Wednesday’s greetings, mortals! This Friday, at 8PT, the grand treasure hunt leads us face-to-face with the DEMON! An unusual one, bound to the soul & form of a man, doomed to warp between Hell & Earth! But he has KNOWLEDGE WE REQUIRE. Thus, we must deal with the DEMON, Friday at 8PT!

I endorse neither the summoning of, nor treating with, demons. This be an especial case, an especial demon, bound to a mortal man & thus bound to strange & softer ways. Still! Viewing of this episode, may endanger mortal souls, unless ye hew to these wise rules of demonic engagement:

Rules of Demonic Engagement
Sensible Cautions & Pre-Cautions for Mortals

SO—ye face a demon! Captive in a circle or bottle or other device, we may assume; otherwise, ye would scarce have time for reading. I shall not provide instructions for summoning & capturing demons, as the practice is nearly guaranteed to result in utter tragedy.

But, since ye are here, well…

1. Give NOT the demon thy true name! With this, a demon may worm deeper into thy soul, or e’en—on particularly weak mortals—make subtile use of commands to influence thine actions.

2. Tell NOT The demon thy true heart’s wish! With this, a demon may begin to weave a tapestry of temptation—rarely will they directly offer the desire. Nay, they shall offer steps toward it, or tools to achieve it—or e’en, “free advice” regarding acquisition thereof. Advice which, all too often, leads mortals down a spiralling path into the demon’s thrall.

3. Ask NOT the demon for advice! See above! Though demons oft possess knowledge far beyond mortal ken, they also enjoy lying—obfuscating—twisting & spinning. E’en one ye believe ye have bound, & compel to tell the truth, he still may choose which truths to tell. Thus, nothing from their sulfurous lips may ye trust…not to mention, asking for advice may inadvertently reveal thy true heart’s wish, unless the question be most skillfully designed.

4. Confess NOT to the demon thy worldly troubles! As with advice, this risks letting the demon too closely into thine heart! Ye must treat the bound demon as ye would a captive police officer; dangerous, & not to be trusted, & foul-smelling.

5. Listen NOT to the demon’s tales of seduction! O, mortal, ye may feel lonely, & ye may feel vulnerable, & that may lead ye to think to thyself, “Well, if I ask him not about mine own life, nor mine own woes, but simply ask him to tell stories of himself, might that be safe?” & aye, this can work—an ye design the questions most, most skillfully—but what if ye start asking questions which circle about thine own designs & desires? What if by asking, ye begin telling? & what if the demon tells ye masterful tales of seduction—from his forbidden Red Hoof Diaries—tales of otherwordly passion & romance?

6. Kiss NOT the demon! NE’ER, NO MATTER HOW SEDUCTIVE THE TALES!

Thank ye for reading—I hope the advice keeps ye safe, when encountering demons. & thank ye to the growing cadre of generous mortals who can & do support our works here with coin!

I hope ye shall join us Friday as we test our wiles against the DEMON! I shall write ye again Saturday afternoon, assuming I survive with soul intact! ‘Til then—be safe, be well, & please, kiss not the demon…

Cheers,
Amoenus Franco
Wizard, Writer, Diabolist

Greetings, mortals, through the patriotic haze of this doomed week-end. A truly American ritual took place Saturday evening, full of rote prayers to end Communism, aggrandizement of the great King known as President, & culminating in weebling renditions of 80s music by soldiers trained in being a cover band. A dismal, costly, dour “celebration” of 250 years since the Founding Slave-Lords decided they hated paying taxes so badly that they would be willing to order lesser men to their deaths.

With all the eyes of the powerful ‘pon the “National Mall,” I snuck into the Columbian Catacombs, scouring for any items of worth which remain down here, in the Basement of the Empire. What do I find?—ghouls, ghosts. Embers of former President-Kings, clinging to their worldly power, demanding obeisance, hungry for a chance to inflict misery just one last time.

I have spoken, often & before, of my thoughts ‘pon this vast & bloody colossus known as the “United States.” But mistake me not—’tis not that I loathe the land itself, nor all the people in’t. The good qualities about the “United States”—family, friends, forests, food—they all could exist without the “United States.” Ye need no Constitution to live a good life, no President to make memories with lovèd ones. The arbitrary lines on a map, they make not Yosemite beautiful.

So, what doth it add, this Empire, that ye truly need? Without “America,” would ye not still have all that ye love & desire?

& before ye accuse me of hyperbole, thy Jarl Trump, he himself called “America” an “Empire,” during the grand ritual! Aye, an “Empire of Liberty,” whate’er that might mean. ‘Tis as ridiculous as calling a country of Slave-Lords the “Land of the Free.”

Nothing of value remains, down here. Only death. Look not to these “United States” for naught but warning. Thy friends, thy family, they are greater than some “country” on paper, whose most major contributions be slavery & savagery.

& thy future shan’t be born, ‘til this ye realize.

Happy 250th.

Thank ye for reading! & we humbly thank that growing clan of mortals who can & do support our works here with coin! GRATIAS!

I shall write ye come Wednesday with news of our next episode! Til then: be safe, be well, & may ye be freed of empire someday…

Cheers,
Amœnus Franco
Wizard, Writer, Un-American

Good evening, mortals! Thank ye for joining me in my battle against the Red, White, & Blue Knight yestereve! If ye missed the surprising duel—if ye missed the especial mega-patriotic monologue—if ye missed the violent whimsy of Mister Foxy—launch a fire-work & watch the replay, right here!

VICTORIOUS

July hath come, once more—but an unusual one, filled ominously with noxious air, as the yawning chasm known as “America” ticks over to 250 years of creaking age. In recognition of the occasion, I focused my divinatory sights upon the future of these “United States,” rather than just the month ahead. Read on below, or head here for the audio edition, which always contains a few extra jests exclusively for the audio-audience!

My Calendarium, in this uneasy Summer.

The Fourth of July Forecast
Divined under the shadow of tyranny, for Mortal Benefit
To listen to the audio edition, head here!

• This surprisingly-hot FUTURE sparkles with an aura of DEPLETED URANIUM.

• Expect CONTINENT-SPANNING HEAT DOMES, for the rest of thy lives, & the lives of SEVEN GENERATIONS to come, thanks to AMERICAN OIL COMPANIES.

• In 2029, the third State to SECEDE does so during the SUPER BOWL, causing a lengthy DELAY, as the stadium suddenly becomes FOREIGN SOIL.

