The Cat will play. I'm 4% sure that's how the saying goes. I mean, when was the last time you saw mice play? Fucking never, that's when. You know what animal plays? Cats. You know when? When they send Cerberus on missions to deal with his claustrophobia. What do we play? Pictionary! Jack is shit at pictionary for some reason. Like he doesn't actually look at things when he deals with them. When prompted to draw a tree by his card, he draws something far closer to a shoe.
Weird right?
All joking aside, while Cerberus is out hunting I've been keeping busy. David asked me to watch Em. Which was awkward.
I mean I blew thousands of dollars scouring all of Germany for her at one point and then when I found out he had her I threatened to take her by force and made a whole scene at a cafe... but now that I have her I had no idea what to do now. I kind of stopped caring... I guess?
I don't know. That sounds really harsh. I'm more than happy to have her. I just don't really remember why I was so hellbent on it before. I'm a different person now. I don't remember the train or thought or emotion. Its complicated or something. Suffice to say, shes here and well. As is Maggot and Ryan.
Ryan is as hollowed as ever and Maggot is as mean as ever... to everyone else. Think it's still protecting Em because it's still following Em around like a duckling even as it assaults and harasses Jack. Classy.
Em seems well... mostly. Prideful and guarded as ever. Which is a good thing. That means shes still fighting. Its what you want to see. I have seen her... freak out every now in then. Jack in particular brought Jessica up and I though Em was about to hyperventilate. Boys as sensitive as a brick to the face sometimes.
With David's blessing, I do believe I'd gonna try to teach Em some crafting while shes here. She was thrilled by the prospect and giddy when I told her she David approved. So we'll see if she has that in her soon.
In more worldly affairs, Picasso found out there's a prominent Fallen proxy cell down in Georgia. Apparently the cell is where the proxy (Slicer) that was hunting April came from so I'm gonna go see if I can get them to calm their tits and back the fuck up... but with classier words. Just as soon as I find the fuckers.
Cerberus, if you're reading this, get back to work!
Fracture out.
Friday, January 30, 2015
Thursday, January 22, 2015
What now?
When I said I am not a writer, I kind of had this vain hope that Fracture would take the hint, remove me from his blog, and let me just get my work done in peace. I'm going to let everyone who reads this thing take a moment to bet on it: did Fracture do anything of the sort?
No dice.
Instead, I'm going to do a write up about where Ralph and I stand on the Black Lake operation. I'm not entirely sure it's a good idea to post this thing in public right now, but, well, fuck it. Gives me something to do while we chart our next move I suppose.
So, as Fracture pointed out in his last post, I'm travelling with Mama Ralph. A Fire Cultist. Which is kind of surprising. I'm not too clear on the politics I'm caught in between right now on that, but it seems to me that the Fire Cult wouldn't have left behind one of their own unless they had a damn good reason. I've tried and fucking failed to wrap my head around it, but other than his apparent lack of control over his own, well...fire...I can't see why Ralph has stuck around.
I had to ask Fracture if he was trying to send this fucker to die. Cutting the strings off a Doll is not easy, it's hard, it's mean, it's very likely to kill you. But do you know what Fracture tells me?
"Life is precious, Cerberus. If all goes well, you will both be coming back to me."
Some sappy bullshit, right?
Still, in hindsight, I'm kind of glad. Ralph has a pretty good sense of humor, for a guy who only speaks in emotionless monotone. At least I think it's humor. Hard to tell with the guy.
Arriving in Black Lake was almost nostalgic. Almost. This place is doing a lot better than the last time I was here. As bad as it was the first time, I half expected the whole place to just be on fire. But reconstruction, whatever that means exactly, seems to be going alright. Ralph and I briefly discussed the fact that the cops in this town don't know that we're here on Fracture's orders, or that we're even proxies at all. Wish I had fucking known that before going in, but what do you expect? Fracture is many things, but not talented in mission briefings.
The original plan was to head to Black Lake's primary hotel, the only one that existed before the incident of old. A number of scummy motels have opened up on the outskirts of town, apparently, in the wake of reconstruction. But we figured, no one knows we're here, why not enjoy the luxury of a nice hotel room?
Yeah, fucking no.
