Let's Get These Books

Our mission starts today. We, the Minions of America, will have Skulduggery Pleasant printed on our shores. So write, type, petition, do whatever it takes. Pledge your allegiance in the comment stream. It begins now.

Attention

Okay everyone. I just got a text from Elaine. Somethings wrong and we need to meet up. We're meeting at Phoenix's house at 3:00 today. Be there.

This is actually Phoenix.

Hi.  I'm at Luna's House right now, but



POSER!!!!! Luna was on HER account pretending to be me....



NO I'M NOT! I WAS JUST STARTING YOU OFF!!!


Dude. I offered to sign into my account, but SOMEBODY didn't want to put forth the effort.....


No! I JUST logged in, so... i just DIDN'T FEEL LIKE IT. it is not about effort.


Here… GIVE ME THE COMPUTER AND I WILL LOG MY SELF IN!!!!



NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Uh, hi?

So, yeah. Obviously I can post again... Thanks Alice. Um, first of all (if you comment about this I will haunt you for the rest of your life) I wanna say, like, sorry about everything. You know how I get-diffrent-on the computer.

Also, um, I feel sort of behind. We're creating other Sanctuaries? That's sooo cool. And unfortunately I have absolutly no clue who these new people are who have began to follow our blog. Like Stella and other people and such. So WELCOME. And ya. I think I'm done talking now.

yay!!!!

i have finally figured out how to post thanks to alice jones. thank you. this is luna, if anyone wonders.  say what you want. and no i am not STUPID!!! DIS IS COOL!!!!!!!

Slightly Better News Than Last Time

I've finally gotten over being pissed off at the Golden God, and have pre-ordered Kingdom of the Wicked. I assume most of you have already read the first chapter, but here it is anyway.

                         1
THE BUTTERFLY AND THE WOLF
"I’m a butterfly!” screamed the fat man as he ran, flapping his arms like two really flabby, really rubbish wings.
“You’re actually not,” Valkyrie Cain told him for the eighth time. He ran around her in a big circle, bathed in moonlight, and she just stood there with her head down. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and moments earlier she’d had to drag her eyes away from his wobbling bosoms before they made her feel queasy. Now that his trousers were starting their inexorable slide downwards, she was averting her gaze altogether. “Please,” she said, “pull up your trousers.”
“Butterflies don’t need trousers!” he screeched. A moment later, those trousers landed by her feet.
She took out her phone and dialled. “He’s in his underpants,” she said angrily.

Skulduggery Pleasant’s smooth voice sounded uncharacteristically hesitant. “I’m sorry? Who is in his underpants?”
“Jerry Houlihan,” she said. “He thinks he’s a butterfly. Apparently they don’t wear trousers.”
“And is he a butterfly?” “He isn’t.”
“You’re quite sure?” “Quite.”
“He could be a butterfly dreaming he’s a man.”
“Well, he’s not. He’s a big fat man dreaming he’s a big fat butterfly. What the hell am I supposed to do?”
There was another hesitation. “I’m not sure. You don’t happen to have a large net handy, do you?”
“I want to hit him. I want to hit you, but I also want to hit him.”
“You can’t hit him. He’s an ordinary mortal under some kind of magical influence. It’s not his fault he’s acting this way. I assume you have him out of public view at the very least? Valkyrie? Valkyrie, are you there?”
“I’m here,” she said dully. “He’s started leaping with every third step. It’s kind of mesmerising.”
“I can only imagine. The Cleavers should be with you in half an hour or so. Can you contain him until then?”
She gripped the phone tighter. “You’re not serious. You can’t be serious. We’ve saved the world. I, personally, have saved the world. This here, right now, this is not something I do. This is something other people do and then you and me laugh about it later.”

“We do what needs to be done, Valkyrie. Once you’ve handed him over to the Cleavers, meet me in Phibsborough.”
She sighed. “Another busy night?”
“It certainly looks that way. I really must go. Sally Yorke has just set fire to her knees.”
The line went dead. Valkyrie gritted her teeth and stuffed the phone back in the pocket of her black trousers. This was not how a seventeen-year-old girl was supposed to spend her evenings. She blamed the Council of Elders for making this a priority. Yes, she accepted that it was a major problem that previously unremarkable mortals were suddenly developing magical abilities – aside from the threat they posed to themselves and others, they also risked exposing the existence of magic to the general public, and that was not something that could be allowed to happen. But why, out of all the cases that were popping up all over Ireland, did Valkyrie have to deal with the weird ones who thought they were butterflies? There were a few dozen sedated mortals back in the Sanctuary and not one of those was as weird and unsettling as Jerry Houlihan in his underpants.
Valkyrie frowned, and wondered why she couldn’t hear Jerry’s footsteps any more. Then she looked up and saw him flying through the night sky, flapping his arms and squealing with glee.
“Jerry!” she shouted. “Jerry Houlihan, get down here!”
But Jerry just giggled and jiggled, unsteady in the air but flying – definitely flying. He reversed course, flapping back towards her. Stupidly, she looked up as he passed directly overhead. The image seared itself into her mind and she felt a little piece of herself die. Jerry veered off course, drifting from the safety of the park towards the bright streetlights of Dublin City. Valkyrie reached up, felt the air, felt how the spaces connected, and then she pulled a gust of wind right into him, knocking him back towards her. She needed a rope or even a piece of string, just something to anchor