• After laws barring construction of DATA CENTRES spread across the region, VIRGINIA declares itself to be known as “DATA CENTRE.” Its denizens are forcibly relocated to WEST VIRGINIA, which becomes known as “WEST DATA CENTRE,” upsetting MANY.

• The DEPARTMENT OF WAR shall yet again undergo a re-branding, becoming DEPARTMENT OF PROFITABLE MURDER, during a brief American fascination with LITERALNESS.

• Unrest sweeps across loyalist States in the MIDDLING-WEST after a GREAT LAKE is replaced with COCA-COLA™, as part of a PUBLICITY STUNT. It generates 3% INCREASED SALES, so it is ruled LEGAL by the SUPREMACIST COURT (also re-branded, during the literalness fad).

• During the FREE STATE OF JEFFERSON’S first-e’er INDEPENDENCE DAY celebrations, a CIA OPERATIVE from the FEDERAL REMNANT ZONE attempts to assassinate JEFF-LORD HABERMAN, but chokes upon a HOT DOG at the crucial moment.

• In the 2040s, CAPITALIST INSURGENTS attempt to retake the WHITE SLAVER HOUSE (also re-named), which shall have been captured by NEO-CONFEDERATES during the FEDERAL SCHISM OF 2033. Both sides are obliterated by a SUPER-CELL CYCLONE.

• FAIR PORTENTS: I spent some time observing the fluttering of tattered flags, & the errant paths of lunatic patriots at the National Mall. I thus determined that America’s future shall be an auspicious epoch for—SEIZING LIBERTY; CONSTRUCTING A NEW SOCIETY; & also for CASTING DOWN THE WICKED & POWERFUL.

• ILL OMENS: There too, I documented the lurid drooling of heat-blasted America-devotees, & inspected the viscera of bald eagle which had choked on plastic. These grim signs point to a future that holds naught but doom for—BELIEVING IN AMERICA; HOPING FOR THE BEST; & for VOTING HARDER.

• HAUNTING QUATRAIN:
   The guns fall quiet,
   Along a polluted Potomac.
   One war ends, another begins,
   in the Giants’ graveyard.

• LUCKY NUMBERS: 2-0-2-9, the year of the Grand Secession

An image of my time at Camelot

An æon of both darkness & possibility looms before us, mortals—but I simply see what I see. I hope together, we may make the best of it! & I hope as well, this information makes itself useful swiftly.

Thank ye for reading—& thank ye to the growing cadre of generous mortals who can & do support our works here with coin!

I shall write ye Monday with fresh art & a tale! ‘Til then—be safe, be well, & start working on what cometh next…

Cheers,
Amœnus Franco
Wizard, Writer, Will Outlive America

A moment from our sponsor’s message—LONG LIVE ARCANGELO BAKUNIN!

Wednesday’s greetings, mortals! Despite last week’s setbacks, our quest for the GRAIL—for the rescue of all mortal-kind—FORGES ONWARD! Friday, at 8PT, I shall vie for the mysterious treasures of THE RED, WHITE, & BLUE KNIGHT! What better way to “honor” the 250th “birthday” of “America?” Join me for an exceptionally experimental treasure-venture Friday at 8PT!

Speaking of treasure-ventures, in addition to the GRAIL, & after a more thorough re-examination of the dire state of Earth, I believe this season, we must collect more treasures than originally planned. At least thirteen; here be my current draft list—if ye know other suggestions, please leave a comment:

A Rough Treasure Plan
Basic Items Required for the Salvation of Mortal-Kind

Holy Grail—obvious, & foremost.

Compass of Galdebar—an amulet which, when coaxed with the right words, aims a beam of light in the direction of a desired treasure.

Gwyddno Garanhir’s Hamper—multiplies a hundredfold, any food which one places within. Crucial for rescue operations, as well as undermining predatory food & agriculture conglomerates.

Mantle of Arthur—an invisibility cloak, laid someplace in Cornwall. Impossible to find without the aforementioned Compass, as the tag was removed long ago.

Nábrók (Corpse-Breeches)—pants, made from the skin of a dead man, which is said to also, for reasons I cannot comprehend, produce infinite coin. Crucial to destabilizing the power of the wealthy, & impolite to attempt to re-create. Frankly, ye simply could not make Nábrók today.

Libri Sibyllini—ancient books of prophecy, consulted by the Romans in times of great trouble. Once used to justify human sacrifice; I promise to ignore that page.

Xirang—pure, self-replicating soil. Essential for rehabilitating the land beneath data centers, military bases, Manhattan, &c., once they are deconstructed.

Pandora’s Pithos—known by most mortals now as “Pandora’s box.” I believe we could cram at least some of the evils back inside, & I believe Pandora a coward for ne’er trying to do so.

Fragarach—an enchanted sword, as so many swords are; but the Fragarach grants power to generate & control wind. Useful for infinite power generation, & also, blowing the wigs off of CEOs.

Angrvaðill—another enchanted sword, another one useful for its non-sword properties. Angrvaðill glows in times of war, & remains dark in times of peace. Thus, not only shall it provide the first clear, objective measure of war & peace; it shall also act as an alarum system after we achieve world peace.

Axe of Gobán Saor—curiously, this axe holds back the tides, when placed upon a shore. Clearly useful for the badly-necessary work of moving mortal settlements away from shrinking shorelines.

Uchide no Kozuchi—a hammer which forges anything the holder wishes. Useful for free & mass production of tools, medical devices, LEGO™ sets, solar panels, skyscrapers, underpants, &c.

Brísingamen—Frejya’s necklace. Pretty!

Thank ye for reading—& thank ye to the growing cadre of generous mortals who can & do support our works here with coin!

I hope ye shall join us Friday for my encounter with THE RED, WHITE, & BLUE KNIGHT! I shall write ye again Saturday afternoon—with an especial Fourth of July Forecast of America’s Future! ‘Til then—be safe, be well, & please pass on any treasure leads…

Cheers,
Amoenus Franco
Wizard, Writer, Knight-Defeater

Moon-day’s greetings, mortals! In a fit of patriotic fervor, inspired by the looming “250th Anniversary” of these blighted, United States, I conducted some light treason.

Deep in the Cali-catacombs, beneath Whittier, I sought a small cache of scrolls—signed by the dread mage-lord Nixon, in his inky-smooth blood. They contain secrets & mysteries, twelve-fold-deep, which drip right to the shadowed heart of this shade-groomed nation.

