Challenge #01461-C366: Abominations Are Relative

[Conversation Participant #1]: [Name mankind was not meant to know]! Where did you come from!?
 [Conversation Participant #2]: From the blighted womb of your worst nightmare, quivering on legs innumerable, soaked in the black ooze of your greatest fears. I rear back my heavy head, and howl: DETEEENTION …for AAAALLL three of you! I swear, I’m the only one around here that doesn’t find threats and violence to be charming. – @recklessprudence

“Aw come on Mx Elth… this is the AV club, it’s after school, and we are allowed to ask questions…”

[Name mankind was not meant to know] rattled hir chitinous scales and rumbled a low growl from somewhere beneath hir seventh stomach. “You were still violating the rules by threatening violence. And my name is not ‘Mx Elth’, it is [Name mankind was not meant to know].”

“…um… we were yelling at the tv, Mx [Name mankind was not meant to know],” murmured Dale, the smallest and most harmless alumni that the school had. “…um… it’s a form of critique? Andum. We know it’s not real threats.”

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Challenge #00840-B109: Penfold… Hush.

If we never meddled in powers we did not comprehend, how would we gain comprehension?

“Uh… by examining them with science? Preferably by non-invasive, passive means first?” suggested Penfold.

Blenkinsop glared at her. “Honestly. You’re such a wet blanket.”

“Wet blankets survive fires, Blenkinsop. All I’m asking is that you pay attention.”

She sighed and folded her arms. “Really.”

“Yes. There is a reason why you found these tools and instruments in the middle of a ruined temple. In the middle of a ruined city. In the middle of a ruined civilisation with a document-able trail of destruction… Which originated in the aforementioned temple!”

“But my translations–”

“Your translations may well be off. It’s not as if a cataclysmic destruction preserves ink very well. Did you even notice that the last pages of the book were burned? Or that the writer wrote down their own screams?”

“Well I did think it a bit odd. What if it was some kind of narrative device?”

“Blenkinsop…” sighed Penfold. “What earthy variant of narrative device involves bloodstains and traces of acid?”

Blenkinsop pouted. “It’s times like this that you take the fun out of everything, did you know that?”

“And you’re secretly glad, aren’t you?”

“Oh, hush, Penfold,” Blenkinsop blushed.

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