As soon as we hit the lobby, Ralph flips a bitch, turns and walks right back out. I'm thinking we've been spotted, so I duck out behind him and light a cigarette so it looks like we're not just standing there like the suspicious assholes he's just made us into. I ask him what the fuck is up. He tells me 'Vallus is in the lobby.'
Fanfuckingtastic. We have an X factor.
So we chat a bit about why she might be there, try not to draw any attention, and then head to one of the crappier motels in this town. Not before Ralph calls me both over-dramatic and indecisive, however, because I think it's stupid to have him path his way into a hotel room with me. Proxies always have to do shit all convoluted, you know that?
The room's not great, but it'll do. I've honestly had worse. But this Vallus shit is a bit of a curveball, so we're dealing with that.
Not much more to be said at the moment. If and when we figure out whether Vallus is a threat of any kind, we'll deal with her, and in the meantime we're going to keep looking out for the Doll. Personally, I don't think that oughta be hard. Dolls have always seemed pretty obvious to me. Guess we'll find out if this one is similar.
-Cerberus
No dice.
Instead, I'm going to do a write up about where Ralph and I stand on the Black Lake operation. I'm not entirely sure it's a good idea to post this thing in public right now, but, well, fuck it. Gives me something to do while we chart our next move I suppose.
So, as Fracture pointed out in his last post, I'm travelling with Mama Ralph. A Fire Cultist. Which is kind of surprising. I'm not too clear on the politics I'm caught in between right now on that, but it seems to me that the Fire Cult wouldn't have left behind one of their own unless they had a damn good reason. I've tried and fucking failed to wrap my head around it, but other than his apparent lack of control over his own, well...fire...I can't see why Ralph has stuck around.
I had to ask Fracture if he was trying to send this fucker to die. Cutting the strings off a Doll is not easy, it's hard, it's mean, it's very likely to kill you. But do you know what Fracture tells me?
"Life is precious, Cerberus. If all goes well, you will both be coming back to me."
Some sappy bullshit, right?
Still, in hindsight, I'm kind of glad. Ralph has a pretty good sense of humor, for a guy who only speaks in emotionless monotone. At least I think it's humor. Hard to tell with the guy.
Arriving in Black Lake was almost nostalgic. Almost. This place is doing a lot better than the last time I was here. As bad as it was the first time, I half expected the whole place to just be on fire. But reconstruction, whatever that means exactly, seems to be going alright. Ralph and I briefly discussed the fact that the cops in this town don't know that we're here on Fracture's orders, or that we're even proxies at all. Wish I had fucking known that before going in, but what do you expect? Fracture is many things, but not talented in mission briefings.
The original plan was to head to Black Lake's primary hotel, the only one that existed before the incident of old. A number of scummy motels have opened up on the outskirts of town, apparently, in the wake of reconstruction. But we figured, no one knows we're here, why not enjoy the luxury of a nice hotel room?
Yeah, fucking no.
As soon as we hit the lobby, Ralph flips a bitch, turns and walks right back out. I'm thinking we've been spotted, so I duck out behind him and light a cigarette so it looks like we're not just standing there like the suspicious assholes he's just made us into. I ask him what the fuck is up. He tells me 'Vallus is in the lobby.'
Fanfuckingtastic. We have an X factor.
So we chat a bit about why she might be there, try not to draw any attention, and then head to one of the crappier motels in this town. Not before Ralph calls me both over-dramatic and indecisive, however, because I think it's stupid to have him path his way into a hotel room with me. Proxies always have to do shit all convoluted, you know that?
The room's not great, but it'll do. I've honestly had worse. But this Vallus shit is a bit of a curveball, so we're dealing with that.
Not much more to be said at the moment. If and when we figure out whether Vallus is a threat of any kind, we'll deal with her, and in the meantime we're going to keep looking out for the Doll. Personally, I don't think that oughta be hard. Dolls have always seemed pretty obvious to me. Guess we'll find out if this one is similar.
-Cerberus
Saturday, January 10, 2015
Go Back to Where You Once Belonged
Dododododododo.
Rannnnng, do do do do.
Drum solo.
Good times.
Hey there. Fracture here.