Mayhaps, with the grisly details contained within these papers, exposed to light, the America shall right itself? Wield the papers as a blunt club against those who would enslave them?

Well—at any rate, I seized the scrolls, with the aid of Hunter S. Pixieson. Helpful little fellow, that one! Though he seemed awash in dusts—both pixie & otherwise—his perspective I still valued, highly.

Who ordered the cover-up? What do they wish to hide? Why ought we obey?

All good questions—& all with answers in these Pentagram Papers. Will ye read them?

May I pass ye, Page One?

Thank ye for reading! & we humbly thank that growing clan of mortals who can & do support our works here with coin! GRATIAS!

I shall write ye come Wednesday with news of our next episode! Til then: be safe, be well, & may ye resist the rehabilitation efforts around…RICHARD M. NIXON.

Cheers,
Amœnus Franco
Wizard, Writer, Nixon-Negatory

Good afternoon, mortals! Thank ye for joining us last night—an excellent start to Season VIII, I believe, despite the fact that we failed to secure the Grail. If ye missed the first hoe-down of Season VIII—if ye missed the Mich-Merlin Chef’s litany of artefacts—if ye missed a legal message to centrist politicians—behold the replay, right here!

In addition to misleading us about his “holy grill,” the Mich-Merlin Chef also sought to promote our friends at Fight Opera—their show begins shotly after ye receive this missive, & may be observed round the world, right here.

I hope the cultists are all right

The Quest, Onward

As ye may have noticed, upon waking this morn, Earth has not been thrust into a new Golden Age. We may, perhaps, have promised slightly overmuch—but only on the date! We shall pursue the Grail, & the repair of the world, for so long as we must!

I do feel a bit badly for the gentle folk in the Cult of the Grail—I know ye put much weight upon last night’s planned discovery of the relic. I pray ye did not resort to any untoward cultish measures, & that ye all survived to see the Sun rise. If ye think about it, actually, this helps thy cult—putting off the “appointed day” means more time to recruit, more time to extract the wealth of the membership, &c. &c. So, ye are welcome!

I hope those centrists heed Goznago’s offer

Thank ye for reading—& thank ye to the growing cadre of generous mortals who can & do support our works here with coin!

I shall write ye Monday with fresh art & a tale. ‘Til then—be safe, be well, & if ye hear any rumours of the Grail, let us know?

Cheers,
Amœnus Franco
Wizard, Writer, Grail-Seeker

MORTALS—this Friday, we return to Earth & begin SEASON VIII! Given the dire state of thy world, ‘tis clear to us, only one option remains to save ye—we must seek THE GRAIL. Luckily, we found a fellow (LUX) who holds it in his possession! Surely, this means the quest shall be a simple one-episode adventure, after which, Earth shall enter a new golden age. HUZZAH. Join us Friday 8PT for SEASON VIII: THE GRAIL!

NOW—some of ye, may bristle at this. “Can things be so dire,” I hear ye cry out, “that some wizards must use some mythical totem to warp the world?” O, I can sense thy objections, “A golden age imposed by outsiders, how can that be good?” I hear ye bemoan the imposition of a new order—”Ought we not fix the world ourselves? If we allow this, do we not trade one dominion for another? A dominion of peace & plenty, but a dominion without liberty?”

I understand, truly. Which is why, I compiled a thorough list of reasons why the Grail be thine only hope. I believe, if ye read along, ye shall understand the justifications—& e’en agree:

De Necessitate Gradalis
sive Ivstificatio Qvæsitæ

Being an extensive & thoughtful examination of the reasons for the Grail quest, & the need for its use to repair the mortal world & mortal-kind.

Presented in the classic, dialectical style of the Schoolmen (known also as “Scholastics”), as proof of the depth & rectitude of the argumentation.

Each proposal shall be presented, then refuted, then the refutation disputed, until a conclusion is reached. Please set aside at least 12 hours for the proper consideration & meditation required for a full reading.

Section the First:
On Whether the World Need Be Saved at All

PROPOSITION THE FIRST:
Dost thou jest, just look at this place

END OF BOOK

Thank ye for reading—& thank ye to the growing cadre of generous mortals who can & do support our works here with coin!

I hope ye shall join us Friday to witness SEASON VIII: THE GRAIL! I shall write ye again Saturday, after, I presume, the salvation of Earth shall be at hand. ‘Til then—be safe, be well, & remember, “grail” does not really mean “cup”…

Cheers,
Amoenus Franco
Wizard, Writer, Grail-Seeker

Goodly morrow, mortals! I hope this Litha finds ye well—may this Summer be mild, & kindly. Thank ye for granting me such a delightful birthday week-end! I am sorry I missed Saturday’s missive—ne’er before have I done so!—but I was surrounded by friends & loved ones, all morning, noon, & night. I hope ye understand why I would not abandon them?

This past year, I were racked by misery, disappointment, ruin. Truly, of my o’er 6,000 years, the past 12 months will crouch, snarling, as a low point. But with family, friends, & coven-mates, I survived—& I hope, with the blessèd beginning set forth on Friday’s show, & the joyous solstice last night, that this year shall outshine the last one.

If ye missed “A Silly Little Birthday Number” on Friday night—if ye missed “The Man with the Trillion”—if ye missed the double-hoedown—if ye missed our especial wish-granting ritual—head to the replay, right here!

Thank ye for reading! & we thank heartily that growing clan of mortals who can & do support our works here with coin! I & we were humbled by the outpouring of gifts during the week-end—GRATIAS!

I shall write ye come Wednesday with news of our next episode—with a most especial guest! Til then: be safe, be well, & may my birthday bless ye…

Cheers,
Amœnus Franco
Wizard, Writer, Older

MORTALS—our intercalary journey nears its end! A new season lurks just around the corner—& as we approach Earth, so too looms a momentous holiday! Join us this Friday for A SILLY LITTLE BIRTHDAY NUMBER! With a monologue, sponsors, a bit of song, & a grand ceremonious WISH-GRANTING, ‘tis sure to be the only birthday party of someone o’er 6,000 years of age that ye attend this year. Bring a precious wish for me to grant, thy birthday suit, & a smile withal, for A SILLY LITTLE BIRTHDAY NUMBER, Friday at 8PT!