him in place like a fat, man-shaped kite.
“Jerry,” she called, “can you hear me?”
“I’m a butterfly!” he panted happily.
“I can see that, and a very pretty butterfly you are, too. But
aren’t you getting tired? Even butterflies get tired, Jerry. They have to land, don’t they? They have to land because their wings get tired.”
“My wings are getting tired,” he said, puffing heavily now.
“I know. I know they are. You should rest them. You should land.”
He dipped lower and she jumped, tried to grab his foot, but he beat his arms faster and bobbed up high again. “No!” he said. “Butterflies fly! Fly high in the sky!”
He was gasping for air now, losing his rhythm, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t keep himself from dipping lower once more. Valkyrie jumped, grabbed him, closed her eyes and tried to send her mind to a peaceful place. Jerry was sweating from all that exertion, and his skin was warm and sticky and hairy. Valkyrie remembered the good times in her life as she pulled him out of the sky, handhold after handhold. He made a last-ditch effort

to soar away and she had to grip the folds of flesh on his hips to hold him in place. Then Jerry gave up and stopped flapping, and Valkyrie fell screaming beneath his weight.
“I’m not a butterfly,” Jerry sobbed, as Valkyrie squirmed and wriggled beneath him.
The Cleavers arrived on time, as they usually did. They escorted Jerry Houlihan into their nondescript van, treating him surprisingly gently for anonymous drones with scythes strapped to their backs. Valkyrie hailed a cab, told the driver to take her to Phibsborough. They pulled over beside Skulduggery’s gleaming black Bentley.
Skulduggery was waiting for her in the shadows. His suit was dark grey, his hat dipped low over his brow. Tonight he was wearing the face of a long-nosed man with a goatee. He nodded up to a dark window on the top floor of an apartment building.
“Ed Stynes,” he said. “Forty years old. Lives alone. Not married, no kids. Recently split from his girlfriend. Works as a sound engineer. Possibly a werewolf.”
Valkyrie glared at him. “You told me there were no such things as werewolves.”
“I told you there were no such things as werewolves any more,” he corrected. “They died out in the nineteenth century. Unlike certain other creatures of the night that I could mention but won’t, werewolves were generally good people in human form. So appalled were they by their carnivorous lunar activities that they actively worked against their darker selves. They sought cures, isolation, whatever they needed to make sure that they didn’t spread the curse to anyone else.”

“Unlike vampires,” Valkyrie growled.
“You mentioned them, not me.”
“So if werewolves are extinct, why do you think Ed Stynes is a
werewolf ?”
“Last night, people in the area reported sightings of a large dog,
or a man dressed as a bear,” Skulduggery said. “He didn’t hurt anyone – werewolves seldom do on their first time out unless they’re cornered. But on their second time, things get a lot more violent.”
“But if werewolves are extinct...”
“The infection has been diluted down through the generations, but it’s still there in a tiny fraction of the world’s population. Too weak to ever manifest into any actual transformation – unless the carriers of this infection were suddenly and inexplicably to gain magical abilities.”
“So Ed is like my butterfly man earlier.”
“Yes. The latest in a worryingly long line of mortals developing magic. Unfortunately in Ed’s case, it triggered a long dormant aspect of his physiology. You’re going to need this.” He handed her a long-barrelled gun.
Her eyes widened. “This is mine? You’re giving this to me? This is so cool.”
“It’s a tranquilliser gun.”
Her face fell. “Oh.”
“It’s still cool,” he insisted. “But I’m going to need it back afterwards. It’s part of a set. I have the other one, and I like to keep them together. It’s already loaded with a single tranq dart, so all you have to do is point and pull the trigger. The dart is loaded with enough sedative to bring down a—”

“Small elephant?”
He looked at her. “What?”
“You know. In the movies, if they’re going after something
dangerous, they always say their tranquilliser darts have enough sedative to bring down a small elephant.”
“What do people have against small elephants?”
“Well, nothing, but—”
“There’s enough sedative in these darts to bring down a werewolf,
which is exactly what we’re hunting. Why would we want to bring down an elephant if we’re not hunting elephants?”
“It’s just something people say in movies.”
“In elephant-hunting movies?”
“No, not particularly.”
“If we were hunting a were-elephant, I would understand the
reference.”
“There’s no such thing as a were-elephant.”
“Of course there is. There are were-practically-everythings.
Weredogs, werecats, werefish.”
“There are werefish?”
“They don’t generally last very long unless they’re near water.” “I don’t believe you. I’ve fallen for this too many times in the
past.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He started across the road.
She followed. “Oh, don’t you? You’ll insist they’re real and I’ll eventually start to doubt myself, and then I’ll ask, Are there really werefish? And you’ll look at me and say, Good God, Valkyrie, of course not, that’d be silly, and I’ll stand there feeling dumb. Just like with that colony of octopus people.”
“The what?”
“You told me once that octopus people were real.”
“And you believed me?”
“I was twelve!”
They reached the door of the apartment building. “And yet most
twelve-year-olds don’t believe in octopus people.”
“I was twelve and impressionable, and I believed whatever you
told me.”
“Ah, I remember those days,” Skulduggery said fondly, then took
out his revolver. “There is such a thing as a werefish, though.” She watched him loading the gun. “Those don’t look like
tranquilliser bullets.”
“That’s because they’re not. They’re silver. Only thing guaranteed
to kill a werewolf. Apart from decapitation. But then—” “Decapitation kills most things,” Valkyrie finished. “Exactly.”
“Apart from zombies.”
Skulduggery slid the revolver back into his shoulder holster. “This gun is just for emergency, last-resort back-up. Ed Stynes is a good man – I have no desire to take his life just because he changes into a wolfman a few nights a month.” He took a pair of lock picks from his jacket and started on the door.