So apparently the Red Witch is trying to recruit my people out from under me. That's classy as fuck, let me tell you. Although I supposed I did kind of still Cerberus to began with... what with the torturing, outing him to his own kind that he spill information and got a bunch of his own killed, and then dumping him in the desert to fend for himself while they hunted him like a dog.
I was being merciful. Le Croix wanted to kill him. That lady does not fuck around.
I do, however, consider it an honor that I rank as more trustworthy than Miss Red though. Eat it bitch! ....Although that assumes Cerberus isn't just too lazy to leave. It presents an interesting conundrum.
I suppose I should take for affection, that which can be explained my laziness...
Ellipses aside, I consider this a big win.
Had an usual urge align that sentence to the right. Not sure whats up with that.
Moving along, Cerberus said a lot of nasty shit in his post. Which is kind of just how he is. His method of communication is something akin to a slew of insults. And you know what, that's fine. Call my blog layouts boring. Cause you know what? They are. Those are proxy problems and I fucking love them. Blogging is love. Blogging is life. Even more so for a lot of runners. But that can't afford the time they would need to make their blogs spiffy like mine. So I do it for those who can't. Its respects or something.
Also, I'm not a business man preaching and practicing medicine. That's ignorant. I'm a business man cultivating, collecting, and trading in the currency of the gods. One of the few things most fears respect, understand, and desire. I barter in life. Every afflicted soul hangs in the balance and there in power in influencing who goes where and when. For those who have seen into the abyss, there is no rest. Not in this life or the next.
If I take a moment to pointedly ignore the really foreboding, cryptic, concerning shit in slipped into his post, his last major concern was in how bored he was hanging out here. Well fine. Lets put your ass to work!
So I've sent Cerberus out to a place he should be pretty familiar with. Hes going back to Black Lake, where I originally abducted him. Its not the shit hole it was 2 and a half years go when Picasso, Moth, and Navi kicked off a domino effect that killed half the population and invited in a massive invasion of fear servants to try to take the town as their own.
After myself and the pseudo-proxy police force I had put in place had pushed the servants out of the town reconstruction started. The town had already half burned under the weight of the catastrophy and the fear servant siege so the official cover story was there was a massive fire and subsequent riots caused by further panic after some animal attacks before the police were able to get a hand on the situation and place everyone under martial law until help could arrive.
Since then things have slowly been returning to normal for that poor little town. Most of the survivors, who didn't take to running, have joined the town's secret proxy militia. A generation that truly understands from first hand experience how important it is to keep the town servant free... non-proxy servant at least.
But construction and renovation to rebuild the town saw a lot of strangers passing in and out of poor black lake and it is an absolute certainty that some of the new inhabitants of servants in disguise. And in the interest of keeping the town 'Neutral', you know the proxy controlled kind of neutral, I've made it my responsibility to keep the town free of the other servants.
So I'm sending Cerberus up there to eject a servant we've recently found evidence of. A Doll. Insanely dangerous game to hunt I know. And that's why I'm sending him with Ralph. Ralph, is a fire-starter. In fact, the only male fire-starter in Fire Cult history. And he was kind enough to abandon the fire cult and return to my side when 'the Fire' lost her shit and declared war on the rest of the Free Market.
He has full immunity for his actions Jen. I mean it. I need /SOME/ fire cultists if you're gonna be throwing these insane little fits and I need him more than most.
So.... good luck Cerberus and Ralph! Try not to die!
The Lord Guardian Fracture out!
Rannnnng, do do do do.
Drum solo.
Good times.
Hey there. Fracture here.
So apparently the Red Witch is trying to recruit my people out from under me. That's classy as fuck, let me tell you. Although I supposed I did kind of still Cerberus to began with... what with the torturing, outing him to his own kind that he spill information and got a bunch of his own killed, and then dumping him in the desert to fend for himself while they hunted him like a dog.
I was being merciful. Le Croix wanted to kill him. That lady does not fuck around.
I do, however, consider it an honor that I rank as more trustworthy than Miss Red though. Eat it bitch! ....Although that assumes Cerberus isn't just too lazy to leave. It presents an interesting conundrum.
I suppose I should take for affection, that which can be explained my laziness...
Ellipses aside, I consider this a big win.
Had an usual urge align that sentence to the right. Not sure whats up with that.