Below—while spending some time reflecting on my advancing, yet indefinite, age, I began to consider the vast array of things which be younger than I. Ye may find some surprises herein:

CODEX NATV MINIMVS

Being a Partial Compilation of Persons, Places, Objects, & Concepts my Junior
Compiled Some 6,000 Years since my Birth, at the Confluence of Three Stars
Ordered from Least to Most Junior

Time, as reckoned by human mortals
(1 breath younger than I)

Earth
(6,026 years of age; the Creationists are accidentally correct about the number only)

Nudity
(5,985 years of age; I was born as energy, & thus could be neither nude nor clothed. The first nudity occurred when one ape looked at another ape & went, “hubba hubba”)

Clothedity
(1 breath younger than nudity; the time it took to hide in a bush)

The Wheel
(5,901 years of age)

Mechanics, & Ripping People Off
(5,874 years of age; twins)

Kings
(5,126 years of age; ye were just fine without them for quite some time)

Not Wanting Kings
(5,123 years of age)

Coins
(2,600 years of age; ye were just fine without them for quite some time)

Zero
(2,422 years of age; ye were not fine without zero. Everything made much less sense. Accounting were a nightmare)

The Computer
(2,328 years of age; yes, truly)

The Roman Empire
(2,101 years of age; lives on in the hearts & minds of mortals around the world, & also in a secret chamber beneath the Vatican)

Christianity
(1,994 years of age)

English
(1,576 years of age)

Islam
(1,448 years of age)

The Holy Roman Empire
(1,226 years of age; lives on in the hearts & minds of a few huge nerds, & also in a secret chamber beneath Modesto)

Movable Type
(938 years of age)

Movable Gossip
(937 years & 364 days of age; or at least, that is what Bi Sheng’s ex told me)

Double-Entry Bookeeping
(742 years of age; again, accounting were until recently a hideous nightmare)

Eyeglasses
(740 years of age; biggest leap forward in accessibility since the stick)

Calling Someone with Glasses “Nerd”
(733 years of age)

Racism
(544 years of age; ye were plenty awful without it, & have only become worse)

The United States of America
(250 years of age, & well past its expiration date)

Rebelling against the U.S. Government
(235 years of age; mixed record)

The Sewing Machine, & Cussing at the Sewing Machine while Ripping Stitches Back Out Again, Damn It
(180 years of age; twins)

Italy
(165 years of age)

Dynamite
(159 years of age)

Germany
(155 years of age)

Talk Shows
(105 years of age)

Van Halen, Eddie
(Born 71 years ago)

Networked Computing
(57 years of age; clearly already senile)

Van Halen, Band
(Born 54 years ago, & well past its expiration date)

Watergate
(54 years of age? Just like Band Van Halen? Wow!)

Wizard Talk Shows
(8 years of age)

Aiydonn Jamesyn Whitby, Future High Iudex of the Oregonian League
(3 years of age)

The Time Ye Read This
(Happening Now)

Thank ye for reading—& thank ye to the growing cadre of generous mortals who can & do support our works here with coin!

I hope ye shall join us Friday to celebrate A SILLY LITTLE BIRTHDAY NUMBER! I shall write ye again Saturday, after the party! ‘Til then—be safe, be well, & remember, computers are older than English…

Cheers,
Amoenus Franco
Wizard, Writer, Peri-Birthday Boy

COMING SOON to tavern stages & crumbling Roman amphitheatres—a bold new take on the “spy thriller!

When itinerant adventurer & arcanarchist provocateur AMŒNUS FRANCO finds himself on a heist gone awry, he suspects betrayal amongst the crew…but after the crew wind up dead, he himself becomes the suspect. On the run for his immortal life, Franco uncovers a vast conspiracy linking all the great kings of the world—& they send their best arcane assassins to ensure he ne’er tells a soul!

Will his guile & spells help him survive this most dangerous game, facing off against two Double-Void agents? Will he live long enough to clear his name?

Even if he succeeds…will the world believe his story?

Find Amœnus where spies thrive…”UNDER CLOAK OF DARKNESS!”

(Co-starring Pierce Brosnan, a gruesomely-resurrected Sean Connery,
& introducing Morgan le Fey as “Queen Lingas“)

Thank ye for reading! & we humbly thank that growing clan of mortals who can & do support our works here with coin! GRATIAS!

I shall write ye come Wednesday with news of our next episode—sure to be an indulgent BIRTHDAY ESPECIAL! Til then: be safe, be well, & be wary of any spies with podcasts…

Cheers,
Amœnus Franco
Wizard, Writer, Licenced to Kiss

Good even, mortals! Thank ye for joining us last night—what a moving show! If ye missed the redemption of Jinxsaw—if ye missed a thorough discussion of the traps guarding the Holy Grail—if ye missed a trio of clever James Bond riddles—head to the replay, right here!

The Man with the Golden Pun

A Partial Inventory of Jinxsaw’s Victims

As mentioned last night, Jinxsaw is a serial killer, & also, our friend. Some mortals wished to know more about the deadly side of Jinxsaw. Please enjoy some highlights from his career:

Jorgen Billidish—taught investing to a previously-uncontacted tribe of gnomes, thus ruining their culture for all time. Slain by a trap full of molten dollar bills.

Habermas Pankrator—an evil serial killer, who strangled beloved wrestlers & kept their leotards as trophies. This was from a period when Jinxsaw decided to “try the Dexter deal.” Slain by a folding chair.

Elon Musk—case of mistaken identity. This Elon Musk was a school-teacher who had a wife & children. Not Jinxsaw’s best moment, frankly. Slain by a rocket trap full of conflict gems.

Longbeard Shortbeard—ruthless pirate captain, stole several precious Funko Pop™ figurines from Jinxsaw’s lair. Slain in a duel with cutlasses, as seen in Jinxsaw III: The Barbarous Coast.

Osama bin Laden—ye read that correctly, Jinxsaw actually slew Osama bin Laden. Those Navy SEALs stole the credit! Slain by an elaborate trap involving a trail of manga & Doritos™ chips, which lured Osama into a big scale reproduction of the twin towers, where he turned around just in time to see a scale model plane flying at his head.

LEMON

Thank ye for reading—& thank ye to the growing cadre of generous mortals who can & do support our works here with coin!

I shall write ye Monday with fresh art & a tale. ‘Til then—be safe, be well, & if ye receive any envelopes from Jinxsaw…do not open them.

