around and we'd like to thank all our benefactors.
"Now over to Doug for West Coast news."
"Doug here, reporting live from New Vegas and stab me if things aren't getting a little weird here. Frankly, the locals are getting darn flakey - some of them are so twitchy they'll kill you and steal your wallet as soon as look at you, whether or not they have a murder permit from the police. Something in the water I'd say - reminds me of that strange river valley which sprung up a while back. Still it's not all bad, the New Vegas Dollar has made trade one metric assload easier, and citizens all over the nation can't help but have noticed the new chain of... establishements the New Vegasians have been setting up, the "House of the Rising Sun" chain seems to have spread like wildfire, bringing new money and new opportunities with it."
"That's all from Doug, and all from me. Be warned that Cockroach Enclave is still a power in this region despite our best efforts to crush them like the bugs they are."
More developments have occurred in the busy city of London. Last week this paper described the immigration of many so-called death cultists from the British Isles to the continent. More recent reports indicate that a council has been formed in London allowing for productive meetings between the former authority and the sizable number of death cultists that remain in the city. Apparently the city is back on the road to recovery, its inhabitants having become accustomed to their unusual, but amiable, neighbours.
In less optimistic news it appears that a massacre has occurred in the British city of Birmingham. Hundreds are reported to have been slain by an as yet unconfirmed aggressor. A trail of destruction is said to have been wrought through the city, leaving even the roads cracked and broken. Repair efforts are hampered by the virulent vegetation that has taken root in the now exposed soil; one clearly shaken eye-witness described the plants as possessing ‘thorns as long as your finger!’ London had recently resumed train services to other cities in the United Kingdom, and the Birmingham service has been suspended until further notice.
It is reported that the city’s gypsy population were specifically targeted in the attack; this paper is saddened that even in grim times such as these people are unable to set aside their differences. When will we see and end to such despicable hate crimes?
'course, not all my home life's rosy. My wife insisted on giving away our bedroom an' bathroom mirrors to the Startouched - cut myself three times shavin' this morning! Still, I suppose she's right - her mother might have more important things to think about now, but ain't no power, god or demon, that can stop her tryin' to pry into our business, an' they say the Startouched do strange things with mirrors.
Mwahahahaha! Foolish mortal, who summons Illisozt without - waaaaa!
The magician picks up Illisozt by the tail, and smacks his head against the wall. He drops Illisozt to the floor and kicks him several times.
Mercy! Mercy! What magic is this, that lets a mortal best a demon?
- It's my magic, mate, the magic of a boot in the 'ead. If you were 'arder I'd've necked a potion which would give me titan's strength, but you're too titchy a demon to waste a good beer on.
Stop kicking me! Ow! Alright, I will grant you three questions!
- Grant?
He kicks Illisozt in the head.
Ooof! Alright, give!
- OK, then.
He grabs Illisozt by the tail again and hoists him up in the air.
- First question: where've the death cultists gone? Qandisa's boys were all over the place last week.
They... they go to France, in the main, to aid the Sentinel's regime! There are still some here in London, but few indeed, and to rule hand in hand with Time's chosen.
- Good. Second question: what happened to the Himalayas after they fell on Checkaveee?
Roax put them back, they now stand piled around the Outer Tomb in Tibet. They are not as... ah... professionally erected as previously, however.
- Fine.
W... what do you mean fine?
- Fine. I only wanted two questions.
But... but I cannot return unless I answer three!
- OK, I'll nail you to the wall and come back when I've thought of another one.
Oh please, please don't! The Sentinel would smite me if I am away from my post for too long! Ask me another question, and... oh, sod it, I'll give you my True Name so you can summon me whenever you like, just let me go!
- It's a deal. Write it in me notepad.
The demon does so.
- Fine. Third question... erm... I know. Where is Elvis?
What? I gave away my True Name, and all you can ask me that?
- I told you I only wanted two.
Oh, very well. He prepares for a concert in the Underworld. His fans have been given strange drugs by Woodstock, God of Love, who tells them that if they go to their deaths he will perform to them.
- Great. Now piss off.
Gladly...
Sadness touched Surbiton today with the death of Kenneth. I am sure we shall all miss his cheery winsome grin and charming manner. Still he seemed to have been a little off in his latter days, insisting that he had travelled to the south pole, despite having been on time for bingo as usual that evening. The manner of Kenneth's demise is a matter of some speculation, but is not suitable for this newsletter.
I curse my eyes, I curse your lying tongue
I curse the screams that wake me in the night
I curse the world, and go to walk among
The million shrieking colours of the light
- Anthony James Morley
The parish council sends its condolonces to the family of Mr Morley, who was found dead today with skewers thrust into both of his eyes. We hope our publication of his last poetic work will be suitable tribute for him.
That's all from this newsletter. In our next issue we will have a special feature on the macrame society's annual contest.
Editor: Ethel Malone.
But now I return;
Illisozt reminded me
Of my own homeland
In Spring, wind was still
Lord Kami Bound it to him;
Forged it in a sword
In Summer they called;
The Emperor needs service
I join the K Group
In Winter, wolves came
And fought the sons of Nihon;
It seemed we were lost.
Lord Kami returned
And fought back the invaders;
And so the year turned.
"The Great Tree which grew last year, which I proclaimed on this show to be LIVING PROOF that God has not abandoned us, and symbolises the TRUE CROSS, was the first victim of the K Group's electromagnetic weaponry. They harnessed the AURORA BOREALIS itself to burn the tree! This links in with PROJECT AURORA, which under Nixon engaged in black magic rituals to `kill' Christ and remove God from public life in these United States, a move which led directly to the fall of Christian civilisation and"... kssst.... "Mayan calendar..." hsssss...