Moving along, Cerberus said a lot of nasty shit in his post. Which is kind of just how he is. His method of communication is something akin to a slew of insults. And you know what, that's fine. Call my blog layouts boring. Cause you know what? They are. Those are proxy problems and I fucking love them. Blogging is love. Blogging is life. Even more so for a lot of runners. But that can't afford the time they would need to make their blogs spiffy like mine. So I do it for those who can't. Its respects or something.
Also, I'm not a business man preaching and practicing medicine. That's ignorant. I'm a business man cultivating, collecting, and trading in the currency of the gods. One of the few things most fears respect, understand, and desire. I barter in life. Every afflicted soul hangs in the balance and there in power in influencing who goes where and when. For those who have seen into the abyss, there is no rest. Not in this life or the next.
If I take a moment to pointedly ignore the really foreboding, cryptic, concerning shit in slipped into his post, his last major concern was in how bored he was hanging out here. Well fine. Lets put your ass to work!
So I've sent Cerberus out to a place he should be pretty familiar with. Hes going back to Black Lake, where I originally abducted him. Its not the shit hole it was 2 and a half years go when Picasso, Moth, and Navi kicked off a domino effect that killed half the population and invited in a massive invasion of fear servants to try to take the town as their own.
After myself and the pseudo-proxy police force I had put in place had pushed the servants out of the town reconstruction started. The town had already half burned under the weight of the catastrophy and the fear servant siege so the official cover story was there was a massive fire and subsequent riots caused by further panic after some animal attacks before the police were able to get a hand on the situation and place everyone under martial law until help could arrive.
Since then things have slowly been returning to normal for that poor little town. Most of the survivors, who didn't take to running, have joined the town's secret proxy militia. A generation that truly understands from first hand experience how important it is to keep the town servant free... non-proxy servant at least.
But construction and renovation to rebuild the town saw a lot of strangers passing in and out of poor black lake and it is an absolute certainty that some of the new inhabitants of servants in disguise. And in the interest of keeping the town 'Neutral', you know the proxy controlled kind of neutral, I've made it my responsibility to keep the town free of the other servants.
So I'm sending Cerberus up there to eject a servant we've recently found evidence of. A Doll. Insanely dangerous game to hunt I know. And that's why I'm sending him with Ralph. Ralph, is a fire-starter. In fact, the only male fire-starter in Fire Cult history. And he was kind enough to abandon the fire cult and return to my side when 'the Fire' lost her shit and declared war on the rest of the Free Market.
He has full immunity for his actions Jen. I mean it. I need /SOME/ fire cultists if you're gonna be throwing these insane little fits and I need him more than most.
So.... good luck Cerberus and Ralph! Try not to die!
The Lord Guardian Fracture out!
Friday, January 2, 2015
Competition for my heart
You know what I hate most about Loops? The sense of claustrophobia. The Lab isn't small, but it's a Loop, so it feels small. Every room, even the big living room, feels like it's two-foot-by-two-foot small. I don't know why. If I had to guess, I'd say it was because it's not real, and the mind can tell, and even though it looks like there's all that space to walk around in, the brain knows it's being tricked.
Or maybe magic fucking elves shoot invisible loads all over everything and it's taking up all the room. I don't know shit.
Basically, I'm walking around the Lab not doing anything, and it's driving me up the imaginary walls. I don't know what Fracture has me here for. I know he's up to something, he's always up to something, from the looks of something. But blog layouts? Seriously? I don't give a shit.
The most exciting thing that's happened to me since I got the mask pieces removed was yet another job offer from a completely different proxy. I'm starting to think I'm some kind of valuable commodity to these guys. Almost as soon as I'd set up an email, I got one from the 'Red Witch' down in Vegas.
Now, look. I started this journey a timberwolf, then I was rogue, and now I'm... something else... but I've heard the rumblings already. That bitch in Vegas, she's the one everyone whispers about. Not scared whispering, really, but it's more like dread. Exhausted dread, like she's something they would rather not have happen but know they can't avoid. It creeps me right the fuck out, and I know that at least once when I was a timberwolf, a bunch of our guys got pummeled by her guys.
