Memento Mori

I don't expect to survive this. I'm at the point where I'm measuring my life in hours.

I'm in an apartment building. I can no longer access the City. I can hear a sound above me-- knives scraping against the floor. It's the Rake.

I look out the window and I can see my former master-- Slender Man, might as well call him what he is-- standing out there, watching me. People pass by as if he's not even there, oblivious to him. One group of people moves oddly, their limbs loose, their movements strangely exaggerated. The Wooden Girl's dolls.

I look out another window and Judgment is there. I remember he said something about his sins burning him up soon, and I see now what he meant. I can't even recognize Sleight's body anymore; it's so decrepit looking, like he's aged 60 years in the span of a week.

I hear whispers, telling me to just give it all up, and a gray blur moves in the corner of my eye. I don't know why the Choir is after me, but there are a lot of things I don't know.

And I can feel the Ichor within me, spreading. I cut myself on a nail about an hour ago, and no blood came out. Only clear fluid. It won't be long now.

One way or another, I am going to die soon.

And you know what? I'm OK with that.

In the past few months, I went from just some random, insignificant college student to a supernaturally sponsored murderer. I've killed people without hesitation, and afterward I'd come up with justifications for it, and I'd try to ignore that feeling in the back of my head that what I'm doing is wrong. I'd try to block the inevitable nightmares from invading my sleep. I'd try and try, but to no avail.

Guilt is the punishment for our sins, and I feel little else these days.


But my sins end tonight. I have no intention of becoming a puppet. Not again.

So, all you monsters, all you horrific abominations? What are you waiting for?

I've got a machete on my right and a shotgun on my left. First prize goes to the one who brings me down.

My name is Joseph Amory Steward, and I'm ready for you.

So come and get me.

Oh God Judgement was waiting for me in the City. I just stepped through the Door and there he was with a knife in his hand, shouting about how horrible I am.

Horrible. Horrible. I'm a horrible person.

Killed people. Dead because of me.

Couldn't protect Crystal or Glorius or Acedia or Lexi.

He was my one companion. The voice in my mind that kept me company. He made sure I was never alone. If I was good and loyal, I'd never be alone again. Why did He betray me abandon me why why kill me kill me kill me kill me liklle m,emkkille m eme be

Ichor

I can feel it inside of me.

It's like some kind of slime, slithering through my veins. I feel a need, no, an obsession, with, of all things, counting the hairs on my arms. I keep losing count and having to start over.

This is the favor, isn't it? The debt I owe to the Ichor. It's coming to collect. It's infested me, and now it's replacing my bodily fluids with its own ink.

Soon, I'll lose myself. I'll become a Camper, just another limb of the Ichor.

Maybe it's what I deserve.

Running

I can't use the Path anymore, but it seems that I'm still Marked, so I can travel through the City.

To those offering to help, thanks, but trust me: you don't want the things chasing me to come knocking on your door. No amount of magic or connections will save you from them.

By my count, I have about five godlike entities after me. If I get near you, there's no way you'll be able to protect yourself.

The Battle in the Bay

Here's what happened.

I rented a boat and went out to the coordinates Master gave me. I waited there for an hour before He appeared on the deck.

The Rake appeared a few minutes later.

It looked right at Master, and it smiled at him. Like it had won something. And then it turned its attention to me. Those eyes-- those horrible, pitch black, but perfectly intelligent eyes-- took me in, and I felt something emanate from them. Expectation.

A command floated into my mind. A command from Master. I was to walk to the Rake.

I was tribute.

Whatever deal they'd worked out, my life was part of it. I couldn't even move. Fear held my body rigid.

The command came again, stronger this time, and I found myself stepping forward. Toward that thing.

And then there was gunfire.

The Rake's right eye exploded and reared back in rage and pain. I watched, dumbstruck, as its eye reformed on its face, and it turned to look in the direction of the shots. I followed its gaze and saw another boat approaching us. More gunfire rang out, and more bullets pummeled the Rake's body.

I started to walk toward the other boat, but found that I couldn't. Black tentacles held me back. Master had no intention of letting me get away.

I ducked down-- the tentacles gave me enough leeway to do that, at least-- and watched as bullets began to slam into Master's body. They made little splashes, little ripples like they were going through water, and Master stood there, unharmed, quietly watching as the boat approached.

It must have gotten close enough, because I saw people leaping onto our own boat, brandishing knives and machetes and hatchets... It took me only a moment to figure out who they were. The movement of their limbs gave them away. Dolls.

And then the tentacles were gone, and I saw Master burst into a thousand tendrils of darkness, lashing out at all the dolls near him. One's head flew clean off, another took a slash across his stomach.

But even dead, their bodies continued to move, continued to attack, controlled by invisible strings.

I crawled across the deck and dimly realized that the Rake had fled the scene. Evidently he didn't want to be caught in the chaos it had brought on.

I stood and prepared to leap off the boat.

I felt something cut against my back.

I screamed as a slash of heat arced through me and warm sticky blood seeped down my body. I spun around to face my attacker.

Charlotte stood there, a bloody knife in her hand, grinning at me. "Hey there, Stew-stew. Bye-bye." She slashed at me again, and I ducked to the side. Then I found myself have to scramble away as quickly as I could. The girl was fast. There was no way someone her age could move so quickly, with such accurate strikes.

And abruptly, all sound of battle ceased. Charlotte froze in place, dropped her knife, and fell to her knees. She brought her face to the floor and stayed in that position. I turned to see who she was bowing to.

Just four feet away from where I sat, Master and the Wooden Girl stood face to face with eachother.

The Wooden Girl moved first, striking out with a knife in her right hand. Master deflected it with a humanoid arm that extended from the blackness that comprised his body. The strings around the Wooden Girl unwound themselves and flew at Master, wrapping around what limbs they could and trying to pull Him to the ground.

A futile effort. He merely slid out of the strings as if His body were smoke, and a tentacle lashed out from somewhere deep within His body. This wasn't like the other ones I'd seen. The smoky, inky tendrils of blackness. No, this one looked... it looked like it had actual substance.

It crashed against the Wooden Girl, and wrapped around her. I felt something in my mind, like snarl of rage, and then fire spewed forth from the depths of Master's body and down the length of that tentacle. The fire spread out and consumed the Wooden Girl.

And then she did something I never thought I'd see her do.

The Wooden Girl screamed.

The sound seemed to almost break and tear itself, and for an instant I could see a vast void of nothingness surround the two Entities, and then it was all over, and Master let the charred corpse of his opponent crash to the deck.

I was just beginning to relax when another scream tore through the air. I spun around and saw Charlotte, now in her feet, he back arced and her eyes wide in pain and terror. She screamed and screamed as her flesh began to split apart. And from beneath her skin, wood emerged.

It grew out of her, and it continued to grow, covering all of her. Her screams finally cut off as the wood grew over her mouth. For a moment the wooden shape before me simply stood there, and then shapes began to appear on it, as if painted by an invisible hand.

A puppets face soon looked straight at me, a painted on smile taking me in, and then the Wooden Girl vanished in a burst of power. I was thrown backward, and the last thing I remember before passing out was cold water coming over me.

I woke up on the beach an hour before dawn, and went to the first safehouse I could think of.

I've been running since.

I can't stop for long. I have to keep moving. I'll explain later.

Memories

Been hanging in the area. Tonight's the night Master faces him.

So many memories... I've been walking around my old neighborhood. Someone else is living in my old house now. I guess they don't mind living in a place where a family was murdered.

Were they my family? Sometimes I find it hard to believe. What memories I have are distant, and the rest... well, I gave my childhood to the Blind Man, didn't I?

But non of that matters now.

Tonight, one way or another, this all ends.

-STEWARD

Master will soon confront the Rake.

A meeting ground has been chosen. I almost laughed when I heard it. It's a place that I know well: the Chesapeake Bay.

-STEWARD

The Compulsion

It was all so fucking obvious.

But I couldn't see it? How could I? He's just a beast. A mindless animal. That's what I saw when I looked at him. That's what we all see.

That's exactly what he wants us to see.

We focused on his claws and his fangs. We forgot about his voice. That voice that implants ideas and instructions in our minds when we are at our most vulnerable.

He worked for years to make sure we only saw the feral aspects. Even the Entities came to see him as beast. They were blind to the chaos he was sewing within their ranks.

So much patience. So much careful planning. So much work, just to make sure that humanity knew about Them. Just to make sure that humanity would rebel against Them. Chaos is doubtlessly his end-goal. For from chaos, anything can rise to supremacy.

And we were all too eager to follow the instructions he whispered into our ears.

He is the Feral Beast. He is the Whisperer. He is the Incubus. He is the Lord of Nightmares.

He is the Rake.

-STEWARD

Lightbulb

Take a look at this.

Doesn't it make you think?

Judgment

I've been hunting down the members of Sleight's old magic troupe. None have given me any useful information. No matter how strenuously I question them, no matter how forcefully I beat them, no matter how tearfully I beg them to just tell me what I want to know so I. Can. Stop. Hurting. Them.

