Further explanation.

Guess I should explain what actually happened yesterday.

The nameless are well-trained and well-equipped. I couldn't attack without getting shot, so I kept an eye on them and waited for an opportunity. A few hours before three, about noon, they got a van ready, made Linux get in the back. He fought back, made a distraction.

I figured it'd be hard to get away without getting shot in the back, so I did the sensible thing and threw a petrol bomb at the front of the van. Made a decent smokescreen, I managed to stab one in all the confusion (she did manage to whack me with her gun, though. Left a nasty bruise) then grabbed Linux and ran for it.


Got Linux

Linux attacked the nameless in transit, I stepped in. At least two dead. Possibly three. Only minor injuries on our end. May give further update later.


Got your location

Nameless, I'm tired of fucking around. I've got your location, as you can tell from the email I've sent. It also has an adress, bring Linux there, unharmed, and leave by sunset, or I auction off the addresses of all your safehouses, and your financiers get put away for embezzlement and/or fraud.

Ball's in your court.


Getting close

Hey Namelesses. You should hide your tracks better. Never know who's out to get you ,-)


I'm off

Opportunity came up, so I won't be around for a while. Like, not posting on the blog. So don't worry that I'm dead if I stop posting for a while.


Sanna's safe

Sanna's safe, ditto her father. In an undisclosed hotel in Belgium (and if you'll believe that, you'll believe anything). Sorry I didn't call Linux, came up on short notice so there wasn't time. Thanks for all the assistance (and the offer, Jack).
Sick fucker is probably still at large, but carter's explosives have put a dent in his operation. Those as were involved, on and off the blogs, be on your guards. He's still dangerous, you'll want to play down yourr involvement, or skip the country.


Sanna's gone

Theres a problem.

Sanna's been taken. I was out making an information drop, and it looks like someone came in. There was a fight. She's fucking gone, and the only real leads are the twin triangles ande a fucking smiley face drawn on the wall. In blood.

No sign of a breakin. Might've been someone she knew and trusted, someone using a domain, I don't fucking know.
Any information on the timberwolves, archangel would be good. Or Costeau, whoever the fuck that is. Kelevraq, morningstar. Anyone who couldve done it. I probably won't be able to reply for a while, got some digging opf my own to do, but anything would help. Quite frankly, could be someone already dead. The fucking archangel. Takes on their faces.


Guess I should explain last post. Even if I don't remember all of it.

The Archangel was there. Right outside the safehouse. I think he might have been there before, but I convinced myself otherwise. Makes no difference; it isn't a being you can run from, fight against. Hide from.
It got into my head, I think. I wasn't entirely lucid. So afraid. I didn't want to be taken, but I had no choice but to leave again. Left a message, and the blog post. There was a light. Saw my Father. Memories I wish could stay buried, wish he hadn't died. I miss them all so much.

I din't know how long I was out for. Woke up in an alleyway with the Triangles on the wall. What can you do against death himself?


Introspection (warning; navel gazing)

As most of you, being readers of this blog, will know, I'm not by any definition a proxy. I have no loyalty to the slenderman, I don't do his dirty work, I don't worship him. Hell, half the time I don't capitalise his name. And yet if anyone asked who I was, I'd say 'I'm a proxy' in a heartbeat. Not even thinking about it. It's just who I am. I am a proxy. Figured getting this down in writing would help me to think things through, so, you know. Caveat Emptor, this is gonna be a pretty self-obsessed post.

I think a key part of this identity comes from my time as a runner. Before I was involved in this, when I had a family, it didn't really affect me as much, as a person. Not that it wasn't a major part of my life, but it didn't mold me, I think. There was no real hardship, so I came out of it an idealist, without any real idea of what I was doing. A scared child. So that hasn't changed.

But as a runner, there was change, external pressures, that kinda thing. I had to learn to hide, keep guarded. I guess that was when I really learned to kill, me, not Craft.