She and I, we got into a bit of a conversation, over a few days. Seems I'm not the only one she's courting for her operation, God knows why. Her given reason was 'the more, the merrier' but who's buying that? Personally I think it's just a standard proxy cell she likes to make people think is more mysterious than it is, which, whatever, proxys are all about mysticism it seems like. Or at least this weird cross-breed between mysticism and science. Fracture likes to pretend he's a doctor slash businessman, preaching and practicing medicine at the same time.
Historically, not a great idea.
So of course I turned the Witch down. Who the hell accepts a job offer from a witch? Maybe I don't have anything going on here in the Lab, but at least what I do have is something I'm familiar with. Fracture is a shady bastard. But he's got me this far. Fuck it.
That's all there is to tell right now, I think. I'm still not a writer, and nothing much has changed since the last time I wrote one of these. That's a lie. Everything has changed. Everything is always changing, a world in flux in need of order. I'll report back when I have the chance and actual news to talk about.
'Red Witch.' What a fucking joke.
Friday, December 26, 2014
New Layout
Hello there! Exciting news! I've redone the this blog's layout! And now I'm finishing 100% more of my sentences with exclamation marks! Help me! It's a sickness!
Silliness aside, I am really excited for about this reformatting. If you haven't noticed it yet, there is now information being laid out for you on both sides of these blog posts. That doesn't sound cool but it was actually a huge pain in the ass. See, adding the second bar was gonna make this middle area smaller. So I made the blog width wider. But then the black boxes were covering my glorious Cheshire cat background!
And that was not going to do but I needed the blog width. But by the miracle of new age magic, see fucking with the html code, I've fixed the problem. Everything under the link bar but above the footer has been pushed over exactly 3 centimeters! So now I can fit all this information and my glorious Cheshire cat in one place. What a time to be alive.
To celebrate my awesome and my awesome accomplishments I'm introducing the 'reports', They are gonna be kept on the left side of the screen there.
Overtime I'm gonna add more and more reports about abnormalities I've encountered over the years and fears and their cults and organizations and monsters and dimensions and call kinds of shit I've come to know as true. Read at your own risk. What you learn here may very well bleed into your own lives, if bleeding theory is to be believed.
Should you valiantly press forth, welcome to my world! Enjoy your stay.
Tonight we're learning about a destroyed/warped artifact of unknown origin I like to call, the 'Bell'.
Have fun! And remember, Don't Die!
The lord Guardian Fracture, out.
Silliness aside, I am really excited for about this reformatting. If you haven't noticed it yet, there is now information being laid out for you on both sides of these blog posts. That doesn't sound cool but it was actually a huge pain in the ass. See, adding the second bar was gonna make this middle area smaller. So I made the blog width wider. But then the black boxes were covering my glorious Cheshire cat background!
And that was not going to do but I needed the blog width. But by the miracle of new age magic, see fucking with the html code, I've fixed the problem. Everything under the link bar but above the footer has been pushed over exactly 3 centimeters! So now I can fit all this information and my glorious Cheshire cat in one place. What a time to be alive.
To celebrate my awesome and my awesome accomplishments I'm introducing the 'reports', They are gonna be kept on the left side of the screen there.
Overtime I'm gonna add more and more reports about abnormalities I've encountered over the years and fears and their cults and organizations and monsters and dimensions and call kinds of shit I've come to know as true. Read at your own risk. What you learn here may very well bleed into your own lives, if bleeding theory is to be believed.
Should you valiantly press forth, welcome to my world! Enjoy your stay.
Tonight we're learning about a destroyed/warped artifact of unknown origin I like to call, the 'Bell'.
Have fun! And remember, Don't Die!
The lord Guardian Fracture, out.
Tuesday, December 9, 2014
I am not a writer.
There's a running gag in my life. I become what I'm not without wanting to. I didn't really mean to end up a Timberwolf, but an ambush is an ambush, and you fight back when your life is threatened you know? That whole gig was something else. Fighting monsters, seeing monsters, fighting people who look like monsters...not bad I guess, but not what I ever wanted for myself. And I didn't and don't want to be some bargaining chip, some sort of weird pawn in a cosmic chess match, but I guess that's what I am now, too. Thanks to Fracture. He thinks we're best buddies now or something. Motherfucker. I am what I am not.
And now I'm a writer.
