Monday, May 27, 2013

Raising Against the Willow Rocks

Rocks are the opposite of trees, yeah? I mean, I've NEVER seen a rock and a tree hang out... so that makes it like water and fire.

You won't ever see fire in water. Likewise, you won't ever see a rock IN a tree, TOTAL OPPOSITES.


So, quick clarification since that ASSHOLE mute can't explain things for shit. Moth heard some cops talking about some coordinated hunt for a 'WOLF' in the woods. He came home, FINALLY FUCKING UNTIED ME, and we followed the the cop people and their pet proxies into the woods... because that wasn't a SHIT idea or anything.

BAM! We find out that the cops are hunting a Feralling. BAM! We find out they are using a less feral feralling to hunt it. BAM! We find out they are going to kill the less feral feralling in fear that it will live up to its name sake and, you know, GO FERAL.

BBBBAAAAAMMMM. We let them kill the feral feralling and steal the unferal feralling before they can kill him! WE'RE FUCKING HEROES AND SHIT.

That said... I don't think I trust this thing. I mean I know I was the one who invited it to follow us and it would make a great ally and stuff being fast and strong and shit, but hes twitchy as fuck and the way he glares at and eyes me... the last person who looked at me like that tried to kill me.

I should just kill him NOW and save myself the trouble.


"Okay, what the FUCK is your problem?!"

"Can you... please stop moving around so much. The constant movement and your bright red hair is fucking with me."


"No but your constant darting around is fucking with my prey drive and the eye catching color of your hair..." said the Feralling reaching out his clawed hand toward me before clenching it into a misshaped fist,  "...makes me want to pounce. So please... sit still."


And so we've taken to tying his hands behind his back and BLINDFOLDING him so he won't ATTACK me.

He seemed a little upset about it but didn't fight us when we did it.


... Hehehe. He said he LIKES my hair~!

Picasso Entry End.

Thursday, May 23, 2013

Falling Through the Willow Trees

"...Whispering, whispering, whispering, whispering..."

"This guys amazing! I mean... hard to look at but god is he fast. And that claw is cool shit!"

"Yeah... hes something."

"Whats this for? This guns kind of crap for this sort of hunt isn't it?"

"Yeah. I guess it is. Hank... when this is over I need you to put the mutt down."

"Wh-What?! No! Hes helping us."

"Hes one of them. A freak. Another monster whose existence threatens to safety of our loved ones!"

"H-Hes different."

"Is he? You know how things like this beast we're hunting in come about? Because they get clawed and they change like he is. Sure hes our friend now, but its taking over. Do you really want him around when he finally loses it and goes Feral?"

"He isn't gonna go Fe-"

"Oh yes he is. Hes strong. I'll give him that. And he may fight it for a long time, but hes gonna lose it and start killing people. Then that blood will be on your hands! TAKE the god damn gun and DO what needs to be done."


"Be a fucking man."


"...Suddenly hearing, when I want to scream..."

Bullets rip through the sky... the hunters have lit flares... travel in wide facings to make their numbers look big...

Mice standing standing tall to be scary...

Even mice can kill... in numbers...


It cuts through the branches in leaps and bounds... its scared... too many... needs to pick them off... find the smaller groups...

stragglers... pick them off... piece by piece....

Raining leaves... everywhere it goes.

"...Who will care for the falling leaves?"

Small group... a straggler... a loner cut way from the numbers... a single flare held high above traitors head...

Pick it off... one less rat in the bunch...

"Come get me you son of a bitch!"

...It's so fast.

Traitor tries puts out a hand to protect himself... the beast puts out a claw... scissors will beat paper...

"...Keep on falling down, keep on falling down..."

Falling freak beats scissors... apparently.


The true hunter, the freak, drops down hard on it. Rends it

His hand...  he has one nasty claw hand...
A hollowed eye and a sharp protruding fang.
Nasty claw marks on his scalp where hair don't grow.

Resembles a man...
looks and fights like a Feral-ling...

Rending it over and over...

SQUAAAAAAUUUURRRRRRRRRR... cuuf.... cuuf cufff

Death cry... it wheezes for air...

            He watches it... as it slowly... desperately... tries to crawl away.

     It has to run... it'll die if it doesn't get away.

But its lost so much blood.

The traitor raises his gun... points it at the back of the beats skull.

                                                                                  The freak steps in the way...    
 goes back to watching the beast die.

"...Tender, cool breeze, keeps me where I am..."

"Leave it to suffer."
So very... Mad.  