“Why don’t we wait until morning to do this?” she asked. “Wouldn’t that be smarter?”
“And leave him free to roam and kill tonight?”
“It’s dark and the moon is full and I don’t hear any howling. Maybe it’s not as bad as you think.”
“He just hasn’t transformed yet. All day he’ll have felt grouchier than usual. This evening the headaches will have started. Once night fell, the cramps will have kicked in. Judging by the position of the moon, we have about ten minutes before he changes. He’ll spend roughly three hours covered in fur, and when the moon slips further away, he’ll change back.”
“So we tranq him while he’s still human?”
“Rarely a good idea,” Skulduggery said, opening the door and putting his lock picks away. “Sometimes it works, but most of the time the transformation occurs anyway, and the adrenaline rush clears the sedative from the system. The wolf wakes up angry and it takes a double dose to put it down again.”
“So we have to wait until he changes into a monster before we can do anything?”
“Indeed.”
“It seems a lot more dangerous.”
“It is.” He took out a tranq gun identical to Valkyrie’s. “Ready?” 
“Uh...”

“That’s the spirit.”
They took the stairs to the third floor. The building was quiet, still, like it was holding its breath. They approached Ed Stynes’ door and Skulduggery picked the lock silently. He nudged the door open a little. There were no lights on inside. His hand went to his collarbones, pressing the symbols etched there. The false face melted away, revealing the skull beneath.
He entered, and Valkyrie crept in behind him and shut the door with a soft click. The tranq gun was heavy. She held it in a two-handed grip, just like Skulduggery had taught her.
So far, no growling.
They stepped into the living room, sweeping their guns from corner to corner, making sure Ed Stynes hadn’t lain down to sleep on the couch. It was hard to make anything out in the gloom, but since Skulduggery didn’t shoot anything Valkyrie figured the couch was empty. She may have been the only one with eyes, but his night vision was still better than hers. They moved across the hallway, checked inside the small kitchen. The moonlight washed over the headache tablets that were spilled across the countertop. There was a sudden groan from the bedroom and Valkyrie nearly pulled the trigger in response. Skulduggery tilted his head in her direction and she glared.
He moved through the hallway like he wasn’t even there. A cat would have made more noise. Valkyrie followed, keeping close to the wall, where the floorboards beneath the carpet would creak less. Skulduggery moved past the bedroom door, took up position on the other side.

Valkyrie edged forward, using the mirror on the opposite wall to look through into Stynes’ bedroom. She heard a curse, and there was movement in the darkness, and then the bedside lamp came on. She froze, adrenaline pumping through her, but all Stynes did was push the covers away as he sat up in bed. He was unshaven, pale. Sweating. He looked to be in pain. He groaned as he stood up. Valkyrie glanced at Skulduggery, mouthing the word Hide? But he just shook his head and so she stayed where she was, eyes on the mirror.
Stynes took a step, then doubled over.
“Oh, God...” she heard him mutter.
He straightened up with a scream so sudden it made her jump.
His fingers curled like his muscles were being tightened on some invisible rack, and still he screamed. She’d never heard anything like it.
The lamplight shone yellow over his skin as thick black hairs pushed through, matting and knotting across his chest and back, his arms and legs. He fell to his knees, his legs changing shape, his bones lengthening and re-forming. He stared in horror and dismay at his hands as his fingernails fell to the floor and sharper, longer claws grew in their place.
“Help me,” he gasped. “Somebody help—”
He dropped to all fours, another scream twisting up from his core, wrenching itself from his throat as his jaw dislocated. It cracked and popped and started to balloon outwards, his skin stretching over his newly formed muzzle. Fangs split his gums and his scream turned to an animal howl of rage and pain.

Skulduggery held up three fingers. Valkyrie watched him count down – two, one – and then he stepped into the doorway, tranq gun rising. She took an extra moment to follow his instruction, too stunned by what she had just witnessed to operate with any speed, and so the wolf missed her completely when it came charging out of the bedroom.
Valkyrie fell back, falling in the darkness, trying to make out what was going on just a few metres away. Something broke and something fell and the wolf was snarling and Skulduggery was cursing, and all she could make out was a huge mass of fur on two legs. She looked at her empty hand, wondered where the hell her gun had gone. She swept her arm across the carpet, fingers tapping against something metal. She lunged, gripped the handle and stood, turned, finger on the trigger—
—and something knocked her backwards into the living room. She pushed at it, whatever it was, and Skulduggery clambered off her and the wolf leaped on him again and they crashed into the sofa, turning it over and falling behind it.
Valkyrie got to her knees, started looking around for that damn gun again.
Skulduggery yelled as he was thrown across the room. He hit the TV and glass broke, and he pulled the blinds from the window, and the wolf pounced, pinning him to the floor. It slashed, again and again, and Skulduggery cried out. In the moonlight Valkyrie could see the ferocity with which it struck, its claws tearing through his clothes, raking against his ribs.

