Word of interesting events spreads quickly throughout the diminishing world. Although travel is difficult, the approach of the Disjunction has spurred tens of thousands into desperate flight across the land, and the news travels with them.

Errant-Knights of Eva riding out from Castle Riegland

“Seal the Town I don't want anyone getting in or out!”

“Every home is to be searched! Every field, ditch and silo! This fiend shall not escape us!”

“Who ever they are they will pay for what they have done to the child! To attack one so young and to use a poison so cruel…we will bring them to justice before the Count. For Honour! For Lady Eva!”

Whispers amongst the common-folk of the Countdom of Reigland

“I hear it was a monster that attacked the little-one. A beast with great crimson wings.”

“Nonsense! T'was an assassin, the same one that poisoned those drunkards in town.”

“Rubbish. We all saw the side of the castle torn away. Only one of the Will-workers could have done that.”

Proclamation from Count Riegland

I call once more to those who came in search of hope and sought to help this World. A terrible crime has been committed against one I love more than life itself and one who might have guided us onto to a brighter path.

To those who sought my Eva's council or to those who who seek it still I offer Castle Riegland as safe haven for a brief time; to parley, to discuss and perhaps to help."

I call you to Convocation.

- Count Riegland

Teenage apprentice poet-scholar Emily-Arthurst, on the destruction of the Tower, blown up at the base and then swallowed up by the disjunction.

I thought our love would last forever - I was wrong.
And now no man can satisfy me the way you did.
All I wanted was that you would be eternal - was that
Too much to ask?

Your based burned in the fires of man,
But still you stood, skewering the heavens
Swaying like a giant verge stuck onto the sky
I wanted you to penetrate the onrushing black hole
But instead it swallowed you whole.

Petitioner to Lord Elgrinar of the 89th kingdom

“My Lord the crops have failed. The endless day has become too much and the Sun's light…it is becoming brighter…hotter…terribly intense. The corn has simply wilted and died, there is nothing that we can do, we are not miracle workers.”

“To even work the fields is now torture; the Sun's light beats down on us relentlessly and my Sons' skins are nothing but weeping blisters.”

“We need food my Lord by we cannot grow it. Must we starve at your gates?”

A seminar given by Arch-Philosopher Ismaili as the Rafts float down river

”…of course the Disjunction is an inherent corruption of the natural order of things, one against which the celestial bodies are as helpless as all other transient physical things. My personal diffractive luminosity measurements of the Sun (that I have always contended is a hole into a reality which, unlike the Disjunction, is white) indicate that its output is increasing at a staggering rate. No doubt as it attempt to compensate for the radiative nullification of the void…of course this raises the possibility that we might be able to harness it into some sort of directed energy weapon against these damn ants in my toga!”

“Let it be known that the People of Iridica have acknowledged the true heir to the the Eternal Empire.”

“Let it be known that Prince Nak, Princess Sarandi and Duke Ganth have bent the knee before the true ruler of Iridica.”

“Let it be known that Abena, daughter of Ftani, is Crowned Empress Iridica.”

Most speculated that Empress Abena would suffer the fate of her many predecessors. However the most influential of her rivals have bent the knee. For the first time in 30 years the Iridican Empire looks like it could actually stand united…

Extract from the serialised pamphlet Radical Alternative Discussion for Intelligent Observers, number 4.

From a line on a map to the greatest engineering project ever constructed. Only one man, Tychflytworthy, had the audacity to dream that in a dying world, there was still space for grandiose projects. Under his relentless prodding, thousands of workers toiled for months to accomplish the impossible: to dig a new river across the continent, to connect the Rafts and the Tree, so that both could move away from the disjunction. For the rafts, it was a complete success, granting them access to the new river and a new inland sea which they named Marus Tycho Saviour.

How did he do this? Well, it was fascinating. Let us look at some of the equipment used; we can find it buried in the thousands of workers graves along the path of the waters…

An (ex-)village somewhere in Countrylandtopia.

