Main news is in Terfin where the necromancer Maldred Plaguebringer has just arrived, accompanied by one of his skeleton mammoths, a squad of Antares' Verminhaters, and more human slaves than you can shake a stick at - not that there'd be any point in it, the damn things are too stupid to learn to 'fetch'. Anyway, as usual, innocent bystanders are getting trampled, squashed, shot and generally assaulted and abused as Plaguebringer makes his way towards whatever destination he has in mind, his grisly caravan having set up camp for the immediate future just the other side of the port town. You can bet your booties that they're here for some kind of a meeting with old pal Antares, but as to what business they might be discussing, you'd be soft in the bottom to go poking your nose in; suffice to say, that's as much detail as we care to tell you.

The bandit activity along the Terfin road continues as before, though it's expected that with Plaguebringer in the area said activity might stop pretty damn quick, especially if he lets the Verminhaters off their leashes to go and have a few days' R&R - wouldn't want to be caught wearing an eyepatch and a rogueish grin in that part of the county, I can tell you.

In Gatehouse a full eradication squad of Verminhaters has been despatched to finish off those ayleenz still lurking in and around the ruins of sage Arfir Seeklark's ex-laboratory. As a result the streets are now extremely safe to wander about in during the middle of the night, what with the chances of meeting three or four humelts armed with ratkling-cannons looking for nasties to blow away. Safe, that is, unless you're unlucky enough to actually meet said Verminhaters, and look vaguely insectoid in appearance. Shouldn't apply to most people.

Note I only said most.

Still trouble with the Ungul Mountain Giant as it wanders around stomping like billyo on anything small enough to be so treated. That doesn't rule out much except maybe the odd castle - we're talking tall.

It seems that the horrendous dust-storms crossing the Magewaste Plains have all but died out now, just a few dust devils and minor tornadoes remaining to keep the place in a mild state of chaos. Then again, the Plains have never been the same since they got their name all that time ago, and chaos is a pretty generous name to give to the general state of affairs there at any time of year, let alone when there's bloody great clouds of stinging, semi-animate sand flying all over the shop.

And finally, in a condescending tone designed to set you at ease for the rest of the evening as if everything's really alright with the world and not on the brink of a major global catastrophe and meltdown, a Mrs. Phlegm of Belthil has today given birth to her seventy-seventh child, a bouncing two-hundred pound elephant. Neighbours think her husband should be bloody well hung, but that joke's far too old for this page. Besides, the funny thing is, Mrs Phlegm is a hamster.

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