The one I visited this morning didn't survive his questioning. He had a heart condition.

When I turned to leave his house, I found Sleight standing in the doorway.

I froze.

"Who are you?"

Sleight smiled. It wasn't a cruel smile. It wasn't a joyous smile. It was... peaceful. "You know."

"You can't be here. You were trapped in the City."

Sleight nodded. "I was trapped when I was called Sleight who was called John Kramer. But now my identity has shifted. I am a new being. No longer the Empty City's."

I didn't say anything. I stood there and watched him. Waiting to see what he'd do. Trying to figure out what his game was.

"The Eye found me. It entered into me. A new identity was born. I am the Eye. The Eye is me. I am Judgment." Sleight or Judgment or whatever began walking toward me. A knife flashed in his hand. "The sins of my old self burn within me. Soon the flames will consume this body and a new Judgment must be found. But for the time being I live, and I have a purpose. Retribution."

He struck out at me. It was like watching a cobra. I put my arm up defensively and jumped back. My arm stung. Blood trickled down my skin.

"Your sins weigh heavily on you, Joseph," he said. "Accept my cleansing. It is the sweetest fate you can be given. They have all taken notice of you. You cannot be at peace unless your sins are burned away." He struck out at me again, and again I dodged it, and again I felt a new cut running down my flesh.

"I can see all your sins. Even the ones the Sightless One took your memory of. I can see the first lie you ever told. The first person you ever hit. The first time you were ever intentionally cruel to someone. Every sin in your life glows like an ember. It is a wonder people do not burn on their own, so infinite are their evils."

He slashed at me again, and this time I retreated into the Path.

I ran down the trail, and I heard his voice call out to me, as loudly and clearly as if he were right behind me.

"You cannot run, Joseph. Face Judgment, or suffer at Their hands. Either way, your time in this world is growing short."

-STEWARD

Fools

It was stupid.

I was SO STUPID.

She's dead. Just like Crystal. The same scene. The blood everywhere. The hotel room. The killer standing over her corpse.

Lexi.

Gone.

Scarneck. That bitch.

She tried to say something. I think she tried to tell me her name. I don't know. I don't care. No weapons. Just my fists.

I was so angry. The murderous bitch. Poor Lexi....

Scarneck died with a smile on her lips. What right did she have to die that way? What right!?

No right. No one has any rights.

I let myself forget that. I let myself be taken in by the empty promises of human companionship.

Human life is fleeting. Humans are traitorous and treacherous and always changing. Friend becomes foe becomes friend. Living becomes dead.

There is only one constant in life.

Master.

I let myself forget that. I was foolish. I let myself grow soft and weak.

No more.

-STEWARD

No

nonononononono

Not again

not again not again NOT FUCKING AGAIN

NO NO NO

DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE NOT AGAIN

Life Goes On

I, um, I have a confession to make.

I've never been in a relationship (at least not that I can remember, though I doubt I ever had some kind of hildhood romance, so...). Not really. I mean, there were girls that I liked but I was too shy, too scared to really talk to them...

Yeah. I know. The big bad "proxy" (God, I hate that word) is a little loser underneath his tough-guy exterior. Shut up.

Glorius and Acedia-- Gerald and Dana-- they had each other. When life was too much for either one to bear, they looked to one another for support. I never had something like that. Even with my friends, I was always distant. I have trouble really relating to other people. Well, no that's not the word I'm looking for. I have trouble connecting to other people.

So yeah. That's me. Never had a girlfriend. Never been kissed.

Until the other day.

It's just... it's been so hard. Losing those two. And me and Lexi, we're together constantly....

I mean, there was attraction since day one, but... Maybe we're just clinging to each other because we're both hurt. Is that healthy?

Heh. Look at me, concerned for my mental health when I work for an incomprehensible monstrosity.

I'm just afraid. Afraid that I'll lose her. Afraid that I'll drive her away. Afraid that this all just a phase or something...

I've never really dealt with these kind of... issues before.

-STEWARD

Warehouse

I found Spike in a warehouse. He was expecting me.

"Well, Mr. Chief Proxy is here!" He shouted. "I'll make you scream! And then I'll make your boss scream! SCREAM!"

I ducked behind a crate as he began shooting at me. His laughter almost seemed to drown out the gunfire.

"I'll kill all you proxies!" He shouted. "You, Morningstar, Messenger, Executor... I'll slaughter you all! It's what you deserve!"

I opened up the Path and stepped in.

I took two steps.

I stepped out.

Spike stood before me, with his back turned. Firing at the crate I had been crouching behind just moments ago.

Fucking dumbass.

He started laughing again, and I grabbed his shoulder and jammed my knife into his fucking neck.

Good riddance you piece of shit.

Scarneck: I hope you're reading this. Because you patsy is dead and I'm coming for you next. Whoever your boss is is going to regret ever crossing paths with me.

You are beyond redemption.

-STEWARD

The Hunt Begins

I found Spike's current location.

Time to make that bastard pay.

The Final Testament of a Broken Man

Around midnight Glorius ran off. He didn't say anything. He just disappeared.

Lexi didn't want to look for him. She was shivering. I don't think she's seen much death. Especially by the standards of Master's servants. Acedia had shaken her.

I left her in a safehouse and went to find Glorius.

I found him in a mall.

Spike had a rifle with him, and I could see Scarneck behind him. She seemed... I don't know. Lost? Glorius had his own weapons and was firing at the two from across the hallway.

Spike took aim. And he fired.

Glorius went down.

Scarneck turned around and a Door appeared before her. She said something to Spike (I was too far away to hear it) and the two of them stepped through it. I rushed out of my hiding place to Glorius' side.

"Steward?" he asked, when I got there. His voice was barely above a whisper. "That you?"

"Hang on," I said. "I'll get you out of here."

He shook his head. "No... no... I'm going to go see Dana...."

It took me a second to realize who he was talking about. Dana. Acedia's real name.

"It was all so easy when she was with me. They gave us memories. I can remember losing my parents in the 9/11 attack... I can remember the Tall One finding me. I remember meeting her there.... but I remember meeting her three years ago too. I remember introducing her to my parents. Meeting hers. I remember we were walking down the street one day when He showed up..."

I was quiet.

"It was easier to just pretend that the fake memories were true... It was easier with her.... Dana...."

"Just hold on, Glorius. We're gonna get help."

"Gerald. My name is Gerald."

And then his breathing stopped.

I left him there. It was a quiet walk out of the mall. I tried to ignore the Eye's gaze upon my back.

Attack

Acedia is dead.

Spike found us. He had a gun. We didn't even know he was there until the window shattered and Acedia crumpled to the ground, leaving a cloud of pink mist in the air.

Glorius screamed. It was... it was a raw, primal thing. A howl of rage and of morning.

And then we heard Spike's laughter coming from the outside. And we heard him shouting "all you proxy fuckers need to die!"

Lexi and me had to drag Glorius through the Path. He was struggling to go find Spike. To kill him. To...

Oh God. I'm so sorry.

I'm so sorry.

Wolves

Remember that Camper I met some time ago?

He showed up in my room last night.

I just turned around, and there he was. Same pale face. Same blank expression. Same damp black hair. Same fake smile.

"Hello, Joseph Steward," he said. "It has been a while."

"It has. Mind telling me what the fuck you're doing in my room?"

"You are indebted to us. We are simply interested in your continued health."

I nodded. I'd forgotten that part.

"How goes your search? Have you learned your foe's identity?"

"Not exactly, but I have my suspicions."

"Do tell."

I hesitated a moment. "The Wooden Girl."

That fake smile got bigger, though his eyes remained the same. "What are your reasons for suspecting her?"

"Her betrayal," I said. "She used the death of her Dolls as an excuse to betray Master. It's flimsy. And I know that she's never cared for those in her service."

"You have concluded that she purposely murdered her Dolls as part of some grand plan?"

I nodded.

The Camper was silent for a moment, and then spoke again. "Wolves."

"Excuse me?"

"It has been said that if you see a lone wolf in front of you, the rest of the pack is behind you. They are animals. Similar to dogs. But they are cunning. They hunt with finesse. They hunt intelligently. Do you know what apes, rats, and certain birds have in common?"

"...Warm blood?"

"Correct. But there is also evidence of the capability of metacognition. Thought about thought. Self-awareness. They are more intelligent than one would assume. Just like wolves."

This was getting annoying. "Is there a point to all this?"

A real smile this time. "There is." And then he was simply... gone. Back to wherever the Ichor needed him.

-STEWARD

GOD DAMNIT!

There was a massacre at the local police station last night. Everyone there was torn to pieces. I'm not even exaggerating. I used the Path to go see for myself, and after I threw up I went back through the Path, trying to push the images out of my head.

...And Spike's missing.

So I guess my mysterious foe has decided to make use of him? This is very bad....

-STEWARD

I'm Back

I don't know where I was. There was a woman who took me. She was African, had curly hair down to her shoulders, kind of slanted eyes... and there was what looked like a burn scar on the left side of her neck. She's the one who took me and stuck me in that cabin. Let's call her Miss Scarneck.