She flicked her wrist and shadows wrapped round the wolf’s neck, hauling it backwards, but she could feel the sheer strength that fought against her and could do nothing to stop it from tearing free. Its yellow eyes found her.
She bolted, sprinting back into the bedroom, the wolf on her heels. She used the air to smash herself through the window, the glass jabbing at her clothes, but at least now she was outside, falling through space, and the wolf—
—the wolf slammed into her and she lost control of the air and they spun as they fell, the wolf snapping at her, its claws trying to cut through her jacket. The wolf hit the ground with a yelp and they separated, with Valkyrie bouncing away from it and rolling across the courtyard. The wolf stood, shook itself to clear its head, and by the time it looked back at Valkyrie she was already running. 

Lucky Australians...

OHMYGOD! I'm a bit p-oed at the Golden God right now... KOTW is currently in print- In. Australia. Given the fact that it will NEVER be in print in the US, and is in print in the land down under a few MONTHS early, you can see how this may irk me. Apparently, the best Derek can do for the rest of us is show us the back cover.

I'm ever so slightly pissed off.

Hi! Hello!

Hello!

My name is Alice Jones. I have the head detective here at the American Sanctuary. If you are not a contributor, Welcome! We are happy to have you here reading and enjoying our blog.  And I'm sorry I barely ever post.

If you will help me out, I have an idea.

If you are not from America, which some of you are not, I think it might be cool if we had online sanctuaries all over the world.

If you would like to start one, comment and paste the link into the comments section.

One thing's for sure: This is going to be fun.






                                                                                                                    ~ Alice Chell Jones

Imprisoned

Jessica woke to an ache in her back. The ground beneath her was carpeted in leaves. She became vaguely aware that she was in a sitting position, propped against a tree. A thick chain bound her to its rough trunk. She looked around, and realized that there was a figure slumped beside her.
"L-Luna?" she said, her voice hoarse.
The figure woke with a jolt.
"Jessica!" she cried, surprise evident in her voice, "Wha- Where are we?"
"I haven't the slightest idea," Jessica admitted, "Only that we are chained to a tree in the middle of the woods."
"Oh, lovely," Luna groaned.
“And joy of joys,” Jessica commented, “These chains are bound.”
“Yes, dears, yes they are,” came a voice from behind them.
Jessica stiffened.
“Who is it,” Luna snapped, her voice betraying none of her fear.
“The man you thought was dead, but the man you know none of. The man you thought was a victim, but was instead an accomplice. I’m Rufus Pemberton.”
Jessica almost laughed, he sounded so ridiculous. He stepped out from behind them, so they saw him in full. Jessica was unused to looking up at people, and she figured this was how short people saw her.
The man in front of them was dressed in a khaki trench coat, that fell just above brown Herman Survivors.
“Where are we?” Luna said, her voice taut.
“You? You’re under our... Custody.”
The way he said it made it seem like an understatement.
“So we’re your prisoners?” Jessica snapped.
“Yes,” he said, “Prisoners. Prisoners to be ransomed when the rest of your Sanctuary friends get here.”
Suddenly, his hand went to his pocket.
“And they’re going to have a big surprise when they do!”
He pulled his hand out of his pocket, and Jessica and Luna gasped. In one deerskin-gloved hand, Rufus Pemberton clutched a black sphere. Then, he placed one hand on the top, and one on the bottom, and opened it. Luna screamed as a sliver of darkness leapt from the opened sphere. It darted toward her.
“No!” Jessica cried, “Luna! NO!”
Luna sealed her lips, and struggled against the chains, but it was too late. The Remnant pried open her mouth, and slid down her throat. Spasms racked her body. Jessica screamed over and over, but slowly, viens of blackness covered her face, ringing her lips. Her eyes became flat black pebbled, her lips darkening to ebony. Her face contorted into a savage smile. Tentatively, Pemberton stepped forward. He unwound the chain from Luna, and she stood up.
“Hide yourself in her form, and guard the other one. When the rest come, bring them to me.”
Luna nodded, and the blackness vanished from her face.
Pemberton turned, and walked away, leaving Jessica with the Remnant.