The butt of the gun comes down hard on his shoulder.
Heavy kick on the back of the shin.            
The freak is forced to fall to a knee.

"What the hell are you doing..."

"You're dangerous. You're one of them... 
...I have to do this... its for the best."



"What the fuck are you waiting for you fucking coward?!"

"...Autumn shades, calm my shaking hands..."

Deep breath... a moment of focus. Fret over future regrets...
Steels his nerves.

"Good bye buddy..."

"...Oh, please just cut me down, leave me in my dreams..."


"...Who would care for the fallen?..."

Sudden thud from a rock as it bounces off a tree...

Turned heads. 

She giggles.
A sudden drop kick.
Plants square into his hip.

He winces... grabs his side.
Desperately grabs for a radio.
"Wh-What the fuck..."

I step out from my hiding spot as he grabs his radio. 
Smash it with the butt of my spear.


Bring the spear's butt hard on his forehead.

"... And just who the fuck are you two."

"...Who will care for the fallen?..."

"Who? US?! Based on that asshole, WE'RE  YOUR NEW BEST FRIENDS!"

"Hank, what the fuck is taking so long over there. Finish it and lets go!"

"FUCK... hey fugly face, you coming with us OR NOT?!"

"...Whispering, whispering, whispering, whispering, as I fall through the willow trees..."


"Oooohhh... my head..."

"Y-Yeah... Wait up!"


What the fuck is THIS SHIT?! This is like the... WORST, explanation for anything EVER.


And what is THIS SHIT.

What kind of PORTENTOUS asshole does...


Did you take a lesson from Sloth on how to be CRYPTIC AS FUCK before we left?

Unfucking believable.



She goes on like that for a while... so I deleted most of it.

We stole their mutated feral-ling because they were going to kill it. 


Moth out.

Monday, May 20, 2013

Atypical Response

My mask... is everything to me...

It's my oldest possession. A treasure passed down to me by a man I both respected and despised. Everything from its plain white color, to how it fits my face, to the crack that runs from the corner of the mask to it's eye is a mark of who I was, of who I am, and who I am becoming. The day I shed this mask will be the day I die.

That said, it's been the source of quite a few... issues on our journey. 

In a big enough city, people don't tend to regard the mask with to much concern. People are weird after all and they've usually seen weirder. Sure they tend to keep a closer eye on me and look at me funny as I seem somewhat more likely to rob or mug them or something, but in a big town it kind of feels like everyone is about to rob you. You kind of watch everyone with a suspicious regard. In a weird sense, it makes me blend in as just another oddball. Although my refusal to talk at all seems to really freak people out. I blame horror movies.

There's a constant risk when we travel on the road, since I usually drive, that someone will pull us over. I've actually had a few nightmares to that effect. I think the mask thing would put any cop unlucky enough to pull us over on high alert and one of us screaming at them while the driver stares at them quietly would probably cause the poor cop to get uppity... and then we'd have an incident on our hands. As much as I do not trust LeCroix, it was nice to have someone 'normal' with us to act as our face. I don't know that I'd feel comfortable leaving without her, if only to prevent such a incident.

And then there is everywhere else. Outside the the larger towns or cities, the mask seems to be a serious cause for alarm. Whenever I stop in at a gas station or a motel or something remote and in between proper towns, I can see the shop keeper eyeing me and nursing a hidden firearm with a nervous unconvincing grin. 

Worse, if they seem actually aware of what a proxy is, they'll just pull the gun on me and demand I leave claiming things along the lines as 'I already payed up' or 'your kind knows where to put the bodies around the back, now stay the fuck out of my store.'

Small towns are the worst of all. The mask draws the attention of pitiful little neighborhood watches. Old folks following me around all day because I look suspicious. Hell, cops will do that too. Small enough town, they got nothing better to do. God forbid the police force be aware of what a proxy is. We've been walked out of town at gun point before. I suppose we're lucky they didn't just shoot us. Honestly our best bet is if the town is owned by proxies. Even then that tends to earn a 'And just when will you be leaving?'. Unless of course they are aware of the free market and recognize Picasso by the pieces of mask glued directly to her face. We've been ambushed over that before. We scalped them and left them screaming and bleeding to send a little message so they wouldn't try that again. Poor bastards.

But regardless of how much concern it may or may not raise, I always wear the mask. Its a part of me... I have to. So I took a little stroll through Black Lake's streets on my own to try to gauge what we could expect from the people here. These people are weird.

