This week your roving reporter is at The Death Gate. Long after its discovery, this area has
struck fear into superheros and novices alike. Times have changed though. To find out
more, I talked to Mr R. Check, Death Gate's chief pommeller.

"In the old days, people used to tread carefully round here. Exits were checked, rooms
were scanned, adventurers were jumpy. This wasn't your average sunday stroll. The
Tytans generally put the cocky sods in their place.

"These days though, there's a new breed. They don't have the same respect. They're buying
glitter from the charlatans in town and throwing it about themselves. It's confusing
the locals. Now the backpackers are coming in groups, and blinding the guards and all sorts.

"The rules used to be pretty standard, anyone walks in, we duffs them up.
The silvery glittery stuff's hurting their eyes now, and they're losing their edge. Some of
the elves are in therapy. And don't get me started on the bloodthirsty killer gerbils'
epileptic fits.

"I blame Xar personally. He's always been a bit of a troublemaker. Chatting to the
outsiders, giving them help. I'm going to have a word with him next time I see him.

"Me and some of the locals got together and had a chat. We pooled together and now I've
got a new axe, and some shades I'm assured are glitter resistant. They might be able
to get past some of the more gullable gate guards round here (overpaid if you ask me), but
they won't get.... what the? Hang on a second."

"Hollllllllly shhhhhhhiii... "
*whack*
"Owwww... my eyes!!!!!"

At this point, Mr Check cut the interview short to, in his words, "take care of some
business".

----------------------------------------------------------------

Meanwhile:

"Are you sure we're going in the right direction, Dave*? I'm sure we passed that tree
twice already?"
"Shush Rip. I'm trying to concentrate. It's not that easy to see, never mind steer with
this flamin' duvet over my head."
"I told you, the Shopkeeper was out of glitter. This was the best he could do at short
notice."
"The Andolor Street View Sled could do with some Be vewy vewy quiet. We're hunting gewbils.maintenance. I'm sure this thing's
oversteering to the right. Are you sure those mobs can't see us?"
"I think the red flowers on the duvet are confusing them."
"Is that woman still flying over our head? I'm sure she's going to drop a rock on us."
"Aye she's still there. Woah, is that a cliff?"
"What cliff?"
"Um.. the one we're heading towards."
"All I can see are pink lillies."
"Pull the duvet over your head."
"Look I can't do that *and* steer."
"Turn right! Turn right!"
*Thump*
"Hollllllyyyyy Shiiiii"
*Whack*
"Owwww!! My eyes!!!"

"Ow. Ow. The sleds on top of me. What happened to you?"
"Some big guy whacked me in the head with an axe. I think I lost a vertebrae."
"Crikey Dave, I can see him out the corner of the duvet. He's coming back."
"It's ok. He won't see us with the duvet."
"AND WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?!?!?"
"Ummm... just hanging. Checking out the scenery. (Quick Dave, hit him)"
*Dink*
*WHACK*
"Owwww."
"Hit him again Dave."
"My sword's bouncing off him. And that axe HURTS."
*WHACK*
"Now he's hitting me, Dave! What should we do?"
"After a careful consideration of our strategic position, I recommend a swift exit."
"OK.. get this flamin sled off me!"

(2 minutes later)

"Is he chasing us?"
"No Rip. He didn't follow us. He just stood there smiling."
"Thats strange. Why did he do that? And, um.. I'm sure that gerbil's looking me and
licking its lips? Lucky we've got the... Hang about, where's the duvet?"
*WHACK* *WHACK* *nibble*
"OOOOOWwwwwwwwww!"

Rip and Dave are expected to be released from Canyon Memorial in the next three weeks.

*Dave was originally a bartender at the adventurer's wayhouse until his accountant
pointed out that his insurance premium was the same as working as a janitor at the
Great Portal. To make ends meet, he's currently driving the Andolor Street View Sled,
and offering 'Spirit Guide Tours' in aggressive mob areas.