But even with those lessons, I was a pretty shit runner. What did I achieve? What was my purpose? That's an important question, for me. I need a purpose, a reason to keep going, an end goal, or there's just stagnation. It doesn't really go well. I needed a purpose, so I manufactured one, through this blog, by trying to find a way to fight back. The magnets weren't a defensive measure, they were made to hurt people. Never did get the hang of defending without an attack. guess I'm just a violent person.

Anyway, it didn't work. Some, maybe most, people reject azoth. That shit that gets inside your head and warps you. I'm not one of those people. It built up, and when an attack came, I couldn't defend myself or fight back.I was left without the magnets I'd used to confound the Azoth, far from anywhere I'd called home. I think I was delirious, a bit. I don't really remember. I think I met a runner, maybe I put it on the blog. I was pretty out of it. She saw me for who I was, saw me for a proxy. Nearly killed me, would've if Jeff and Aleph hadn't shown up.

They were there for me. The first people since my family, I think. Really there for me. What decision was that? Mistrust, and eventual insanity? Or somewhere where I belonged. Somewhere I fit. So then I was a proxy. Damn good one. Not for the Slenderman, out of loyalty to those who took me in when I needed it. Maybe it was a ruse, to gain my trust so that I could be molded. Suppose it worked beautifully. I think that's where I became me, as I stand today. Missing a few scars, but the core was there. Even then, when I felt I had found my place, I can't say there was any loyalty to the slenderman. Defective batch of azoth or something. and boy, does it dislike that term.

That was when I took the name. Lovett. It seemed to fit, I think. it was the eye of the storm. Something stable when it'd all gone away. But it didn't last. Where I was, it was a training facility, of sorts. Experimentation, as well. Voluntary, of course. But pretty soon, the training and the tests both had run their course, and they sent me out. Jeff too. And Grace, she'd gone with Jeff, for some final training. She'd wanted to be a medic. Became a medic, a fucking fantastic one. Shame Jeff couldn't have lived to see it. Put his faith in a bad leader.

Still don't really know if I made a good leader. Mostly other people, acting through me. Jeff. Grace. Caligori. But I did well, right? Fought tooth and nail, garnered support, even from the timberwolves. Took London. Maybe if I hadn't faltered, that would still be where I was. But I couldn't follow through, so here I am. Still a proxy. Slendy took a lot, but he can't take that. It's all I'm good for.


Job's a good'un

So, my stay in Moldova has come to an end.  Got Maddie off to some lake (brings back memories), then took the opportunity to have a poke around over at her place. I was expecting to find some paperwork, burn some stuff, steal some other stuff; you know, just put a wee bit of pressure on. But Sanna had other plans :-).

It would seem that she managed to fight her way out of that hellhole, I found her outside Maddie's door holding a knife. She was pretty hurt, but she'll heal. If needs be, I learned some first aid from Jeff and Grace. Perks of being a proxy.

So, job's done, and we are getting the hell out of dodge. Nowt here but people to leave.



You lucky bitch! You have the wonderful opportunity to meet me, right here in Moldova.

Seriously, Imma emphasize how lucky you are that a gap opened in my busy schedule of providing surgery to your associates so that I could waste it on an ugly bint like you. And because Lovett is feeling poetic, I won't even kill you!

On an unrelated note, I'm just gonna thank Carter and his team for the equipment. Haven't had the chance to use the explosives yet, but everything else has been extremely high quality workmanship. Hope the payment was sufficient.



She's in Moldova.

And how do I know this? I had a rather charming chat with Remiel. Not to mention his delicious grandfather. Thought the name sounded familiar, fucker was the only nest we knew about in Shropshire. From the proxies, I think.
He didn't seem pleased to see me. Not a good host, tried to call the police when I turned up; as if breaking a window was some kind of crime! So I tazed him a couple of times. Fucker woke up tied to a chair, doused in gasoline. Soon as I got what I wanted, woof. I did say I'd looked into killing nests.