Kidnapping

Jessica spun in her chair, her fingers flying on the keyboard. She pulled up a web page. No results. Who was this guy? Sighing, she returned to the Sanctuary homepage. Maybe Birdie had found something. If Mars had... She didn't really want to think about it. Fast Lane wouldn’t be too bad, and Lunacy would be great, but Birdie was most likely to turn up results. She had on several occasions, and Jess started to wonder why Mars was Head Detective. Life didn't make sense sometimes. Oh, joy. Birdie had found nothing. Slowly, she rotated the chair again.
Jason Stone, my new arch enemy, she thought bitterly.
She shut down the computer and sighed. Stretching and yawning, she forced herself out of the comfortable computer chair. Her awareness spread to the fine black chain on her wrist. It was ice cold. She was sick and tired, and most of all bored with people trying to kill her. It got quite irritating. And what idiot would want to kill her? She was absolutely perfect. She walked to one of the shelves in her library. Scanning the rows of books, she chose a particularly dusty tome. She then selected a chair, and settled herself comfortably.
Replacing the housemaid will be a bother, she thought airily.
She turned a page. She hadn’t read the book in a few decades, but it was still good. She lowered it at the sound of a gun being cocked. An ear shattering bang. The bullet was halfway across the room when it dissolved in a puff of shadow. Jessica set the book aside.
“Good afternoon,” She said cooly.
She already liked the man. He hadn’t wasted time goading. Just fired.
“I like your approach,” she remarked, “Simple. Straightforward. I don’t think my housemaid would say the same though.” She smiled slightly. “Put the gun away, dear. It’s really no use here.”
The man lowered the gun. He still hadn’t said anything.
“I’d cut out your tongue for trespassing, but I don’t think it would make much difference,” she commented.
Slowly, she rose from the chair, taking him in. Sizing him up.
He was reasonably tall, and muscular with thick black hair and pasty skin. Not particularly handsome, but he looked fast and capable of doing whatever job he needed to do. Well, not this one. Her expensive black dress flowed around her ankles, stirred by a breeze from the open window. It gave the illusion of being alive, like a flowing river of shadow. She stepped forward, and his grip tightened on the gun.
“Careful, Honey. If you pull that trigger, you’ll shoot yourself in the foot. Then how would you get out?” She murmured.
The man raised the gun.
She was on him in a flash. It was over in seconds. The man found himself pinned by shadows against a wall, his gun somewhere on the other side of the room.
“Now, now. No need to be hasty,” she cooed.
He grunted slightly, struggling under the mass of darkness that covered him. Jessica allowed the shadows to press harder, pushing against his chest. He was struggling for air, now. Shadows crept up his neck. Jessica observed, her head tilted slightly like a curious child.
“Now,” she whispered, a whisper that carried more magnitude than a yell could ever hope to, “Why are you here?”
Still no response. She moved forward. His eyes widened, showing genuine fear. She blinked. A shadow treacherously close to his throat sharpened, and pressed. Red spilled across black.
“Wait!” He gasped, “Stop!”
She smiled. “There we go, dear.”
She cocked her head.
“Who are you working for?”
“I don’t know...” The man panted, sweat on his brow.
She arched an eyebrow. “Sure. Was it the Easter Bunny? Santa Clause? Because I can explain why you wouldn’t know it was them.”
He looked rather bemused.
“You know what I think?” Jessica continued, “I think you’re delusional.”
“Freelance,” He said, “The guy pays, I kill. Simple as that.”
“Even if you don’t know who it is?” She tutted. “You’re a sad man.”
He grunted, trying to push the shadows off. Jessica pushed harder, eliciting a little gasp.
“What shall I do with you then, Mr. Freelance?” she mused.
“Let me go?” he almost whimpered.
She glared. “You’re pathetic.”
His eyes narrowed.
“You know what? I think I will let you go. But I want you to do a little something for me.”
He grunted. “What?”
“Tell me something, something simple.”
“What?!”
“What is your name? And no funny business, I will know.”
“Jason Stone.”
Jessica arched an eyebrow.
“Why were you trying to kill me?”
“You were... Too close. Too close... to finding me.”
The shadows fell away abruptly, save for a pair of black, shadowy handcuffs. He fell on his face, and rolled over. She stood over him.
“Well now I’ve found you. Or you’ve found me. So. You’re the serial killer who murdered Ivy Paige, Ingrid Placid, Rufus Pemberton, Glory Shade, Aqua Murdock, and no doubt countless others. Explain. Please.”
He didn’t move, didn’t speak. Suddenly, he lifted his head and said in a hoarse whisper, “I didn’t kill Pemberton.”
Then Jessica was tackled from behind.

I Hate Formality, So I'm Just Going to Put a Ridiculous Title

Ok, quick update. And, just so I get my facts straight. Jessica Evermore is being welcomed back as an Elder of the Council. Detective Sinclair, please unblock her. Also, we have two possible new members, both of which have not taken names yet. One is a friend of mine, who is one book shy of finishing the published series. The other is a friend of Luna's, who has just started the series. All. Female. Not that I like guys, but people will start staring if we don't get a male presence. Also, Elder Evermore has been planning a Requiem Ball, to be hosted in private to avoid assassinations. Jessica, here is the list of people who cannot attend on the given date: Luna Night, and Marcia Sinclair. And I'm not sure about Dakota Daring. Ok, that's it. And because I hate formality: 'Bye!

What's Going On

Okay, let's get this straight: Jessica and I are not speaking, interacting, or in any way coming in contact until she stops sicking weirdos, and complete strangers on me, telling me to go downstairs in various languages, and generally being a very. Dislikable. Person. And if she was wondering why I "Stabbed her in the back"? Well, that's why. Amara, I don't care what Jessica says. Leave. Me. Alone. Or I will take you down so fast, you won't know which end of you is which.

Any questions?

HEY!!!

YO!!! EVERYBODY!!! IS ANYONE STILL OUT THERE?!?!?! YOU GUYS NEED TO GET BACk IN THE JIST!!! Goddess, nobody has been on!!! Why must you leave Phoenix?

Reviving the Case

In the trauma of our beloved elder resigning (don't comment), it is understandable that most of us have forgotten our current case. However, there is still an assassin on the loose, and as the governing body for our sorcerer community, it is our job to protect the citizens from dangers and threats such as this one. Sinclair, I want you, Anais, and Elaine on this case, as well as myself. I'm still personally supervising, and I was the one who found Rufus Pemberton, thank you.
Now, we are changing our target's status from assassin. He is now a fully-fledged serial killer, and will be treated as such. Everyone is to take due precaution. Anais, do what you have to in order to alert the public. Thank you for your time.

