[puffyn]

---- Arcoscephale, Turn 61: Epilogue ----

It is said, about the final battle of some-or-many armed persons against the some-or-many tentacled things, that the tentacles won the day, and few persons escaped alive, with or without their arms. It is said that when they saw the battle turning against them, the persons of spear did not flee, preferring to die in battle than turn and forsake their friends. But earthworms, in addition to being slimy and having little respect for an important historical document such as myself, do not make the most reliable of sources. Even the most cunning chronicle scroll must wait patiently in such circumstances until whichever side has won realizes their sore need for the brilliant insights of a quality book of collected sayings, and then I will be dug up with much fanfare and charged with writing the history of that epic battle.

A few worms tell a different story, that some men have escaped, like the crafty Odysseus and the lizards-of-many-names-starting-in-Golan. They whisper that even though the rest have not come out of the cave, yet they were victorious (but not in the winning-the-battle kind of way that one normally thinks of as victory): the mad god was turned to stone (some say also to mist and to fire and to frost, but others say that was the other god, who spilled butter on my pages, and who could probably use some time as a statue to atone for his errors). Thus, they say, mad-tentacle-god was prevented from reaching the exact right spot in the caves before the window closed, and failed to gain ultimate power. The worms were unclear why there should be a window in the depths of the caves, but such informants are my lot for the foreseeable future.

I am a very patient book of collected sayings, although spending so many months buried next to the scroll of the sayings of the prophet Sokodnap makes me long to give someone a good paper cut. He likes to go on about how his prophet carried him into every battle, and how he was there at the very last; that he felt the spear thrust that felled his prophet. I say the blood stains and jagged holes make him a much less helpful and informative scroll. The worms say of Pandokos that he stood his ground in the center of the storm for the twelve long hours of that final day, guiding and comforting his troops and friends as they fell one by one, and slaughtering in turn a hundred foul-tentacled-things before the spirit of the river arose and dragged him down. I am sure the mystics will be grateful that my pages were not ruined by the river water when they come to dig me up.

... Hello?.... Is there anyone out there?.... Important book, down here!....

... guys?

(From the lost work The Collected Sayings of Pandokos the Prophet: In his final incarnation)