THE INSCRIPTION OF INVADERS

In the recent era, the Children of Numbers emerged with seething purpose out of great swelling storms. The unenlightened epoch of hairlessness became a fleeting memory as their second-hand sweaters grew holes, unraveled, and were fashioned into gnarled headbands. Throwing back their cloaks at the end of the dark hour, the children found their locks long and damp as if newborn. They shook their heads momentarily in the cold wind, then marched together towards heaviness and sweat.

At the metallic palace, first a nod of worry and confusion, then recognition as old foes were welcomed to the throng. "Invaders are amongst us," came the sentry's cry. First the patches of allegiance were examined. Suspicious eyes regarded faded Drive Like Jehu stickers, yet the skeptics clawed beneath and found Metallica and Hawkwind emblems that renewed their trust. Nodding, the iron monarch and his many fair maidens were pleased. The arcane smoke was released and inhaled, and ancient oaths sworn once again.

The legend ordains that when the palace is full with a horde of 1,001, the sea will wash all away to start anew. So we must advance and repopulate the forgotten realms. The mages wave their wands, and Invaders go stumbling from Brooklyn cocaine bars at daybreak to stomp beyond the bridges, taking down first the mythic cities of Pittsburgh and Memphis, then all remaining citadels across the land where the fearful and superstitious still hold court. In the Western realms, the land fairly trembles. The infidels will not stand another year.

In this time of destiny, our legions grow. The Children of Numbers greet the battlefield as a playground, their beards and ringlets flowing strong from the master root of the Elder forest. Leather vestments are adjusted and fitted with furs to stoke the nodes of new heathen pleasures. Reclaimed amplifiers hum with anticipation. The hex is put upon us. Cast aside your withering knowledge, for your paper wisdom is for naught. Drone now, crackle and rumble, prepare for the coming clash!

Welcome the Invaders, for YOU shall be called to lead the next assault!

-- Ian Christe, of a Kingdom Crowned by Pencils and Pentacles