9/29/15
Transcript from the desk of Cecil Gershwin Palmer,
A friendly desert community where the sun is hot, the moon is beautiful, and mysterious lights pass overhead while we all pretend to sleep. Welcome to Night Vale. Hey, you can't be in here sir. Apparently, we are greeted today by a being that one of the interns called Armadox that just crawled into the studio. As with all things, I have alerted security of this, but apparently they are unable to reach the room through the black slime that it has left in the hallway.
I am unsure what it wants (or how it even got through the bloodstone doors), but the tendrils have knocked over all of the pencils on my desk, to my chagrin. You need to put the mic down, sir, you are being rude. I can not tell the good people of Night Vale the news if you keep swinging around the mic. That's better. They opened up a new ice cream shop near the Ralphs' Grocery, near Duke and Somerset, opposite to the dog park. Do not notice the dog park when going to get a few scoops of your favorite flavor.
We have an update from my studio. That creature at the edge of my desk has opened one of its' seven mouths, and it has spoken to me. I can not look away from it's gibbous, and protuberant eyes as they bore into my very soul. It has told me a secret of the universe, and of where the American has gone. We do not know which American it speaks of, but have we all not gone somewhere? Somewhere we can not remember? Somewhere...
I understand what it wants. It has informed me that we are under attack, my listeners. There is a killer out there, that I have been warned about. We all are in great danger of this person of ill intent. I have notified the sheriff's secret police of this, via a dead rose in the window seal. The creature has told me the criminal's name, and I will be sharing it with you all. After the weather...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dW6RXTjm4iA
All is well, the hooded figures from the dog park, that we are not supposed to mention or look at for any length of time, has come into the studio and grabbed up the creature known as Armadox. I have been informed by management that I am not to divulge any secrets of the universe that I may have heard, and to forget anything that may have happened.
One of our interns, had happened to look at the hooded figures, and has been turned into a pillar of salt. We apologize to Mr. and Mrs. Butkowski for this incident, and plan to send a fancy salted meats basket once the custodians finish cleaning up the station. Callers from the ice cream shop say they may have seen the hooded figures entering the dog park carrying something writhing and black. They say that it screams in every language, and that those screams vanished once it entered the dog park. They also say that the rocky road is the best.
This concludes today's scheduled broadcast. Nothing eventful has happened today, but I suggest you all stay inside anyways and hide. Hide from nothing, and hope it does not call for you. Hide and do not check on your children. Goodnight, listeners. Goodnight.
Transcript from the desk of Cecil Gershwin Palmer,
A friendly desert community where the sun is hot, the moon is beautiful, and mysterious lights pass overhead while we all pretend to sleep. Welcome to Night Vale. Hey, you can't be in here sir. Apparently, we are greeted today by a being that one of the interns called Armadox that just crawled into the studio. As with all things, I have alerted security of this, but apparently they are unable to reach the room through the black slime that it has left in the hallway.
I am unsure what it wants (or how it even got through the bloodstone doors), but the tendrils have knocked over all of the pencils on my desk, to my chagrin. You need to put the mic down, sir, you are being rude. I can not tell the good people of Night Vale the news if you keep swinging around the mic. That's better. They opened up a new ice cream shop near the Ralphs' Grocery, near Duke and Somerset, opposite to the dog park. Do not notice the dog park when going to get a few scoops of your favorite flavor.
We have an update from my studio. That creature at the edge of my desk has opened one of its' seven mouths, and it has spoken to me. I can not look away from it's gibbous, and protuberant eyes as they bore into my very soul. It has told me a secret of the universe, and of where the American has gone. We do not know which American it speaks of, but have we all not gone somewhere? Somewhere we can not remember? Somewhere...
I understand what it wants. It has informed me that we are under attack, my listeners. There is a killer out there, that I have been warned about. We all are in great danger of this person of ill intent. I have notified the sheriff's secret police of this, via a dead rose in the window seal. The creature has told me the criminal's name, and I will be sharing it with you all. After the weather...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dW6RXTjm4iA
All is well, the hooded figures from the dog park, that we are not supposed to mention or look at for any length of time, has come into the studio and grabbed up the creature known as Armadox. I have been informed by management that I am not to divulge any secrets of the universe that I may have heard, and to forget anything that may have happened.
One of our interns, had happened to look at the hooded figures, and has been turned into a pillar of salt. We apologize to Mr. and Mrs. Butkowski for this incident, and plan to send a fancy salted meats basket once the custodians finish cleaning up the station. Callers from the ice cream shop say they may have seen the hooded figures entering the dog park carrying something writhing and black. They say that it screams in every language, and that those screams vanished once it entered the dog park. They also say that the rocky road is the best.
This concludes today's scheduled broadcast. Nothing eventful has happened today, but I suggest you all stay inside anyways and hide. Hide from nothing, and hope it does not call for you. Hide and do not check on your children. Goodnight, listeners. Goodnight.

Alright so I got offed. It happens. I actually was, to no one's surprise, innocent. So there's that. Oh, also rolled Chaotic Good, so I was actually playing to assist. Which got me killed. I trust you all will make the right decision and kill Secondhand next. No reason but my own vengeance, mind.
I leave all of my belongings with Fat Hippo, but he'd have to get them out of the dog park. Sorry.
I leave all of my belongings with Fat Hippo, but he'd have to get them out of the dog park. Sorry.