Late, I know

I've been busy, what do you want from me...

SO. Promised details about my little trip to College, and the things I found down there. To reiterate some shit, I knew about this college thanks to some dumbass student who became a runner a few years back. Found the blog, trolled him a little bit, found about Spinner and then I presume the kid fucking died or something.

That tends to happen.

ANYWAY, when planning a visit to a compound full of, presumably, people who wouldn't be terribly happy to see me, it is usually a good idea to take the subtle approach to things. Be SNEAKY. So I made sure I only went wandering around the place under cover of night. The underground... Temple thing... Could provide good shelter for when the students are up and about. Had a pretty good idea of where to find an entrance thanks to good old Jeremy there. Plan was to snoop around the ruins, then take a look inside Tommy Corvin's house.

It went... Okay. Arrived as expected, it was dark, the students were asleep, Campus Security was, as always, a joke. And then I noticed that not all the students were in bed. A few were creeping around the buildings, drawing shit on walls. You see this occasionally with Runners. That fever-pitch desire to put the shit floating around their brains onto something more permanent than thought. Makes them feel less crazy. Permanency is a calming concept, you know? Heheheheh. Idiots. Thing is, though, most of these morons looked like they were just drawing shit from memory, rather than active thought. Slower, more deliberate, pondering, trying to remember a detail here or there... These weren't runners. They weren't one of us, either. No, this is a fucking know-nothing Occultist Cult. The dead idiot kid mentioned them acting as a fraternity at the College, under Corvin's control. Pathetic. He even named them Timberwolves, to try and get the attention of the ACTUAL Timberwolves. Which... Considering those jackasses are probably the weakest overall true Cult, is not the worst play for someone trying to get involved in this shit. But, from what I can tell, no one is actually taking the bait here. Corvin is apparently so fucking uninteresting that not a single one of the Great Ones is bothering to go haunt him, no matter how hard he tries.

I love it. Isn't life so fucking FAIR? Heheheheheh. All these Runners out there who want NOTHING more than to be free to live their pathetic little lives in peace, who never asked to be hunted... And here we have a guy LOOKING to get haunted, but fucking can't. Fucking GOLDEN.

ANYHOO. So these idiots were plastering shit on the walls, and didn't really notice me up until the point that they did. Well. One did. Assumed I was a student out of bed, so he tried to start something. What he lacked for in judgment, he made up for in Taste. Boy must have had a rich diet. So after that, I made it to the Auditorium building, broke the lock, and strolled inside to find the passage downstairs.

Now I'm going to let you in on a little secret. The ruins beneath this school are old as dirt. Older than European Colonization of North America. But the Native Americans, especially around these parts, could NEVER make a structure like that with the tools they had available. So who built it? Ponder that for a while, and know that I do have the answer. But I'll never tell. Heheheheheh.

The darkness in that place is oppressive, really. Weighs down on you, like the entire weight of the ruins are trying to crush you into nothing. I don't have an actual pulse, but my heart was still racing in there... A rare sensation for me, these days. It was thrilling. Corvin's people have installed some lights here or there. Gotta give him credit here, he has a flair for the dramatic. Some of the lights are meant to mimic the appearance of torches, though with a colder light. Real easy to get lost, though, if you don't follow the lights. Don't know exactly how long that idiot has had access to the place, but he clearly hasn't explored it all yet. Heheheheh. God help him if he does. He may not like what he finds.

The lights provided a convenient method of figuring out where the useful areas, for my mission, were. So I wandered those crumbling, stone, tunnels until I found a nice little Ritual Room, beneath a statue of a giant spider thing. Now, that, I can't explain. No idea what it is, though I know of a few things it could be. I was hoping to find our stolen property down there, but no such luck. Based on some notes I found in a desk, (Which I will not be posting here, fuck you) I am pretty sure our property WAS there, at the very least. The translations weren't... Perfect, but I get the feeling those fuckers got the gist of some of the information, which is not good. Very bad, in fact. Especially for me, because they might know how to kill me now. Maybe. Assuming they didn't leave behind the final version of the translations, and have the talent to put 2 and 2 together... Still. It is one thing to know how to do it, and another entirely to actually do it.