I can't remember much of my captivity. Mostly it just blurred by up until I woke up with Lexi, Glorius, and Acedia standing over me, and then I had to order them to tie me up and lock me in a room, since I upon waking I was suddenly overcome with an urge-- no, a need-- to kill them all.

That's how I spent the last few days. Tied up in a room, with no one to keep me company. Well, the eye thingy showed up once. It grew out of the wood on the door and stared for hours until I fell asleep, then it was gone.

So what have we learned? The Compulsion has a time limit. Within a few days, it fades away, which means that whatever causes it has to re-administer its orders every now and then. Interesting.

After I was free from it, I did a bit of research and also learned this: Spike, or "Sheldon Butters" (I'd change my name to "Spike" too...) has been in police custody for the last five days. Turns out that he was really bad at covering his tracks and left a trail for police to follow. Dumbass.

I also learned that a few of his murders don't match up. A number of the killings left no evidence. They were carried out the same way that Sleight's killings were carried out. I didn't pay much attention to them, because they weren't ours. Turns out they were the Wooden Girl's. That would explain why she's so mad (or at least, it provided her with a good excuse to turn against Master).

My guess is that Scarneck was using Spike to her advantage to cover up her own activities. Looks like we found Sleight's successor.

Pieces are beginning to fall into place.

Let's see what else we can learn, hmm?

-STEWARD

Rescue

We got Steward back.

Acedia tracked the girl next time she showed up, and we followed her through some kind of portal.

On the other side there was... a forest. It wasn't the Path of Black Leaves. The trees were all normal seeming. I'm not sure where we were. There was no sign of the girl anywhere.

We found a cabin nearby. It was sort of old-timey. It sat on the edge of a cliff overlooking the ocean.

Steward was inside. He was tied up and unconscious.

We took him and we went through the Empty City to get out of wherever we were. It wasn't long before the Dolls found us, but we left the City as soon as they did. The rest of our traveling was done with the Path.

He's still out, but he seems fine.

Please wake up soon.

~=Lexi=~

Possible Suspect

Glorius noticed that some girl has been following us. He didn't get a good look at her.

We found a note this morning saying that Steward would be returned to us alive and unharmed if stopped looking for Spike.

I... I don't know what I should do. Steward wouldn't want us to stop our investigation, but then again he probably wouldn't want to be hurt either. And for all his faults and emotional issues, he's a pretty nice guy when you get to know him. I don't want to abandon him.

But if we abandon the mission, what would the Tall One do to us?

~=Lexi=~

Betrayal

The Tall One sent us word: the puppet thing, the "Wooden Girl", betrayed Him. Those people that attacked us in the City were hers.

So did they take Steward? Or did he... no. No, he wouldn't do that. He'd never do that.

Bad thoughts.

~=Lexi=~

Enemies

We still haven't had any luck finding Steward OR Spike.

We tried to open a Door to the Empty City (I still cannot get over that that thing is real), thinking we might find him there... somewhere. Next thing we know there are these people attacking us. They moved really weirdly (is that a word?) and one of them had this freaky clown-looking mask.

So we can't use the City anymore. Those people are there waiting for us. Glorius was almost stabbed by the masked guy.

I don't know what's going on. When I joined, I thought my job with the Tall One would be simple. I didn't ask for all this crap with these other "Entities" or "Fears" or "PREs" or "Aspects" or whatever the fuck they are. That was Steward's area of expertise. None of us know what we're supposed to do.

~=Lexi=~

Steward's Missing

We all woke up this morning and he was no where to be found.

I don't think he would leave without telling us, but there's no sign of forced entry or anything.

I'll keep you guys posted.

~=Lexi=~

Events

This Spike guy from the comment section appears to be taking credit for these killings. He also seems to be profoundly annoying and close-minded, even by the rather low standards most of you set.

I just have one thing to say to you, Spike: Seriously? Out of all the screen names you could have chosen, you chose "Spike"? Not a very creative one are you? Word of advice, the cool kids don't have to try to seem cool.

Little to report aside from the fact that it's very easy to follow a trail of bodies, even if few of them were actually Servants in life (bit paranoid, are we, Spikey?)

So let's see how the rest of the net is faring....

Sweetrobin has dropped off the radar, and furthermore his blog has been inherited by a woman whose name is one letter away from being racially insensitive.

That chick who is obsessed with the stuff in thermometers is back. I have no idea how she escaped the Empty City, but it appears she has now gone, to be blunt, cookoo-bananas, so there's that.

A certain woman's new doll is a headcase, but then again, when are her dolls NOT?

Mystery has FINALLY cut ties with her ghastly family. (Honestly I'm almost tempted to hunt down her sister and let the two lovebirds have their way with her; Executor's promises don't bind me at all. Of course, I have my own problems and frankly someone as arrogant as that woman is going to run afoul of an Entity sooner or later) And now she's got a mysterious protector with a bird fetish. How lovely.

And finally, the crazy Blind Man cultist chick is back! And she's some sort of chosen one or something.

My, that's a lot of crazy women.

Oh, and apparently Peter Rivers-- remember him?-- is some sort of spokesman for the Entities? I don't fucking know. Probably a few of them are up to something and using him as a convenient pawn.

I should probably stop typing now. Lexi heard something about another killing and that eye is outside my window again.

-STEWARD

Copycat

Five deaths so far.

It seems our new serial killer friend lacks Sleight's grace. Sleight could get to his targets through a Door, making his progress untraceable. This new copycat killer apparently doesn't have that luxury. He breaks into their homes and slits their throats there.

Oh, and two of the victims weren't Servants. One was being followed. The other had no connection to Master whatsoever.

Sloppy. Very sloppy. We should catch this guy soon.

-STEWARD

Vacation Terminated

Hey all, Lexi here! <3

Urk. I nearly barfed typing that stupid little heart thing...

Steward was busy packing so he asked me to update you all on whats going down. Theres been more killings like the ones that Sleight guy was doing, so this new team of mine is off to investigate. Steward seems kind of mad. I don't think hes happy to hear about a copycat.

No more vacation. Sad now. I was having fun.

Looking forward to working with my new team, AND looking forward to talking with all of you! Hopefully it won't be an exercise in SOUL CRUSHING BOREDOM like these blogies usually are.

~=Lexi=~

Lexi

I was at a Dairy Queen down at the beach, sitting at one of those outdoor tables, eating an ice cream cone, when she sat down next to me.

"I wasn't aware that the Tall One's steward enjoyed ice cream."

I eyed the girl. She seemed about my age, so 20, plus or minus a few years. She had straight black hair that came down her shoulders, and a pair of glasses sat in the middle of her round, pale face, guarding a pair of green eyes that put me in mind of pine trees. She wore a white tank top and khaki shorts, and she was regarding me with the air of a scientist observing a particularly fascinating animal.

"We all have our weaknesses," I told her. "Lexi, I presume?"

"You presume correctly. Mint chocolate chip?"

"Indeed."

She smiled. "I prefer Oreo."

I found myself smiling back. "Oreo is all well and good, but it can hardly stand up to mint chocolate chip's might."

"You must be insane if you think that."

I shrugged. "People tell me that all the time. It has long since ceased to lose meaning."

Lexi laughed. It wasn't a chuckle or a giggle or big belly laugh. Just a laugh. A simple "ha". Her eyes suddenly darted back and forth, examining everyone around else. "Where's the rest of the team?" she asked. "I was told I'd be working with Revenants as well."

I took another lick of ice cream before I answered her. "Knowing them, they're either taking a long walk on the beach, listening to sappy love songs, or boning in their hotel room. They do little else."

She shook her head. "Doesn't that hurt them? Isn't it too much sensation?"

"That's what I've always wondered, but apparently they don't seem to notice their imaginary hypersensitivity." Another lick. "You haven't read my blog then?"

"Oh, no, I have. Both of them. I make it a point to learn a thing or two about everyone I work with."

"So what did you think?"

"I think you are a very delusional person who sees monsters around every corner. I mean, seriously? Undead gas mask wearing serial killers? Living cities? A bunch of rejects from that one Hitchcock movie? I can only assume that the Tall One messed you up pretty badly when you were converted."

I felt my smile broaden. "Glorius and Acedia felt the same way when we started working together. You should have seen their faces when I first took them into the Empty City. Oh wait, I'll just bring a mirror next time we go. Your expression will probably be the same."

She laughed again. "Yeah, bullshit. Your magic city doesn't scare me. Any more than your imaginary creepily sexualized preteen."

"Alas," I said. "I wish I was making Charlotte up. I really do. But she really is that creepy."

Another laugh. "Well, it's not like I haven't worked with madmen before. They're usually not as funny as you though." She held out her hand. I wiped some melted drops of ice cream of my own hand and shook it.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Steward," Lexi told me. "I look forward to working with you."

That happened on Tuesday.