He tried to struggle, but stopped pretty soon when I dragged his grandad in, started working him over. Start with the fingers, snap snap snap. Then cut them off. The old guy was screaming pretty loud. It was irritating, so I broke his jaw.
Meanwhile, there Remiel was, babbling about not hurting his grandfather, that he'd tell me anything. Well, I'm a nice guy. Open to making deals for the common good. I would have been perfectly willing to stop hurting the old shit as soon as he told me what I wanted to know. The azoth was against that, but we made a deal. I stopped cutting for long enough to get a country. Moldova. Then I started again, slowly dragging the knife along the thighs. Cut myself some nice steaks. Maybe I should have waited longer, found out where in Moldova, but to be frank I just didn't feel like it. They screamed while they burned. 'Twas a sight to behold.

Ah, but Phillip. I hear you say. How do you know he wasn't lying?
Well, disembodied voice, I'll tell you. I'm not entirely stupid; before I burned it all, I found a nice stack of paperwork. Boring shit, payments owed and poor sons (and daughters) of bitches sent off to parts unknown. Only recent ones were in Ukraine. That, and an email to some sick fucker in Moldova from his computer, tells me all I need to know. Anyway, steaks are done. Then, next stop Odesa.


Meeting Sanna

So, those of you who read Maddie's blog probably know that I met Sanna recently. Delivered the info on her father, as promised. Hope it helps.

Sorry Sanna, but you need help. Someone to lean on. Maddy's heart's in the right place, but you need someone you can trust, who'll be there for you. All the time, not just when the metal hits the meat. Hope you find that person.


I'm back part two

Right, on with the rest of the story. When I left off, I'd jus spotted the archangel. Dude scares me. Not the same as Slendy, just a fight or flight reaction, blind panic. Archangel is colder, almost. A slower terror, founded in the knowledge that that thing can keep me alive forever. So when I saw it, I didn' panic. Knew it was pissed, gut reaction. Didn't like that I used the timberwolves, I guess. There was that creeping feeling. Like shivers under your skin.

So there it was. Started coming closer, so I got the fuck out of there. The quickest way I know how. The path. I knew that it was the end of me, that Slendy would find me and, best case scenario, kill me quickly. Didn't care. After all, you get killed by a fear, maybe you get oblivion. So, that's plan 'B'.

It didn't take long. He came like a black river, flowing from the ground. I couldn't run. Felt like I was rooted to the path, a fixture. Nowhere to go, no point in running. Where do you run when he is everywhere?

That was when a friend arrived. I won't name names; don't want to put him at risk. But this person, this one man, stared down the slenderman in his own domain. Lived to tell about it too. Distracted him long enough to ease the paralysis. I ran. I must confess, I left not knowing that he would make it out, and when he did catch up? I lied to him, told him I'd go back to London.  If you're reading this, I'm sorry. I was scared, and that's no excuse, no excuse at all.

Anyway. Just met someone who'd been holding a few things for me. Documents, stolen from the archive itself. Tazer. Armoured coat. Generally things one would need to research and perform a certain ritual. Figured it was worth a try, anyway. Finish this once and for all. Keep the vigil.


I'm back

This is pHIL here. I'm back, alive and in one piece.
Sorry about leaving with no warning, but I had a pretty good reason. Seems slendy has decided that the way I do things isn't good enough, that I'm not a real proxy after all. Dude's a prick.
He made his move on the fourth, this month. I was at my computer, checking over some footage in case of redlight making a move (he was), when He was there. Slim fucker had his hooks in deep, still does, and I panicked. Fight or flight, blindly trying to get away. Broke contact by virtue of jumping out of a window, but I wasn't in a fit state of mind. Gibbering, writing in code. scaredworthlesscolduseless.
proxies didn't know, I came back. started delegating to Grace, a few others. They're in charge now; do the job and do it well, people. Sorry I could't stay. Deimos got wind, somehow, of what happened. Said he'd kill me, destroy all I've worked towards. would've been a bloodbath, proxy against proxy. Couldn't allow that. Ran away, taking a couple things. Hoodie, food cash gun knife. Not sure why I took them. Don't want to kill proxies, don't want to kill runners, don't want to kill. Why did I kill so freely. cant worry about the past, I'll do that when I'm dead.
So I ran. walked out of the base, took advantage of the blindspots in the surveillance I'd set up. Left London. It took a long time, circuitous rout, not using the path. To use the path is to get caught by slenderman. It was hard, jumping at every shadow, expecting each one to reach out and cut me down. Saw Him, a couple of times. Standing there. Fucking staringSTARING. FUCKER..
Sorry. Azoth is angry Azoth wants to fight. I can't. I won't. I can't.