I am not worried.

Still, knowing that our property wasn't likely there anymore, I figured I needed to get some advice on how to proceed. So I laid low until some fake Timberwolves showed up, and we had a nice chat beneath the spider statue. Loreid WAS there, and he did work Tommy Corvin. There was also a third person working with them, that they didn't know. And neither do I just based on physical descriptions... Male, dark hair, tall, strong build... Wears a lot of red. Which is never a color I like to see people wear, for obvious reasons. Its not HIM though. He's dead, his successor is dead, and Cordelia is... Not around anymore.

Probably just a fashion choice. Though I have sneaking suspicion this might be the fucker who helped Loreid get to our property to begin with. So he probably used to be one of us. Another goddamn Traitor. Phenomenal.

They apparently spent a few weeks trying to translate the damn thing, but the two chucklefucks I interrogated weren't sure EXACTLY how far the translating got, before Loreid and Mystery Man left, with Corvin leaving on "Vacation" shortly thereafter.

I made my frustration with this shit known to those two fine Cultists, and left them in the loving embrace of the Spider Statue.

I hate bad news.

So, the next step was checking our Corvin's big, fancy, fucking house. I really kinda HATE big fancy houses. Reminds me of my youth. So sterile, so hollow. But built, INEVITABLY on a foundation of filth, misery and pain. And the Master of the household always likes to have a room at the top, to overlook everything else like a God looks down on us lowly mortals. If Corvin was there, I would have chucked him out the highest window I could find, and watch him splat on the concrete below.

So I walked up to the manor, smashed the doorman's head into a wall, gutted the butler and threw the maid down a well. Didn't really feel I had the time to do anything more fun with them. Funny thing though, I did get shot in the face by a door shotgun, when I tried getting into the Study. Splattered my head all over the wall. It sucked. I hate getting shot in the face and splattered. Feels gross, you know? Regardless, I didn't fucking find much in the way of helpful information. Lots of little journals of Corvin's speculation about Father and his kin. He even had notes about some of the blogs that were on here, especially the scientific ones, and the idiot tests that were performed. As if Father was some scientific phenomena, instead of a God, unknowable and incomprehensible to sad little mortals. Hehehe. He wasn't even POSITIVE on the number of Father's kin, the idiot.

There was also this floor of the Manor set up like a Museum of shit that doesn't matter. I remember reading about Jeremy's visit, and what Corvin claimed this shit was. Based on my own little visit... Yeah. Yeah, the stuff is mostly what he said it was. Except for the Sarcophagus. Definitely not who he thinks it is inside that Sarcophagus.

So, I recovered the painting, the important books, and the mirror, and now have them hanging up in my office. NO WORRIES. Jimmy can't see the Mirror from where he is sitting. We take employee safety VERY seriously here, and I just can't risk losing even a worker as useless as him to the Mother.

Should help keep my office a little more secure, though.

ANYHOW. Somewhat concerned that Corvin knew to booby trap his study. Means they were expecting company. UGH. They probably know about me hunting them... Hopefully they haven't found THIS. Not like the blogs have been terribly active lately, so they really have no reason.

Not sure where to go next, but that isn't REALLY my job. That is Intelligence division's job. So. I've been waiting for them to provide me with my next lead. For over a month.

In the meantime, I've been hard at work training up a little squad that I am now... A Handler for, I guess. Probably shouldn't give details about them on here, until this Loreid business is finished, just in case. They are... Adequate, so far. Enthusiastic enough, but not so skilled I would send them after, for example, That Pack of Stray Dogs up north... Maybe when they've gotten a few more successes under their belts. We'll see.

Gonna try to get back to posting... Weekly-ish, on here. Assuming stuff happens worth talking about, that won't make my underlings less effective in the field. We'll see. We will see.

Return & Travels

SO. As you, the peanut gallery of NANCY NEGATIVES and WANNABE Psychologists, have CLEARLY NOTED. I'm back.

Good to know Spinner lost fucking INTEREST in the job I gave him, only after TWO GODDAMN WEEKS. Which... You know, isn't SURPRISING, just disappointing. WHATEVER. Who cares. This isn't about him and his little science project. This is about ME. This about FATHER. This is about the things I do for Father. Heheheh.