She stood there, with her arms raised. Daring the waters to devour her, which is what they would soon do. The others from the village were behind the security cord, a good five meters away from the edge of the new river bed, recently dug by Tycho's men. But she stood there in the dry river bed, arms raised, looking sadly at her lover and his wife, who would not meet her eye. With nothing left to live for, she waited for death.

And death came, riding atop thousands of breaking waves. Death came, and drowned the village, drowned the Mayor, drowned her lover, drowned his faithless children, drowned the crops, the church, the blacksmith and the loving tree. Death took them all.

But it did not take her. The canal dug at such expense remained dry around her feet, wet only by her tears.

City surveyor's report

“Something is very very wrong. The water levels are dropping precipitously. Oh, something is very wrong indeed. Inform the Lord Protector's Office.”

From the Weekly Mail, A Watcher pamphlet

They kept saying it was about to happen, but this time, it actually has. Brink is no more. The entire town has been completely swallowed by the Disjunction. Details are lacking, but apparently some kind of war broke out in the last few months. The new rulers decided to abandon the city, instead of make some attempt at saving the place.

And GOOD RIDDANCE! This commentator has long complained about the corrupting influence of Brink on the world's morals. The removal of this unsightly hellhole from the map could not come any sooner! Fortunately, too, there seems to be few refugees, to spread the town's particular social disease across the world. One can only hope the remaining Watcher settlements are soon to follow…

Journal of an adventurer found at the foot of the Taennagh Mountains

“Getting colder. Food running low. Will not survive long at this rate.”

“Weather getting worse. Storms setting in. Not going to make it.”

“By the Trinity! I fear I must now be hallucinating at the end. I saw a tree. A huge tree, its roots all wrapped in bloody material. It was wreathed in a maelstrom of silver and black fire and it was flying; flying through the air faster than any bird I ever saw. The sky burned with its passing and then turned back to its dull, freezing grey as the great tree passed into the South.”

“I am too tired to investigate this further. I must rest. So tired.”

Joyous sounds ring out
from that great tent
All applaud and laugh and cheer

Travelling to frozen Brink
the band of misfits tell of travels
across the dying world

Of Kyrine's green fields
where song and dance
lifts the heart of kings-no-more

Before the Last City's great wall
with lords, ladies and less peering down
the show goes on and on

Word has spread widely of the Circus' performances across the world

Extracts; 'The world in his hands: the life, loves, and ultimate victories of Tiro Kalanthos. Volume I: Trio against fate', written by Tiro Kalanthos (in captivity) and published by the Church.

The winds of fate blow here and there, playing with the lives of mortals and of the gods themselves. And so it came to pass that the wheel of fate would turn, the weak exalted, the strong brought low. And none was so strong, or would be brought so low, as the great Kyrine strategist Tiro Kalanthos. The flow of battle snapped in his skilled hands, and his most brilliant campaign was brought to null…

…No general, warlord, mercenary captain, hired hand or patriotic leader had ever managed to lead an army through the Erewhon desert before. Only small bands of desert nomads had ever crossed it, and they went slowly, caching water and staying out of the midday sun. But in a single brilliant march, Tiro Kalanthos lead his army where no other had trod, crossed those burning sands in days and arrived at the enemy's doorstep comepletely unepectedly. Surprise was total. Admitedly, half of Tiro's men had died of thrist in the crossing, and since the enemy only had one army, camped inside their citadel, the surprise was less effective than it could have been. But trust Tiro Kalanthos to start a campaign with such a brilliant and unprecedented masterstroke!…

…Tiro Kalanthos had no intention of fighting the church, deluded non-Kyrians though they may be. He was merely intending to intimidate them in the most respectful fashion. But the Hallowed Citadel had its war-banners deployed, an insult that could not be forgiven; moreover some church emissary had dared to complain of the “looting and pillaging” that his highly trained mercenaries were supposed to have “indulged in”, allegedly because Tiro had neither paid nor fed them. So it was with a heavy heart that Tiro Kalanthos, brilliant strategist and reluctant warrior, turned his force towards the Hallowed Citadel itself…

…He could have taken it easily, by storm or by seige, but Tiro Kalanthos had other methods in mind. He desired above all to spare the lives of his men, and to test new and innovative – yet traditional – methods of waging war. In a single inspired masterstroke, he came up with the perfect plan: a rolling, ever shifting offensive, that would leave the enemy unprepared and not knowing where the attack was to come from next, with feats of herorism on his army's part that would inspire the rest of his force.

