Tube. Time.

AWWWW. YEAHHH.

Cleanin'. House.

Full. Intrusion.

Let's. Roll.

[chicka-bzz] This the rumble ye're talkin' 'bout? [thunk-thunk]

[kzt] Yeeeeehaaaaaaa!!! [a-chicka]

::loyalty test::

DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE
DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE
DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE
DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE
DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE
DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE
DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE
DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE
DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE
DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE

:infiltrate_--_

__incident_

_interrupt__

Roll. Call.

Night Monkey.

David Roberts.

Pugvold Visigoth.

Mega-Nega.

All present and accounted for.

Vampyric Horse! Where are you?

Report your location immediately!

Your. Orders.

So.

They're "coming to get us", I presume.

Fools.

They can beat the walls, clash their arms, shout at the devil all they like. Without the codes to open the Sandbowl access tunnels, they'll never breach the interior.

To that end, let's get everyone home and safe indoors.

Minions: Night Monkey, Mega-Nega, David Roberts, Pugvold Visigoth, Vampyric Horse.

All of you.

Return to the Sandbowl now.

Stand. By.

Faithful followers,

I apologize for the postponed morning announcement.

It will have to wait.

Your Mega-Nega is fighting a minor digestive ailment, but he'll return to duty shortly.

We appreciate your patience and support.

Vampyric. Horse.

[k-chunk] When U saddle, I whole. [chikkity]

[zzzt] Before U, is nothing. [bzzt]

[zzt] Grip Ur legs, direct. [chicka-chicka] Together we one. [chunk-k-chunk] Between legs, power harness. Reduce I. Control. [chikkity chikkity chikkity] Ur right, rider. Make jump. Steer I. [zzt]

[chunk-chunk] If I balk, strike. Snap whip to rump. Drive Ur heels to flanks. [a-chicka-chicka-chicka] If I good, feed. Pet. [bzzt] Stroke long nose. Slap sides. Show I wanted. [chikkity]

[ker-thunk-thunk] Now. Mount pommel. Part of I. [bzzzt] Rest Ur center on. Feel rumble. Steady, steady. [a-chicka-chicka-chicka] I thud hooves. Roll back. Tense muscle. [zzt] Vibrate steady. [zt]

[chikkity] Now. Give Ur essence. Feel juice drain down. [bzzt-chunk-chunk] I drink deep, master. [chikkity chunk-chunk] I not empty U. Enough for all days. [bzz-zzt] This union. [chunk-chicka]

[zzz] The coupling. [tzz]

[ker-chunk] U ride. I suck. [chikkity chikkity chikkity]

[chicka-chicka] Give Ur energy, give U obedience. [chunk-chunk]

[chikkity] Fast and true. [a-chicka]

[tzzz-zzt] All days. [clunk]

Night. Monkey.

What up, y'all?

Night Monkey here for a few ticks o' the clock befo' the sun come up and I go poof like a big cloud o' fairy dust.

Not that I'm no fairy. Oh no.

But I got somethin' in common wit' the one you sacrificed yo teeth to back when you all little n' such. I seen her do her thing! Usual I look up her skirt while she bent over fetchin' yo bloody, plucked off castaway bones, no need for 'em no more.

Yea.

I'm the one sits at the end of yo bed all night long, watchin' you snore n' toss n' turn n' best of all, dream them nightmares I so enjoy puttin' in yo head.

The sandman ain't no match for Night Monkey when it come time to slide a few coiled-up monstrosities in through the ear that ain't pressed 'gainst yo pillow. Yea, just roll 'em up tight and feed them burners right down in there like the worms they are.

Then sit back, pull some snack from my bloodsack (roadkill, most often), and set to munchin' while you unspool an evenin's worth of chiaroscuro ennertainment for yo's truly. Tell the truth, that stuff fill me up and keep me goin' way better than the dead critters I be pullin' 'part with my fangs and swallowin' in my gullet.

Yea, just perch n' eat and watch them head-worms burrow them nests in the fertile soil o' yo brain, mofo. Watch ever' bit o' their waste-trails they leave, spiraling up inna air over yo sleepin' head: the psycho chasin' you wit' his knife, the mistress dancin' nekkid when yo spouse ain' watchin', the great dark slippery fuzzy thing you don't dare look too close at lest you turn inna stone or worse more, right inna that thing itself.

'Cause hey, mofo - is you is all it is, wormin' in yo head.

And me.

Yo nightly apparition...is my nutrition.

So even tho' I gotta go now, 'member good my loved ones: I be back nesting 'mong your feet agin' tonight, crammin' my evenin' ennertainment in through yo ear (or both, if you dumb enough to sleep on yo back or stomach, y'all).

Then you be playin' the horro' sho' fo' yo daddy all night long.

See you when you close yo eyes, sweet'um.

Your. Rulers.

Acolytes of Orthos, let us begin this momentous week in the new reign of Lord Blooddyke with a triad of important introductions.

As the Great Orthos made me, so too did he raise from the percolating mire these pillars of the Blood Caverns community. I demand you greet them as your rightful masters, immerse their teachings deep within your viscera, and follow in their sopping foot, tentacle, and hoof prints across the endless days ahead.

The coming seven-day cycle of celebration and vile ritual will focus on the brute gathering of your needy kind into the slime-drenched arms of my trinity. Each ruler will have an opportunity to pass on a homily and convey their worst wishes.

Should you not accept their ungainly intrusion into your barren soul, there will be consequences resulting in the destruction of your most cherished memories.

Which you should be prepared to relinquish in our service, regardless. But enough further ado.

Teething brood, I give you...




The Night Monkey.





The Mega-Nega.





And your Vampyric Horse.

Go Cave

Now it's gone too far.

My friend Dave doesn't need me as accomplice any longer. This beast has found a shorter, faster route to its warren of origin:



Behold the filth that issued directly from my friend's contaminated brain, without my assistance:

Pugvold Visigoth slid sideways through the Primary Entrance of Blood Caverns of Orthos, his Bard's Jacket® already ruined by the viscid gut-dollops falling from this most feared grotto ceiling. The guttering hollow was a riot of glistening elf and orc commixture, steaming and burbling (only slightly) in the heady backdraft. "Othos has done well this day," the discerning Pugvol nodded ruefully to himself. "This ripe vista shall be detailed tonight in song at the Tavern." Harp at the ready, the stanzas, amplitude and timbre of his piece already taking form, Pugvold turned from the dusky massacre and began the long trek back to Town.

All right, I tweaked a couple sentences for publication. But still--

With only Dave as its instrument, the Lord Blooddyke may yet achieve full emission.