I take too much vacation time.

SO, I am fully recovered from the... Psychological issues I had been dealing with, and I've gotten some work done since I regained consciousness. Seems everyone's favorite Torturer/Cannibal/Monster Freak Show/TRAITOR/Serial Killer Who people, for some reason seemed to personally LIKE, despite being CLEARLY worse than I've ever been, has put up the details of that... Little meeting, thank-you for trying dinner, thing. She covered everything that happened adequately enough. Not much more to add, really. I tried to be nice, I really did. Offered to repair crippling disfigurements and was told to go fuck myself. Tell me, why is it that whenever I am trying to be nice to someone, no one fucking appreciates it. It really isn't fair, you know.

Oh Well. Guess the only solution is to stop being nice.

It was a useful little trip though. The big bad Wolf turns out is actually kinda short. Like 5'4" or so. Also I thought she wore a mask? Guess she ditched it when coming back. Can't really blame her, though, because her face seems to fulfill the same function. Some weird red... Thread things, I guess they are, kinda stitched through her entire face. Around the eyes and mouth and shit. Don't know how they biologically work, or what they are. She smiles, they move. It's weird. She also didn't wear shoes. In Canada. In the Winter. So that's a thing. No nails either, fingers or toes. I have no idea why. She still has hair, though. Maybe someone more scientifically inclined can explain that one to me... Unless it isn't hair... Hmmm.

 I can also confirm there is a mouth on her stomach, and she can eat using it. The world has gotten weird, hasn't it? I'll fix that little problem soon enough.

Kristy and Hart both have the stitching shit too, so I assume Wolf fixed them up after Osprey's shit-show of a ceremony. Really should have checked to see what that shit was, but I figured dissecting Wolf might get me, you know, incinerated. Another time, I guess... I also probably should have picked a fight with either Hart or Kristy. See what they can do, how they were trained and shit. I distinctly recall a number of posts mentioning sparring, so that might have told me a bit about how they and, more importantly, Wolf actually fight. Though, once again, my innocent curiosity probably would have gotten me BURNED.

Also DISAPPOINTED yet again in the peanut gallery and their little comments. I MERCY-KILLED that prisoner. No other way of looking at it, she was suffering and I put her out of her misery. I am SUCH A NICE GUY. But do I get any recognition for that act of mercy? No. And I guranFUCKINGtee you people will STILL think that Mutt and her puppies are better people than me. I don't GET IT. I have done NOTHING Wolf wouldn't do, and yet I'm the BAD GUY. This is David Banks shit all over again. Why did people like that guy? WHY? He RAPED PEOPLE. HE MURDERED PEOPLE. GOOD PEOPLE. INNOCENT PEOPLE. PEOPLE LIKE YOU, READER. YES YOU. BEHIND THAT SCREEN. NOT YOU KELEVRA, YOU BANDAGED FUCK. AND NOT THE WOLF PACK. I MEAN YOU, ANONYMOUS RANDOM READER WHO STUMBLED ACROSS THIS. Tell me, why is it that I am so fucking REVILED and people like Banks and Wolf are treated with SUCH FUCKING COURTESY AND SUPPORT AND UNDERSTANDING. It makes me want to VOMIT. And then KILL EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU.

Which, mind you, I intended to do regardless of your support for rapists and torturers.

ANYWAY, the food was good, and I will admit... I kind of miss it already. I can't cook for shit, and people are well... Here's a fun fact for you. I promised to be honest on this little blog, so here goes... I don't actually LIKE the taste of people all that much. Kinda greasy at the best of times, and frequently tastes like bad tuna. I never DID like it that much. I will eat it, sure... But give me chicken any day of the week over long-pig. For a while there, a lot of that talk about me eating people... I really only did it because, well, that shit was expected of me. Tensor basically recruited me while I was still gnawing on Dad's arm. That kinda of gives you a reputation going into things, and... Well. In this career, it never hurts to try and live up to that reputation. Helps you survive in the world. And that is actually my advice to new Proxies out there: Find your gimmick, and embrace it. The moment you join the family, you stop being John, or Diana, or whoever, and you start being a new person. The Mask helps with that, I think.