For that purpose, he split his forces into a hundred divisions. The Hallowed Citadel's outer wall was roughly pentagonal. In his first attack, he sent elephant riders against the south wall, carefully keeping the other ninety-nine division in reserve. After they were wipped out, he instructed his Trebuchets to open fire alternately on the east wall and on the west wall, shifting their firing position every twenty minutes. Then, a division of sappers smashed against the north-east wall with hammers. Following their heroic example, he sent two divisions of barbarians to storm the north and the west walls simultaneously. Drawing energy from their grandiose deaths, he ordered his men to lay low for an hour, to disconcert the enemy, before sending half a division against the south wall again, while the other half pretended to support them, but retreated at the last minute, utterly confusing the defenders.

The strategy was then to repeat exactly the same assault plan three times in a row, to stretch the enemy's nervers to breaking point, and then vary it slightly, keeping them on their toes…

…But the greatest strategos was undone by the treachery of men. Three hours later, most of his mercenary army turned inexplicably against him and defected to the foul enemy. Gathering his remaining men in a final assault, he charged heroically into the melee, but was undone when his sword hit an enemy shield and bounced out of his hand. And so, instructed his penants to be burned, and lowered his penant in honourable surrender…

…It was, to be sure, the low point of Tiro Kalanthos's stellar career. But every great leader shows his true mettle in adversity. And Tiro Kalanthos would rise again, to unprecedented heights! From that nadir, he would irronically build towards his zenith. He even put his time in honourable captivity to good use, penning the bestselling literary work, the first volume of his auto-biography, The world in his hands: the life, loves, and ultimate victories of Tiro Kalanthos. Volume I: Trio against fate. Refering to himself in the third person, it would go on to be the ultimate bestseller…

A pair of twins sit on a log watching the road as a cart burns behind them

“Whelp Duncan, that were a spectacular battle we were caught up in.”

“Reckon it was Gordon. Reckon it was.”

They pause for a while as a unit of cavalry thunder past them on the road.

“That Vale-Sorcerer type, he put up something of a fight. Reckon those Countrylandtopia sorts took quite a bit of a beating.”

“Yup, that they did.”

“Mind you, that Bardic sort, called hisself Richard Kallistos or somesuch similar. He were fair magnificent weren't he?”

“What, you mean leading that mad charge right through the middle of the battlefield to where Vale stood?”

“Well, way I saw it there was some girl in shining silver armour, so most like she did the hero-ing and he did the inspiring. Leastways, by some accounts it may well have been her that killed Vale.”

“Killed him so dead, the body weren't even found, way I heard it”

Another silence.

“Course, glad that Vale is gone. Can't be a farmer when Sorcerer-Kings are threatening to burn you for not being able to change the manure-cycle.”

“Agreed on that Gordon, agreed on that. Pity that we ran into those soldiers with Lord Dreadulous III though. Seeing as how they burnt our cart and everything.”

“Yup, and what with him having advanced his borders, reckon we are going to have to move a little bit further away.”

“Reckon you are right.”

Rumours in taverns

Can Kyrine's days as a centre of excellence and learning be numbered? Oh, I know the tyrant has been making a big effort recently to raise the prestige of the city, hosting the Black Court and joining the Golden Circle. But what's the good of that if they can't even keep order in their own city?