Cheers,
Amœnus Franco
Wizard, Writer, Jinxsaw Escapee

MORTALS—our intercalary journey hath suffered a most vexing detour. This Friday, at 8PT, we find ourselves entrapped by RÆDELS: FROM THE BOOK OF JINXSAW! Our former foe—turned friend—hath once more turned FOE! Unless we win the ancient game of Riddles…our intercalary journey may come to a SUDDEN END. What be funny, & frightful, & one hour all over? ‘Tis RÆDELS: FROM THE BOOK OF JINXSAW on Friday at 8PT!

Held captive, betrayed, facing disaster—an energizing setting for a talk show! Jinxsaw, in his arrogance, left many classic tomes of riddles laying about his lair. & so, to shift myself unto a “riddled mind,” I study them zealously. Below, find a selection of riddles that may help thee, to help us, escape his foul clutches!:

Riddle me These:
Exemplars to Induce a Riddled Mind

• What has roots as nobody sees,
  Is taller than trees;
  Up, up it goes,
  And yet never grows?
  (A mountain)

• A box without hinges,
  Key, or lid,
  Yet golden treasure
  Inside is hid?
  (An egg)

• What has it got in its pockestes?
  (The One Ring, forged in secret by Sauron, servant of Morgoth (who is called Melkor), meant to control the other Rings of Power, which controlled the destiny of Arda for centuries untold)

• Brought forth in the fiery womb of a blazing furnace,
  My maker formed me one-eyed and frail;
  Yet surely none could ever live without me.
  Strange to say, unless my eye is blinded,
  My skill produces not the smallest piece of work.
  (An onion)

• A horrid beast, I lie in the ghastly gloom of a cavern.

  Aroused, I fly fluttering into the lofty air

  & fly with my crest displayed, the fair air whirling.

  My crawling body is stronger than that of all snakes

  Or any monsters dragging their excessive weights.

  Though uncouth and savage, I feed through a tiny mouth.

  My chest, through narrow pipes, is filled with breath,

  & not to my teeth do I owe my sinister power,

  Nay, the seat of my impetuous strength is in my tail.
  (Also onion)

• I am wonderful help to women,

  The hope of something to come.
  I harm no citizen except my slayer.

  Rooted I stand on a high bed.

  I am shaggy below.
  Sometimes the beautiful peasant's daughter,
  An eager-armed proud woman, grabs my body.

  She rushes my red skin, holds me hard, claims my head.
  The curly-haired woman who catches me fast,
  Will feel our meeting.
  Her eye & crevasse will be wet.
  Sexually.
  (Clearly, onion. Be not gross)

Thank ye for reading—& thank ye to the growing cadre of generous mortals who can & do support our works here with coin!

I hope ye shall join us Friday to see whether we survive RÆDELS: FROM THE BOOK OF JINXSAW! I shall write ye again Saturday afternoon, provided we escape! ‘Til then—be safe, be well, & riddle me this, mortal-man…

Cheers,
Amoenus Franco
Wizard, Writer, Clever?

FORSAKE THIS WRETCHED PIT

Greetings on this hopeful Monday, mortals! Today, Summersbane & I finally end our S-M exile—& we have concocted a new module based on our “adventures” in this thrice-damned seaside soul-burner of a city!

Dare ye drive thy players mad by plunging them into the SORROW-CITY OF SAINT-MONIQUE?

The party rest comfortably in their meagre stronghold—too comfortably, declare the gods! Suddenly, black blood & red ichor seep from the walls, transforming all they touch into sulfurous sludge. The party flee outside, & find a coterie of clerics, ready to aid. They offer to combat the divine onslaught, & restore the stronghold to its humble glory. The party thank them, & the clerics direct our heroes to shelter in their abbey, in the heart of the nearby city. With no other choice, the party set off to the abbey; the clerics unbutton their human guises; & thus begins a harrowing ordeal in the…SORROW-CITY OF SAINT-MONIQUE!

Lure players into our most soul-draining module yet! They must summon all their wits & stamina to endure the twin demonic forces of insurance claims & societal decay!

This module is designed for infinite play, with extensive encounter tables, map segments, & our new Harrower™ System™, which ensures DMs will never want for new ways to torment, disappoint, & discourage the wily players.

Normally, we try to foster a sense of collaborative storytelling, & co-operative play, but we created this product after conducting thorough market research at CondemnaCon XIII—the premiere global event for investors, landlords, insurance adjusters, & serial killers/policemen. We discovered from those interviews that there is a certain segment of Dungeon Masters who prefer malice & misery in their campaigns—indeed, that they derive power & nourishment therefrom. & so we decided to fill this under-served, lucrative niche!

Rather than concoct a new array of goblins, hobgoblins, bogoblins, &c., we created the Harrower™ System™, which can tranform any creature, beast, or NPC into a startling, compassionless void! Even a 12-level fighter will tremble with horrified confusion when a simple wagoneer threatens to murder them for the crime of walking—or when a friendly mole-woman becomes a shadowy stalker after the mole-woman speeds through the cross-walk, even though the little pixie is holding up the DO WALKE sign, & so the mole-woman collides with the wizard’s staff as he steps down to walke, which is completely the mole-woman’s fault, & shows a willingness to kill, but ‘tis just another day of life as a pedestrian in Saint-Monique, so the wizard tries to walk it off & buy provisions from the greengrocer, then when he emerges from the shoppe, the mole-woman is there, because she turned around, FOLLOWED THE WIZARD to the store, then LAY IN WAIT for him, to scream at him despite the fact that HER CARELESSNESS caused the damage & also to threaten the wizard’s life, leaving the wizard shaken to his core, & thank goodness she did not carry an arquebus like many of the howling lunatics of Saint-Monique do, I would say this city could go to Hell but how can it go where it is already?

& more!

From inexplicable hostility around every corner, to rapacious pricing on all goods, to the pervasive sense that nobody—housed nor unhoused, rich nor poor—wishes to live there, & everyone takes it out on each other instead of trying to figure out why everything is so miserable, this module is guaranteed to eat up nearly a year of the players’ lives!

Plus, each month that passes in the game, the players will roll the dice to see whether they can leave…but even if they roll perfect 20s, it won't matter! The foul clerics of the Sorrow-City always manage new techniques to keep them prisoner!

The only possible escape, is if one of the player-characters’ fathers knows someone high up in the clerical order, & mercifully calls in a favor, so that the clerics are finally forced to conduct the restoration, which they absolutely could have done nine months ago, if only they had human hearts.

 So if ye hate thy players—or simply derive joy from inflicting bureaucratic misery—thrust thy hapless victims into the dark heart of the…SORROW-CITY OF SAINT-MONIQUE!

