I've not been able to sleep. I've been haunted by reoccurring dreams about food, nightmares perhaps. No sooner do I close my eyes and I am an back in the vast expanse of the desert. At least I think it's the desert, but it's alien to me. Everything is just a bit off--the colour of the sky, the texture of the sand, they are slightly different somehow.
I hear crying off in the distant. At first, I believe it is an animal...but there is something all too familiar in the haunting sound. I begin to search. Frantically. The noise, this unworldly crying grows louder. I realize that it's coming from behind some scrub brush. I fall to my knees and I see him there, the Prophet himself.

He speaks to me of burgers profane and unholy, of taste beyond the comprehension of mortals. I beseech him for the recipe and eventually after much screaming he relents and shares with me his secrets. A soft and fluffy bun crowned with pickles arranged in the Mark of the Twin II, tender and delicious minced jarbo meat to represent the blood sacrifice he performed in the desert. Tequila from the bar near where his visions took place and a mix of spices that is truly Chaotic. (That I will not be publishing here as that is a trade secret between me and him)

This, he said, would create a burger that truly represents Nihilism. That gives the true taste of what he brought upon the world and show the non believers the true depth that the cult has to offer.

I woke with a start and set about the arduous task of creating this snacrilegious delicacy immediately, knowing that if I did not, I would have the same dream again.

Get your genuine Flairburgers now! Business is booming so we have three convenient outlets available! The gates of Ashtan, The Ashtan battlements that Archaeon normally sleeps atop of as well as one in North of New Thera for all of you that might be enemied there.

Send your taste-buds to Oblivion! Let bland food feel the Outer Cold!


NB: Please send all issues and queries to our complaints department, the address is as follows:

F. Ze'Dekiah, Supreme Pontiff's office, The Outer Planes.

Penned by my hand on the 15th of Miraman, in the year 921 AF.