In the dimly-lit crypt, the only sound is a high-pitched, whistling double snore. It emanates from the Oracle's throne, where Verthandi is taking a much-needed power nap. That snore must have been the bane of the nuns in the neighbouring cells. Rosesprite is supposed to be keeping watch, but she got bored and started playing with the computers instead.

-Oraclesprite opened Oraclelog-

ORACLESPRITE: Diary entry, day 1 – no, hold on. I want my real name.

ROSESPRITE: No, my real name.
TENTACLE_THERAPIST: Perfection. I just hope I don't have to explain this joke to the nun… This is a paperless convent, so the only place I can write is on the computer they used to pillage my mighty brain.
TENTACLE_THERAPIST: I should be panicking or in despair right now. Exiled halfway across the Multiverse from everyone I know and love; converted into a videogame NPC and forced to play nursemaid to the world's chirpiest cultist. Instead, it feels like I'm on vacation. You wanna know why? It's because
TENTACLE_THERAPIST: I'm not the Rosebot any more
TENTACLE_THERAPIST: I'm not the Rosebot any more
TENTACLE_THERAPIST: I'm not the master-feccing Rosebot any more
TENTACLE_THERAPIST: (so apparently I can only curse in Madrigogese now? Fine.)
TENTACLE_THERAPIST: My Seer powers have just taken a major downgrade, and you know what? I'm glad. Ultimate Rose could see everything in time and space except for what was right under her feccing nose. (Sounds kind of Irish?) My life was already destroyed long ago because, megamind that she was, she saw the price of everything and the value of nothing.
TENTACLE_THERAPIST: That's a quote, btw. I don't remember who said it, and that is FANTASTIC. Enough about me. Some notes on the situation here.
TENTACLE_THERAPIST: I was right about the facial colours conveying emotions. I seem to be able to read them instinctively, though some of the subtler patterns and blends defeat me. Verthandi is somewhat mercurial for a nun, so I've collected plenty of observations. The basic emotions are: [ugh, how do I format a list here?]

TENTACLE_THERAPIST: well, that was needlessly convoluted.

Red: Anger, dominance.
Orange: Humour, joy.
Yellow: Sadness
Violet: Reverence / religious devotion. Yes, that's one of their core emotions.

TENTACLE_THERAPIST: Blue and Green have given me more trouble. As far as I can tell, blue conveys a calm but controlled state. Green is more relaxed and uninhibited. I'm sure I'm missing at least two more colours. Fear? Love?
TENTACLE_THERAPIST: There is evidence that the Madrigogs have been preparing to play S'Burb (which they call "S'Glub") for a very long time. Verthandi says some of the carvings in this sanctum date back to the FIRST temple to me, built some 10,000 orbits ago. (However long that is.) For instance – OK, I want to switch to dictation now.

"Testing, testing." When her words appear on the screen, Rose nods and drifts across to the other side of the room. "For instance, this engraved map of the Incipisphere. It's a bit off – there's ten player planets, but only eight towers on the moons of Derse and Prospit. The writing is all eroded, and some bored novices have been playing alien tic-tac-toe on the squares of the Battlefield. And then there's this."

There is a soft black curtain hiding a stretch of the wall. Rose pulls it aside, very carefully. A slab of rugged, unworked rock is set into the stone wall, streaked with muted pigments. Black, white, yellow and purple shapes seem to dance in the flickering candlelight.

"Here we have an honest-to-God cave painting. Yes, that's Derse and Prospit again, with a couple of almost-accurate Carapacians to go with them: the cave-madrigog artist gave them face-tentacles because why wouldn't she." Rose lets the curtain fall. She wants to pace around the room, but lacking legs in her sprite form she is forced to settle for floating to-and-fro in a pace-y kind of way.

"It's pretty clear that someone has meddled with this civilisation to change how they will perform in S'Burb. Just like the Trolls of Alternia, only instead of being hyper-aggressive and competitive, madrigogs are monomaniacally focused on doing their jobs. Fulfilling their roles. I tried to ask Verthandi about her hobbies and ran into another linguistic brick wall. The closest we could get to the concept was 'unpaid vocation.' You can see that in Jovall, Verthandi's client player. The rich kid who talks like he's escaped from a P.G. Wodehouse novel. His mansion may be huge and full of luxurious tat, but it's more like a museum than a home. Most of his furniture is cordoned off behind red velvet ropes so he can't even use it. Perhaps my job here is to help a bunch of sigma grindset types to lighten up, in which case god help us all."

"As to the identity of the meddler: I don't think it's Lord English this time. The tentacles of the Horrorterrors are all over this place. Literally, if you look at the ceiling art. The Horrorterrors aren't 'evil' – I've set my friends straight on that point many times – but they are very old, very powerful, and not constrained by our notions of morality. Verthandi has let slip several times that her team have a plan for S'Burb beyond 'just' winning the game. But she won't say what that plan is. If my hunch is correct, it's possible she physically can't tell me." Rose sneaks at glance at the throne to see if the alien girl is listening. The double snore keeps whistling away, and no weird "M"-shaped pupil peeks from under a lashless eyelid.

"S'Burb takes place in a kind of temporary bubble-universe called the 'Incipisphere,' which floats in the space between universes. All around that bubble lies the netherworld of the Furthest Ring where the Horrorterrors dwell in endless darkness. When Lord English began his rampage across the Furthest Ring, he hurt the Horrorterrors badly. Maybe even killed a few of them. Now, there are other documents in this computer aside from the stuff they looted from my memory banks. Let me just pull one up."

Rose drifts back to the console again, but carries on dictating her diary entry as she finds the document. It is written in twisted alien ideographs, all curved and writhing lines, yet somehow she can read it fluently. "Here we see an entire list of powerful entities that have run amok across Paradox Space, compiled by some helpful researcher. Lord English, the Blue Lady, the King of Hearts, the Eye of the Swarm, the Grey Fleet…. it goes on for a couple of pages. What can hurt a God? Turns out, a lot of things."

She pauses for thought. The crypt is now utterly silent. "I used to play the violin a lot when I was a morbid little girl," she says at last. "As opposed to the morbid adult you see before you. I liked to improvise on a tune called 'Dies Irae'. It's a very old song about the end of the world. It goes like this." She clears her throat, and in a husky, unpractised but steady voice sings:

"Day of wrath and doom impending
David's word with Sibyl's blending
Heaven and earth in ashes ending

"What shall I, frail man, be pleading?
Who for me be interceding,
When the Gods are mercy needing?"

The echoes of her voice hang heavy in the air of the crypt. "I've changed it a bit, but you get the gist," Rose adds quietly. "It's hard to face up to the fact that your Gods are in danger of death, even when you're currently on a mission to protect them. So, what do you think, Verthandi? Am I close?"

The nun peers over the arm of the throne, blinking her bleary eyes. "Pretty close, I think. We really do find it hard to talk about this stuff. It's something you just know, right, like how we know to crawl out of the water? You can't just outright say that the sacred Horrorterrors are… yeah. So when we try to plan for S'Glub, it's like the blueprint is a dream we all had, only we all interpret it slightly differently. And no-one's allowed to describe the dream. It's hard."
"Well, the first step towards solving a problem is admitting that you have a problem. I can help your team with that, since I don't share your inhibitions. Being human, I can blaspheme all I want."
"That must be nice…. So, what's the second step? And the third?"
"Sticking with the therapy-speak, we get to find that out…. together."