Um, right. Leaving london. So fucking cold.
Had some trouble with runners. Fucking Deimos spreading th news, or people following the blog. wanted to teach the sonofabitch proxy a lesson, kill the fucker slowly. Had to change my look, dye my hair. Profile picture isn't that accurate, missing scars, but now even less so. May have to change it at some point. It helped, but a few are still trying to get me. John Thompson, Hector Smith. Got a grudge, because I killed Anne Thompson, his sister. Because of my orders, on the 30th of August, a safehouse where she and several others were staying was attacked. She tried to fight back, got shot. Died instantly. At the time, I'd thought of it as a success. 6 runners dispersed, one killed. One injured timberwolf/ no other casualties. fuckfuckfuckfuckFUCK.
If you're reading this Im sorry. but I'm not going to die for your revenge. Don't want to die yet, so much more to do. Too much.

I was nearly out of London when I saw hm. A servant, hoodie. Thought it was a proxy. Twin triangles. Timberwolf? Gasmask.


Has anyone seen Phil? He was here, healing up, but he's gone, we can't even find him on surveillance. The timberwolves say he just up and left, but he wouldn't do that, he wouldn't just go without a reason. Please, you don't have to tell me where he is, I just need to know he's safe. Please.



KProxies are attempting new base, we need to disrupt them before they dig in. I can't organise because of Fear issues, I trust you to take charge on this one. Listen to Mort, he knows tactics, but remember his first loyalty is Archangel. Plague doctors will act as medics, that always was your area of expertise so I'll leave that to you.

Stay safe, I hope I can see you again soon.
I love you.





Well, it's a good day to be a servant in London. Compared to, like, last week. It's still a hellhole full of violent individuals.

Anyway, I've been doing some work with various other servants. You probably already know about my connections with the archive and redcap. Apparently the Timberwolves are also aware of it. They called in asking for help to deal with one of Kelevra's proxies. This KProxy having stolen some sensitive information on the Timberwolves, and they couldn't find him.

Once the matter of payment was dealt with, I gathered a few volunteers, and we met with the wolves to take out the base before the informant arrived. There weren't many of them, but they were heavily armed. Still not sure how they got sniper rifles into England. Serious military stuff, or it looked like it at least. I begin to wonder just how good our smugglers are.

'Course, that changed our plans somewhat. I'd intended to try to burn them out, keeping a low profile be damned, but that was on the assumption that they'd be a bunch of guys with swords and the like. So instead, they got to good positions, and started taking them out. A bunch tried to run out the back, but they got tailed by some of my boys. Didn't get far. Meanwhile, the rest of us just strolled in, killed anyone we found hiding, and waited a while for our victim. Lost a proxy, when one of the fanclub had a gun, but there weren't many other incidents.

This is all working out pretty well. Working with the archive in a more official capacity, setting Maddie on some runners, joint operations with the timberwolves, various other, less savory connections... Sets a good precedent. By showing that this can work, and work well, I can get more official support, from proxies and other servants. God knows servants working together can be a force to be reckoned with. Maybe even enough to deal with Kelevra's bunch of rejects. Speaking of which, Maddie, if you can kill Kelevra I'll help you with whatever project you're planning out at the time.

Still need to find someone else willing to work on this project; after all, I want this to outlast me. Got a couple possibilities, but it really needs work. Hell, this isn't even official yet. I can worry about the rest if I live.


Mabe it's because I'm a Londoner

Link to the song.

