It was the Summer of the fourth year of the Ascension Wars, and the Divine King was half-consciously jumping channels on his 30" Yomisonic astral portal, when suddenly, the screen went white with static. "Damn R'lyeh and their mindlords jamming my signal again!" thought Rama, as he attempted some vigorous perucussive maintenance.
Then, amidst the static, a vision began to clarify. It was a human male robed in splendor, wearing a wide brimmed headgear and what foreign merchants call "a suit". He turned to the King and spoke in strange dialect, not too dissimilar from Soutern markata vernacular.
He said:
-"It is I, George of the Bushland. Listen carefully for I shan't repeat myself.
I hear yer the president of this here country. My agents tell me there are deamons in the base... I mean, there are weapons of mass destruction being stockpiled in the North. We've seen pictures of ice tubes that could conceivably, perhaps, surely, be construed to look not completely unlike those we hypothethically think may have been or could be some time in the unspecified future used to gather a critical mass of bloodslaves. You must kill the deamons! ...I mean, you must prevent the construction of Illwinter!"
-"Oh, magnificent George, but we are a land of peace and non-violence. We abhor war and invasions. We follow the Plan 9 From Outer space, and his teachings of full disclosure and campaigns of information!"
-"It is o.k. my child. Turns out wars are doubleplusfine if you make them in order to spread freedoom and your particular version of governmental system..." he momentarily paused to dodge a passing shoe-like object with his lightning reflexes "...backed by superior firepower. Besides, you know full well that there is a terrorist attack in the pipeline, aimed at removing your Tree from the landscape. Just do nothing to prevent it, and you can blame whomever you want for it.
I must go now, my people need me and my precious bodily fluids. I cannot deny them my essence any longer. Farewell!"