Since then, we've both been enjoying ourselves. Chatting with each other. I introduced her to the dumb-as-a-doorbell duo, and despite their insistence that I have made no Entities up, she still refuses to believe.

Oh well. She'll see soon enough. And I have no doubt that she'll accept it all readily. She seems to be a very bright, witty, charming young woman.

-STEWARD

In the Sun

Glorius and Acedia are spending most of their time at the beach. I spend most of mine in the hotel room. I would go to the beach, but... well, I have a really silly looking farmer's tan, and I'm kind of self-conscious about it.

Don't you dare laugh.

Anyway, it has been very nice just lounging around and sleeping and not having to worry about psychotic serial killers. Vacations rule!

Only "work-news" I've heard is that apparently a new member is going to be added to our little team. Some Agent girl named Lexi. Apparently she'll be at our hotel within a few days.

-STEWARD

Vacation

With that Sleight fiasco behind us, we can finally relax a bit. No idea when Master will have a new job that needs doing, but until then it is vacation time.

-STEWARD

The Magician's Last Trick

Calm now. Rested. That... thing is gone now.

I'm ready to explain.

When I arrived in the Empty City, I could see birds flying in the sky. So the Convocation was there. How lovely. I wasted no time in heading for where the Hallowed had captured Sleight. Partly because I needed to be there before the Convo noticed, and partly because I had no idea when the City would shift itself next.

It seemed to be a bakery-- though there was no food in it of course. Three Hallowed held Sleight against the wall. A fourth was lying on the ground a few feet away, a knife sticking out of his throat. Sleight seemed to have given up, but when he saw me he started struggling and screaming.

"You! You sent it didn't you! It's followed me since that night! What is it!?"

Well, needless to say, I was perplexed by his words, and I wasted no time in informing him that I had sent nothing after him. I'd spent most of my time trying to find him myself.

"It had to be you. The Eye watches me. It watches... My name is John Kramer. My favorite color is blue. My favorite food is roast beef. I'm not a bad man. My name is John Kramer. My favorite color is blue..."

It was at this point that I realized he was too far gone to provide me with any useful information.

I sighed, and turned to look out the window. The street was brightly lit, and very well kept-- not even crack-- and there was a shadow...

That set off alarm bells. Shadows in the Empty City are rare, and tend to come from one particular kind of source.

Panic gripped me, and I ran for the backdoor, shouting at the Hallowed to "throw him out the window and run like hell."

I heard a crash, but I have no idea if they were able to follow through on the second part of the order, since by then I was running down an alley and the ground was shaking.

The Cardinal Rule of traversing the Empty City: never interfere with its food.

I imagine that Sleight or John or whatever was tossed onto the street just as the poor lost wanderer was passing by the shop. That poor lost wanderer, a victim of the Empty City, doomed to wander its streets until death's liberation, would be the food. And the City was angry about its food being disturbed, and its wrath was terrible to behold.

The world shifted all around me. I saw glimpses of trees and rivers and cottages and suburbs and warehouses and ancient buildings... the Empty City transformed and shuffled all within it around. Still I ran. I ran until I was out of breath, so intent was I on putting as much distance between myself and the food as possible.

It was nearly entire day before the City had calmed down enough that it allowed me to leave. Sleight won't be leaving any time soon, though. He broke the rule. He's trapped forever.

I understand that the Convocation is trying to convince the City to hand him over to them. I wish them luck. I don't think the Empty City is even capable of telling the difference between two individual humans. Nor do I think it particularly cares.

And of course, there's the matter of Sleight's ranting. The Eye. I saw it. It was just outside the window. Looked like it was growing out of a fucking tree. And it was watching me.

It was watching me very closely.

-STEWARD

Sleight was right. It's watching me. I see it right there. Outside. Never blinking. Gaze always following me. It sees. It judges.

Shitfuckshit!

Twenty fucking hours stuck in that fucking City.

Food, shower, and rest now. Tell you what happened later. But the gist of it is: Sleight's dead, or may as well be.

Found Sleight.

Going there now.

The Witch

Went hiking early this morning. VERY early. Like midnight early. We went walking around the woods in the area that the anomalous victim liked to hike. Turns out that someone was waiting for us.

At first, I thought it was the Plague Doctor-- black cloak, beak, humanoid appearance-- but as it came closer I realized that it was a pale, blonde woman, wearing nothing but a cloak of black feathers and a very large bird skull. Thunder cracked above us as she approached, and I could feel the tips of my fingers tingling from the electricity in the air. I looked up and saw blackness above-- no stars, no moon. A storm was coming.

The woman halted a few feet before us and said nothing. Just stood there. Glorius took a step toward her, surprisingly cautiously, and stopped abruptly when she let her cloak fall to the ground.

I won't lie and say she didn't have a beautiful body... she didn't have a beautiful body. Once it might of have been, but it was so covered in scars and scabs that anything enticing about it had long since been eradicated. I shined my flashlight on her, and realized with a start that the scabs were moving.

Tiny little beaks burst out of the woman's flesh, and birds clawed their out of her body. Thunder cracked again, and this time when I looked up, it wasn't storm clouds I saw.

Birds. Thousands upon thousands of birds covering the sky, the beating of their wings the source of the thunder.

I stood before the Convocation.

The woman-- obviously one of the Convocation's Nests, spoke, and her voice was a scratchy, hellish whisper: "They have been attacked by your killer, and they are angry. He hides, but they shall find him."

Oh.

Fuck.

The anomalous death? A Nest. One of the Convocation's Servants. Seems Sleight had begun to branch out into other Entities' domains. And now he's pissed off the Convocation.

Hiding in the Great Smoky Mountains, with quite possibly every bird for miles after his blood? You know what I'd do in that situation? Because I'm pretty sure Sleight'll do the same thing.

I've called in a bunch of Hallowed, and I've stationed them around the Empty City, in every area that seems to have any correspondence whatsoever to the Smokies. Still that's anywhere from three to three million miles (depending on the City's mood) to cover, but with a little luck, we may be able to catch Sleight when he makes his escape.

And hopefully we'll get him before the Convocation does. If he has any sense, he probably hopes that too.

-STEWARD

A Break in the Pattern

Followed the trail of bodies to Gatlinburg. Two recent deaths in the Great Smoky Mountains, and one of them doesn't fit the pattern.

Oh, he was killed the same way, yes, but he wasn't one of Master's Servants.

This is the first person Sleight has killed who wasn't one of us, and as such it has sparked my interest. After a bit of investigating, we've found that the dead man had a fondness for hiking, and frequented a certain park in particular.

Needless to say, we'll be visiting that park tomorrow.

-STEWARD

Tennessee

Come on, Sleight. You can't keep this up forever. Surely you know this?

Every town you pass through, you leave a mark behind. And it's not a particularly difficult one to miss either. Someone lying in a hotel room or in an alley or against a tree, with a big ol' gash in their throat?

You're leaving a trail of corpses in your wake. All we have to do is follow it.

We're going to catch up to you soon, Sleight. No matter what.

I'm certain you know this, and yet you make it all so obvious...

What could possibly Compel you to such folly? I look forward to finding out.

-STEWARD

Progress

Been bedridden far too long. Doc says that I shouldn't be up, but Master has a good health plan. Deaths matching Sleight's MO have appeared in the mountains of Tennessee. Heading there now.

-STEWARD

The Servant and the Serial Killer

OK. My head feels fairly clear. Sort of. Clear enough.

Anyway, my last post ended with me chasing Sleight into the Empty City. So here's what happened next:

Ended up in the middle of a city park. Like Central Park only it wasn't in New York, and was therefore much nicer. I couldn't see Sleight anywhere. It was night (it nightish, all things considered) and he had slipped away into the shadows. I began walking around, looking for him.

I heard something move behind me, and spun around. Sleight's form was retreating into a heavily forested area, and I wasn't about to lose him when I'd spent a week searching America's toilet for the bastard. I gave chase.

I'm not sure how long I ran through those trees, but eventually they thinned out, and I burst out of the woods only to be met by a very tall building. I turned around to see the trees shifting away and more buildings growing from the ground. The grass and dirt beneath my feet melted into pavement, and soon I was in the center of an empty metropolis.

I walked through the streets of the Empty City, my eyes scanning every crack, every alleyway. Sleight was in here somewhere, hiding.

"I didn't mean to..." I heard a voice say, though from the way it echoed I couldn't tell where it was coming from. "Those people... I killed them and I don't even know why."

I heard something scrape to my right, and spun to face the mouth of an alley. I drew the pistol I had been keeping tucked in my belt.

"Just woke up and felt like I needed to... Never met them before, just knew that they needed to die.... And I felt I needed to come here. I needed to stop something. But I've failed."

The gun held out in front of me, I began walking toward the alley.

"Never failed before..."

I entered the alley.

"My head aches so much. I need to stop it... but it's already happened."

Step by step, I drew closer to the sound.

"But... there's something else."

I couldn't see a thing, but I knew I was close.

"You have to die."

A gunshot echoed through the alley, and I looked down to see my weapon laying at my feet, my hands clutching my stomach, trying futilely to hold the blood in.

