Well, the Discworld certainly seems to have been anti-climactic,
as battles go.  That must mean it will be the source of our doom. 
Compared to the other treasures we have had waiting for us in the
Unicorn's hiding spots, this was downright balmy.  In fact, I believe that
the only person that really seemed to have risked anything at all was
Fiona.  Strange behavior, that.  She seemed rather disappointed in Bart in
particular, upon her return to our group.  Perhaps he had not risked
enough in her opinion?

	Downright balmy, except for that hat thing.  I certainly hope that
will not take too much to undo.  Unpleasant thoughts; to dwell on them may
be risky.  Of course, there were opportunities here, too.  Like Bart's
apparent obsession with Laughter's form.  But to flaunt it so
purposefully, and in her presence, as well.  Fairly tasteless, if you ask
me.  Then again, it *is* Bart.

	Well, we recovered the Jewel fragments and (unfortunately)
Mirelle.  With a bit too much haste in my opinion, we returned to the main
hall.  Mirelle was making quite a fuss, and only Oberon was able to shut
her up.  I took off the idiotic hat, to show proper respect.  I'd have
burned the damn thing, if I had known what that would do to my "friend." 
I need to extract the bastard.  Maybe I can even make use of him.

	Anyway, Oberon decided it would be cool to make fun of Fiona's
appearance in her and everyone else's presence.  I made no comment.

	Oberon took the shards of the Jewel from Fiona, and reformed them. 
Everyone but me did the through-space shuffle.  Oberon was first to
return, unsurprisingly.  I made no comment to the effect of "Ha!  I beat
you back!"  Ah, for Random's regime.  So many good lines lie dead at the

	The others return, mostly, one by one.  Oberon tells us to rest,
until the executions.  Except for Ahab.  He wants to see Ahab at three. 
HA!  Sucks to be you, oh he of chin.

	I use the Spikard trick that my sister inferred.  No use in
conserving energy now.  Mixed emotions about Sand's death.  Not that I
feel at all for her, but she was useful to me.  How unlikely these
circumstances seemed, that time long ago, when I was the prisoner, my
father the source, and her the smug one.  She makes no attempt to plead
for mercy -- makes eye contact with no one.  At least she dies with some
dignity.  Nobody brought eggs and rotten cabbage.  Some seem amazed at her
aged appearance.  Others, most definitely not.  Ahab mutters something to
her.  He has an ax to grind, as well.  An appropriate choice of
executioner.  Goodbye, Aunt.  You die alone, with only your broken schemes
for comfort.

	Dalt is up.  Poor boy.  Next.

	Moire spoils Arthur's execution.  Does she not know what happens
to Oberon's wives?  Of course, they were often as not a bit more frail
than she.  So Oberon has not even spared himself from the throne.  I
wonder how far this scheme will reach?

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