The town is primarily separated into two parts, housing and businesses. I was strolling through housing expecting to to draw the attention of the neighborhood watch. What I attracted was instead someone I tend to scare of, a girl of about 16. 

She ran up to me and grabbed my hands and started thanking me. She buried her forehead in my chest and declared how grateful she was. That she wouldn't be here without 'us'. That she doesn't care what people say, she knows we're the good guys and she plans to try to enlist today. I just stared at her until she was done. Put a hand on top of her head, I think that's supposed to be comforting. She smiles and nodded looking up at me. 'I kind of hope I don't earn a mask... I don't know that I could stand to give up talking ever again,' she mused to herself as she wandered off. 

I let her create some distance between us and I followed her to the area between the housing and business section where the police station is, being careful not to be seen. I saw her go in. I was cautiously approaching the station to take a look around when a group of officers came out with a masked figured. A part of his mask had broken away above his right eye. I stopped at the door and listened for a moment.

'God damn it. We got another /wolf/ attack.' - Officer 1

'Fuck man, I hate those. We lost 4 guys on the last one. At this point, it'd make more sense to just let those fuckers keep the woods.' - Officer 2

The masked figure gave officer 2 a shove again the wall and glared daggers at him.

'I-I was kidding. I was kidding!' - Officer 2

'I would hope so. You have a daughter. You'd be a damn fool to think she isn't slipping off to the woods to play like the rest of the kids her age.' -Officer 1

'Can we not talk about my daughter sneaking off to the woods to /play/. I really don't need that on top of the rest of this bullshit.' - Officer 2

'Quit stressing so much Tony. We got that secret weapon this time. Danny says we ain't gonna lose no one ta'night.' - Officer 3

'You trust that half /wolf/ freak show not to turn around and gut us once the hunt starts?' - Officer 2

'I think he hates those /animals/ more than anyone else here. We can trust him, for this at least' - Officer 3

'Hey buddy, can we help you' - Officer 1 to Me.

I turned and realized they had all noticed me. I walked off, fast. I was happy to turn when I got back to the motel to find they hadn't followed me.

Something is wrong with this town right down to its people and police. They have masked figures working along side officers. I wonder if they're proxies... we need to hit the woods tonight. See exactly what they're up to.

Maybe try to abduct the masked one. See just how dedicated to not talking he really is.

Moth out.

Wednesday, May 15, 2013

Lacus Ater

"He can't fucking hide from me. He WILL pay for his betrayal. Him and ANYONE who gets in the way WILL be destroyed! This whole fucking world will burn if that's what it takes to destroy him! FUCKING ALL OF IT. The organization and their little system of lies can't protect him now. They're not Father's will. I AM FATHER'S WILL. And we will burn it all to the ground and leave beautiful fields of ash... but first I have to find him.

The Logs I stole from the electronic word box indicate he keeps coming here. Black Lake, [Redacted]. They're sending him here for something. Something important. He'll have to come back at least once to try to make off with whatever it is they're keeping here. I just need to find it and catch who ever comes to get it. Then they can lead me to that betrayer.

In a small little shit hole like this with fuck all to offer the world but fish, I think I'll know important when I see it. God I can practically FEEL his flesh now. I can't wait to RIP IT FROM HIS BONES!"
                                       --Duckie, November 2, 2008. 


So we arrived at Bla-... I... Fuck. Do I really sound like THAT?! Blondie says Duckie's old rantings remind her of me. IT MAKES ME WANT TO RIP THE FLESH FROM H-... FUCK.



We. Are. Not. Alike.

We. Are. Not. Alike. We. Are. Not. Alike. We. Are. Not. Alike. We. Are. Not. Alike. We. Are. Not. Alike. We. Are. Not. Alike. We. Are. Not. Alike. We. Are. Not. Alike. We. Are. Not. Alike. We. Are. Not. Alike. We. Are. Not. Alike. We. Are. Not. Alike. WE. Are. Not. Alike. We. ARE. Not. Alike. We. Are. NOT. Alike. We. Are. Not. ALIKE. WE. Are. Not. Alike. We. ARE. Not. Alike. We. Are. NOT. Alike. We. Are. Not. ALIKE. WE. ARE. Not. Alike. We. ARE. NOT. Alike. We. Are. NOT. ALIKE. WE. ARE. NOT. Alike. We. ARE. NOT. ALIKE. WE. ARE. NOT. ALIKE. WE. ARE. NOT. ALIKE. WE. ARE. NOT. ALIKE.WE. ARE. NOT. ALIKE. WE. ARE. NOT. ALIKE. WE. ARE. NOT. ALIKE. WE. ARE. NOT. ALIKE.WE. ARE. NOT. ALIKE.