You know Sanna, you really ought to start wearing a mask, yourself. I mean... As you are right now, are you really worth anything? Just a broken little dolly. Why not put on a mask, huh? Make something new out of yourself. A new name, a new face, a new fate. Blank Slate. The World is your oyster. You should give it a try.

But yeah, that little dinner with the ex-family wasn't the only thing I've been doing. Remember how I was chasing a fucker from Europe back home to the states? Well, that College I tracked him to is a fascinating place. Basically a fucking Cult town, only the Cult doesn't really understand what it is worshiping. There is this guy, Thomas Corvin. Pitiful fucker. Rich as hell, but only vaguely aware of the horrible, wonderful, truths all around him. He knows about Father, but is unlucky enough to have NEVER BEEN BLESSED by him. He isn't a runner, he isn't a proxy. He is, effectively, nobody. Father didn't feel he was worth his time, or something. And God DAMN does that rustle his three-thousand dollar jimmies. Or however much they are worth... What are "jimmies" anyway?

... Oh. Shit. They might be... Slaves? Ah. That's a bit awkward. Probably gonna stop using that phrase now... The more you know?

Anywho, this Corvin guy, he has been trying his DAMNDEST to get Father or another of the Great Ones to notice his ass. Even named a fraternity at that College, which he owns, after the Timberwolves. Because getting the Archangel to notice you sounds like a REALLY good idea. He also plasters all sorts of shit around the college grounds that he thinks might attact Fear attention... And yeah. It does kind of work. A lot of Runners come out of that College. An ideal hunting ground, but... Honestly. If you kill off the breeding ground, the population suffers. So we've let it be for the past few years.

Now Corvin, as a wealthy modern day occultist, knows a lot of other people interested in this sort of thing. The very Alexandre Loreid I am looking for is one such person, and we speculated he stole the THING I AM NOT ALLOWED TO TALK ABOUT and brought it to Corvin for some kind of ritual.

Well, we couldn't have that. So, when I woke up, I paid the college a little visit. Nothing spectacularly obvious, of course. I just walked in and went into every place the staff told me I couldn't be in. Not like they could stop me, right? Hehehehe.

The... Chambers beneath the College are particularly interesting... Old, well-preserved, and devoted to things other than what was typically worshiped by Native Americans in the area. More on that... Another time, I think. We're honestly still taking inventory for the things we recovered from that site... But for now, I will simply say, that the increased activity of Father and the others, over the past decade or so, has had a notable effect on the amount of raw azoth just laying around. The dumbass runners are basically walking azoth factories, and if they knew at all how to use it... Man, would the world be a different place.

Corvin and Loreid though... They seem to know what to do with it, and were conspicuously NOT FUCKING THERE when I arrived. So that is my current top priority. Then I can start dealing with my fellow walking corpses...

Advancement of Knowledge

Morningstar's condition continues to improve. His mass has recovered to the density it possessed prior to the surgery. Restoring the complexity of its structure is, however, a seemingly slower task. I confess myself quite curious as to why this is the case. Azoth can be anything, in any form, at any time, provided it has the raw material necessary to facilitate transmutation. I can think of no obvious physical reasons why it would be having such difficulty reforming the complex structures it had before. 

Rest assured, they are indeed forming at a steady pace, but it should be instantaneous. Unless, of course, there is a reason beyond the mere physical at play. It may be that forming a structure as complex as a mind requires... An easing in? It could be that there would be some form of psychological side-effects if the mind simply popped back into existence all of a sudden. But this pure speculation.

More concrete are my observations regarding the transmutation process itself. That this mass of azoth alone can and will become Morningstar, would imply that the Attendants somehow imprinted the memory of Morningstar onto the raw azoth. Which seems impossible, until we remember that Morningstar's remains were somehow fused with the azoth. But how did they get it to stick? It should have been reduced to prima materia for the azoth to have  such a reaction... I fear finding an answer would force me to go far beyond mere chemistry into the realm of physics, which is not my area of expertise. Some energy, some radiation... Some Other. Consistent transmutation of azoth... Anyone capable of that can grasp godhood. 