I heard a click as Sleight prepared for the second attack.

I fell backward, using the last ounce of my strength to reach out to the Empty City, and show it Master's mark upon my being, entreat it to...

A Door opened behind me, and I plummeted through it.

The next thing I remember is waking up in a bed in some back-alley doctor's office, with Glorius and Acedia standing over me.

Heh. Guess they did something useful after all.

Thanks.

-STEWARD

The Birth of a God

FuckshitfuckshitFUCK!

This hurts like hell. The doctor wants me to rest, so I'll try to keep this brief. Well, as brief as I can anyway.

We managed to corner Maxwell at some amusement park called the Land of Make Believe. The Timberwolves had him surrounded, so me and Charlotte headed for where they were. Glorius and Acedia were still out of commission. Maybe I wouldn't be lying in a doctor's bed if they hadn't been, but whatever.

Along the way, I noticed a certain pair of traveling journalist-wannabes trying (rather pathetically I might add) to hide behind the horses of a merri-go-round. I waved to them. Let it never be said that I am an overly rude man.

Anyway, when we got to Maxwell, he was freaking out. A few Timberwolves were lying dead here and there, and Max was waving a gun around, pulling the trigger and fiercely releasing a series of clicking sounds. I guess he didn't bring enough ammo.

"Get away from me!" he shouted. "I have the watch! You stay away!"

Charlotte moved toward him. Well, glided towards him. It was like her body was suddenly lifted into the air by an unseen force, and her limbs went limp and sort of hung there, her wrists lifted as well. When she was a few feet away, she alighted on the ground and flicked her wrist at him. Maxwell struggled against a mass of invisible strings, and Charlotte calmly turned around and walked away.

Max somehow managed to get the watch out, but sadly we shall never know what it is he intended to do with it.

Because the watch sank into his skin like a rock sinks into a lake.

Suddenly we were no longer alone. I saw Master emerge from the darkness, and I saw the Wooden Girl appear behind Charlotte. I saw Gas Mask opposite of me, behind Maxwell. He looked at me, and temporarily shifted into Crystal's form, winking before returning to its more familiar shape.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw the gray shapes of the Choir, for once not altering the sound around them. To my left the Rake stood, hunched over with its claws rested on the ground. And I could feel one more Entity behind me, its gaze upon us all, though I didn't turn to see who stood there.

I was too enthralled by the sight before me.

Maxwell screamed, and his body contorted, and I could his bones cracking. Gradually, his shrieks turned to gurgles, and the skin along his arm split apart, blood pouring from the wound as if it were being forced out. His shirt tore, and his chest after that. I heard (and saw) his ribs shatter as a mechanical creature clawed its way out of his body, its metallic joints creaking and groaning as it tore through Maxwell's flesh.

Finally, what was left of Maxwell crumpled to the ground, and there above him was a creature of metal and machinery, assembled in a shape not unlike a human fetus, its small arms ending in two long knives. It seemed to float in a nearly invisible sphere, and extending from its stomach was a fleshy and no doubt organic umbilical cord.

"Manufactured Newborn". That seems a good way to describe the new Entity, wouldn't you say?

The Newborn shrieked, and then it was simply gone, along with all the other Entities. No fanfare. No flash of light. No claps of thunder. Just... gone.

That's when I saw three men standing off to the side. I don't know when they got here, but I recognized all three. Hunter, Peter, and Sleight.

About damn time I found that bastard.

I didn't even hesitate. I rushed at Sleight. He saw me coming and turned and ran through a Door, and I gave pursuit.

Ugh. Doctor just injected me with something. Gotta end it here. Post what happened next later.

-STEWARD

Fuckity FUCK

Maxwell escaped. Took the fucking pocketwatch and ran like hell.

We're giving chase, obviously. The birth has to happen. There's only a narrow window of opportunity, or else we'll have for wait for the next cycle 100 years from now. (and no there are no eclipses or comets or solstices or whatever involved. That would be silly)

-STEWARD

Timberwolves

Glorius and Acedia are still recovering, and Master has sent forth a command to aid Charlotte for the time being. Seems reasonable. Having a lot of humans trying to defy you is a big embarrassment, and Wooden Girl and Archangel are the only two allies Master currently has in the Game. Plus Sleight's trail has gone cold anyway.

So I've spent some time among a group of Archangel cultists cum drug dealers calling themselves the "Timberwolves" and any of you who've managed to pick up my general personality and outlook don't need me to tell you that relations between me and them are strained at best.

So basically, here's what's going on: Some guy with an asshole family named Peter has teamed up with some dickface with a dead family named Hunter and now they're after some dumbass named Maxwell (who is also the former leader of the Timberwolves) stole Peter's watch. Said watch has many strange and supernatural properties because, as Charlotte has informed me, it is not a watch at all but rather the larval form of a new Entity. Charlotte is here because the Wooden Girl wants the new Entity to be born. The Timberwolves are here because the Archangel wants the new Entity. I'm here because Master wants the new Entity and I've got nothing better to do anyway. Also, we apparently have a pair of very inept investigators following us.

Oh yeah, and the Timberwolves have captured Maxwell. He's in solitary confinement at the moment. When the time comes, we'll use him to birth the new Entity.

I have to say, the Timberwolves are fucking psychos. There was this one guy, Bill Something, who would not shut up about the Archangel. Kept talking about how I'd avoided my fate but the Archangel was gonna come get me and I should embrace it and blah blah blah.

And then, while I standing on the roof of the office of the cemetery where the crazie had set up camp, Bill comes over to me and says this: "She was a hot one. That Crystal chick. The great Archangel took her form and let me fuck her. Fucked her good. You know she had a really loose cu--AAAAAAH!"

I pushed him off the building.

His neck made a very satisfying sound when his head hit the sidewalk.

-STEWARD

An Eventful Morning

It was a diner, and I arrived as soon as I was able. It was fairly early, and I walked in with Glorius and Acedia right behind me, scanned the area, and immediately recognized three figures. Well, OK, one figure, but it was easy to deduce the identities of her two companions because I actually read information that's made public to me (seriously, Peter, aren't you some sort of secret agent or whatever? How did you NOT figure out who she is?).

Anyway, I walked over to Charlotte, Hunter, and Peter, and promptly introduced myself. I don't think it was a rude introduction, I just said "Hello, my name is Steward. I don't believe we've met." That's not rude or offensive is it? You'd think it was from the way they reacted. Really, they all went stiff (except for Charlotte, obviously, remember her? The Wooden Girl's little puppet with a smile that is WAY too old for her?)

Then Peter and Hunter pulled guns on me.

Admittedly, there weren't many people in the diner, but the few who were there got real quiet. I gestured to those people. "Really?" I asked. "That's how you say 'hello'? You shoot me? In front of all these people? I think that kid over is like five. You'll scar him for life. Do you really want that your shoulders."

"Get out," Peter told me. "Now. Take your little freaks and leave."

I turned to Glorius and Acedia. "Did you hear that?" I asked. "He called you circusfolk."

That's when Charlotte lunged.

She had a knife in her hand, and went straight for Peter's throat with it. Unfortunately, the bastard was fast (almost disturbingly so) and managed to not only dodge her but also grab her and push her away. And it looked like the end had come for dear Charlotte, when Hunter, bless his little confused brain, tried to protect her from his ally. His only ally.

You see? This is what happens when you don't communicate.

Charlotte slipped away and gave me that too old smile. "Hi, Stewie," she said. "Remember me?"

"Of course," I told her. "How could I forget? You're creepy as fuck."

She giggled. "There's a lot we need to discuss. Shall we?"

I nodded, and opened up a gate to the Path of Black Leaves. "Take care of the two morons," I told my two associates, and stepped onto the Path, Charlotte behind me.

She told me a lot of strange things. Peter, did you know that your pocketwatch is, in fact, the larval form of a god? Funny how that works isn't it? Shame you lost it to this Hunter guy. And Hunter, shame you lost it to this Maxwell character.

My readers may be wondering why I'm addressing dead people, so I might as well tell you: Glorius came back with a hole in his shoulder and promptly collapsed. Acedia was shot in her thigh and is too hysterical to tell us whatever the hell happened. Guess I'll have to wait for one of the morons to blog about it.

Anyway, tonight we're heading to some graveyard. Apparently some cultists meet there or something.

Cultists. Graveyard. Dead....

Fuck.

-STEWARD

An Invitation

I met a strange man in the woods today. He wore a really odd looking clown mask and didn't utter a word, just gave me a piece of paper and walked away. Ordinarily, I'd question such things, but given that he walked with an odd looseness, as if some external force was controlling his limbs, I think I can hazard a pretty good guess as to who he's working for.

On the paper were written three things:

A time

A location

The words "meet the doll"

Well, this ought to prove interesting.

-STEWARD

A Philosophical Discussion

New Jersey sucks. I was hoping that we'd at least end up having to question some MTV wannabe douches but most of our search thus far has been in the rural areas of the state, and people in rural areas are just too damn nice to get any enjoyment out of hurting.

