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I have'st return'd!!

Greetings, darquelings.

My presence hath been absent from ye Seattleshire. The humiliation I suffered at losing Mister Gothick Seattle, in 2006 A.D. (Anno Darqueness), was terrific and graete. In truthe, I needed to de-compresse. Your darquest genteleman here needed change his't surrounds. In short, I ventured off. But to where?

To the most horrid realme of unspeakable eville: The Carribean! Mostly the Bahamas and Turks and Caicos. I undertook employment in service of a global lodging firm as a pool-side servant.

I doubt none should want to hear of my days supplying the rich and fat lords and mercantiles with towels and Mai Tais. What is of importance is my return! And not so coincidentally it comes upon the Eve of Allhallows Day! What dev'lish times these be, my fiends! I shall be visiting thy campus at ye local universitas en mortis sporting my most horrifying costume. I shall be dressed as the most vile daemon of supreme evil ever to beseige our age. Aye, but what? For thy answer, thou must venture to ye clubbe of gothick machinations!

Madness and cruellty to ye all!


I hath missed thee

I hope thou all knowest thy day. Hie thee to thy calendarium!

Oct. 31st, 2006

Goode day to all of thee, my darquelings.

I've awakened from my meditative healing trance which hath helped me deal with my sorrowe after losing title of Mssr. Gothick Seattleshire. Not placing at all was a crushing blowwe, one which shall plummet me further into Thee Abysse wherein I shall lose all form.

But alack! Check thee to thy calendary, for on this day we celebrate...


But let thou not forget remembrance, also, for this day marketh thy birth of two of thee moste influential folk who have lived and/or died in our times. It is with delicious pleasure that I also wish a Happy, Haunted Birthday to actor Michael Landon and cyber/steam-punk author, Neal Stephenson! If only thy two would've met. Could not thou imagine "Highway to Heaven" set in a neo-techno Edwardian age?? Mayhaps it were no coincidence one of Master Stephenson's Baroque Cycle offerings is entitled "Bonanza"? I tremble with suche thought! Perhappes a ritual summoning of Lorde Landon is in order...

Nowest then, get thee to wyckedry on this Eve of Hallows, but be safe. Because it can be dangerous whilest prowling about a darque eve whilest wearing blaque. Perhappes one of those handy reflective strips should be affixed to one's finery. Or yet, procurement of a glowe torche, such as those raving kids utilize, is in order?
Questionne: Am I Darque enoughe to be Mssr. Gothique Seattleshire?

Here is a better questionne: Is there any among thee in this ghastly burg more fit than I, The Forlorner, to hold title to such??

I thinketh notte.

It is quite unfortunate that there are those who do not take such events seriously and even, daresay, MOCK them. Oh, they laugh, they urinate on us, but when tyme comes such that they fall short on Coinne of Realme to pay their innkeeper, they pleade for hospitality and alms! Our community must notte be divided by such petty mockery! How else shall we unite and bring about a new Ere du Noir?!

My apologies, I do notte mean to sully this pageantry with politicks. Perhappes, I'm simply feeling mine werewolfish selfe piqued by thy lycanthropic sway of thee seasonne.

Now then, to prepare! I shall entrace myself all nyght whilest standing upright, surrounded by a circle of flickering candles, mine feet pointed down the diagonals of a sacred trapezium. I call that the "Ritual of Choronzonic Forlorning". Obviously, I'll be watching Veronica Mars beforehand as I'm quite enraptured by that show, indeede.

I looke forward to seeing all of my delyghtful f[r]iends t'morrow eve!
Yes, indeed, I've checked mine calendar. There hath nay been a day so gloriously frightening since thee debut of Michael Jackson's "Thriller" (oh, and those were thy days!).

M'lady, Mistress Freyja, today be'st thou majickal day of days!! Let your witchcraftery engulf us in a sea of interdimensional conflagrationnes!!

My fellow fiends, I wish thee all a


I am gleefully forlorning extra hard today..
Dearest Gothique Terrorlings,

My heart is wretchedly full to the brim with a'mour toward all of Thee whom I miss so dreadfully dearly! I've been quite the busy little scarab, what with preparing to pen my autobiographie and travelling thy Globe in search of the rare potionnes and powders I lost in the Explossionne of my laire.

But Alas!

'Tis thy BeWitchening season! Eville and darqueness have begun to enshroude all with their withered fingers of shad'wy grymness!

And of course, this means Thee Mssr. & Mdmslle. Gothique Pagaent of Seattleshire looms near! I shall be barred entrance no more. I am quite open to suggestionnes of darque attire suited for your humble Forlorner. I am even open to vinylle if it will win me this glorious pagaent!