I... had an episode. THOS FCKERS TIED ME DWN>

But I'm better now. All.... better. I broke Moth's nose a little when he was untying me... BUT HE CAN GO FUCK HIMSELF FOR TYING ME DOWN.

Sure he can smell it off in no time. The mutes a champ! Champ mute! MY MUTE IS MUCH BETTER THAN YOURS.

My mute can walk right through the door.

Its disgusting to think that Duckie use to think like me. Uh... vomited a little in my mouth just thinking that.... and now its ALL OVER THE FUCKING COMPUTER.


Third try. Third try is the charm. When can we do it? On the third try. Why? BECAUSE WE'RE FUCKING LOSERS AND IT TAKES US THREE ATTEMPTS TO WRITE SOMETHING OUT.


Its a viscous fucking cycle! Cycle of doom! DOOOOOOOOOOOOM.


Okay... threw the Frog out the window screaming doom. Fourth try! Super FUCKING LOSER try time. Yeah!

Uh... huh. Was already lifting it over my head to throw it out the window. Gotta try... harder. Control. CONTROL.

Just... focus. Calm. Melodies... la, la l-.... 


Moth here. We had to tie Picasso down again. She started freaking the fuck out. And by we, I mean me. LeCroix took off about 10 minutes before Picasso's latest episode. Said she was going out for 'Research'. Didn't say on what though. Or where. Or when she was coming back. I find it concerning.

Back on Picasso, I went through a lot of trouble to keep her out of those books because I knew she would get like this. I was kind of surprised myself. I know he snapped when he went rogue but... its hard to imagine Duckie acting like a screaming raving fucking lunatic.

Maybe that's just the nature of Wrath...

Uhghhhhh.... I shouldn't have left that bookmark in the journal. I don't know if I can take another night of Picasso screaming and slamming herself against the wall.

I think, I'm just gonna leave her in the trunk tonight. Hope to god she doesn't attract police or something.

Anyways, lets try this a fifth time shall we? 

We're in Black Lake. Its a small town in the middle of nowhere. Apparently, Sloth [the Betrayer] use to frequent here back when Duckie was an agent. 

I know for a fact there must still be something in this town. When I was still working for Fracture, he use to send me here every Month to spend a night at Black Lake Inn. I never really questioned it but seeing how this has apparently been a tradition for four years now there must be something about the town that's tied to him.

Something we can use against him.

Moth Out. [Ending Picasso's Entry.]

Wednesday, May 8, 2013

I'm Helping... Right?

"The sniper escaped."

"No confirmed death yet. I'm not satisfied."

"Enemy may not be dead."

"Should be prepared just in case."

"How's Picasso?"

"What was she hoping to accomplish?



So apparently Blondie took care of my Sniper problem. Apparently the sniper came back around to make sure I was dead. STUPID fucking sniper. His bullets can't kill me! They already failed once so trying the same thing again is FUCKING RETARDED.

Leave it to the Lord Guardian FUCK FACE to try the same thing over and over again. Or... twice I guess... dumb ass.

Granted, bullets hurt. Like... bullets hurt a lot. THEY BURN LIKE THE SUN. So naturally I was so happy with Blondie for taking care of that little harmless but incredibly PAINFUL problem for me. So happy, I COULD HAVE HUGGED HER. Could have, if she wasn't such a HORRIBLE blond bitch.

So cold and distant... like bright blonde hair... that she likes to remind me that she DOESN'T FUCKING HAVE. I can SEE the blonde hair on the INSIDE.



I've been playing with my brother's book. I haven't tried to read it again yet. LAST TIME WAS TOO PAINFUL. But I've been playing with it....

It screams whenever I touch it, every time I hold it...

Screams with every stroke of my finger across it...

So I make quick rhythmic strokes... I make the screams sing...

It screams in his voice...

I hear him yelp, cry, and wheeze...

Such beautiful... screams...


I've been teaching myself to use my brother's sword... the SWORD OF TRENT... sword of my brother...

Swords are heavy... like stupid heavy.

With two hatches, I can twirl and juke and clap and pincer... and whenever you hit something, it SPLINTERS.

With a sword, you can slash. THAT'S IT!


No wonder knights wore armor! Because wielding a sword, your are GOING to get hit. Its like a fucking fact or something.

