Woke up just before I killed the toady of the person in charge of managing non-ceremonial funerals, for disrespecting my attempts to make request with regard to handling our just-dead friend. She was probably next, for the same reason.
Weird to wake up with one's hands still feeling imagined murder.
Named after the transcontinental communications network from Terry Pratchett's Discworld.
Neither Deluge Nor Ice Storm Nor The Black Silence Of The Netherhells Shall Stay These Messengers About Their Sacred Business. Do Not Ask Us About Sabre-Tooth Tigers, Tar Pits, Big Green Things With Teeth, Or The Goddess Czol.