Personal Diary of Brother Gregory of Murrow, Church of the Wholly Intolerant Virgin

The first day of festivities for the native poobkral celebration was an unholy barbaric sight. The masses of participants met in a supposedly holy cave called the boomar, so named, I imagine, for the sound of booming drums that echo from the cavern's belly. Slowly the crowd began to grow as more and more natives arrived. Not all were planning to attend the poobkral, and in fact many natives gather here on a regular basis to socialize and enjoy the rhythmic booming. Those who were at the boomar for the celebration were easy to identify. Scores of them were running about, either dressed in elaborate pagan costumes or stark naked, exposing themselves for all to see. I, of course, averted my eyes as a pious man should, but no one else seemed to be even the least scandalized or bothered by the sight. Feeling somehow soiled by what I had seen, I made a point of not touching anyone or anything for the duration of my stay. The only exception was when I was invited to share in some of their 'Wisdom Juice'. I shall explain the nature of this drink later, but for now it is sufficed to say that it is likely responsible for the majority of the childish and improper behavior that the natives exhibit. Other than the Wisdom Juice I did not partake in any other food or drink until I was able to return to my quarters where there was civilized food awaiting me. Some of the dishes that pass for food in this horrid place are enough to turn the stomach of even a starving man. One such meal the natives call naw'chos. Though I did not get an exact explanation of its contents, it would appear to consist of wedges of dried rodent flesh covered in a slimy yellow paste, lightly sprinkled with some unknown meat product and globs of rancid camel milk. What civilized man would ever force himself to ingest such filth? Indeed I will have to alter their diets before I run out of my own food.

Wisdom Juice, a name imparted to me by the native calling himself 'Baron Samedi', is an intoxicating drink not unlike some of those found back home. The major difference, however, is that Wisdom Juice is far more primitive than those made by civilized peoples, exhibiting a much more harsh and unpleasant flavour. Oh, give me the sweet Eastern wine or bold Northern mead. Only once I was encouraged to drink by force lest I be ejected from the cave did I sample a small cup. It is a vile yellowish colour, probably made from the same awful substance as the paste on the naw'chos. The taste is not all together revolting, but then again it is not pleasant either. No doubt it takes years of exposure to the liquid before one can begin to enjoy it. Surprisingly, the natives do not allow their children to partake in the Juice until they have reached adulthood. At first glance this taboo might seem to suggest some kind of moral guidelines, but do not be fooled! Do not assume for one moment that these savages have any sense of right or wrong, good and bad. Without the guidance of Jebus they are incapable of understanding such concepts! The prohibition against children drinking Wisdom Juice is actually to ensure their sense of taste is dulled enough by the horrid diet that the Juice will be that much more palatable. A boy of six years might reject the Juice and thereby become an outcast among his people. Older boys are hardened by their diet and can withstand the taste, ensuring their participation in these ceremonies. My native informants tell me that only one third of the celebrations that the Unthroo-mayjurs participate in do not involve the consumption of Wisdom Juice or other imported beverages. I am told that the reason for this has something to do with the Ay-Ess-Yew, a small political group within the tribe that delights in creating absurd bureaucratic policy and watching the Arrtsees suffer. Perhaps I should arrange to meet with the Ay-Ess-Yew, for they sound like they might be useful to my cause.

I have made an attempt to determine the rank structure of the Unthroo-mayjurs in order to better understand these strange people. From my observations of the celebration it became clear that the leader of the Unthroo-mayjurs is actually a woman! She is neither native royalty nor an accomplished hunter, which makes me wonder how she came to power. No man, savage or otherwise, would ever willingly allow a mere woman to rule over them. As such, I believe that a higher council, perhaps the Ay-Ess-Yew or even those mysterious natives that reside in the feared realm of 'Needless Hell', are responsible for her position. In any case, she is known by the name Shoonah, which translates as "dances with a bucket on her head", and all at least pretend to respect her. Another woman, this one named Moogen, also hold a high rank among the Unthroo-mayjurs for reasons unknown. Her name means "great maker of cue-cards", another enigmatic title that confuses me. What can these names mean? Do they have something to do with clans or families? There seems to be no clear answer. Leenzei is another woman with some authority. Interestingly she seems quieter and more reserved than the others. I was most pleased to see her at the celebration, however, for she wore one of the most pleasant costumes of all the savages. Her name seems to have no special meaning at all . . . a strange thing for one of these people. The last of the high-ranked Unthroo-mayjurs is the one called Neel. He wore one of the most elaborate and yet most poorly crafted costumes of all. Throughout the entire night I observed this native acquire and consume innumerable cups of Wisdom Juice as he lived up to his name meaning "two fists full". I was appalled by his excessive consumption of Juice and lewd public exploits, and yet find myself somehow envious of him. I will atone for these impure thoughts in the morning with one hundred 'Hail Murrays'.

-= End Issue II =-