Every other day, there seems to be some minor unrest. The biggest thing I've seen, was an attack on the Black Court itself. A huge crowd of rioters, demanding 'deemoucracee' or something, burst into their quarters, broke through the line of guards, and starting burning stuff. When it was finished, several of the Black Court were gone - kidnapped!

Pretty scary stuff, huh. Well, to be honest, the Black Court isn't well liked, anyway. They say these rebels are led by someone called Prochorus, a sort of lordling. He's been giving speeches and printing pamphlets, about how the citizenry should rise up against tyranny, both outside, and inside Kyrine. And you know, some people around here think he's got the right idea…

Dear Readers,

I am here once more to report on the latest goings on in our fair City. Famine, riots, drought, and earthquakes have all hit this past year, but the people remain hopeful! Why, even just recently, Captain Emilio Aurora returned to us our glorious sun, that now caps our Lord Protector's tower so majestically and does nothing to relieve the heat that has scorched our crops and reduced our streets to rivers of dust. And speaking of Emilio, he has done great deeds in getting rid of a substantial number of the the refugees that until so recently crowded at the base of our City's walls, sparing the City Watch countless notched swords and sore arms. Word is, he set them to work on some project to the north.

The Eiserne Jungfrau have cured the plague that tore through Folly hill, and though the lack of any survivors is regrettable, they managed to prevent its spread to other quarters. And that's good news, because with the current famine and drought brought on by the diversion of our City's river, we can ill afford to feed everyone. Hopefully the Lord Protector will institute some kind of system to dispose of those who happen to succumb before a solution is found. That, or the earthquakes will solve our problems.

Aah, dear readers, it truly is wonderful being a member of the City in this day and age. We are the centre of culture and learning in the world, with the Lady Greta san Giacomo's salons leading the way forward, where one can rub shoulders with nobles and foreign potentates, and discuss everything from philosophy and art to the Pricess of House Hightower's latest fashion faux-pas. Life in the City cannot get any better, dear readers. Well, maybe if these gruesome murders were to stop…

The Citizen.

Wanted Dead or Alive: The man known as Hellspit. Leader of the Takers.

Reward Offered.

See Flavius Itsaso

Martin Stew, cook extraordinaire, internal decorator and designer most ordinaire.

Anything, anywhere, for anyone. That is, and will remain, our mantra. Recently, dear readers, I was approached by someone wanting me to cook him some Plague-Bear meat. Now, as you all now, the Plague bears have been wiped out in both the Empire of Blood and Skulls and in Contrylandtopia. Nevertheless, I was able to acquire a fresh sample. A great cook must have influence and contacts as well as skills.

The challenges of Plague Bear cooking are two-fold. First, one must cook the meat without ever tasting oneself, and indeed without touching with anything but the thickest of suits and gloves. Secondly, since it will be, by definition, the eater's last meal, one must strictly resist the temptation to skimp in any way, merely on the grounds that the client will not be around to complain.

Old staples are best in these cases. Think honey and blood, for instance, with a mint overtone. Start by butchering the bear with a long spear, and then…

TEST SUBJECTS WANTED!

APPLY TO ARCH-PHILOSOPHER ISMAILI C/O EMPIRE OF BLOOD AND SKULLS RESEARCH INSTITUTE.

MUST BE STOUT LIMBED AND HAVE FEW PERSONAL ATTACHMENTS.

RATIONAL-EGOISTS NEED NOT APPLY.

• The Iron Men are marching.
• Lord Dreadulous III is a Man of Mystery, and all the ladies are after him.
• Ingvar Tallahasse is secretly a Sorcerer!
• Lord Dreadulous III is so insecure, he invents rumours about himself.
• A masked avenger stalks the streets of the City
• Lord Dreadulous III executed those who spread fake rumours about him being insecure.
• Water problems? Drink Eau de Cosette, excessively expensive but oh-so-delicious.
• Someone has found the Fields of Bone & Flowers.
• A masked assassin stalks the streets of the City.
• Not a dog to be seen in the City, word is they've all been eaten, along with anything else that moves.