When buried in the rotting ruins of capitalist depravity, friends are in short supply—be sure to add some helpful NPCs to aid thy poor players!

Intriguing, eh mortals? Pick up a copy soon, before the entire run is hawked at discount to recoup denied insurance claims!

Thank ye for reading! & we humbly thank again-again that growing clan of mortals who can & do support our works here with coin! GRATIAS!

I shall write ye come Wednesday with news of our next episode—where shall the Intercalary Journey take us next? ’Til then, be safe, be well, & remember—when in the deepest depths of trouble, summon all aid ye can. No sense in saving favors for a rainy day, whilst under the deluge…

Cheers,
Amœnus Franco
Chaotic Good, Level 15 Arcanarchist, Escaping Saint-Monique the Hard Way

P.S.: For all the art fans, please enjoy this exclusive Scriptorium bonus, of the cover imagery without the text:

Good afternoon, mortals! Thank ye for joining us last night—what a painfully democratic evening! If ye missed the triumph & tragedy of Measure B—if ye missed the siren’s song of Kropotkorelli’s Seltzer—if ye missed He-Wiz’s review of the new He-Man motion picture—head to the replay, right here!

Below—find the obituary for Darf, one of the politicians ye voted about last night. But first—I did note that some of ye seemed to despair at the notion of democracy & ofvoting itself. Aye, the votes generally failed to bring about thy wishes—but ‘tis nothing inherent to voting. The issue is that voting alone is not enough; democracy requires follow-up.

There are systems in place, & enforcers thereof, who seek to hinder & undermine the people. When ye vote for free omnibus public transport, but the city council refuses to fund it, that does not mean the voting were pointless. It means the city council is thy enemy. Action is required to enforce the will of the people.

HE-WIZ

DARF.
A politician.
Born, election cycle 73. Slain, election cycle 121.

Darf, a long-time politician & veteran campaigner, was slain last night, having lived 48 cycles. He last campaigned for the regional assembly. Promising to slay all enemies & outsiders, he also promised to use the savings & spoils from the slayings to fund universal public health-care.

Darf won the nomination—but then was ironically slain himself, by his opponent, Gorthar Fetterman. Gorthar ran on an anti-death platform, but evidently, was in fact a slayer all along.

Darf was preceded in death by his long-time slaughter & policy consultant, Crimbonta. He leaves behind a mailing list with over 10,000 names, & a graveyard full of 10,000 foes.

His funeral arrangements will be paid for by “Forward with Darf,” a Slaying Action Committee.

LEMON

Thank ye for reading—& thank ye to the growing cadre of generous mortals who can & do support our works here with coin!

I shall write ye Monday with fresh art & a tale—though it may come later than normal, as Summersbane & I are FINALLY MOVING out of this TEMPORARY HELL-HOLE known as SANTA MONICA. ‘Til then—be safe, be well, & remember, direct action gets the goods…

Cheers,
Amœnus Franco
Wizard, Writer, Disappointed Voter

Good morning, mortals! This Friday our intercalary journey continues as we head INTO THE ELECTOREALM! The denizens of this plane vote to shape & re-shape it; ye shall be the first mortals from Earth to take part! Prepare thyselves to vote harder than e’er before, Friday at 8PT, in the ELECTOREALM!

June dawns—anxious already, with darkness on its horizon. & so I urgently divined this forecast for ye under a Full & temperate Moon. Read on below, or head here for the audio edition, which always contains a few extra jests exclusively for the audio-audience!

My Calendarium, in the last days of Spring.

The June Forecast
Divined under a Full & temperate Moon, for Mortal Benefit
To listen to the audio edition, head here!

• This surprisingly-cool JUNE sparkles with an aura of RESIGNED RHYDONITE.

• Expect ABNORMAL RAINS on any WEDDING DAYS this month, due to unusual high-pressure IRONY SYSTEMS.

• A legion of PROGRESSIVE & LEFT-WING INFLUENCERS shall suffer TERMINAL EMBARRASSMENT & REPUTATIONAL DECAY, as they fall over themselves berating their CALIFORNIAN VIEWERS into voting for the MAN FROM CHEVRON to be their new KING.

• Heading on VACATION during this first blush of Summer? Avoid the BEACH, according to a SHARK SOURCE familiar with the matter.

• I am disappointed to yet again foresee WAR.

• Upon a DESOLATE PLAIN in KANSAS, celebrants of MEET A MATE WEEK shall unexpectedly ally with celebrants of WORLD INFERTILITY MONTH to battle the dark hordes of DRIVE YOUR CORVETTE TO WORK DAY. None survive.

• This very week-end, a wonderful mortal mother shall have a lovely BIRTH-DAY, in PERFECT SWIMMING WEATHER. Later in the month, a certain WIZARD shall also have a lovely BIRTH-DAY, in PERFECT SWIMMING WEATHER, but alas with NO POOL to be had. But at least there shall also be NO SHARKS.

• FAIR PORTENTS: I spent some time observing twinkling fire-flies, & the errant paths of solitudinous nerd-moths. I thus determined that this June shall be an auspicious month for—CRAFTING NEW WANDS; SHAPING FRESH PASTA; & also for SCREAMING AT THE RICH.

• ILL OMENS: There too, I documented the crawling of sexless worms, & inspected the viscera of a recently-deceased buzzard. These grim signs point to a June that holds naught but doom for—CRAFTING NEW POLITICS; SHAPING BEACH BODIES; & for BELIEVING THE RICH.

• HAUNTING QUATRAIN:
   Two colossi stoop astride,
   O’er a tarnished Golden State.
   The Man from Chevron & the Soulless Strategist
   feast on Hope’s remains.

• LUCKY NUMBERS: 6-6, 6-22

An unnerving month ahead, mortals—but I simply see what I see. I hope together, we may make the best of it! & I hope as well, this information makes itself useful swiftly.

Thank ye for reading—& thank ye to the growing cadre of generous mortals who can & do support our works here with coin!

I shall write ye Saturday after our journey INTO THE ELECTOREALM! ‘Til then—be safe, be well, & ponder that quatrain…

Cheers,
Amœnus Franco
Wizard, Writer, Birthdaysman

Good morrow, mortals! Did ye luxuriate in the full Moon this week-end? I hope so—I did! Charged in the silvery light, I spent time pondering a question one of ye recently posed to me: Is’t magick, or comedy, which I do?

