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Cthulhu cult

The Propagandist is on the warpath, as usual. Better wait until we've had at least our second cup of coffee before you come into the office, or it could get ugly.

Here's some of the latest propaganda from the front:

Confusion to our enemies! Follow us on Twitter! Like us on Facebook! Subscribe to our RSS feed! Have a beer! It's Friday!...More >>

I was stoked to make it out of Baghad alive, but I could practically feel the cult's oppressive influence as soon as I landed in Nigeria in the middle of the night. You could see it in people's dead eyes that avoided looking you straight in the eye, in the frightened whispers, and in the desolate abandoned streets where even the locals feared to tread.

The Professor had an old colleague at the University of Maiduguri who had information we could use. As usual, the contact couldn't speak freely over the phone for fear that the bad guys were listening in; but if the Professor thought it was worth a look, I wasn't going to argue with him. Besides, Iraq had been a wash and we had to get back on the trail before it went cold.

I don't know that I slept a wink at the hotel. I was sure I was followed from the airport. But a pot of coffee and the news on the ancient TV set that Boko Haram had struck another church - Church of Christ in the Nations, this time - woke me up fast. Only four dead and 38 injured this time....More >>

Destruction. Terror. Blood running in the streets. I came to Baghdad to track down the cult. All I've managed to do is be another witness to their murderous rampage and nearly get myself killed to boot.

The papers say there are 55 dead across a wide swathe of Iraq. More than 255 wounded. I was in an alley meeting with my inside man, a former cultist (or was he still in the crew and hoping to stab me in the back? I'll never know now), when the bomb went off in the restaurant across the street.

The blast was so powerful it knocked me flat on my ass. When I got back up, Mahmoud was bleeding out from some big chunks of shrapnel in the back of his head. Nothing I could do for him. I got out of there right quick; even if the cultists had already fled the scene, the locals get suspicious of blue-eyed travelers like myself.

I guess I was lucky today. I never saw the bomber, but I actually heard him shout his calling-card unholy prayer before he blew himself and a whole bunch of folks to smithereens: "Ia! Ia! Cthulhu fhtagn!"

Theocratic fascist...More >>


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