EVENTS, CAMPAIGNS, AND NEWS

            They say that one man’s misfortune is another man's opportunity.  Those are, I have long found, words to live by.           Perhaps you’ve heard of Reverie Larkin.  Powerful.  Older gentleman.  Member of City Council.  Lives in a big old house on a high hill—and to the best of my knowledge, possesses the largest, most extensive collection of books on or related to magic anywhere in the city.  The library at Barrows School of course falling outside municipal limits.  It appears he also has something of an infestation.      ...

Well, I hope you're happy.  I gave you every chance, every opportunity to avert catastrophe, and you did nothing.  Not a one of you lifted a finger.  I warned you--I offered a reward for God's sake, out of my own pocket!  And now it's too late.   He's done it.  Professor Wrinkle's infernal Duplicator is complete.  And it works.  Heaven help us, it works.   What will happen now, you ask?  What's next?  I haven't the faintest bloody idea.  That isn't how time travel works.  Whatever it is, I doubt it will be good.  As far as I can see,...

           It seems to be a cruel trick of the Universe that those with vast intelligence are rarely given the sense to use it in a way that does anyone any good.  If they were, surely all of our problems would have been solved long ago.  Sadly, in my experience, a brighter mind only seems to correlate to a greater capacity to bollocks everything up.     * * *  Scarcity.             That which drives every market, no matter how big or how small.  Without it gold would be worthless, diamonds...

  A lucky break!  That bastard Vane didn’t get everything.  I’ve found a stash at the bottom of my sock drawer—that isn’t really where, but I’m certainly not going to tell you where I hide things.  In any case, I have product! Salamander Scales.  Where to begin?   What is it, I wonder, that you imagine when the word Salamander passes through your hearing?  Is it a drake that springs to mind?  That fearsome beast—terror of a thousand tales, bane of Knights and Dwarves, hoarder of gold?  Do you picture some cinder-belching newt?  A fish-eyed lizard with a knobbly tail...

I… can’t believe it.   After all that.   Everything…  Gone.   All I’ve worked for.  All I owned.   Sitting at the bottom of the bloody Firth of Forth.  Now I see that Mr. Vane never had any intention of returning anything.  It was all a cruel trick.  A game.  A show of force.  He wanted nothing more than to watch me dance—to jump and kick to his oh-so-clever tune.   Well, we’ll see who gets the last laugh.  Greyburne’s has weathered far worse than the Nightshade Gang.  Will do it a thousand times over, before all is said...