Oral tradition tells of two tribes in Agrilla. Two tribes born of the same sun. They lived and worked in peace. One tribe began to worship an unseen pantheon. Massive stone idols were erected in their honour. The worshiping tribe grew vainglorious of their faith and scornful of the other. They were obsessed with the adulation of their pantheon and rapidly consumed the resources of the land for offerings and material to build and move their idols. The other tribe could take no more and slaughtered the worshipers – weak from their exhausting and constant rituals. In spite, they toppled the idols, smashing them in the canyon. The spirits of their enemies were still zealous and bound themselves to the great stone heads of their monoliths. They struggled to move, but crushed their killers. But they could not give chase without toppling, and the remaining Agrillans fled the land to start anew. The idols were left with a taste for blood in a barren land, wailing in anguish over their lost vengeance.

Nothing exciting ever happens here. Sure, Ruffini's spirit medium skills were fun... for maybe a month. But who wants to know you're just part of a game? Who wants your mortality and lack of autonomy spelled out for you by a little white dog? It's sobering, it's humbling. It's depressing. And I know I'm doomed to stand here every day selling the same old stuff to the same four kids because that's my lot in life and I know it and I hate it. I just can't wait to go home and sleep and dream of a world where I'm the master of my destiny. Ha, not even that. Nighttime is just a convenient illusion for the "player."

Mystifying mycelia Batman! The Mycological Marvel was not truly defeated at the Rainy Circle! For its fertile basidiocarp was laid to rest, but it was only a matter of time before a new one sprung from its subterranean, fibrous network... with a vengeance! Cue the terrifying music, you've probably just soiled yourself.