Friday, March 7, 2014

One of These Days the Clocks Will Stop

And then time won't mean a thing.

And that's not alright. Can't have that. I keep my things in time. I need it....

So... some interesting goings on to report.

The Maskless cult is no more. The Mask cult would be rejoicing if they weren't a collective of sad sack mutes.

For those of you who don't know who the fuck the Maskless were, its probably because they're not an American cult. They're stationed in France. Beyond that, they were more or less hitmen for proxies against other proxies.

They formed about 10 years back in the wake of the old Fire Cult's revolt. A sub-faction within the fire cult, which would be a faction within a faction funnily enough, got too big for its britches.

They were the Chaos sect. They believed the will of the Flame meant acting on your whims, that freedom meant not taking no for an answer. That in such a short volatile life, you had to reek as much pleasure as you could and do the things you wanted to do for yourself regardless of what that meant for others.

Naturally, this sect eventually grew to question why it was taking orders at all. That they shouldn't be serving Father, but smacking down Father so they could do whatever they wanted whenever they wanted. Which didn't work. A kill order was put out across the Bureaucracy's Divisions  for all fire cultists past or present to be put to death to settle all descent. And that uh... well it happened.... mostly.

There was a handful of squads stationed in France at the time. They were hunting down a Rakeling nest that had settled in Paris and was drawing an awful lot of attention to itself. Can't have anyone ruining our Mascaraed now can we? So naturally a bunch of Fire Cultists were sent over, who both then and now operate as Anti-Cult special forces.

Somehow, that collection of squads got tipped off that a kill order had been put out and preemptively cut down their handler. And then in true turncoat fashion, at the time at least, they shattered their masks and seared the pieces to their faces to defiantly declare that they were proxies no more.

Mind you that's not a thing turncoats would do to themselves. That was a punishment. If you were caught working against us, they use to shatter your mask into a bunch of pieces, seared it to your face, and then unleashed you into the world to suffer under the persecution of proxies who wouldn't accept a turncoat and runners who wouldn't accept anything in any sort of mask and a society that would find their disfigurement weird and disgusting.

Leave it to the ex-Fire Cult to permanently brand themselves traitors in proud defiance. Morons.

So, the Ex-Cultists took to training any runners they could get to trusting them in the area and taught them to fight proxies. It was under this effort that they reformed into a new cult dedicated to killing Proxies, the Maskless. To make France safe once more the Bureaucracy reached out to the Maskless and through a show of force, forced the cult under it's thumb. Those that survived this transition took on the new rule of working as a proxy assassin for other proxies and the Bureaucracy itself, for a hefty fee typically.

And that worked fine until this last year. With the Bureaucracy destroyed and proxies on the down swing, the Maskless have not been able to support themselves and the extravagant life styles they had taken to and they've devolved into what they always kind of were at their core.

Violent blood thirsty animals. Those who weren't adopted into any sort of gang or by the rake have taken to hunting down proxies to rob them and sell their organs for parts to support themselves.

Or, at least that's what the one Jack and Maggot ran into was doing.

So in light of that discovery and after month and months of failing to make contact with anyone in their ranks that was still on our side, I'm declaring the Maskless Cult defunct and cautioning runner's and proxy's alike that such individuals are not to be trusted.

In addition to that, I'm reinitializing the practice of searing pieces of a turncoat's destroyed mask to their faces as punishment for being a traitor to be hunted down like a dog after a week long head start.

I'm a sucker for branding and persecuting assholes. Its such fun.

In other news, beyond hunting down traitors (Moth and Picasso) and some Cunt and the traitor she adopted for seemingly no reason (Nat and Sloth), I'm off to save the fucking world! Or uh... a world I suppose.

So if you're wandering where I'm gonna for the next couple of days, the answer is away.

My people need me.

The Lord Guardian Fracture out.


  1. Let me lay this out as simply as I can for you
    You= arrogant asshole who tried to kill me for no reason
    Sloth= Respectful, helpful person who tries to keep me alive

    1. What can I say. You showed up in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was nothing personal.

      As far as Sloth trying to keep you alive, I'm pretty sure hes just trying to keep you between him and the bullets.