I was splattered in the blood of a child who had been attacking me with a hatchet. I had removed his head with his own weapon while exclaiming about the crane's wing cutting across the mountain breeze. I then pressed forward toward the mother, who was armed with a shotgun, who I slew with the application of a Hung Gar technique known as "Tiger Rips Out the Throat". It was then that I faced the patriarch, who did battle against me using a chainsaw in one hand and a blow-up sex doll in the other. I cracked his skull with my leopard hand, and then performed Tiger rips out the throat on him as well. I made a comment about how "Bored Tiger is Bored as he Boredly Rips Out Your Blatantly Mundane Throat."
All in all, a routine assignment.
I took a moment to meditate upon the nature of the universe. I chose to take this moment to close my eyes and eat a single raisin over a period of one half-hour. This is important. I have eliminated ego from my technique. As difficult as that may be to believe, part of this involves the simple contemplation and appreciation of a small thing for a long period of time.
I am beyond regret. I feel the nature of the universe in this moment as I appreciate this single raisin. I know my place in it, and how little "I" matters. "I" has nothing to do with it, and the representation of our wholeness in the universe, our Leader...runs through my mind.
When I was done, I knew what I have known for some time: I need stronger opponents if I wish to become stronger as a warrior. I cannot have been brought back from the grasp of death by our Glorious Leader, just to kill such ants.
I will train harder. Then, perhaps, I will be given the challenge of a stronger opponent.
Sunday, May 27, 2012
Friday, May 25, 2012
Yeah we're back
Stuck in a goddamn labyrinth for... Fuck if I know. Yeah Hi everyone, Gleeman here. Alive, barely, and pissed off. So lets get the obvious question out of the way. "Where have we been?" Well kids. I think we've been in hell, or if it wasn't hell, the closest thing to hell.
Before I begin recapping what happened, I need to mention that I am fucking flying right now. High as a kite or a bird or... thing that is high. A cloud. Hope spellcheck does it's job.
Now Imagine if you will, waking up one morning, getting ready for work, eating fruity pebbles for breakfast and being told you are going to go investigate rumors of an organized armed gang of people. Moriarty Thugs. The squad commander issues a dramatic command along the lines of "rip them to pieces for the glory of God" or something. We come to find out that these thugs are fucking commandos with automatic weapons. A few seconds later Morgan is ripped to shreds by a wall of bullets and the rest of us scatter and try not to die. I got shot in the ass and fell down thinking that that was it. A humiliating anti-climactic death at the hands of a real life storm trooper. I blink a couple times and find myself staring into a pair of amber eyes. That asshole.
So Valtiel told me I was gonna be stuck in this labyrinth loop thing until some time in a couple months. Then he fucking left me there. Homey place, really. Comfy Couch full of holes. Creaking noises all the time at JUST the worst times. Just enough food and water around to survive, a television that has eight channels, all of which are different forms of static. Most of the time. A few books laying around too. Horror books too, go figure. Didn't really care for them honestly. Had to keep all the windows shut due to the sounds of GODDAMN MOTHERFUCKING LITTLE SHIT CHILDREN playing and running around outside. Somewhere. I never actually saw them. I could hear them though, and every time it reminded me of why I hate the little bastards. Uh... Sorry I'm rambling I think. But that was basically my entire life for the past few months... Recluse, Jack and Tiger look to be in similar shape. Doubt they wanna talk about it. Who can blame them?
Not sure who to fucking blame for this. Morgan maybe, but he's dead so I can't take my frustration out on him. Fuck it. I'll blame Moriarty. My ass is SCARRED now. Fucking SCARRED. Anyway, I hear we are going on an easy mission in a day or two. A standard find a stalked person and kill her family. Kidnap her dog. Paint operator symbols on her walls and windows. The usual. We'll probably have to let the backup squad take care of Anti-Moriarty stuff, and given that the assigned leader seems to be a few legionaries short of an army, I have some doubts they will last long.
Now. I am fucking going to bed. Also fuck off Nightscream, I don't need mock sympathy.
Before I begin recapping what happened, I need to mention that I am fucking flying right now. High as a kite or a bird or... thing that is high. A cloud. Hope spellcheck does it's job.
Now Imagine if you will, waking up one morning, getting ready for work, eating fruity pebbles for breakfast and being told you are going to go investigate rumors of an organized armed gang of people. Moriarty Thugs. The squad commander issues a dramatic command along the lines of "rip them to pieces for the glory of God" or something. We come to find out that these thugs are fucking commandos with automatic weapons. A few seconds later Morgan is ripped to shreds by a wall of bullets and the rest of us scatter and try not to die. I got shot in the ass and fell down thinking that that was it. A humiliating anti-climactic death at the hands of a real life storm trooper. I blink a couple times and find myself staring into a pair of amber eyes. That asshole.
