The Christmas Massacre at the World's End

           This year, as some of you may know, I set my sights on taking down just one of the many monsters who currently torment this tiny planet of ours, but, today, in these early morning hours after a long and bloody Christmas, I'm sorry to announce that I have failed you all. I haven't so much as made a dent in the conspiracy to conceal all real magic and to keep us enslaved to cold hard cash, careers spent in captivity, and mindless consumption, because, still largely unbeknownst to the rest of the world, the Supervillain Santa Claus remains in control of his small army of elven and perchent slaves, is still able to conjure up the spectral contagion known as the Yule Lads, and will continue to successfully employ the hyper-hypnotic technologies of that prodigious Fae collaborator, the Pale Warden.

          With almost a year of planning wasted on what should have been last night's direct assault on his Northern Stronghold, a plot which included countless hours of research, recruiting, training, and even traveling to Iceland in search of those few remaining elves who might have eluded his velvet gloved grasp, all I have to show for my efforts is the bitter knowledge that the world's greatest Supervillains are not working alone.

           On the more mundane side of this strange conspiracy to maintain a stable society of consumer slaves, you will eventually encounter the master conspirator Mediocrates, who, in addition to his own private army of zealots, discretely evokes the dark angelic forces of the Drudge and funds the massive social engineering efforts of the terrible Trophiend. For anyone unfortunate enough to witness the subtle powers that these villains wield over the minds and hearts of men, it come as very little surprise when your allies are all mysteriously short on time.

           As if that wasn't enough, both Mediocrates and St. Nick are united by their high-ranking membership in the Saturnian Order of Melchizedek, which finds them each blood bound and eager to uphold the unending reign of the unimaginably ancient, seemingly unstoppable Senex. It appears that even the Nazi God Machine Ultima Thule has somehow been bent to its senescent alien will, along with the brain invading Mother Dreadful and that vain domination junkie, the Authoritarian; We really probably never had a chance.

           But what I've lost in allies and soldiers I can only hope I've gained in this invaluable, hard won, intel, and since I, at least, still live and breath, I'm putting this information here, along with all of my other reports, in the hope that somewhere out there someone else might be able to succeed where my meager forces have failed. Read well, learn as much as you can, and, assuming that you survive, now that you know the terrible secrets shared here, perhaps you and your brothers and sisters in arms can somehow prepare for the renewed assault that will and must inevitably be launched again next Christmas. Hopefully, some of the fae, or the elves, or the satyrs, or the sileni, or even one of my stranger allies, have survived what I now fear was quite possibly the total slaughter of the Elven Liberation Front, but, no matter where everything stands, as always, Good Luck and Namaste.

Although The Sun Sets, We Must Rise.

           As the sun continues to fade, its deleterious effects become increasingly more obvious on the sneering, downturned faces of the people who pass me on the street. I watch motivations wan all around me as the costs of even simple actions have clearly begun to seem too high, the perceived benefits far too low, or even, perhaps, nonexistent. An oppressive miasma grips the very heart and soul of my city, indeed of the entire northern hemisphere, yet, it appears that simply bearing witness has somehow rendered me immune, set apart, perhaps, by sheer necessity. Whatever the cause, this sad but sobering solar fact has somehow shaken me free of the Long Night's entropic grasp.

          Since this grim knowledge appears to be what has set my own defiant soul ablaze with these endlessly invigorating fires of a so desperately needed resistance, I'm sharing this important message with all of you now, in the small, perhaps misguided, hope that this realization might similarly inspire some you. If not, it doesn't really matter anyway, as it truly appears that my own current strength is drawn directly from my realization of your collective weakness, a unfortunate fact that will provide me with at least a modicum of consolation as I continue to watch you all slowly fade away around me; yes, it's a cold comfort indeed, but it will have to serve.

          Still, consider this your one formal invitation to find within yourselves the untapped power of your own indomitable Midnight Sun, the one symbolized in the fierce blaze of the Yule log, the ever increasing candle light of the Menorah, and even the guiding Star of Bethlehem. Understand that this is a literal wake up call. The Darkness IS growing and so it falls now to those few among us, who can see and feel it looming there on the horizon, to prepare our hearts, our minds, and our bodies, for the many difficult battles that now lie ahead.

          For the countless others who currently suffer, I invite you to forget yourselves, to forget your own pain, to see the illusory nature of this current sunless trap, and awaken. Like Set and Mehen we could perhaps stand together on that lonely Solar barge, fending off the demon Apep throughout the Sun God's darkest hours. However, if you follow, as I do, in the sand-swept footsteps of the mighty Sutekh, you will realize, as I do, how you can, and, all too often, must, stand alone as well. Either way, Good Luck and Namaste.