But more importantly, my toxin can be perfected, if I could just discover the secret. Lead into gold, steel into flesh, blood into bile... Serenity into fear. I might even be able to introduce terror to places where it could not previously be found. Kelevra is incapable of feeling emotions, or he claims... But if I discover this secret, I could change that. Introduce a strain of my toxin that bond with him, and introduce fear into the structure that is his mind. And if I could do that to even him, imagine what I could do to actual humans. I am close, I am so very close... 

I suppose, when I discover the secret, I should also attempt its use on the zilvra found within that accursed city. If it can alter the zilvra in a similar matter to the azoth, there is likely no limit to what kind of foreign azoth-equivalent it can affect. Thus potentially ridding us of the KnitWolf issue...

I wonder if the Creature itself possesses some extra-universal azoth equivalent that provides it with form... Given its reaction to the Quiet... If the process could affect zilvra, it might even be able to affect the Creature, giving me mastery over the gods themselves... But that strikes me as rather a long shot. It is perhaps best to aim low, for now. 

-S

Malleable Mind

I would like to preface this, by stating that I feel this blogging business is an utter waste of time and effort. Nevertheless, I am not foolish enough to disobey one of Morningstar's orders.

You know one of my names, and I see little reason to give any sort of proper introduction to myself.

It has been quite the busy few weeks. Morningstar's condition was deteriorating for a while, and though neither he nor we were entirely certain as to what caused it, the answer revealed itself to be obvious in hindsight.

I think of myself as a man of science and rational thought. I have many fields of interest, but all serve a singular purpose; exploration of the human mind and its myriad possibilities. In my years of study, nothing has proven more beneficial to my cause, than the miraculous discovery and identification of what we are referring to as "azoth." Contrary to the belief of those less educated about such things, it is not a rare substance, nor is it the product of the creature, The Slender Man, and his associates. It can be found everywhere, quite literally, but it only reveals itself through the unraveling of conventional reality that occurs via exposure to the creature.

Morningstar's unique nature, as not entirely unraveled, yet still in control, has provided many unique opportunities for my research. The chemicals, cells and the electric impulses that we call a mind are not present within him, yet their potential is. And for some reason, that potential remains dominant within him, despite that being both chemically and biologically unlikely. This implies, to me, the existence of another key component of a mind. A soul, I suppose it might be. If I am correct, this soul is likely the only reason Morningstar retains his sense of self, his personality, no matter what, or who, he consumes and adds to his biomass. After all, why has his personality not changed after devouring so many other people, each of whom possess minds of their own. Something had to be ensuring that Morningstar's mind remained in control.

His confrontation with Kelevra resulted in a change for that status quo. The question was why. The answer was found in what kind of changes. Morningstar was clearly incapable of noticing the manner of the changes, I had my suspicions, as I am sure some of you did as well. His deteriorating appearance was what finally confirmed my suspicions. After all, the appearance of Morningstar is simply an avatar he uses to cling to that old life of his. It is amusing, really. Horrible as his life seemingly was, its events are all that keep him going. His delusional outlook on humanity, and the fear that gnaws at him in every quiet moment. Thus, he maintains his appearance as it was before he died, even going so far as to use the same clothing he so often wore, when he could look like anything his imagination could conjure.

That avatar of Luke Schiffer began to change, over the past few weeks, adopting features from a different source. They were not difficult to identify. And so, I have successfully performed a procedure unlike any other, in all of mankind's history. I have successfully extracted a mind, memories, fear, a personality even, within a syringe.

Azoth truly is a miracle.

Morningstar will survive, of course. It was likely an unpleasant experience for him, but such is the curse of immortality, I suppose. I do not know when his mind will fully reform, however. It has lost quite a bit of mass and structure, as a consequence of the surgery. I am a chemist, not a surgeon, after all. Oh but I do look forward to tearing what I have discovered apart, and examining every priceless detail.

And once I am done... Well. Then we will see what would happen if I injected this substance into another living human being. I think Morningstar would be delighted at my choice of ideal test subjects.