So Valtiel told me I was gonna be stuck in this labyrinth loop thing until some time in a couple months. Then he fucking left me there. Homey place, really. Comfy Couch full of holes. Creaking noises all the time at JUST the worst times. Just enough food and water around to survive, a television that has eight channels, all of which are different forms of static. Most of the time. A few books laying around too. Horror books too, go figure. Didn't really care for them honestly. Had to keep all the windows shut due to the sounds of GODDAMN MOTHERFUCKING LITTLE SHIT CHILDREN playing and running around outside. Somewhere. I never actually saw them. I could hear them though, and every time it reminded me of why I hate the little bastards. Uh... Sorry I'm rambling I think. But that was basically my entire life for the past few months... Recluse, Jack and Tiger look to be in similar shape. Doubt they wanna talk about it. Who can blame them?
Not sure who to fucking blame for this. Morgan maybe, but he's dead so I can't take my frustration out on him. Fuck it. I'll blame Moriarty. My ass is SCARRED now. Fucking SCARRED. Anyway, I hear we are going on an easy mission in a day or two. A standard find a stalked person and kill her family. Kidnap her dog. Paint operator symbols on her walls and windows. The usual. We'll probably have to let the backup squad take care of Anti-Moriarty stuff, and given that the assigned leader seems to be a few legionaries short of an army, I have some doubts they will last long.
Now. I am fucking going to bed. Also fuck off Nightscream, I don't need mock sympathy.
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
Event Summary 013
Report by Agent Morningstar, squad leader of Shade squad
5/22/2012
[Location Redacted]
Directed towards Handler Nightshade: "Thanks a FUCKING lot you ASSHOLE. I asked you to send me people with more EXPERIENCE and less PSYCHOSIS!!! I can't be GODDAMN expected to SHIT ASS FUCK HELL KILL THE BLOODY MORIARTY SOLDIERS without PEOPLE WHO ARE GOOD AT KILLING TOUGH TARGETS. Instead I have a MAN WHO PLAYS WITH DOLLS!!! DOLLS!!!!!!! Is this a JOKE or are you THAT stupid?
Since I doubt you are going to be sending me anyone else, I shall make do with what I have. We shall be divided into two teams, one lead by me and the other by Caesar. Forward any complaints to Valtiel, as it was the one who suggested it."
End of Opening Summary
Recruit Profiles and Remarks
Agent Mordred
Name: Jonathan Mace
Age: 26
Height: 6'0"
Weight: 222 lbs.
Results: Placed in Shade Squad Reserve Unit
Remarks: "Nightshade. You saw how Angmar turned out. Why did you send me ANOTHER GODDAMN NERD WITH A SWORD. Christ this is embarrassing... He is at least more threatening than Angmar by virtue of wearing Medieval Knights armor, though his choice of color will no doubt lead to numerous Monty Python jokes at his expense. Black Knights are just not threatening anymore. His weapons of choice are a broadsword and a lance. He is about as skilled with the broadsword as Angmar was at the time of recruiting, ergo he is only slightly more threatening than Target Class E 'Gargoyle' and slightly less threatening than my decaying corpse. His skill with the lance was surprising. Not in how skilled he was with it, but how he chose to use it. He is a skilled motorcycle rider and uses one in lieu of a horse, and thus uses the lance while riding the motorcycle. This is recipe for disaster, but goddamn if it didn't look cool. All in all... Not a good start Nightshade. Goddamn you."
Agent Pacemaker
Name: James Gibson
Age: 26
Height: 5'10"
Weight: 187 lbs.
Results: Placed in Shade Squad Reserve Unit
Remarks: "OK, a Knight wannabe I can understand, as knights used to kill people. But an ELVIS IMPERSONATOR? REALLY? At the very least he seems capable of killing people. During the standard killing ability test, he challenged the victim to a fair unarmed fight and promptly slashed his throat open with a switchblade. The underhandedness combined with his competence with said switchblade and the shere insanity of his, uh... Motif... Makes him an easily underestimated opponent. If our enemies were less prone to shooting on sight, he might be useful. Lovely singing voice too."
Agent Mumbles
Name: Jacques Strange
Age: 19
Height: 5'9"
Weight: 145 lbs.