It's Official.

I have officially made sure that  Evermore can no longer post on this blog.

She IS free to comment though, if she so desires, BUT if she does anything to hurt feelings, ruin hopes, or say not nice things in Russian I will delete her comments.

I wonder if she still reads these things...

Top 10 Things I LUV about Portal 2

1. Wheatley. Need I say more.
2. Rattman Dens.
3. GLaDOS in a potato.
4. Combustible Lemons!
5. Chell looks a heck of a lot better than she did in Portal 1.
6. Cave Johnson and Caroline.
7. Prometheus Turret.
8. GLaDOS:"Well, this is the part where he kills us." Wheatley: "Hello! This is the part where I kill you!" Chapter 9: The part where he kills you. Achievement Unlocked!: The Part Where He Kills You: This is That Part.
9. GLaDOS admits it's hard to kill me!
10: COMPANION CUBE!!!!!!! *huggles*

Wheatley's in the stars,

a million miles away,

a portal to the moon, ohhhhhhh,

seasons come and go,

but I think he has changed,

and I'm on my wayyyyyyyyyyy....

Skulduggery Pleasant: Kingdom Of The Wicked.

For those of you who do not follow the Great Golden God's blog, this is the title for the seventh Skulduggery Pleasant book. For those of you who do, I knew about this long before you. Because I am amazing. Now. Skulduggery Pleasant: Kingdom of the Wicked will be released in September of this year. Okay. Goodbye.

New Elder

Okay, people, here's the delio: We. Need. A. New. Elder.
If anyone, ANYONE, knows someone who has read the books (all the books) and have taken a name, ASK. THEM. Sinclair, you and I know someone, and I know someone, but neither of them have read all the books. Or, all the existing books. Anyway. ELDER!!! Anyone who would like to volunteer, COME FORWARD!!! (Jessica, that includes you)

Little Buzz

dfhfdsghfuvnazcvnharumxguc,vuabh,m.

This is me when nobody posts.

PUT SOME POSTS UP PEOPLE!!!

WHAT IN THE NAME OF ALL THINGS AWESOME AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH MY LIFE IF NOBODY POSTS ON THIS BLOG!!!!!

Look, I'm happy that we've gotten this far, and I'm glad that the blog has worked. But if Jess decides that she needs us as much as we need her, she will be welcomed back with no issues.

And Phoenix, I'm not heartless. No matter how much you act like I am.

A note: if you hear rumors that Miss. Peterson's house is huge, believe 'em.

It. Is. Massive.

She has a room with dimmed lighting, a pull down flat screen, plush leather seats, and a bar.

And I get to attack boys from school. It's like every nightmare they've had. What could be better?

Miss. Peterson's brownies!!!



Oh, wait.

We had those too.

:3

Goodbye, Jessica

Okay, Jess, this is your decision. Sinclair, you are NOT to say anything taunting, i.e. "good riddance" "yay" "great". I realize you didn't get along. I also realize you are going to yell at me for saying this. I'm just trying to take preventative action.
We have lost a valuable Elder. Jessica, I would like to point out, you did NOT have to do this. If you can manage to not be argumentative, you are welcome back. We're going to be hard-pressed to find a replacement of your caliber... Marcia. Put Anais Madid on that. Hmm...
Anyway, goodbye Jessica Evermore. Again, you are welcome back if you change your mind.

Alrighty Then

Okay. Well then.

I suppose we should get started on finding a new Elder.

*sigh*

This should be a trial...

Here's a slip-up for YOU.

I. Quit.

Message for Jessica Nyx

Hello Jessica.


 I have gotten permission from our wonderful Grand Mage to do this.

 Here goes,

 Jessica Nyx on behalf of all people you complained about your...disturbances... I WILL, by order other Grand Mage, kick you off of this blog, the Dead Girls, and any other blogs members of this site may create, do you understand?

Your next slip-up will be your last.



 Head Detective of the American Sanctuary of Mages, Marcia Sinclair

More on Rufus Pemberton

Ah, the miracles of Google. This is what I found.
http://translate.google.com/translate?hl=en&sl=nl&tl=en&u=http%3A%2F%2Fpipl.com%2Fdirectory%2Fname%2FPemberton%2FRufus
Click on the first link. Under "People Named Rufus Pemberton" The rest of it is just a guy from a book. By Sasha Wagstaff. In... Norwegian? I think.
I feel like such a stalker...

Assassin Case

Due to recent discoveries, i.e. the fact that there are none, I will be personally supervising this case. These are my reasons:
1) You guys clearly need brains in this operation. No offense.
2) I am exceedingly bored with watching from afar. It's not fun. I'd like to see any of you try it. And survive.
3) I am Grand Mage. I do what I do, and NOBODY says otherwise. (Not even you, Sinclair)
So. I am now personally supervising, and involving myself with this case. Period.

Rufus Pemberton

Okay, this is driving me over the blooming edge. From now on, this is anyone's case. Anyone who gets even the TINIEST lead on this guy, will get some kind of reward. Probably consisting of chocolate. Everyone here likes chocolate, right?

PARTEH!!!!

PARTY TIME!!!!!!!

A few select individuals(that just happen to be our wonderful Grand Mage and equally wonderful Elder Night) will be coming to meh parteh!