As for this little blog, I will be tending to it for the duration of Morningstar's recovery, and continuing our primary mission at the University. I never much cared for the place...

Ah, yes. When you awaken and read over this, Morningstar, I want to reiterate here what I will doubtlessly tell you once you first awaken. Be more careful with what you try to eat.

-S

Migraine

Ever had you HEAD ripped open?

I have. A few times now. Funny old world we live in, isn't it? So AFTER my last post and little conversation with Kibbles and Bits, some of my team took notice that I... Wasn't really feeling myself. I noticed it too, after I made some comments that I... Regret? I should regret them, I know that much. Something is much screwier with my chemistry than I had initially thought.

Thought, being the main problem. Shit is like 2011 all over again... Can't trust my own fucking THOUGHTS.

Spent some time talking to our on-call Psychologist. Doctor KASE is playing fucking COY with what he thinks is fucking happening to me. I don't like being TOYED WITH. I do the toying around these parts...

And he didn't exactly give me any real solution to the problem either. He just kept asking these inane fucking questions about my memory. Which is fine, by the way.

Apparently he wants to take a "wait and see" approach to this. He fucking thinks this shit is going to change I guess... I am also not allowed to go take my FRUSTRATION out on the garbage we keep downstairs. Which is fucking linked to the personality changes I am experiencing, so I guess that... Makes sense. Emotions are... Imbalanced as shit. Sometimes I am pissed for no real reason, other times I feel like the whole goddamn UNIVERSE is trying to swallow me up, lonely just LONELY and occasionally I just don't fucking feel anything at all. But no matter how my emotions are running, one thing. ONE FUCKING THING is always the same... I don't feel right. At all. I keep shifting parts of myself... Which shouldn't be happening, because keeping myself like I was before all this, is the best way to keep me stable. I hate this.

Gleeman told me I should probably try focusing on our work. It isn't really helping, but we did manage to track our primary target to an interesting location. Couple of years back, when things around here were dying out. All the Runners getting too smart to blog about their misery... I found a new one. Some idiot college kid blogging about this shit. But that College had some weird stuff going on, and the guy in charge was a creepy fuck who wasn't one of us, and evidently wasn't a Runner either. Some kind of weird cult thing was going on there, with this weirdo, Thomas Corvin, in charge. Spinner knows more, because. Well. He was there for this entire ordeal. It is how I first made contact with the guy...

So our target, Loreid, fucked off from Europe and made a beeline to this particular College. So we assume, he has something to do with that Cult. Which is good information to have, once I am... You know. Capable of trusting myself out in the field again...

Ugh.

I'm at least glad to see Kelly is suffering at least as much as I am. Next time, I'm just going to rip him apart until there is nothing left... Can't be bothered going through this shit after this...

Headache

Overestimated myself, I think...

I see Kelly didn't get the same treatment I did from whoever that was. Let me tell you... I don't appreciate the interference. But I guess it doesn't really matter. I can't even bring myself to be all that upset.

His post sums up our scuffle pretty well, though he definitely downplayed the ass kicking he was getting. I was SO close to killing him, and that parasite... I should have tried focusing on snuffing out Fortissimo's life first, you know? That would have broken Kelly, if there is anything left to break. Really bring out the animal in him, before the bitter bitter end. Never killed a dead man before, you know.

And probably I should have killed Lord Vader, myself, for the hell of it. Fucker had a VERY hard time concealing his contempt for me, and the things I can do. Probably rooted in jealousy, you know. You think you're so very devout, and suddenly you see someone who is literally closer to God in every way. Must be quite the blow to his ego. Hopefully Kelly burned down the whole fucking building, and all those idiots in it. Put them all out of our misery. Heheheh.

I REALLY FUCKING HATE THIS SHIT, YOU KNOW? I've been feeling weird since the fight, and I can't put my finger on what the hell is actually wrong. Spinner and Gleeman have been talking about me all week. Whispering. I don't really care... They're as insignificant as everything else on this godforsaken hellhole of a world. Maybe I should just kill them both right now. I guess I was planning on saving them for near the end, with everyone else who was useful to me. All of them need to die for what they are, what they've done. I hate them. You know? I really hate them all.