Results: Placed in Shade Squad Main Unit
Remarks: "WHY WAS I NOT FUCKING WARNED ABOUT THIS GUY AHEAD OF TIME!?!?! You KNOW how I get around Clowns, so how the fuck did you THINK I would react to a FUCKING MIME?!?! So after I shat my pants in fear, I did the evaluation. This is a CREEPY son of a bitch. He didn't say a single word the entire time. If he didn't seem intelligent, I would assume he was Hallowed. His [Redacted for the Purposes of this post] will make him an EXCELLENT counter for the likes of Target Class A "Amalgamation Sage." Despite my fear, I am keeping him around."
Agent Caesar
Name: Edward Graham
Age: 39
Height: 5'10"
Weight: 210 lbs.
Results: Placed in Shade Squad Reserve Unit
Remarks: "He has delusions of being a Roman Emperor and believes that his action figures... Oh, excuse me.. his SOLDIERS, are a living breathing army. When they do not obey his commands (Which is often) he commits decimatio by tearing off their heads and then promptly doing whatever it is he commanded himself. That said, the fucker shoved a Harpoon through the victim's chest and threw him across the room into a wall. He also appeared intelligent enough, when not succumbing to the obvious megalomania and delusions. So. He wants to be a leader, I'll give him the reserve squad. Fucking Pacemaker and Mordred will be his Praetorian Guard. Nightshade, I am going to visit Cipher and tell him ALL about this you know. How do you think he will react to you treating this like a joke?"
Agent Cloak
Name: Rodney Stacy
Age: 32
Height: 5'9"
Weight: 122 lbs.
Results: Placed in Shade Squad Main Unit
Remarks: "This guy is an asshole. Probably the most competent person I was introduced to today. But GOD DAMN. Fucker Strolls in to the interview and steals my gun. Then taunts me about it... Although I should give him credit. He stole my gun while explaining to me that he was a thief who likes to steal things and was very good at it. I didn't notice it until he used the gun to execute the victim. Recently the keys to the van have gone missing. I will be sure to 'ask' him about it. His dossier implies some emotional baggage though. Given that [Redacted because this needs to be redacted if in the event a certain someone sees this] it could eventually become a problem. No matter. I mean, what are the odds of [Redacted for the same reason]?"
Agent Yellowbeard
Name: Bob Franklin
Age: 29
Height: 5'11"
Weight: 179 lbs.
Results: Placed in Shade Squad Reserve Unit
Remarks: "I actually made a bet, half jokingly, with Nightscream to the effect of 'I bet they will send me a Pirate tomorrow' and guess who walked away five dollars richer. You sent me a pirate. I... Don't know what to say. He is about as subtle as a Cannonball tearing through Target Class C Forgemaster's New House/Apartment/Whatever the hell it is. He came to the interview drunk, but that was not very surprising. His aim with his flintlock was amazing considering he wore an eyepatch and was aiming about two feet to the left of the target. His skill with the cutlass made up for it though, and he seemed eager to kill more people and... Something about plunder and booty. Followed by a 'yargh' of sorts. He doesn't have a beard by the way."
Agent Blood Harvest
Name: Carl Maxwell
Age: 25
Height: 6'3"
Weight: 200 lbs.
Results: Placed in Shade Squad Reserve Unit
Remarks: "I was unsure what to expect with this one. With a name like Blood Harvest, you are either a farmer or someone trying WAY too hard. What I got, was somewhere in the middle. He is at least more threatening than the last Scarecrow I received. Disemboweled the victim a bit slowly, but I think he was enjoying it. Hard to tell due to the straw hat and potato sack covering his head. Weapon of choice are Scythes/Sickles/Whatever you call them. I think he seemed pretty good with them. Imposing figure too. Puts the Scare in scarecrow I think. Reminds me of that movie "Dark Harvest." Or rather... The Cover art, as that thing didn't actually show up in the movie. He was also surprisingly understated and simplistic in his sentences. I expected another overactor. Which is good, as it means I no longer have to try as hard to keep my position of largest of hams."
Agent Fairy
Name: ???
Age: 38(?)
Height: 6'5"
Weight: 250 lbs.(???)
Results: Placed in Shade Squad Main Unit
Remarks: "This guy was the main reason I put Yellowbeard on the reserve team. Not enough room for two alcoholics around here. You know, I don't typically do stereotypes but... I think someone just poured Haggis, bagpipes, a kilt and an ocean of alcohol into a pot, stirred it with a claymore and then this Man emerged, fully bearded and with bulging muscles, swinging the claymore left and right while playing a merry tune on the bagpipes. Which was coincidentally, how he entered the interview. Sadly we seem to have a language issue, as he seems to speak Angry Scotsman, while I speak only English. He seems to comprehend me though, and gleefully chopped the victim up. This is a keeper methinks."