I don't want to be a proxy. I want nothing to do with any of these...weird assholes. Not anymore. Drug-addled, pseudo-religious thugs...masked cultists...whatever the hell those bug people are, or the String Slaves...I'm tired of all of this bullshit already. But anyone reading saw what went down. Fracture's enemies decided to take their beef with him out on my face, and made me hated in every Fear cult compound that would have otherwise taken me in after that train wreck of an incident.
I spent a long time wandering in the desert by myself. Way too long.
Did I mention I'm not a writer? Yeah, I think I did, because I'm no goddamn good at this. What I'm supposed to write about, I guess, is the deal with Fracture. He's promised me in absolutely uncertain terms that, as long as I'm polite and help him do his work like a good little Proxy Bitch, he'll look for any Loops I might have passed through in an effort to fully restore my face. Good luck to him. Can't say I remember ever having encountered a Loop before this asshole waltzed into my life followed by a parade of various psychopaths.
The bastard in the white coat gave me my own room within his complex. The place is...probably a Loop, I think? Because it's so convoluted. Impressive, in a way, though by no means the most impressive building I've been in during my time as a servant. I'd roll over and try to watch television, but there's nothing on but screams and gore. Some kind of demented 'portal to Hell' channel or something, I haven't quite figured that out yet.
And I get to room with Jack, the Psycho Eight Year Old! An eight year old! With a knife! And eyes that never close, singing showtunes for no damn reason! How fun is that?
Not very. None of this is fun. Serving Slenderman is not fun. Fighting other Fear Cultists sucks. Dealing with Fears is a goddamn nightmare, sometimes literally. Life is one great big mess of evil and sickness and...I don't even know where I'm going with this. I don't trust anything anymore, not even my own head, and that's the only thing I really know for certain right now. Oh, and that Fracture is lying through his teeth about fixing my face. Yeah, duh, asshole.
But, see, what else is there left for me but to ride this out? I gave up what little I had to be a Timberwolf. I gave up being a Timberwolf when that turned out to be complete bollocks, too. None of those fucks would give me the time of day when I needed them. No one would. At least for right now I have a bed that isn't sand, food that actually tastes good, and walls to stare at when I'm listless trying to figure out what I'm going to do next.
I'm Cerebrus, by the way. That's one more thing I am certain of.
And now I'm a writer.
I don't want to be a proxy. I want nothing to do with any of these...weird assholes. Not anymore. Drug-addled, pseudo-religious thugs...masked cultists...whatever the hell those bug people are, or the String Slaves...I'm tired of all of this bullshit already. But anyone reading saw what went down. Fracture's enemies decided to take their beef with him out on my face, and made me hated in every Fear cult compound that would have otherwise taken me in after that train wreck of an incident.
I spent a long time wandering in the desert by myself. Way too long.
Did I mention I'm not a writer? Yeah, I think I did, because I'm no goddamn good at this. What I'm supposed to write about, I guess, is the deal with Fracture. He's promised me in absolutely uncertain terms that, as long as I'm polite and help him do his work like a good little Proxy Bitch, he'll look for any Loops I might have passed through in an effort to fully restore my face. Good luck to him. Can't say I remember ever having encountered a Loop before this asshole waltzed into my life followed by a parade of various psychopaths.
The bastard in the white coat gave me my own room within his complex. The place is...probably a Loop, I think? Because it's so convoluted. Impressive, in a way, though by no means the most impressive building I've been in during my time as a servant. I'd roll over and try to watch television, but there's nothing on but screams and gore. Some kind of demented 'portal to Hell' channel or something, I haven't quite figured that out yet.
And I get to room with Jack, the Psycho Eight Year Old! An eight year old! With a knife! And eyes that never close, singing showtunes for no damn reason! How fun is that?
Not very. None of this is fun. Serving Slenderman is not fun. Fighting other Fear Cultists sucks. Dealing with Fears is a goddamn nightmare, sometimes literally. Life is one great big mess of evil and sickness and...I don't even know where I'm going with this. I don't trust anything anymore, not even my own head, and that's the only thing I really know for certain right now. Oh, and that Fracture is lying through his teeth about fixing my face. Yeah, duh, asshole.
