**Season's Beatings, Darklings: Maevemas Is Upon Us!**



As the garlands of gore are strung and the banquet tables groan under the weight of the season's most decadent offerings, remember the sacred Maevemas mantra: more is never enough. Your gifts should dazzle, disturb, draw blood, steal breath. A humble token? Unacceptable. A gilded dagger? Thoughtful. Abyssal diamonds wrapped in black velvet? Perfect. A live cobra wearing a hat nestled in a jewelled box? Inspired. And nothing says "I care" quite like the severed head of your enemy elegantly gift wrapped in Vilimesian lace.


Blood, of course, is the season's seasoning - quite literally. Let it flow freely and fashionably, whether it drips from the edges of freshly strung entrails or pools dramatically beneath your vivisected guests. After all, what's a Maevemas feast without crimson artistry blossoming upon the snow?


So, darklings, grab a blade, pet a snake, drink deeply of whatever's in that suspiciously glowing chalice, woo another wife or three under the mistletoe. Maevemas only comes once a year, and Bloodloch graciously shares it with one and all!


The slave choirs will soon be singing (or screaming) those most beloved Maevemas carols, but we are accepting new material from the inspired. Mail your songs to our Maestra of Malignant Melodies, Shilkar, for a chance to win credits and prestige should your entry be chosen. These will be accepted until the generous Tyrant is satisfied.


The Red Tyrant

Composed at my desk on Closday, the 11th of Ios, in the year 8 AC.