Agent Scrambler
Name: Antonio Franchetti
Age: 34
Height: 6'0"
Weight: 190 lbs.
Results: Placed in Shade Squad Reserve Unit
Remarks: "Is this guy ex-Mafia? Or... Some 20s Gangster Time Traveller... Or is it 50s? He talks like a Beatnik from the 20s. It boggles the mind. Anyway, Scrambler does not in fact use an eggbeater as his weapon of choice, much to my disappointment. He prefers Brass Knuckles. He took his time with the victim. Perhaps too much so, as I found myself nodding off. That kind of murder is so friggen boring. Another thing to note is a potential weakness in the fact he is in fact missing an eye (Unlike Yellowbeard). Hopefully he has good hearing to make up for it. Or something. By far the best dressed member of the Team though. Compared to Discarded-Sports-Equipment Caesar and Captain Jack Fabulous up there, a man in an Italian suit is a welcome sight. Makes it seem like we have more class."
Agent Montag
Name: Paul Montag
Age: 26
Height: 5'11"
Weight: 234 lbs.
Results: Placed in Shade Squad Main Unit
Remarks: "Ah, here we go. I was wondering when one of these guys would show up. The Pseudo-Intellectual nihilistic psychopath. With the added bonus of being a Pyromaniac in firefighter gear and burns covering most of his visible body. His emotionless, monotone speech about the futility of this or that and the purity of the all consuming flame... Blah, blah, blah etc etc etc, was wonderfully dark, depressing and reminiscent of the old days. Back when we Proxies were child eating monsters going up against some mostly pacifistic white hats. The Good Old Days. So yeah, Montag did a monologue to the victim while pacing around him ominously. Telling him his life story I think. Then he covered him in gasoline and... Kept talking. About half an hour later, he finally lit a match and walked away while the guy burned. A Keeper."
Agent The Plumber
Name: Hank McPeters
Age: 46
Height: 5'9"
Weight: 264 lbs.
Results: Placed in Shade Squad Reserve Unit
Remarks: "Well here is an unexpected bit of insanity. When the extremely normal looking Plumber came in to the interview, I figured he might have the wrong address. He was just some fat middle aged guy with a tool belt carrying an admittedly weird looking plunger. When I confirmed he was here for the interview, I asked him why he was called 'The Plumber.' His response? 'Because I'm a Plumber.' Ha, ha, ha. He should have been called the FUCKING Comedian because that joke was SOOOOO funny. He seems pretty psychosis free but... Well... His weapon of choice is the Plunger. Which is no ordinary plunger at all. It is evidently a SHOTGUN Plunger. A person free of psychosis...es... Would not build a SHOTGUN Plunger."
Agent Crouching Tiger, Brown Recluse, Gleeman and Jack the Ripper
Remarks: "THIS was the highlight of my day. So, I was packing up about to sleep off all the insanity I faced today, when my 'Favorite' highest showed up. Dear Valtiel. The one with amber yellow eyes. We had a brief discussion, he called me a "broken toy" and mentioned that I am going to be dying soon. I told him to shove a... You know what, I shouldn't put insubordination in a document like this. Uh... Anyway, he then told me he had a gift for me and POOF. Gleeman, Recluse, Tiger and Jack all looking VERY sick and smelling like they hadn't had a shower in months were on the floor. THEY ARE ALIVE, YES YES YES. THEY ARE FUCKING ALIVE. FUCK YOU MORIARTY! YOU FAILED TO KILL MY TEAM. YOU FAAAAAAILED... Right. So. They are being added back to the main team once they recover a bit... Check the "Shade of the Morning" blog for their status and accounts of what exactly happened to them. To sum it up briefly though. Valtiel happened.
Closing Remarks
Included with this report is a photocopied picture of my middle finger directed at you Nightshade. Put it on your wall. Send me SOLDIERS next time. For now. Send me GODDAMN WEAPONS THAT WILL BE USEFUL AGAINST GODDAMN SOLDIERS. Send me the Killdozer. Do we still have that? Well... Send it you jackass.
Thursday, May 17, 2012
Crushing Defeat
First off. I would like to apologize about my pedophile priest joke in my last post. I deeply regret it at this point. Second off, I need to announce that Nightscream and I are going to fly under the radar for the next... Week or so. For safety reasons. I expect Cronos Cell to send what I asked in that time. If not, I am going to... Do something drastic. God. I am drained right now...