Anyway, here's something interesting that happened today:

I was standing out on the porch of an old abandoned house out in the middle of nowhere, which we had claimed as a temporary base of operations. I was lost in thought-- what I was thinking about wasn't important-- when I suddenly became aware that Acedia was standing right behind me.

"Anything interesting happen?" I asked her.

"Not really," she said. "I was just wondering about something."

"Good for you."

"Did it hurt?"

"What?" I turned around to face her. She's a pale, skinny little thing, but not without her charms. I can almost see why Glorius is so enthralled by her. Almost.

"When you were... made into what you are. Did that hurt?" When I didn't answer, she continued: "For us it hurt. By the time it was over, we almost begging for death. Then we just heard these words in our head. 'Soon enough.' That was it. W-- I was so terrified of what would happen next, and yet some part of me-- some new, horrifying part of me-- was thrilled." She leaned against the wall of the house and looked me right in the eyes. "You're not like us, though. What was it like for you?"

"Relatively painless," I told her. "You're right. I'm not like you. Master didn't need to make any major alterations with me. I have just enough of His essence to hear His voice and feel His presence. I have His Mark on me, so I can walk the Path and enter the City, but otherwise I'm just a normal human."

"Why?"

"I guess it's because my purpose wasn't to be an exterminator, unlike you."

She was quiet for a moment. "So it doesn't bother you?" she finally asked. "That we're monsters?"

"A monster is an abnormality," I told her, turning my back to her. "It is unnatural. Do you know what is natural? The Grand Game. They play with human lives, and that is way it should be. Those humans who rebel against Them are the unnatural ones. And they go so far as to declare their own moral superiority for fighting against some perceived evil, even as they thoughtlessly kill people just like them, whose only 'crime' was to fall under Their sway. Even without Them, humans would still wage war and destroy everything in their path. The Game, in fact, limits human destruction. So in truth," I turned back around, and this time it was my turn to look her in the eyes, "we are not the monsters. The Runners, though? Abominations."

She smirked. She almost seemed amused. "That's a twisted way of looking at it."

I shrugged. "Everything is twisted. The world is a being of chaos operating under the pretense of order. The only constant is the Grand Game, and even that is constantly shifting. The Game is the only thing you can trust." I smiled. "And considering how you and your boytoy get off on killing, you really aren't in a position to lecture me on morality."

"Unlike some people I could name, we didn't choose this path."

I left there and went for a walk. I don't know why I even bother. Simpletons like her will never understand.

-STEWARD

Joisey

"Sleight" decided to ditch the rest of the magic act when they hopped on a plane. It wasn't until after I had already trailed the rest of the group to Tennessee that I discovered that my target had caught a flight to New Jersey.

So I've spent most of the day searching for him. It's actually pretty difficult, seeing as I don't have anything more specific than "New Jersey" to go on concerning his location. That's a lot of ground to cover, and I doubt he's staying still.

Anyway, if anyone happens to be in America's least favorite state and has noticed any serial killers with magic on the brain running around, feel free to tell me.

The Killer

Last night was certainly eventful.

We went to a magic show performed by a rather corny and over-dramatic illusionist calling himself the Magnificent Doctor Grant. What a stupid name. His tricks were all fairly basic and transparent illusions, though there was one interesting one where he walked through a wall.

But none of that is important.

I noticed that there was a man a few seats in front of us who kept glancing behind him and looking straight at me. Sure enough, he turned out to be a plant that the Magnificent Doctor Grant had in the audience. He got called up to do some ridiculous trick. I can't remember which. But I suspected that I had found my killer.

After the show, we kept a close eye on the theater, and saw the plant among the people who moved out and headed for a nearby hotel. At around one in the morning, we saw him sneak out of the hotel and head through the city. Naturally, we followed him.

It wasn't long before he saw us. Instead of running, he actually stopped and waited.

"You're him, aren't you?" He called out to me as I approached. "The one who calls himself Steward. I was told that you'd come for me."

"Told?" I asked. "Told by who?"

"I..." He seemed confused. "I don't know. Just... I don't know. Go away. I can't stop myself. JUST GO AWAY!"

"Can't stop yourself?" I asked. "Now what could you mean by that?"

"I feel... a need... I don't know! Go away!"

Sounded like the Compulsion in action. Interesting. It was directing him to kill. "It's alright," I called out, "I'm here to help free you. What's your name?"

"It's Jo-- Call me Sleight."

"Alright then, 'Sleight'. It's OK. I can help."

"NO! No, just go away! Please!" He spun around and ran. I cursed and ran after him, Glorius and Acedia right behind me.

A Door appeared, and Sleight ran through it. It vanished as it closed.

So he is welcomed within the City. That means that an Entity has put its Mark on him.

And if that truly was the Compulsion that led him to do those things... It seems that somebody has been playing a very careful game.

-STEWARD

Atlanta

Currently in Atlanta. It appears that Glorius decided to use my computer while I was out and about. He has been reprimanded. Severely.

It's quite a shame that he'd be so insubordinate. After I went through the trouble of buying us all tickets to a magic show too... Not that it matters, really. Most of what he told you about himself is a lie anyway.

So, Atlanta is a city and what the hell else do you expect me to tell you? City. Loud and full of concrete. Not much else. Even Southern drawls aren't that common here. Fucking cityfolk dumping a perfectly good accent...

-STEWARD

Hello

Hey everyone. Glorius here. You know, that Revenant that Steward likes to badmouth?

I'm here to set the record straight. We are not idiots and we are not "lovesick puppies". Ace, she's special to me. I've never known anyone quite like her. When I'm with her I can forget about everything that's wrong with the world and just be at peace. I can't explain. I'm not good with words. She just makes me forget all the bad things, you know?

And there are a lot of bad things in the world. Hell, I'm proof of that.

Me and Ace both lost our families in the WTC attack. That's when the Tall One took us and made us what we are. Unageing-- Unaging? I don't know. Un-Aging abominations. But that's how we met each other.

I like this life. I love this life. As long as I have Ace.

Don't worry about Steward. He's got a stick up his ass, yeah, but he's only human. Even if he wants to pretend otherwise. I've heard you sobbing to yourself in your sleep, Stew. Take my advice: You need to get laid.

To all you Runners: I'm sorry it had to be this way. You don't deserve what you've been through.

Anyway that's all I'm going to say. Steward will probably be pissed when he sees I made a post here. He'll probably do some extreme things. But as long as Ace is with me, I'm fine.

The Grand Game

It appears that some of you are having difficulty understanding how the Game works. Not that I blame you. Humans are arrogant creatures. As a species, we have difficulty accepting the idea that we are not the most important things in the world.

Many of you seem to believe that humanity can somehow win or lose the Grand Game. This is false. I have said it before and I shall say it again: victory and defeat are statuses that can only be awarded to the players. The pieces do not win. The pieces do not lose.

I was in error to use chess terminology before. Humans are more like the pieces of a checkers board. Not special or significant, merely tools, but a select few may prove more important to others, but in the end even they must be cast aside.

There are over six billion people alive in the world today. I doubt many of you can even comprehend such a huge number. How many do you suppose will be remembered five hundred years from now? Most likely you can count that number on your fingers.

The Entities play the Grand Game against one another, and we humans are merely the tools for that game. Zero, Zeke, Peter Rivers, even the self-styled sage Sweetrobin... none of you really matter in the end. You are just the pieces being moved by something far greater.

I have accepted this. Why can none of you?

Anyway, I'm going to Atlanta tomorrow and will be there for a few days, so toodles.

-STEWARD

Lead

Last night, I received a note, asking me to please come to some restaurant called "Steak n' Shake" this morning. The author claimed to have information relevant to me.

Needless to say, I went to the restaurant with a gun in my jacket (which was freakin' hell given how hot it is here) and a knife hidden in my person.

It wasn't hard to pick out who had contacted me. Weird guy with really wet black hair and vaguely blank expression who was staring right at me? Oh joy.

A Camper.

I seated myself across the booth from my friend. It was a corner booth, away from everyone else.

"This body," the Camper said, "its former owner liked this place very much. Even now this tongue finds the taste here quite pleasurable."

"Good for your tongue," I said. "What does the Ichor want from me?"

He smiled. It wasn't genuine. There was no warmth. No mirth. It was like someone had drawn a smile on his face. It existed without any real meaning. "Nowadays people are calling us the Epping AquaTarkus."

"That's nice. I think I'll stick with 'Ichor'. It's what Master calls you. It. All you hive mind tentacle thingies."

"We are quite partial to it. It forms a lovely acronym. 'EAT'. We were given the name by--"

"I'm well aware of the Adventures of Jordan Dooling." I waved my hand around. "You tend to stay out of the Game. Why the sudden interest in my investigation?"

"We have information. As the humans say: 'Quid Pro Quo', 'Tit for Tat', 'I scratch your back, you scratch mine.' We give you this, and then you owe us a favor."

