Now that we've really killed the goodwill in the room, shall we begin the show?

Yes.

Yes, and it's lowest possible air.

We happy crew, we joyfully join the fray.

No doubting do, we wouldn't pursue, but thinking it's true, that isn't the drive-in-world.

Amateur, musical theatre. Manor for a hungry mind and balm for a weary soul.

The very best theatrical performances uplift not just the performers, but the audience and communities that surround it.

Such a rapture cannot unfortunately be claimed by those pitiful witnesses privy to the Daggerfortian opening night performance of someone stole all my cabbages as attended by the dragon friends.

In time, this production will take on an almost mythic quality, but for now those few survivors of the night's performance, and yes, I said

survivors, huddle in the streets outside of Rivershine Hall, watching a fire rage out of

control as the once proud venue burns to the ground. There is a lot of that going around lately.

Picture, if you will, a heavily singed crepe paper cabbage costume as it rolls lazily down the street.

And the dragon friends can't help it feel partly responsible for the chaos that has engulfed their town.

True, the third gate is presumably closed for good.

True, the dark city is being held at bay by your work.

And now that Roman Hoffman is dead and not by his brother's hand,

it seems you have earned yourselves a reprieve, but at what cost?

Jovian Hoffman now is walking towards you.

Well, can I just say this has been fun.

He dust some ash of a slightly singed cravat.

But here's what I'd like to have happen right now.

I'm going to bury my brother, and then I'd never, ever like to have anything to do with any of you ever again. Get fucked.

...