You can probably guess I'm in London. Couldn't face working with Deimos' men after what happened, so I volunteered. Besides, they need the help here.

So yeah, sorry about not posting much. Trouble getting an internet connection; the vast majority of libraries and suchlike here have runners entrenched. Seems to have become a figurehead, runners coming from all over the country. We've been doing some major pushes, trying to get a decent foothold (as it turns out, there aren't that many abandoned warehouses that are defensible and well placed in London. Damnably unfortunate) Well, we're well placed now. God knows it cost us. too many dead, 18. poor fuckers.

I'm having to do some rethinking, strategically. Can't afford to use fire, it's too flashy, likely to spread, and destroys useful resources. So I'm just infantry, boots on the ground. I feel somewhat useless, the best I can do is keep myself alive. The Path isn't as useful as one would think. There're some traitor proxies, who patrol the path. Given the amount of azoth, a misplaced bullet or flame could be catastrophic. They don't seem to care. So for the most part, the path is M.A.D. We've been sticking to alleyways, attacking at night. It's fucking exhausting, they have ways of keeping tabs on us in some places, tricks like how I used security cameras before I was a proxy. Lucky I caught that, or I'd probably be dead. We weren't getting much sleep, runners kept coming at us at all hours. Even when there were civvies nearby, they just didn't give a shit. They're being organised somehow, or things would be far, far easier. That's the main aim here; we can't really take out all of the runners without unacceptable civilian casualties, so we're gonna try more subtle methods first. If you hear about massive explosions and hordes of heavily armed cultists in London, you'll know subtlety didn't pay off. But first we're gonna do it quietly. That said, more numbers would always be useful; if you're a proxy in Europe with a deathwish, drop me a line and I'll send you a map to a target. Small arms and melee only, don't ask me why because I don't know.

This is about the end of my shift, so I'm gonna get some shuteye jesus christ of course they fucking attack now.


As you probably gathered, we got attacked by more runners. Too many of them. Killed a lot of us, I managed to evacuate a few. The rest gave them a good fight. Which is to say a lot of people on both sides got killed. Fucking hell, I used to be a pacifist. What the fuck happened.


Eventful trip back

Well, I'm headed back to England. Will be. I would be on the plane now, but there was a slight issue. More on that later.
So things won't quite be going back to the status quo. I know I'm not secure under torture, so there are no real lines of communication between me and my people. Never told them about the blog (apart from Jeff) so that's out. Pity, but I wouldn't be going back to a command position anyway. Got demoted. For running. Can't really argue that; we're expected to throw our lives away at the drop of a hat, when I went against that it made me look bad. Ah well, I never claimed to be more than a coward. Proud member of the self preservation society.

Still, I want to put up my new CO. You'll laugh. I know I did, until I realised it wasn't a joke. Deimos. Fucken Deimos. I get the feeling someone up there doesn't like me much. And I'm not sure if I mean God or Central. On the plus side, I still have a lot of the old connections; Redcap, the Archive, the Lab, certain others. So I'll have less personal resources but still plenty of information.

So, why was I delayed? Runners. Jumped me on the way to the airport, nicked my arm with a knife. Would've been worse if they'd been patient, snuck up, but they didn't, they ran up shouting 'Die proxy scum'. I think they were expecting an easy target. Just because it isn't as obvious doesn't mean I'm not augmented, I turned, before I even realised what was happening. Azoth taking over again, but now I have more of a control. Before, I would black out, wake up having killed any threats. Not any more. Stayed conscious, took out the legs on one, pushed them into the other, knife he was holding caught my arm. Shallow cut, not a concern. Next thing was to get that weapon out of the picture. After all, while I'm more durable than before a knife in the gut will cramp anyone's style. So I broke knifey's arm, got that knife. He was rather upset about the arm, briefly. I think he's over it now.