I'm also quite tempted to share thoughts about some uncouthe fellows pretending to be Gothique in thee great juvenille penal colony of Denveria, but perhappes at another tyme.

-The Forlorner
I've made a decision. As thou has heard, my Dreade Lair of Alchemy recently went to Thee Great Abysse. I do not possess enough Coine of Realme to rebuild immediately as my laboratory was painstakenly built up o'er thy years.

There iseth only one solutionne if I am to rebuild immediately. I am going to audition for AMERICAN I'DOL! As thee shall see via the hyperlinke, auditions are comming to Seattleshire this Septembre!

I knowwe what thou may be thinking. "Forlorner, how cans't thou tolerate the presence of such uncouthe persons, the most horrendous and nightmarish caricature and cross-section of All That Iseth Wrong With This Land?", you might ask. Or, you may also ask, "Won't they throw things at you en masse or perhaps affix you to the flag pole with ducte tape?".

Quite simply, I have a solutionne. I shall wow them all with Darqueness. Perhappes too I shall point out that their revival of wearing silly polo shirts with thee upward-turned collar make them look quite Dummbe and such fashion were not Hip in 1985, so shall it not be Hip in this age.

Now, to practice my rendition of "Musique of The Night" from Phantomme of Thee Opera! And perhappes, something from Queen. I fancy "Ogre Battle" from Queen II, yes?


In thee wake of this recent Plotte of Terror, I've been formulating my own theories of thee Truthe of it all! I've compiled muche speculative information from weblogs, Fox News, and thy Expert compiler of sekret information, Art Bell.

Then, I found thee final piece: http://community.livejournal.com/darkcell/20492.html

Surely, thou must know where I am heading with this locomotive of Sophist reason.

This global plague of Muslimme Extremists have finally revealed their true, Sinsiter Mission! That being their declaration of Jihadde against Fields of the Nephilimme and Occultik Grand Master Carl McCoyye, and perhaps all of OURS the world over. It would seem these beastly simpletons are Underwelt-bent on preventing Carl and his band of myseterious, unknown replacement bandmates from making their rightful return as High Priests of the Order of Thy Gothique Darque Order.

Dare they move to quash the Majgickal Rites of which there iseth no resistance?? Will they aim to kidnap Harry Potter and behead him on a questionable videotape? Shall the great number of OURS take up refuge in secret cematariums and hide, or shall we stand and fight with our Swords and Magjickal Weaponry and Lightning Bolttes?? These questions must be brooded over and perhappes answered in time.

I suspect Andrew Eldritch is behind it all. I've long suspected him as a tool of the Republican Party and their operatives in Al Qaedia. Oh, Andrew, how could thou betray us all in such a manner?!! I must take my leave to mourn and revel in sorrow for us all.
Did you know that I am quite a geneology buff?

Well, it is quite true. Although my aim is to prove lineage back to the tyme of Wyzzards and Sorceria, I've recently discovered a fairly close relation to Bo Jackson.

You've heard correct. The very same athlete of American Criquette-ball and Football himself! As odd as that may sound, the absurdity absurdens! We're also distantly related with Patrick Stewart. And there ye have that.

And with that, my Fiends and Darque Ones, I must ready myself for this evening's Festivities. This nigh' shall be:


I take my leave to don my fineries and take off my face!


I've finally made contact with a Cafe du Internetorium of suitable Wiye-Fiye so that I might report my horrifying nigh' of horrors!

I'm a little shaken but all around Fine. However, there has been an explosionne!

My Laire, my darque, hauntingly awful Laire of Alchemy. It's all gone! RUINED! The whole lot of it, sucked into the unfathomable unknown of the Abysse. As was much of the Lord and Lady Von Loerners' manor, I'm quite afraid.

You must understand, the kerosene lamp, it...fell over.

The reaction caused a magnificent chain reaction amongst all my stores of sacred elements, unstable metallurgical fusions, and containments of Unspeakable Eviles to cascade a fantastic gust of magickally charged energy and dismal fire throughout the dungeonarium, wherein lieth my Dreade Lair.

Nothing survived. My prized transmutatory concoctions, foul essences, and deep-cleansening facial exfoliators, all devoured.

Most of all, my prized aqua lamentorae (literally, "Water of Forlorning") is sizzled away on the skillet of this misfortune.

A darque pall once again layeth a Shroud of Despair o'er my [dreadfulle]life. This fills me with sickening glee! Except for my Laire. That fills me with sorrowe and melancholia.



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