We gots CAKE!!!!!!!























:3

Lies will NOT be tolerated

Hello Nyx the lair.

I have some news for EVERYONE.

Morcubus is a character on MySims.

A bad guy.

Fitting huh?

So explain this one hotshot; Why does this cartoon character bad-guy happen to have the same name AND reputation as our mystery-man?

Chew on THAT.  

Morcubus (or something like that)

Jessica Nyx: Who. Is. Morcubus.
If you do not answer this simple question, I will let Detective Sinclair off whatever fragment of leash I have managed to keep on her. Now, will you answer it?

A Clarification

This is to clear a couple things up:

First of all; THERE IS NO ASSASSIN COMMUNITY AGAINST POPULAR BELIEF.

Second: I haven't made any enemies. Shut up.

Third: I am a good detective. I did all I could to help solve this case.  But I could POSSIBLY be a target. So I was kicked off.

Fourth: When was that last time I was a symbolist? I have changed my magic skills since I am ambidextrous. I am Elemental. I have been secretly practicing, and decided now was as good a time as any to tell you guys. Sorry.

Fifth: Is this DB stuff coming to it's close? Or am I just being extremely hopeful?

Suspension of Case

Detective Sinclair, I am handing this case over to another detective. I have a hunch, and until it is disproven, you are to make no further investigations on this assassin. He has been ravaging the Symbolist community, and I think he is hunting you. Mr. Pemberton probably stood in his way. Elaine, you are to keep one of your specially trained eyes on her as often as you can spare. Sinclair: Did you make any, however small, enemies in the assassin community?

Assassins and Apprentices and Cases, Oh My!

Well, we are out of the doldrums, and back to life as we knew it…  hectic. Detective Sinclair is tracking an assassin, who's name we don't even know, I'm still trying to figure out who this new boy will be, and I think I may have another case, for one of the second-rate detectives. Actually, Elaine, I think you can handle this. I am currently at home, but I have another (long) day of work tomorrow. We'll talk then. Oh my… I've decided I don't like life as we knew it.

I'm alive!

Hello!

For those of you who think I've disappeared, I'm alive! I've been very busy with cases and all, especially this particularly tricky one our Grand Mage has got me on...

Anyway, I know I haven't posted in forever but I'm here, just busy. Don't fret. None of you were worried were you? *sigh* This is what I get for disappearing for three weeks...

                                                                                                                        Chao!

Yet Another Conflict

Detective Sinclair, I have a case for you. This is very serious, and you have my orders not to involve Iniese. We have an assassin on the loose. I don't know who they are, or why they are doing what they are doing, but in your... previous life... I know you knew almost everyone on the network. I'm not going to ask you to kill them, only to find out who they are. If they happen to be someone you knew, I will personally handle the arresting, and make sure your name in no way gets to them.
They have been targeting Adepts, mostly Symbolists. People they have killed include: Glory Shade, Symbolist, Ivy Paige, Symbolist, Ingrid Placid, Symbolist, and Rufus Pemberton, Linguistic Expert.
I have absolutely no idea why they would target three Symbolists, then a Linguistics Expert, but that's why you're the detective, and I'm the Grand Mage.
From what I can gather, the assassin is male, and medium height.

The Usual Suspects

Detective Sinclair, I have a case for your apprentice. Find out what the title of the next Skulduggery book is, and report back to Elder Night. Check everywhere, search the usual suspects. If she comes up with something, tell her she's amazing. I know it's hard for you, but Grand Mage's orders. Now, I'm not even sure if the Golden God himself knows what the title will be, so don't put too much pressure on the poor girl. Got it?

A Shocking Divination

Call me corny, but I was practicing reading magic cards. Apparently, sometime next year, we will have a new male addition to our sanctuary, who will be working in some way with Detective Sinclair. Now, wether or not this prediction is accurate is undeterminable. If this prediction occurs, I reserve the right to say I knew it all along.
Also, for any Maximum Ride fans reading this, I found something on the internet. You probably knew about this, but I sure as heck didn't:

Ring any bells? Well, that's the logo. You can go on Google Images and look it up.

Promise

Actually, I want a promise. I want a promise from everyone that they won't try and stop me from bringing my sister back from the dead. Does anyone object? I want my older sister back.

Why?

What's going on here? I fail to check in twice and everyone is arguing. My gosh. What is this madness? Anyway, I have a more normal blog under Minichili. Check it out! http://minichilimusings.wordpress.com/

Lighbulb

So, if the DB kills half the world and saves the other half that might mean, what, one person sacrificed is one person saved? In that case I know exactly who we can sacrifice...

Just STOP!!!!

To everyone,

         Do NOT blow this off!
I need everyone to calm down! All of this Death Bringer stuff needs to stop! It's going WAY to far! I don't want to offend anyone but even SUGGESTING the end of the world could scare the living daylights out of anyone! Just STOP!!! Not to be sappy but this is the sort of thing that could break us apart. Nobody wants that. Now, I'm all for revenge. You like revenge right? Everybody likes revenge. Now is NOT the time to get some. I don't want this blog to end when it's only just begun.

