Sunday, February 22, 2015

The Enemy of My Enemy

Dark times are upon us. For the moment, at least, I can feel my light waning.

Sloth found the Smith. A man of great unnatural skill and ability. Binder of Souls and Breather of Death. His every creation is an endless prison for those released of their mortal coil. I've no idea what monstrosity Sloth has used him to bring forth. From context I can tell he managed to bind someone long dead and as I understand it the Smith can only play with the recently departed.

How did Sloth know attempting such a doomed binding would work? He is not gifted like Smith and I. Nor blessed like Fracture. The weasel is swinging far above his belt and cementing his position. Can nothing stop that insufferable cockroach? Will nothing fell the Betrayer?

I sought to take his little toys away. They are not his to play with. They are Fracture's. And if anyone should be guiding the Smith as he forges his dark machinations, it should be the Fire. It is through the Fire we find passion and through the fire art's men find inspiration. The flame is the breath of all creation and his council should be with me, not with the roach.

But Moth, the unworthy wicker man, mask sympathizing filth that he is, managed to evade the efforts of my ambush party and as best that my scouts can tell is now well off the grid taking his undeserved life and his mind full of misappropriated secrets with him. My only solace is Sloth no longer as access to him and his vault of Fracture's apparently poorly kept secrets.

In response to the attack, the fools in the Free Market have warded their facilities. Nothing in and nothing out without someone's say so. It will take time to identify, find, and overtake which ever of their half-baked Crafters  is shielding them. John is undoubtedly maintaining the inside of the barrier. He is ever the hapless home body.

But any number of them could be playing door man from the outside. Devil, Whisper, Jack, or maybe someone new.... Em? Sloth has been quick with the Aces up his sleeves and I should explore all possibilities if I'm to turn this back in my favor.

It is unfortunate that my affront against Sloth's Free Market has been eating up so much of my time. I have not been able to give Fracture's little crusade the time it really deserves... and so I've come to a hard decision.

Sloth and Nat and to some degree even Fracture has been quite vocal of their distrust for the one they call 'the Red Witch' but I see opportunity. And so, especially in light of the sudden appearance of her blog, I'm reaching out to her.

Cordelia, from one red witch to another, I beseech thee. I've not the time to see to it that the Fire Cult carry out Father's will against the heathens that encroach upon what is rightfully His. My war against Sloth, though righteous and necessary in it's own right, is personal. Take my council and lead our people. Guide the Fire against the encroaching threat in my stead so that I may seek justice.

Hear my plea and know that Father wills it so.

Let us be united in these righteous causes.

Let the Fire guide you.

~The Lord Fire

Saturday, February 7, 2015

Counter Spell

“The boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best shadowy and 
vague. Who shall say where the one ends, and where the other begins?” 
-Edgar Allan Poe

I suppose if I had to guess myself, I would say its all a matter of impact. We are dead when we are no longer making one. It's funny to think there are some runners panicking about the dead and buried coming back to life. They should be more worried about the dead that fill most schools, houses, work places, and governments across the globe.

But hey, priorities. Personally, I would be more concerned about the living dying but I suppose that's impractical. I mean, you can definitely stop the dead from living. No doubt about it. But most can't stop the living from dying. And I hear even those who can have to take it case by case.

I'd prefer to make an impact before I die myself. At least then I can enjoy it. Can't imagine how much it must suck to truly start living in the wake of your passing. I can't imagine a greater hell really. That's like getting locked out of your own party and having to watch while you bang on the window in the middle of a roaring blizzard. Look at all the fun and recognition you /could/ have enjoyed. Dreadful.

Poor Emily Dickinson. In that regard, it is more or less disrespectful to study her now? Are we keeping her legacy alive or are torturing the poor girl with all the recognition and appreciation she was long deprived of in life and can't enjoy now?

When did necromancy get so hard? 

Segue. Sloth here, by the way.


"What in the Devil are /you/ doing here ya miserable worm. 
I thought we had an agreement."