They REALLY shouldn't talk about someone behind THEIR BACK. IT'S RUDE. And I have MURDERED people for less. TORTURED EVEN.

Just like those IDIOTS downstairs. Maybe eating THEM will make me feel better. It's like... Like I don't feel comfortable in my own SKIN right now. I DON'T EVEN HAVE SKIN ANYMORE... You know, maybe it was something Spooky McGhostbitch did to me, during the teleport. Messed with my control somehow, keeping me on EDGE. Need to figure out what the hell she was... How to kill it. REALLY deserves it for messing with my head. I hate not being in control, being MANIPULATED like this. And for what? Something that won't pan out, I am sure. Not in the long run. Nothing, NOTHING works out in the long run. Especially since, sooner or later, I will finally put a fucking end to this entire galactic shitstain of a species.

Right. I... Probably should mention my game plan going forward. Opportunity to kill Kelly seems to be fucking lost. I could track his ass down again, sure, but... Who's to say we won't get INTERRUPTED AGAIN... That leaves the Loreid situation and the Wolf Pack. Yeah... OH. Right. When I got back to the office, Jimmy wallowing in his own filth or whatever it is he does when I am away for long periods of time. A letter was delivered though, addressed to ME, and with it was a fucking DOLLY. Knitted. Said Dolly, was of ME.

The letter itself had a picture of GUESS FUCKING WHO holding said dolly, and read THUSLY.

"Dearest Scratch,

I hope this package reaches you safely.

Please accept his little gift and allow me to formally extend an invitation to dinner.

I do hope you will join us, my little lost sibling. I am an excellent cook and I suspect it has been a while since your last decent meal.

So lets share a meal before we try to kill each other, like civilized people.

Sincerely,

KnitWolf"

Well, goodness, gracious me. With such a polite invitation, how could I refuse? Name a date, Knitty, and I promise I'll be right over. Gonna request it be AFTER I get over this SHIT that whatsherfuck did to me. Wouldn't want you to catch this shit if it happens to be contagious. Really spoil all the after dinner fun, and we certainly can't have THAT, now can we? Really been looking forward to meeting you and your... Family.

SO, while I wait. That leaves this Loreid shit. Its been a while since the initial... God that shit is boring. Dull, dull, dull. He stole a FUCKING ROCK from a bigger CRUMBLING PILE of rocks. He won't succeed, and he can't even READ it, so who the fuck cares. I don't see Father caring. Fuck it. They can take care of it themselves. If they find him, good, sure. Let me know. I'll go kill his ass and whoever he is working with. But I have better things to do than going on meaningless hunts.

Or... Fuck. Fuck it. Maybe I'll feel like it when I get over this... StuckintheAlpsitis.

The Alps

So. A thing happened. A weird thing. I was in Russia.

THEN I WAS IN THE FUCKING ALPS. IN A TREE.

Well, I guess Lord VADER is dead, assuming the same shit didn't happen to Kelly, the MOTHERFUCKER. If anyone from Dimir's little group is left ALIVE, do let me know will you? IN ENGLISH PLEASE.

FUCKING SPOOKY BITCH. ASK PERMISSION BEFORE YOU TELEPORT SOMEONE, ESPECIALLY WHEN THEY ARE BUSY KILLING A FUCKER.

If someone wants to tell me why some RANDOM PALE BITCH showed up like a GODDAMN GHOST, TOUCHED ME WHILE I WAS ABOUT TO FINISH THAT ASSHOLE OFF, AND THEN I ENDED UP IN THE ALPS. And there was FUCK ALL I could do to stop it? How does that EVEN WORK?

I'M PISSED, AND ANGRY AND MY HEAD FEELS FULL OF FUCK. GOD FUCKING DAMMIT HE PROBABLY DIDN'T DIE, DID HE. AGH. He REALLY needs to die. I took a look in that WARPED little head of his, and it WASN'T PRETTY. If someone OTHER THAN ME could get on PUTTING HIM DOWN, that would be GREAT.

FUCKING FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK. You KNOW, I was thinking about posting a report about what happened, but FUCK IT. I feel like SHIT. No dealing with it right now. I'll do it LATER.