But, see, what else is there left for me but to ride this out? I gave up what little I had to be a Timberwolf. I gave up being a Timberwolf when that turned out to be complete bollocks, too. None of those fucks would give me the time of day when I needed them. No one would. At least for right now I have a bed that isn't sand, food that actually tastes good, and walls to stare at when I'm listless trying to figure out what I'm going to do next.
I'm Cerebrus, by the way. That's one more thing I am certain of.
Tuesday, November 25, 2014
Why Do I Even Fucking Bother
Why? I can't think of one fucking reason anymore. It never works out. Its never going to work. They always fucking pull this shit for no fucking reason. And they always have the audacity to fucking apologize for is if I should be forgiving them when they pull this crap. As if they had no other choice. We'll you know what? I don't feel sorry for you Sloth. Little Jack gave you what you deserve. In fact, I'd say he game you a taste of what you deserve. At this point, I feel like I should start taking fingers every time you piss me off. Asshole.
Hmmm... Little Jack... I'd give him 7 years before that loyalty ship sinks... Maybe 4. Not sure... why I bother.
Speaking of hopeless efforts in eventual Futility, I've been out recruiting.
I found Cerberus after Sloth was done having his Patties, two masks and Little Jack, brand his face with broken mask pieces like the incredibly fucking classy gentlemen he is. I called ahead to the local proxy cell to make sure no one was proactively hunting poor Cerberus and if they were to get them to back off.
Although I suppose calling it a local Proxy Cell doesn't do it justice. Cerberus was in Las Vegas and Vegas is home to an entire Proxy Order that spans a wide range of New Slender Region. Slender County being a broad strip of land between the cities of Philadelphia and New York. New Slender County being a broad stretch of land between Vegas and Phoenix. They are lead beautiful Cordelia, better known as the Red Witch. A very powerful crafter by all accounts. While Cordelia agrees with my stance on Ethics, and has been helping make strides in our initial push back against various fear cults, the relationship between me and her, between her order and the Free Market, are tense with little love, the bare minimum require respect, and active shows of good will with excessively wide Cheshire grins and life threading flirtation on both side. Reminds me of my days as a Bureaucrat.
For a pet name, since the Order of Oracles is practically extinct now and I would hate to associate dear Cordelia with a sinking ship, I've named their hierarchy 'the Cabal', making them Cordelia's Cabal. Because Alliteration.
So I called the old Witch up and let her know I was gonna be in town, and was going to be taking a branded off her hands, and made sure she knew not to kill him. We then exchanged pleasantries (the aforementioned cryptic flirtatious threats and power plays and interrogation). When she couldn't dig any answers as to why I wanted a timberwolf so bad so hung up and then I was free to operate.
I'm gonna be sparse on details because this post is already kind of getting up there in length. Cerberus, following his branding, seems to have hitting the bottle pretty hard. Like really hard. In the two days I spent watching him before finally approaching him all he had done was drink in bars, buy alcohol, and drink in his shitty little hotel room just off the Vegas strip. I didn't even know they had shit holes so close to the Vegas strip. I guess even poor people need a place to stay before they go out to blow all their money.
I popped in behind him when he was on his way back into his room to drink himself to sleep on the third night. I popped in between him and the door to give him little room to run and force him to face me. And he did... with a knife. He was very not happy to see me. He accused me of having him branded and ruining his life. I explained that when I exiled him we were trying to kill each other so that was fair play and that I had nothing to do with the branding. He didn't much care to listen to me... nor did he really believe me. When he finally asked what I wanted why I was here I told him I was there to unruin his face.
That got him to lower the knife he had pulled, if only a little. He seemed skeptical. I think he was anticipating a trick of some kind but fortunately for him I had no such cause for tricky or other fuckery. He had nothing to lose at this point and we were in Vegas so he decided to take my gamble and followed me through the Path to my personal loop.
Once there I put him down on a hospital bed and strapped him nice and tight. Starting feeling him painkillers and morphine. Had Jack kick the door open holding a bloody mallet and cleaver just as he was passing out to scare the shit out of him when he was at his very must vulnerable and unable to act. And under the force of the drugs, he passed out anyways. After that I left Doctor Jack to operate. Hes an artist with a scalpel, much to horror most days, but for once he got to do something constructive with it. A few hours later, Jack had removed all the mask pieces from Cerberus' face and had his face wounds nice and cleaned up. It was a good think we did this. He had not been cleaning under the mask and some of those open burns had gotten infected.