"I'm afraid the old agreement is null and void now.
We're under new management, and that new
 management is me. I own you now."

"By the Demon, Fracture's dead? Did ya finally kill him ya
rat bastard? Ya did didn't ya?! Put steel right in
in his back when he wasn't looking, didn't ya?!"

"Well, yes and no. No and Yes? One of those two.
Hes not dead after all, but I did betray him"

"Then where in the bloody hell is he then, eh?"

"Hes retired. Left me everything. Project phoenix and all.
And as a subject of project phoenix, that means you're
mine now."

"The hell I am. After what you did to me and my kin ya
should be so lucky I'm not driving this hammer into ya
pisser and crushing your berries."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Settle down. Put the hammer back on
the table... like I said, your old contract is void now so I'm
here to negotiate a new one between you and me."

"And just why should I do that? If the old agreement is through,
give them back to me and let me go home."

"You know damn well you don't have a home anymore."

"You saw to that, ya monster."

"And I can see to worse if don't settle the fuck down."


"That's what I thought. How would you like to see her again,
Smith? I think you're long over due a reunion."

"R-Really? What about the boy"

"I keep the boy. Same as last time, hes collateral. But I don't
 really need both of them as collateral now do I?"


"You accept? We're in a hurry here."

"Fine. Let me see her."

"When we're done. I need you to make something for me."

"From who?"


"That's not possible. Its been far to long. You know that
better than anyone."

"It'll work, trust me."

"The hell it will. You better not keep her from me when it doesn't."

"I won't. Just do it."

"Fine, ya stubborn daft asshole."

"You really should sit down for this."

"As if- Hhhrrrrk"

"Ow. That looked like it hurt."

"Wh-what... how... dear Demon the back of my bloody head."

"Yeah... told you so. Get to work. We don't have long."

"Long til what?"




"This is it?"


"Should have figured it'd come out a mask. You wear something
so long it's like it's a part of you."

"I prefer not to think of my agony as a part of me."

"I prefer to be beautiful. We don't always get what we want do we?"

"We certainly don't."

"Thanks. Whats it do?"

"Fuck if I know. Ya, wanted it and ya got it. Now give me whats mine."

"Fine. I'll go get her. Try not to be too disappointed."

"Disappointed in what? What did ya do ya piece of shit?! Answer me!"

"You know damn well what I did. Its the long term consequences of 
what I did that you don't know about."

"You son of a bitch, what happened?!"

"Later Smith."

"If you hurt my Gail I'm gonna kill you, ya sack of shit! You hear me!
The next totem will be yours!"

About 10 mintues later I came back into the room pulling the girl in behind me. I dumped her onto the floor for him to cry over.


"See, shes fine."

He curled up into the fetal position with her, rocking her ever so gently.

"Speak to me baby girl! What the fucks wrong with her?!"

"Shes comatose. She has been for a long time. She did not take the skinning well."

"You fuckers. When were ya gonna tell me?!"

"If Fracture had his way, never. He thought it would be bad for
productivity. Call me a sentimental fool but I thought you
deserved to know."

"It's okay baby. Daddy's here Gail. Daddies here now."

She stroked her hair and held her tight, desperate for her to do or say anything at all but she just stared blankly into the wall before her. As she has for well over 4  years now. This world has been too much for her to bare for a long time now. And not even the desperate cries of her Father could bring poor Abigail back. I was hoping it would put some spark back into those dead eyes but it didn't. Shes as far away from him in this room now as she was when we were hiding her down the hall.

"Well, that's touching or something but I have things to do.
You need anything?"

"Yes," he whimpered out, sobbing now.

"Anything I can actually get you?"

He just shook his head and wept into his daughter's shoulder.

"See you around."
And I just kind of left him to that. Work to do and all...

I have Smith now, Fire. I'm gonna snap that pretty little neck of yours and have you made into a torch.

Your move bitch.

Sloth out.