I couldn't even beat MOTH in a fucking spar with this CLUNKY thing and I ALWAYS beat Moth. ALWAYS. He SUCKS ASS in a fight.

But... when I have Trent's sword... everything feels right. The world stops shaking...

When I swing, I feel like I can pierce the screaming... and let the suffering bleed through.


Not sure where we're headed... MOTH WON'T TELL ME.

But I know we're getting close. The distance between where we are and where we are going has gotten short. I know because the distance Moth compares on the map with his eyes has gotten short.



I'm not sure what we're after this time but I can tell Moth is getting RESTLESS as FUCK. Must be something big this time. Something that can make Duckie and Fracture BLEED.

I think it's something Moth discovered going through the books we stole from one of Duckie's STUPID safe houses.

It FUCKING SICKENS ME to think that we need HIS help of all people...

Blondie says not to think of it as using the book and thus taking on Duckie's help... instead... we're exploiting one of Duckie's weaknesses. Turning information he left behind AGAINST HIM.



Moth found the lead...

Blondie fought off the sniper...

I got shot...

What have I... been doing...?

Wednesday, May 1, 2013


Moth here...

So Picasso ran off while I was off getting supplies and LeCroix was in the bathroom. That's what 'Blondie' actually calls herself, by the way, LeCroix. I have no idea why Picasso calls her Blondie. Her hair isn't Blonde.

Now, if it was up to Picasso there would probably be an eight paragraph explanation of how her little trip went. That's not happening. We don't have time, I'm certain we have someone right on our tail right now. So I had Picasso summarize it in a sentence.

"Lys was a FUZZY and playful little fur ball of PRIMAL ANIMAL RAGE. Cat was saucy and had delicious meatballs! And the spaghetti was cuddly and CU-... err... HANDSOME "

Beyond that likely inaccurate mess of words, this covers about all you really need to know.

So Picasso ran off while we weren't watching her like the two year old she is. Fortunately, she left that delayed post for us and I caught it before it went up and delayed it further. She was even nice enough to tell us where she was going in that little post, to visit Lys. I think if that had gone up without us noticing it, she'd be dead right now. 

So, I called up a friend to find out where where Lys was. I was surprised find my contact was out of station. It took a little while for them to pull up the information while they were out in the field,  but they gave us our lead and from there we were able to track down Picasso. Fortunately, she wasn't more than an hours drive away.

From there, LeCroix and I decided we should use this opportunity to test a theory.

See, LeCroix seems to believe Fracture has figured out a way to track our Path usage. I found that to be highly unlikely but not impossible. But it was something we could finally test here since Picasso Paths everywhere whenever she goes off on her own.

So her idea was that we follow Picasso around for the day and essentially use her and Lys as bait to see if anyone showed up to kill them. After I used a piece of paper to explain the incident we had with Picasso getting sniped, I could she was starting to have second thoughts on her little plan but be we pressed on with it anyways confident that even if her Path usage had given away her location, that Fracture would not have had the kind of time he would need to get a sniper into position on such short notice.

The little experiment was starting to look like a dud until Picasso and Lys left the restaurant they had stopped to eat at. LeCroix and I noticed that someone followed them out and tailed them all the way to the hotel they eventually retired to. Funny thing about stalkers, they don't tend to notice you stalking them.

From there we followed the stalker to a nearby roof but had to stop just short of the roof entrance. There were two masked figures there guarding the door. I saw the stalker on his phone on the way up. He must have been calling in some security detail so no one would disturb him.

LeCroix turned out the lights and I took the blunt side of my spear to their heads. I wasn't against killing them but at this point I was pretty sure that was a sniper on the roof and his head would send a much louder message to Fracture to fuck off.

I was busy tucking away the bodies of those two guards and I guess LeCroix went ahead without me. The next thing I hear is gunshots on the roof.

I ran up to see if she was okay to find she was the only one up there. Apparently I was right, It was a Sniper. LeCroix tried to hold him up at gun point and he fled through a path portal and she fired a few rounds in after  him.

Not exactly the clear message I wanted to send with my plans for a mutilated sniper corpse but I guess it'll have to do.

By this point it was already morning. I went ahead and grabbed Picasso and the three of us hit the road again, much to Lys' concern and dismay.

At this point it would seem that LeCroix was right. Unless we're missing something here, it would certainly seem Fracture is tracking us through our Path usage somehow. I'm not sure how though. That still doesn't seem possible to me.

But at least now we know and Picasso is safe. I'm going to call this a win.

Moth out.