We're gonna keep him under for a few days while I give him loop therapy. By the time hes ready to woken up his face will be healed. He's still gonna look a little fucked up. I can't remove the burn marks on his face but now he'll live and won't be wearing an attention grabbing proxy beacon.
And after that, we'll see if we can't get him to join us.
The Lord Guardian Fracture out.
Hmmm... Little Jack... I'd give him 7 years before that loyalty ship sinks... Maybe 4. Not sure... why I bother.
Speaking of hopeless efforts in eventual Futility, I've been out recruiting.
I found Cerberus after Sloth was done having his Patties, two masks and Little Jack, brand his face with broken mask pieces like the incredibly fucking classy gentlemen he is. I called ahead to the local proxy cell to make sure no one was proactively hunting poor Cerberus and if they were to get them to back off.
Although I suppose calling it a local Proxy Cell doesn't do it justice. Cerberus was in Las Vegas and Vegas is home to an entire Proxy Order that spans a wide range of New Slender Region. Slender County being a broad strip of land between the cities of Philadelphia and New York. New Slender County being a broad stretch of land between Vegas and Phoenix. They are lead beautiful Cordelia, better known as the Red Witch. A very powerful crafter by all accounts. While Cordelia agrees with my stance on Ethics, and has been helping make strides in our initial push back against various fear cults, the relationship between me and her, between her order and the Free Market, are tense with little love, the bare minimum require respect, and active shows of good will with excessively wide Cheshire grins and life threading flirtation on both side. Reminds me of my days as a Bureaucrat.
For a pet name, since the Order of Oracles is practically extinct now and I would hate to associate dear Cordelia with a sinking ship, I've named their hierarchy 'the Cabal', making them Cordelia's Cabal. Because Alliteration.
So I called the old Witch up and let her know I was gonna be in town, and was going to be taking a branded off her hands, and made sure she knew not to kill him. We then exchanged pleasantries (the aforementioned cryptic flirtatious threats and power plays and interrogation). When she couldn't dig any answers as to why I wanted a timberwolf so bad so hung up and then I was free to operate.
I'm gonna be sparse on details because this post is already kind of getting up there in length. Cerberus, following his branding, seems to have hitting the bottle pretty hard. Like really hard. In the two days I spent watching him before finally approaching him all he had done was drink in bars, buy alcohol, and drink in his shitty little hotel room just off the Vegas strip. I didn't even know they had shit holes so close to the Vegas strip. I guess even poor people need a place to stay before they go out to blow all their money.
I popped in behind him when he was on his way back into his room to drink himself to sleep on the third night. I popped in between him and the door to give him little room to run and force him to face me. And he did... with a knife. He was very not happy to see me. He accused me of having him branded and ruining his life. I explained that when I exiled him we were trying to kill each other so that was fair play and that I had nothing to do with the branding. He didn't much care to listen to me... nor did he really believe me. When he finally asked what I wanted why I was here I told him I was there to unruin his face.
That got him to lower the knife he had pulled, if only a little. He seemed skeptical. I think he was anticipating a trick of some kind but fortunately for him I had no such cause for tricky or other fuckery. He had nothing to lose at this point and we were in Vegas so he decided to take my gamble and followed me through the Path to my personal loop.
Once there I put him down on a hospital bed and strapped him nice and tight. Starting feeling him painkillers and morphine. Had Jack kick the door open holding a bloody mallet and cleaver just as he was passing out to scare the shit out of him when he was at his very must vulnerable and unable to act. And under the force of the drugs, he passed out anyways. After that I left Doctor Jack to operate. Hes an artist with a scalpel, much to horror most days, but for once he got to do something constructive with it. A few hours later, Jack had removed all the mask pieces from Cerberus' face and had his face wounds nice and cleaned up. It was a good think we did this. He had not been cleaning under the mask and some of those open burns had gotten infected.
We're gonna keep him under for a few days while I give him loop therapy. By the time hes ready to woken up his face will be healed. He's still gonna look a little fucked up. I can't remove the burn marks on his face but now he'll live and won't be wearing an attention grabbing proxy beacon.
And after that, we'll see if we can't get him to join us.
The Lord Guardian Fracture out.
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