The answer, o’course, be both; but this short reply hardly explaineth itself. & so, I visited the rubble of an old tower, & retrieved this wood-cut pamphlet which I circulated in the 1400s, as a way to save myself time explaining magick to the endless parade of would-be apprentices.

Please read on, to discover my thoughts on the nature, power, & practice of magick:

DE RE MAGICKA.
vel Comicvs Arcanvs
Amœnvs Franco mevm scripsit.
Ann. Dom. MCDLXXVIII

 HO, mortal reader! So—ye wish to step into the subtile & thrilling world of MAGICK? An admirable endeavour. But what know ye of the art? What believe ye of its true nature? Set aside thy notions, & allow a True Sorcerer to illuminate the unseen.

 FIRSTLY, know ye: conjuring fireballs, or lightning, or traveling instantly across whole countries, these flashy workings require several mortal life-spans to learn. ‘Tis beyond ye. The magick ye may learn—the magick I would teach—may seem less exciting, to the uninitiated, but I promise ye: it changeth the world.

 MAGICIANS of this subtile sort, they determine the wyrd of all that transpires around ye. & ye already practice it, without knowing so!

 HWÆT, then, be magick? If not gouts o’flame, nor spectral horses? ‘Tis something potent enow to change the world, yet so mundane that all practice’t already? AYE. Magick, so simple yet secret, be this: by word, & word alone, to warp reality to thy will.

 SCOFF ye, mortal? Ye might. But think! The “spell” we magicians cast, what be it? Know ye? Some may—’tis the same as when ye “spell” a word. C-A-T, or D-O-G, or I-B-I-N-D-Y-E-B-Y-T-H-E-K-I-N-G-S-A-S-L-E-E-P-A-N-D-Y-E-T-T-O-B-E, spells all. What will ye with “CAT?” What power attain ye by proclaiming “DOG?” Little, if any, certainly; but spells they be, nonetheless. Not useful magick, but the barest & simplest magick, aye.

 NOT, I ought hope, a thing of discouragement, but encouragement, be this. Magick be simpler than it seems, yet its depths no whale could plumb. To weave a sentence so potent, it changeth all, this be the most satisfying of all.

 CONSIDER: ye have read this far, seeking secrets of magick from a sorcerer who claimeth o’er 6,000 years of birth—& though I write this pamphlet in 1,478, I know most readers reside in far 2,026. & ye believe me, in this moment; ye shall continue to read, entranced already, by my mere word. Is that not magick? Are ye not under mine most potent spell?

  E’EN though I tell ye of the dweomer, as I work’t, it worketh still. I spit upon the charlatans & sleight-artists who call themselves “stage magician,” those who stride casinos & street-sides performing perfidious peek-a-boo for drooling dullards. But to this, I must credit the ones known as Penn & Teller—when most artfully worked, magick requires no secret. Ye might explain precisely the nature of the spell, to thine audience, & still ye shall ensorcel them—for the other half of the magickal equation, is that mortals wish to believe.

 WHEN ye plop down ‘pon the benches at a theatre, ye wish to believe what cometh. Ye will thrill to the openly-false tales of benighted Danish princes, or green floating witches, or e’en of prancing & dancing cats. Is that not magick? To believe in the Rum-Tum-Tugger so devoutly, that his antics alter thy heart? If ye weep when a highly-paid actress pretends to be “Defying Gravity,” is that not a transfiguration most extreme?

 SO, I tell ye: with but a word, the barons & malefactors also do twist. They know the power of the spell, & wield it tragic well. How many mortals know ye, who leap-to when their mad king says so? Who vote, & buy, & howl, & spit, all on the mere word of a billionaire blowhard who cares nothing o’their lives? How many mortals know ye, who spurn the affection of their families, or work misery upon their children, all to satisfy the illusions of a lord most remote? This, I fear, is magick too.

 WE mighty magicians summon tears, & laughter, & hope & anger. All with spells! When mortals ask, Do’st I magick? Or do’st I comedy? I only may answer: ‘tis the both. By words do I work spells, & long this art I have laboured upon. I can move a crowd’s passions as easily as a feather—& thus I only do so with the greatest care. Ne’er with dishonesty, nor duplicity, do I work. Ne’er do I rouse a crowd to oppression’s aid, nor to any cruel end. I wish to change the world—from this shadowed realm of brutality, to one where all may walk in comfort & contentment. & so magick, is my most puissant tool for the job. My word be my bond, & my bounty.

 QUESTION ye might, this un-secreted explanation. But try’t, mortal, & ye shall agree. Imagine this: whispering “I love thee” to someone ye love not. Would that not change thy world? Imagine the worst possible target of such a spell—how much havoc might ye wreak with an utterance? Picture the Globe, crowded elbow-to-elbow for this new play Hamlet; now picture screaming “FIRE” where there be none. Will folk not panic? Will they not flee? Will ye not cause hundreds to act, upon thy will? There is power, aye, in spells; I pray ye use them not for ill?

 WE magicians—I includeth thee now, reader, do I not?—we must with great care exercise our skills. Great thought precedes mine ev’ry working, much planning of mind before the first rune I carve. Some are evokers, some invokers; some appeal to the weather, some read entrails. For me, comœdia I choose for mine especialty. With a wink & a giggle, I try to impart weighty news, & weightier warnings. With a laugh, I find, the sorcery passeth with greater ease. In a world so dark, each spark matters much, e’en if it may only shed light on matters darker still.

 MUST we—I hear ye moan—become so careful with words? So mindful of our tongues? I am not thy king, mortal—I command thee not. But merely by reading this far, ye indeed stepped into a new sphere of knowing. Thou understandeth thine own speech & thoughts, in a way not heretofore considered. One may not un-walk the path. & so I fear, I cursèd thee, in a way. A trick, I did play, like yon Penn & Teller. But, I told ye, all along—like yon Penn & Teller. Aye—of magick, I titled this; of magick, I warned ye I would speak. What will ye now, knowing the power of thy words? What works might we expect of thee?

 O’ERCOME this revelation, ye might. Disbelief, denial, these are potent tools. But part of the magick o’magick, is that it matters not whether ye believe me. Still I have worked’t, still I have cast my spells. & if I believe these words changed the world—that they shifted the wyrd o’fate—then they did, whether ye agree or no. For the world is bigger than ye know, & bigger than e’en I could say. More moves, in each mediocre minute, than could be counted by the most mechanical of sages. To accept the gross infinitude, & yet still to seek to wind it; this is magick. & that is the most mortal thing of all.