"Would this favor involve consuming water, by any chance?"

"Water? No, of course not."

"Ink?"

The fake smile again. The Camper reached into his pocket and drew out a slip of paper. "Hello, Joseph Steward," he said. "This is a nice conversation. Your words--"

"Don't do that. Please."

He shrugged. It was a calculated gesture. The shrug of a bored actor half-assing his performance. "We were simply lightening the mood. Humor. Dark Humor. Making light of that which is serious." He put the paper on the table, along with three twenties. "Enjoy your food," he said. "Your meal is on me." With that, the Camper stood and left the restaurant.

I checked the paper. It was a flyer for a magic act. Something else had been written on it.

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me," I muttered.

A traveling magic act. No wonder the killings are all over the place.

-STEWARD

Sweet Home Alabama

Mobile is fucking hot.

We've been investigating the deaths. One servant was murdered in a hotel room. No evidence of who did it.

Another one was found in the middle of a backwoods road. No evidence of who did it.

So that's two dead people and no leads for either. Also I think I may have insulted Glorius. He keeps giving me these looks. And at one point he told me, right out of the blue, "I'm not an idiot."

Think he's reading this blog?

Anyway, I've got an investigation to run. But before I go, I would like to apologize for my rude and unprofessional behavior in the comments section the other day. I should not have written those horrible things. If Master wishes to ally Himself with the Archangel, then who am I to object? No one. That's who.

Humans don't matter in the end. We are all no one.

-STEWARD

Time's Up

I must say, after I forced some pills down her throat, Emily was much more pleasant to chat with. She smiled and she didn't whimper or curse and she answered all my questions politely and clearly. Granted, the pills also made her a bit ditzy-- a most unattractive quality, I must say-- but I suppose that couldn't be helped.

It's such a shame that no new information could be gleaned. She encountered Master, but she never felt the Compulsion. End of story.

Now, I do have a notebook full of my observations of her, and if I ever get the chance to keep watch over someone who does suffer from the Compulsion, I'm certain I could compare notes and puzzle something out, but unfortunately I have a serial killer to track.

My time with Miss Rivera has come to an end. Master showed up this morning and I felt a very firm command in my mind to leave this research for now and go find out who's been killing Servants. And Master turned His attention to my guest.

His suit became... I guess "blacker" would be the best way to describe it. It usually seems at least superficially like fabric, but when He looked at Emily it became a void. A vast expanse of pure blackness that began to seep out, away from His form and into the world around Him.

Have you ever dropped a bit of black dye into a glass water and watched it spread out with swirling tendrils? That's basically what happened.

That blackness traveled across the air and wrapped around Emily's head. I heard her scream, but the sound was soon cut off as His tendrils poured into her mouth. Her nostrils. Her ears. Her tear ducts.

The blackness entered into her and demolished what was there. What could not be destroyed was removed, and Emily is hallowed out so that nothing but a shell remained.

The blackness retreated, and the creature that was once Emily Rivera stood, its expression completely blank. Master held a pale hand out to her, His suit returning to normal, and she took it. Together, they vanished, leaving nothing behind but the command in my mind to head south, to Mobile, where the most recent attacks had occurred.

Well then. I guess it's time to get to work.

-STEWARD

Interrogation

Well, this has been fairly pointless.

I had Glorius and Acedia perform the operation I described in my previous post. And of course I had to supervise to make sure they got everything right. Let me tell you, watching them work was absolutely disgusting. I nearly threw up when the stomachs came out, but thankfully I managed to hold it in. I wanted to decorate the dining room with blood, not vomit, after all.

As for those two idiots, I think they quite enjoyed themselves. Really enjoyed themselves. As in they looked like they were about to tear each other's clothes off right then and there when they were finished. I had to put a stop to that nonsense quickly. As I have just stated, blood is the only bodily fluid I intended to have splattered about.

Well, blood and bile, I suppose. I did have them rip the parents' stomachs out. But I digress.

Anyway, Emily didn't take her parents' death well. Poor thing. When she saw the dining room, she just froze. Did nothing but stand there for nearly half an hour, whimpering. Then, without a word, she turned and headed into the kitchen. I was hidden in the shadows, concealed by a slightly opened portal to Master's Path. I followed her into the kitchen, where she picked up a steak knife and held it to her throat.

And then my hand was upon hers, gently but firmly pushing the blade away from her, and I pulled her toward me (I was standing behind her), and leaned down and whispered in her ear: "Hello, Emily. My name is Steward."

She screamed. She struggled. She cried. She tried so hard to break free. I called in Glorius and Acedia to restrain her, and we traveled through the Path to an abandoned building somewhere in Appalachia. Not sure where. It's an old cabin in the woods. Master told me of its location.

Anyway, we tied her up, and once her voice was hoarse enough that she couldn't scream anymore, I started asking her questions.

"Do you know who I work for?"

She nodded.

"Who?"

"The..." she closed her eyes, and her voice was scratchy and barely a whisper. "The Slender Man."

"So you are familiar with that term. Where did you hear it?"

"The internet."

"The blogosphere?"

She nodded.

I smiled at her. "I do apologize, Ms. Rivera, but this is extremely important. I do regret what had to be done to your family, but, and trust me when I say this, we have actually spared them from a much worse fate." Truth, all of it, but I don't think she believed me.

She just looked at me. I don't think even she knew whether or not she felt empty or furious.

"Why did you never make a blog, Emily?"

"I... what?"

"You saw all those other blogs, did you not? People whom my Master has marked. Why did you never make one of your own?"

"I... I don't..."

As you can imagine, I never got a satisfactory answer. Poor Emily is just too confused and scared and exhausted. I've tried everything from hospitality to, aha, "enhanced interrogation", and I still do not know why she never felt the Compulsion. Did whatever causes it simply pass her by? I'm thinking that might be it.

But before I simply right this off, I still have one little trick up my sleeve.

I have with me a bottle of Master's Very Special Pills, and I'm sure that after taking them, Emily will be in a much more pleasant mood and be much more willing to talk.

Yeah.

Those of you who have been following my story since Eccentrically Bored know what I'm talking about.

-STEWARD

Necessary Evil

Contrary to popular belief, you don't have to enjoy killing in order to serve Master. I dislike killing. Even my family, which was an act of mercy, really, still haunts my dreams. When I find myself in a position where killing is necessary, I do it quickly, with little fanfare. Best to get it over with. I don't stand around and gloat about it and revel in it-- that would be most inefficient.

Unfortunately, sometimes even the option of a quick kill is, for one reason or another, undesirable. This is why, for the first time, I actually find myself grateful that I've got those two morons with me. Yes, Revenants are delusional imbeciles, but at least they enjoy their work. And have I got a job for them.

Emily's parents will die.

She will come home, and she will find their corpses propped up in the dining room. She will find their stomachs cut out and placed on the plates. She will find their own ribs in their hands in a macabre imitation of dining utensils. She will find their blood used as paint to leave Master's mark upon the walls, so that there can be no doubt in her mind about who did this.

I want her shaking uncontrollably. I want her in the depths of despair, dancing on the brink of madness. My deadline for information about the Compulsion is fast approaching, and if this doesn't get her to reveal any information, then I don't know what will.

-STEWARD

Fruitless

I had Glorius and Acedia watch her. Conspicuously. She's seen them. She knows that she's being watched. It's starting to get to her.

I had them break her window in the middle of the night, pulling her from her sleep.

I had them hunt down animals and leave the corpses on her pillow.

I've written notes to her, full of threats and taunts.

She's terrified. She believes she will die soon. She's afraid that no one will believe her. But still she soldiers on. And still I have found no evidence of why the Compulsion does not affect her.

I only have a few more days to work with her. It's time to turn things up a notch.

-STEWARD

Memory: Jogged

Emily went out to dinner with her family last night. Isn't that sweet? So while she was out, I crept into her room, all those papers in hand, and taped them all over her walls. Gave her quite a fright when she got home.

And now she knows: she won't ever be free.

When I got back to the hotel we're staying in, I found Glorius and Acedia... well, suffice to say it was extremely embarrassing all around.

Honestly, are so stupid that they can't figure out that, if they really did have advanced senses, then what they were doing would really fucking hurt?

-STEWARD

She Shows Me NOTHING

I have watched her, and watched her, and watched her, and still I have not seen anything out of the ordinary. Why doesn't she show me? WHY DOESN'T SHE SHOW ME WHY!?

And those two idiots. Glorius and Acedia-- yeah, they're back. The Ghost Wannabes. All they do is yap, and yap, and talk and kiss and yap. I had to spend a plane trip sitting next to them just so I could keep an eye on Emily, and I was almost ready to throw myself into the sky by the time we got to North Carolina.

They kiss and they hold hands and make googly eyes at each other. These are the ultimate killing machines Master created? These two fucking love-sick puppies!? Oh God, they hold each other's hands all the time. WHO THE FUCK DO THEY THINK THEY ARE!?

Stupid fucking Emily shows nothing. I've still got those drawings of hers. It's time to make her remember what, exactly, is at stake...