                                                                                                         Concerned,
                                                                                                                            Marci

Hi

I an just saying hi, because I don't know what to say, but I feel like I need to say something as my recent position as an elder so, hi and welcome everyone. If you want anything done, you can write a blog for me,Jessica,or Phoenix and we will talk about doing or not doing it. -Luna Night-

Revising

I understand how my... decision... was, a bit, out of realty. As an Elder I understand it isn't my duty to kill people. I am revising my plan slightly to this:
I am asking you to help me. I don't want any deaths. I just want one person back from the dead. And... I want revenge on the one who killed her. Will you help me now? 

Another Welcome

Another big welcome to our two Elders: Elder Luna Night and Elder Jessica Nyx. I'm going to try not to make this more complicated than it needs to be. Welcome to the Blogosphere, Elder Nyx, and I am not going to say anything else. I think she knows what I mean, though. Elder Night, welcome to the Blogosphere as well. Congratulations.

4 the unbelievers

Dear Marcia,
I don't think you understand. It's not about religion. It's about bringing the dead back. Wouldn't you like that? To have the dead once again walk among us? It's about the mortals who have bullied us our whole lives to finally regreting it. To prove to the mortals who their superiors are. It's respect Marcia. And I am going to get that. Is anyone with me? Does anyone want to finally be diffrent?

                                                                                             ~Jess, your friend~

I agree with Phoenix

I have to agree with our Grand Mage, this has gone way to far.

As an Elder you really can't afford to be saying stuff like that for the sake of your place on the council. I'm not saying that you can no longer be a necromancer, i'm just saying that maybe it's time for you to face reality: If we burn, you burn with us.

                                                                                                                        Yours truly,
                                                                                                                                    Marci     

For Elder Nyx

This one is for Elder Nyx. She requested I post something.
1) You need to rethink the whole "Death Bringer" thing. I realize necromancy is your religion, but as an Elder of the Council, you really can't afford to bring about the Passage.
2) Am I supposed to write something entertaining? Oh well. I'm going to anyway.

*clears throat pompously*

Oh Goddess... My mother has "The End of the World" by REM stuck in her head. Unfortunately, it's not stuck in her throat. Good thing she has a nice voice, or I'd be doomed. Oops. I probably shouldn't post that. Sorry Mom! Oh! Dad's home. And I have to go to Ensemble in a few hours. Better practice...

Sanctuary Doldrums

Things are rather dull right now, except Detective Sinclair has a new assistant, as you have no doubt gathered from the previous post. -Iniese, just don't bother her, she'll be fine- As soon as Sinclair thinks she's capable enough, she will become a second-rate detective. Sinclair, I would like to stress when she is capable, not when you've decided you can't take the responsibility. You can. That's why we appointed you. Iniese, I may be able to find spare time to teach you elemental magic (take now, for instance) but as Grand Mage I have a busy schedule. It's not easy, ruling America's magical community. (do not comment, Sinclair!) So, other than lovely Iniese, we are in the doldrums, as far as work goes. Oh-well, not quite. Jessica Nyx is about to release the name of the new Death Bringer. Detective Sinclair is -to coin a cliche- on the case. And me being talented little me, I have managed to eke out a paragraph about nothing. Yay.

People.

I do not like people today.

People try to dump apprentices on you on your third day.

But I am (somewhat) calm now and still not very happy with a few unnamed people. I don't think I want an apprentice right now. This is a lot to take in. Iniese, don't take this personally. Your really sweet, but I don't want an apprentice right now. 

Welcome!

Hello, and big welcome to Elaine Moon, to our American Sanctuary! Well, I'll let her introduce herself, but we're good friends. Good, good friends. (anyone who picked up on that one is a genius) Detective Sinclair, I think it would be... formal... to welcome our newest member. Then again, you don't really do formal, do you? Just... don't hit anything. That's my main concern. Aaaand, I've made a simple thing complicated. Again.

Clock Wrong. Maybe.

Okay, I am posting this to check if our clock is terribly, horribly wrong. Because it looks at least an hour late. To be honest, I myself don't know how to change it, so I'll have to ask Detective Sinclair to do it. Provided it's wrong. Oh dear. I just made something incredibly simple into something incredibly complicated. *sheepish grin* I'm talented that way.

People, people, everywhere

Gosh, lots of posts for our first day. Anyway, our two other Elders (Jessica Nyx and Luna Night) have yet to join. We are also waiting on Elaine Moon. And a whole bunch of others who have yet to select taken names. Anyone who knows me, Marcia, Jessica, Elaine, or Luna and have read Skulduggery Pleasant, inform us and we will send you an invitation. Welcome to the American Sanctuary!

Some news

This terrified me!!!

Jessica Nyx, Elder, claims she has found a new death bringer. Why, I do not know. She is training this girl and says she will soon be ready to begin the passage. The girls name is not yet available to the public. Even I do not know. All we can hope for is that she is terribly, terribly wrong.

Message 4 Nix

Don't forget to follow the blog so you can check up Okay?

Small Beginnings

Hello, all. Grand Mage Mithrandir here. Detective Sinclair just finished making the blog. Thank you. Thank you very much. Anyway, I'm new to the Blogosphere, so any tips would be much appreciated. Hope to see you around!

Pheonix!

YAY! NIX IS ON!!!!! I so happy! Oh, ANTON!!!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!! *Huggles* I is happys nows!

I finnaly did it!

Hello guys!!

So I finally got around to making this thing. I'M SOOOOOOOOOOOOOO HAPPPY!!!! (Can't you tell?)
You can post on it now I think.

                                                                                                            Later!