Thank ye for reading! & we humbly thank that growing clan of mortals who can & do support our works here with coin! GRATIAS!

I shall write ye come Wednesday with news of this week’s episode! Til then: be safe, be well, & remember, the power be thine…

Cheers,
Amœnus Franco
Wizard, Writer, ᚻᛖᛚᛚᚱᚢᚾᚪ

Good afternoon, mortals! Thank ye for joining us last night—such wondrous delights, & such a cheerfully boisterous audience! If ye missed our voyage through subconceptual space—if ye missed our jaunty forays into etymology—if ye missed the Legendary Adventures of Pontius Pilate—head to the replay, right here!

& if ye are near the “down-towne” region of Los Angeles tonight, be sure to attend the premiere of Lux & Michael Burns’ new documentary “Leave a Comment!” Tickets are available here; be sure to whisper the secret shibboleth, “KILLTHECOMPUTER,” into the purchasing machine, for a discount.

ALL IS WELL, THE CHILDREN WERE EATEN

Early in the broadcast, ye heard our pilot (Pontius) announce that children on a lower deck had been loosed by Mungo Jerry; & at the end of the broadcast, ye may have believed ye heard Summersbane capturing some of those children, & eating them, & using their minerals to refresh his form—not unlike his former paramour, the Lady Bathory.

I wish to reassure ye: he did indeed do that. His form is strong enow to weather the coming Summer, thanks to their sacrifice.

The children’s souls were, of course, captured gently; separated in a whirling sepulchfuge; & they were then provided with free castings of Rh’llor’s Re-Embodiment, which is a 10th-level spell. A serviced valued at no less than 10,000 gold pieces, plus gems worth at least 1,000 gold pieces, plus the tanned hide of a murderer.

The children were then delivered safely to their parents’ waiting arms. A win for all!

Did ye heed her message?

Thank ye for reading—& thank ye to the growing cadre of generous mortals who can & do support our works here with coin!

I shall write ye Monday with fresh art, & a disquisition on the nature of magick. ‘Til then—be safe, be well, & remember, those spelljammer tickets are non-refundable…

Cheers,
Amœnus Franco
Wizard, Writer, Not An Accessory To Murder Because They Are Alive Again

Good Morrow, mortals! Revitalized by our time at the renaissance faire, this Friday, we board a PLANE PLANE with our guest, friend LUX! Upon this value-priced Spelljammer, we resume our intercalary journey this Friday at 8PT!

Please read on below, for some Disclaimers from the Week-End, as we recover from the painfully beautiful delights of the Shasta Faire:

Disclaimers from the Week-End

The Wizards (d/b/a “Sorcerous Shows Ltd.”) be not responsible for any futures fore-told, e’en if they contain grand destinies, weighty wyrd-paths, nor futuristic follow-alongs.

Sorcerous Shows Ltd. be not responsible for lost garments, wallets, nor senses of reality. Mortals subjected to the rending forces of WizWorld LIVE­™ agree that they accept all that follows, for good or ill.

Sing ye pastors, parsons, pirates—all ways, sing ye of joy & hunt. Those who need it, hear it clearly—& those who not, in their breasts hear it still, & thus the hosts bear no responsibility for any driven mad by its haunting tune.

Sorcerous Shows Ltd. be not responsible for any: stirred to arsonic action; direct activities; useful flames; schedule-checking saboteurs; nor any & all association with on-line folk who might pursue non-voting avenues toward change.

Any with such activity, who claim association, ought to send electrified-mail to info at wizworldlive dot com for a more personalized waiver.

Thank ye for reading—& thank ye to the growing cadre of generous mortals who can & do support our works here with coin!

I hope ye shall join us Friday as we sail aboard the PLANE PLANE! I shall write ye again Saturday afternoon! ‘Til then—be safe, be well, & may ye be e’er deniable from liability…

Cheers,
Amoenus Franco
Wizard, Writer, Indirectly Responsible

Good afternoon, mortals! Summersbane & I are struggling our way down California, en route back from a truly wondrous weekend at the Shasta faire!

On Mondays, normally, I send ye fresh art, but today, how could I not send instead fresh faire imagery & tales?

The Wild Thyme Larks

One of my favorite faire activities, is attending musicians who play the songs of my youth. This year I had the good fortune to enjoy both the Story Wrens (pictured in the Day I missive) & the Wild Thyme Larks! Musick, good & true, by fine folk.

& we e'en had the chance to queue with some Larks at the feast; they treated us, among other things, to a fantastick ditty summarizing *Macbeth*, which fewer than 100 mortals e’er have or will hear.

We saw many impressive costumes, including a number of young mortals in full suits of fur with masks. In the 90-degree heat, this shows true dedication. There were also several plague rats, with similar DIY head-pieces; was this a trend of some kind? Who issues these seasonal faire fashion notices?

The closing seiseiúm

Our crowds were boisterous, in just the way we like! We encouraged…certain activities…be visited 'pon data centers, & they cheered for this idea WITHOUT FAIL. All of our most insane ideas found a warm welcome, in fact, which may surprise many, given the faire’s location.

Our evenings we spent largely in the company of pirates—relishing in the anarchical lifestyle, the fine company, & the hamburgers, freely given. They welcome all with open arms, & no other faire is quite so excellent as this one, when we get to join the crew & forge great friendships under their flag.

There are so many morsels to share—of bloodthirsty children, of morning notes madness, of loosed arrows & mead heists. Of dreams shared by Moon-light, of mad singers, of irrepressible patrons & rowdy sticker-seekers! For more details, ye simply shall need to watch our show this Friday at 8PT!

I shall write ye Wednesday with news of that episode—aye, we return IMMEDIATELY to our normal schedule! HUZZAH. ‘Til then, mortals, remember to stay hydrated…

Good Morrow, mortals! Against my wishes, Saturday transformed into Sunday—I hope ye can forgive the tardiness of this missive. We were waylaid by pirates.

This weekend, as ye know, we are performing at the Shasta Renaissance & Fantasy Faire! Our friends from Radio Free Multiverse are here, selling Hellish ceramics—& yesterday, we all had the pleasure of meeting H. Dubb & Exo Machine for the first time!

Please enjoy a few other sights from the day:

We must away—the Castle Stage calls! I shall send another update tomorrow. Fare ye well, mortals…