As an angry eldritch god pelts Worcester with foul globs of sleet, we thread our way through the DCU Center -- and what we find ain't pretty. The arcane items littering the tables in the dealers' row are slicked in blood and ichor (mostly the injection-molded plastic kind) or are emblazoned with phrases like "Tongue-Fucking A Torch-Melted Snatch" and "Killer Klown Lazer Katastrophe."