As was foretold in the prophecy, my impromptu forced march to Boston ate up my blogging time.  Sadly—and I am bummed, because I know what Lovecraft freaks you guys are—our first Great Old One will have to wait a day or two.  Here’s a taste of what I have planned:

When the last winged minotaur, the progenitor of that lawful good race, is killed, more dies than the future of his people.  With him dies the Oneirorinth, a great maze in the heart of the Demiplane of Dreams.  At its center sits the still pool where the Great Old One Bokrug slumbers…and as the walls meant to diffuse and divert his eldritch energies fall around him, the great beast begins to stir.

Also, to see what Chipotle has done to the Southwest terminal food court at BWI Airport is to witness an invasive predator demolish an entire species.  There are only two lines now: “Whatever restaurant we happen to be standing in front of because we don’t have time for Chipotle” and “F— you, I’m eating Chipotle.”