The day of Reckoning is at Hand. For Lo, didst a terrible Vision of the
Malevolent One appear before my eyes, and forsooth, he had the
Appearance of freshly stirred fecal matter, and a stench More Horrible
than the ripest old socks. And, verily, his booming and slightly
unintimidating voice didst echo in my ears: "Thou shalt be My instrument
to Punish those with Unclean Hearts!" And Lo, I didst take feet to the
proclamation of the word by mercilessly teasing a Novice of the
Maldaathi. But he didst squeal with a shrill girlish voice, so I ceased
my teasing afore his screams brought about the bursting of my Eardrums.

Then, lo, didst a second Vision of the Slightly Immortal Malignant One
appear, and He was even more Bizarre than before, this time appearing as
an amorphous blob of steaming phlegm. And the sound of his Voice
reminded me of a puking bullfrog being squashed beneath the hobnailed
Boot of a Mountain Orc. And Lo, he said, "Thou hast grievously troubled
me, for teasing Maldaathi novices is MY job, not thine. I command Thee
to leave my little ...friends alone."

Upon hearing these Words, I was afflicted with great disgust. And,
verily, I took feet to my anger and disgust, and sought out the Chosen
One of the Monstrous One's Chosen Guild of Chosen something or other,
whose name is Yig, the Naga-poo-poo, the one whose numerous artifacts
didst not protect him from being Bitten by a Giant Mutated Talking Snake
Sock Puppet That Didst Crawl Out of A Hidden Cave at a Strangely
Convenient Time. And Yig, the Ringleader of Sartan's Professional
Assassins, didst speaketh these words: "O Ransom, thou art Solid and
Rocklike, and thou hast been on my mind since day one. Therefore I shall
bite thee and make thee mine." At these words, my heart trembled, for
now I Knew why the Grand Naga-poo-poo didst tarry in his choice of a
wife. And, Lo, not wanting to be shackled in the Spire of Torment as the
Naga-poo-poo's eternal love-servant, I besot the
Not-Quite-But-Almost-Malevolent One to let me be his Instrument of
Punishment against the ardor of the Naga-poo-poo.

And Verily, a Vision of the Evilish One didst before me a third time.
And this time he was wearing naught but lipstick and rogue, and smelled
faintly of Lilacs. And he spake these words, with breath reeking of
tequila and cactus weed: "PriiCCLqy isH the moHkKKu sunSHhi *hic* neeE."
Verily, verily, I understood these words as a resounding 'YES', and
forsooth, I didst carry out my plan. And Lo, fivescore was the number
removed from the ranks of the Malevolent One, and three remained, the
ones whose minds were not so quick to tell good from evil.

Verily, the Malevolentish One has spoken through his Evil Giant Mutated
Talking Snake Sock Puppet: "So it begins."

Um, yeah. We're still waiting...was something supposed to happen?

Well, so much for grand beginnings...I always liked endings better.
While you bickered over who got to hold the Scepter of Ultimate
Super-Cool Evil, one of Light dwelt among you, unseen, unheard, watching
and judging. Now your time of reckoning has arrived. You have been
measured, you have been weighed. And you have been found wanting...every
one of you. Your time as a guild has been marked by indecisiveness,
thuggery, and hypocrisy. My time of silence has ended, and I speak to
you with action.

Many of you will be thirsty for blood, and I say to every one of you:
Bring it on. Killing me will only further my cause. You cannot stop the
rising sun - you may hide from the dawn, but rays of light shall seek
you out and destroy you from the outside and from the inside. With my
help, my brothers have infiltrated the city of darkness, and as you plot
your silly plans and scheme over the murder of innocents, remember this:
no evil deed goes unwatched...no evil deed goes unpunished.

Farewell....for now.

Let there be light.

Ransom Lightfoot, Shallamese Secret Agent

Penned by my hand on the 14th of Sarapin, in the year 317 AF.