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Sender Oburi
Date Sun Jul 14 08:06:12 2013
To all
Subject number 3
Sender Miranda- Date Sat Oct 21 19:33:41 2000- Stamp 972176048 Expire 973902828 To all- Subject Issue Three- Text {mTHE PARADIGM PALAVER Printing Only the Finest Gibberish In Town{x {yALL SNORE.....WAR'S A BORE{x An {repidemic{x of ennui has infected Bastion like a slow- moving wisp on a bourbon jag. Once-busy streets are now deserted: the pilgrims gone ("Ah, what's the point," they say), the shops closed ("It's just the same thing day after day," El Cid moans), and only the occaisional wyvern dropping out of the sky, apparently too bored to keep flapping. The misery has even extended beyond the borders of our tedium- gripped city: mining operations have stopped in the Dwarven Kingdom ("Ya seen one {ygold{x coin, ya seen'em all," said a spokesdwarf), the {DAbyss{x has been filled in ("It was just a big damn hold in the ground," grumbled one {Dguard{x), and the {cCrystal Chandelier{x has shattered out of sheer entropy. The cause of the tiresome tedium and dribbling dullness? A wannabe war between {mParadigm Pencil-Pushers{x and the {rquintessentially quixotic Q{x. Ostensibly started by Rynor for amusement after a disappointingly dull honeymoon ("She actually wants me to spend *time* with her!" he was heard to wail miserably), the boredom bug has insidiously spread from the original carriers via a {gmutant{x vector, ultimately infecting the entire city. "Someone should do something," yawned Rynor in between his mid- morning and pre-noon naps, and sent a goofy gopher to search for that sinuous skeletal stalker, Grimreaper. Found snoozing in his sarcophagus, the sassy assassin agreed to a meeting at a local pub. With her unerring nose for the trivial and banal, this ranging reporter was there for the {yshowdown{x. The {gleafy{x deity arrived first, settling in a sunny patio spot and subsequently polishing off several pitchers of {rDuff{x's special chlorophyll blend. Soon thereafter, Grimreaper made his accustomed entrance, slipping like a {Dshadow{x through the door and falling over several chairs in a clatter of shoddy throwing daggers and tangled cloaks. Once settled, the two eyed each other across the table and exchanged the usual insults before settling down to business. "Look," said Rynor with a beefy belch, "this war thing is really getting me down. I'm bored and my usual revenues from my prosti...err {ybusinesses{x aren't coming in due to pervasive ennui. Ya think we could just call it quits?" With this offer, the wooden-faced pimp downed another beer and gazed at Grimreaper with puppy-dog eyes. Caught in the alcoholic haze of heavy breathing from Rynor's side of the table, Grimreaper made a hasty decision. "Sure," he coughed as he tried to find oxygen, "let's just stop. After all, I don't think {rQ{x can really solve your marital problems." With that remark, Grimreaper hastily shovelled the mound of {ygold coins{x that Rynor clumsily shoved at him and snuck away, dropping only the occaisional secret dagger and leaving a messy trail of breadcrumbs behind him. "Coo!" said Rynor happily. "Another round here, nurse!" And thus, dear readers, is the agonism known as the {yBore War{x ended in declarations of peace. -Reported by {mParadigm's Ranging Ranger{x