So. The Siege of the Church ended in defeat for us. They got reinforcements and pushed us out. The Priest... Requiem I think his name was, got killed by a Sniper. He was one of Nightscream's friends, so Nightscream went running off to kill the Sniper... Failing at it, but that has already been covered... My role at that point was to make sure we didn't lose anymore people. I am all out of Dynamite, and my ego is shattered. Moriarty's people kicked our asses badly. The Church burned down, meaning we have lost our position here, not to mention the crippling blow to morale. I hear the Highest are bickering with each other over what to do. Redlight has been silent as far as I know, and Valtiel... No idea what his/it's current deal is. This is giant fucking mess. The Good news is, we got SOME people out alive, including myself and Nightscream. The bad news is, I need this week off to recover from the new holes in my body.
Body Count is now 21. Mostly due to liberal use of Dynamite and a LOT of knife work. To all Proxies reading this, do NOT engage Moriarty Commandos in Close Quarters Combat. Not unless you have some training or something. Also. Do not engage Moriarty Commandos in a Gunfight unless you have numbers on your side. In fact. Don't engage them at all if you can help it. It is fucking suicide. These are neither Orcs nor Stormtroopers. They don't die easy.
One other thing we have deduced. I was eating some of the soldiers remains, cooked of course, but it ended up making me sick. This never happened before and I suspect they have some kind of drug in their systems... SEND ME A TECH/CHEMISTRY PERSON... Or a Drug Dealer. One of those would probably know what these guys are on. Anyway. We are going dark. See you all soon.
Friday, May 11, 2012
Total Bodycount: Seven
... Nothing is EVER simple. Not a DAMNED THING. Screamer and I were headed to some Church where Screamer's birdies were located. THE GUNFIRE HAS ONLY JUST NOW STOPPED. Guess who? MORIARTY'S BOYS AGAIN. I have seen them twice and I am already sick of them. The one we interrogated had no useful information so I doubt these clowns do either. But let me back up and explain how we got this way.
So we were driving along, minding our own business, when we began to hear loud gunfire. The church was not too far off, so we reasonably assumed that shit was going down. Fortunately, I have Dynamite in the back of the van. So we got close and noticed some heavily armed soldier types in a shootout with a bunch of Nuns. Not having enough time to let this image sink in, we promptly took advantage of the element of surprise and the fact we were technically flanking them by running one of them over and tossing some Dynamite at their position. The ones not turned into salsa fell back while shooting at us. They shot my GODDAMNED HAT AGAIN.
We then took refuge in the church while the Pedophi... I mean Priest, began talking to Screamer. Very dramatically. He looked like he was swatting at invisible flies with the way his hands were flailing. Overactor. I then took note of the Nuns. They had several wounded, but few casualties thanks to a superior position and lots of cover. Moriarty Troops have been harassing us for the past few HOURS. Few casualties on either side, but LOTS of wasted ammo and broken glass.
I have one question. WHERE THE FUCK ARE THE POLICE??? There is LOTS OF GUNFIRE. People are DYING. DONUT BREAK IS OVER GUYS COME ON! SERVE AND PROTECT DAMMIT. They would have to cut through the Moriarty Goons to get to us, so we would be able to more easily sandwich the Soldiers and massacre them. But no. They are off arresting minorities or something. Bastards.
Monday, May 7, 2012
On the Road Again
GREAT to be back. Traveling is SO much fun. Seeing new places, meeting new people. They all bleed the same though. So many similarities in their screams and pitiful cries for help. But I never get tired of it. Nope. It is the most exquisite music performed by mankind. Primal Emotion at it's most GLORIOUS. And soon enough, I will be able to share this music with friends once more. Team Morningstar is going to be brought BACK. With Nightscream as my Right Hand Minion... I kind of miss Gleeman now though, honestly. He was a scary bastard. But... I do not know... He has something special. Talent. Heart. He had a lot of Heart. Hell. I miss most of those crazy circus rejects. We really bonded. Got to know each other... I suppose I shall have to redouble my efforts to cause mayhem and BEAUTIFUL PANDEMONIUM. For them.
Right, so I just thought updating would be nice to remind you that I am in fact not dead and using my second chance at life wisely, serving our glorious God and his servant the great and powerful super special awesome master lord general high commander pope jesus Redlight the Second. I CANNOT WAIT UNTIL I AM OUT IN THE FIELD BATHING IN THE BLOOD OF THE UNWORTHY, I WILL KILL ALL OF YOU I WILL RIP YOU APART BOIL YOUR EYEBALLS, PUT YOUR TEETH TO THE GRINDSTONE SHRED YOUR TONGUE. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.
Life is Good. Enjoy it. You do not know how precious it is until you lose it.
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