-STEWARD

Someone is Killing Servants

Three dead in the past week. Each one a servant of Master. Each one killed by a single clean cut across the throat. At least one was a Sleeper-- one who hadn't even been activated yet. He was just leading a normal life. He hadn't even met any Runners yet.

This information disturbs Master. Oh, He has lost servants before. Many servants. But this doesn't smell like Runner shenanigans. Master thinks that one of the Others has begun to move against Him.

So far, the Runners have been little more than an annoyance. Like a fly buzzing around Master's head and landing on His food. But if one of the Others is manipulating them, calling the shots from behind the scenes, they could become locusts, devouring Master's food.

The Wooden Girl is an ally. The killings don't fit the Cold Boy's MO. The Archangel is a likely suspect. The Plague Doctor is smart enough to pull a scheme like this, and wouldn't be stupid enough to use his disease to kill Master's servants, so he is a possibility as well.

If observing Emily yields no results by Saturday, I am instructed to begin making direct moves against her, to goad a reaction. If this too proves fruitless, I am instructed to bring her before Master. Once business with Emily is concluded, I shall begin investigating these deaths.

Oh, and Master is sending those two geniuses back to assist me. How... nice....

...Fuck.

-STEWARD

Why

Unless something interesting actually happens, don't any new posts for the next week or too. I'd love to fill this blog with unless logs about Miss Rivera's daily routine, really, but I doubt I'd be able to keep my sanity.

...Don't even think about responding to that.

Anyway, I decided to reveal to all you delusional lackwits who think you actually have a chance the true purpose of this blog. Master wishes for the secrets of His fellows to be spilled out for all to see. He wishes for tales of the Archangel, the Cold Boy, the Wooden Girl, the Plague Doctor, the Convocation, the Empty City, the Rake, the Choir-- all of them-- to spread out and propagate, in much the same way that his tales have.

You see, the true purpose of this blog is to let you all know that, even if you manage to break the laws of reality and actually harm Him, you will not be free. The purpose of this blog is to let you know just how well and truly fucked you all are.

Which brings me to Emily Rivera: she doesn't blog.

That, in a nut shell, is what makes her so interesting. Many of you have felt it-- the compulsion to tell your stories in a public forum. The need to share your tales of Master with all you can. Even those of you who believe that He becomes stronger as you do continue to blog, continue to succumb to that compulsion. Even I felt it, before I realized the inevitable and was accepted into Master's service.

Emily does not blog. She remains, for the most part, unaware of these blogs. Which means that either she's immune to the Compulsion, or it has never been projected onto her.

Oh yes, I forgot to mention: the Compulsion? Master's not the one who sends it out.

-STEWARD

Found It

Had to call in the help of two imbeciles in order to get it, but I got the thing she threw in the lake. And when I say two imbeciles, I mean that Master sent two of those delusional thugs who think they're ghosts or somesuch nonsense. Called themselves Acedia and Glorius, which is terrifying because it implies that there are at least five more just as stupid as they are.

Anyway, they spent an hour swimming and wondering why they kept needing to come for air if they were Phantoms or whatever, and they found it. A plastic tube with a bunch of papers in it. Drawings of the Master to be precise. It appears that she's trying to forget about Him.

How foolish.

Anyway, I sent the two idiots on their merry way, sincerely hoping that I would never meet them again, and now I continue to keep watch on Emily. She's taking her exams this week, and then she'll be leaving for her home in North Carolina. My orders remain the same: Observe.

I think I'll keep her sketches though. They might come in handy later.

-STEWARD

Hiding Something?

Before dawn, I saw Emily leave her dorm. She hasn't gotten up that early so far in my vigil, so alarm bells immediately went off. I followed her to the edge of a pond, where she removed something from her pocket and threw it out into the water.

She went straight back to her dorm without any detours. Didn't even see me standing just a few feet away from her.

I wonder what it was she wanted to dispose of? I'll have to check tonight when she's sound asleep. Can't risk leaving my post when she's awake.

-STEWARD

Boring

She left her dorm. She went to class. She ate lunch. She went to class. She met with friends. She's back in her dorm.

Nothing interesting about this woman whatsoever. Occasionally, she'll look over her shoulder, or cringe when she hears a noise, but otherwise she's a perfectly normal, boring, girl. Boring boring boring.

Maybe she'll do something interesting tonight. Like get drunk and run out in front of speeding bus. That would be hilarious.

-STEWARD

The Mark

NAME: Emily Rivera

AGE: 18

SEX: Female

RACE: Filipino

NOTES: Currently living in California. Attending college and working at a day care. First encountered Master at work. Has sighted Him numerous times over the past month. Has never blogged or otherwise kept a public record about Him. Currently suffering from minor paranoia.

MISSION: Observation. Nothing more.

-STEWARD

Inside the Empy City

This morning Master took me to a grand city, constantly reforming itself and devoid of life. He warned me that should I see any humans wandering its streets, I should not interfere. We are the City's guests, and it would not take kindly to us messing with its food.

Master took me to the top of a sky-scraper, where no wind blew. Five figures awaited us there. A child with skin of cold diamond stood on the edge of the building, watching the City rearrange its streets and humming to himself. A woman carved from wood with a painted on face and clothes and strings wrapped around her body and limbs regarded us with blank unmoving eyes. Two young girls stood on either side of her. One smiled. The other shook.

And the fifth figure crouched behind me, and crawled on all fours into my view. He wore nothing, but he had no genitalia. No hair grew on his pale flesh, and knife-like claws jutted from his fingers. But it was his eyes that I was drawn to. Black and empty, like staring into a void, and yet somewhere deep within them I could see something uncomfortably close to humanity.

The Cold Boy. The Wooden Girl. The Rake.

The Rake seemed almost to nod to Master, though its movements may simply have been the mad twitching of a beast, and then it turned its attention to the Wooden Girl, a low growl escaping from its throat. The Cold Boy turned around to watch, wearing the smile of a child who had just been presented with a new toy.

I felt information pour into my mind as Master explained the situation to me. The Rake is a very territorial creature, and the Wooden Girl had been hunting victims in lands that the Rake had claimed. And so the Rake demanded compensation. Master and the Cold Boy had been called to bear witness.

The Wooden Girl nodded, and one of the girls with her-- the trembling one-- walked toward the Rake. All the while, her body shook and contorted, and her eyes were wide with fear as she struggled against the Wooden Girl's power. She could not have been older than 12. It reminded me of Crystal, and what the Archangel had done to her, and I was seized by the impulse to look away. But I forced myself to watch. That was my old life. Joey's life. I am Steward.

The Rake examined the girl, and sniffed every inch of her. Satisfied, he brought his claws to her stomach and tore her intestines out.

The girl opened her mouth, as if to scream, but no sound came out. I could see strings bundled up in there, running deep into her throat, cutting off her cries as the Rake brought his claws across her again and again, before finally he opened his mouth to reveal a row of fangs, which he sank into her neck, and then he pulled his head away, dragging her throat out with his mouth. Blood ran from the girl, and she no longer moved. The Rake let her collapse to the ground, and then he pulled her heart out and ate it.

We all just stood and watched.

Master nodded to the Cold Boy, and he clapped his hands. The four entities left, leaving me with other of the Wooden Girl's toys. This girl smiled at me. She seemed older than the remains that now lay strewn about the ground, though not by much. Fourteen or fifteen most like.

"So you are the Tall One's new pet?" the girl asked me. "What do you call yourself?"

"Steward."

The girl walked toward me. "I'm Charlotte," she said. "I have been serving my mistress for as long as I can remember. It's wonderful, isn't it? Being a servant. You don't have to think or anything. You just do what is desired of you. I do so love it when mistress controls me."

I kept silent. Charlotte stood on her tip toes and whispered in my ear: "I live to serve."

I ignored her breath against my neck and very pointedly refrained from looking at her. Master needed me alert at all times. He'd told me.

Charlotte shrugged and walked away. We waited in silence for an hour longer, and then Master and the Wooden Girl returned. As I left with Master, I saw Charlotte wave at me.

Tomorrow I will be starting on my first true assignment for Master. I must prepare.

-STEWARD

Farewell, My Past

I have met the Blind Man. I found him in a library in some city in France. He looked straight at me, and kept looking even as he opened his book and wrote my name in it. When he turned, I caught a quick glimpse of the blank skin where his eyes should be.

I can't remember anything before my twelfth birthday.

My past is shed, and I am as far away from my own humanity as I am likely to be. I am now worthy to serve.

Tomorrow, Master is taking me to the City. I can hardly wait.

-STEWARD

The Blind Man

There is a man who wanders through the libraries of the world. He wears a long black coat and dark sunglasses over his eyes... or rather, over where his eyes would be. His face is that of an old man, if not for that one missing feature.

In his hand, he carries a dusty old tome, and though he cannot see, he often stops to write in it with an old quill pin.

He is the Blind Man, and within that book he keeps his collection.

What does he collect, you ask?

Childhoods.

-STEWARD