So that just left his companion. She pulled a gun on me, which seems rather rude. Also stupid; she shouldn't have taken the chance, should've shot me in the back without getting close. Maybe it was some kind of ammunition conservation thing. More likely, she didn't want to get arrested. After all, there were people nearby. Surprised they didn't come running at knifey's screaming; suppose they thought it was an argument or something. The bystander effect, maybe. Didn't want to risk getting involved. Damned if I know. She wasn't any great shakes at aiming, tried to shoot me in the head. Advice for anyone shooting someone. Aim for the centre of mass. It'll put them down just as well and you're more likely to hit something. Whereas shooty just got brick shards into the back of my head. Minor lacerations. No concern. By the time she's got the gun level again I'd pepper sprayed her, took the gun. A revolver, Saturday night special. Guess funds were tight. She ran, I tailed her. Tracked her down to an estate type of place. Flats for people with nowhere else to go. But that's a bit harsh; these were pretty terrible, but not all such places are. In England there are at least a couple housing estates that are proper nice. She went into a flat, greeted by what seemed to be another runner. That normally would've been the time I'd block the doors and burn the place down, but there were other flats full of civvies connected. Besides, I'd left the last of my petrol bombs with the Italian proxies I'd been helping earlier. So it would have to be the hard way.

There are some who favour kicking in the door and firing, hard and fast. But it takes me a moment to aim, and I couldn't be sure I'd be full of lead before I could get the job done. So I lit a fire. Just a little one, burned a piece of paper under a smoke detector. Did the job, got people out. Pathed out, short term, and stepped into the flat. Of course any weapons would be left in there, if they ran out carrying a rifle they'd probably attract a few odd looks. Emptied all of those out, hid them, then got out of the way while the fire service looked around. Must've been an hour before they came back in. They weren't expecting a fight, which is just fucking standards. Sloppy as shit. Turns out that kind of thinking gets you five rounds in the chest at point blank range and/or a knife in the neck. Go figure.

Needless to say, I missed my plane. On the plus side, I got a free rifle and revolver, a Winchester of some description. So, you know, counting my blessings. Have to call in a couple of favours, though. To get them smuggled over the pond. Worth it. Probably be in for work by the day after tomorrow latest. At least now I know what it feels like to dread having to turn up for the job.


No I'm not in France. Passed through, pissed off some redlit, and moved on.

Anyway, day one of my globetrotting holiday has been pretty good. I think a couple of people were vaguely weirded out when I pathed around border control, but I don't have a passport with a picture that matches my face (also the profile picture is no longer accurate. Pretty much just keeping it out of sentiment).

So I'm helping a proxy group here, one that isn't in line with the infrastructure. From what I've seen, they just aren't particularly competent, although they are religious nuts. Gonna show them the basics of bombmaking and arson. Help them out with a wee runner problem that they're having trouble with.

No contact with the rest of my former group. They may read the blog, but apart from that nothing. Still don't quite trust Morningstar, and there's also Kelevtov to worry about, so I'm gonna avoid getting dependents. Which is actually somewhat helpful; makes catching Cold ones much easier. Shame I had to leave my white phosphorus, I was kinda interested to see if that'd work.


It was nice while it lasted

Well, you've probably heard that I no longer lead a group of proxies. Given my propensity to value efficiency over worship, I've attracted the wrong sort of attention. If I tried to keep them too close they'd get killed by Morningstar, or Kelevra. Best thing I could do was get them clear, so I did. Sucks that we don't have any contact, but that's just life.

So, despite my own preferences, I'll be out of England in an hour. Not saying where I'm going, but yeah. Congratulations, Morningstar, you've successfully weakened the English proxies. Fucking genius way to prevent defections, deciding to kill everyone you deem a risk before they have the chance. Bet the fucking noble prize commision are on their way to reward you for that inspired bit of thinking. Seriously, I never realised azoth could be so stupid. Shortsighted. Too hung up on your own ego to see consequences. Generally with your head jammed so far up your arse that the only way to notice it is when you sneeze.

So, does this mean that I'm quitting on being a proxy? I'll try not to, but I probably won't be nearly as efficient. On the plus side, Slendy won't be on my tail, since, you know, I'm still going to be doing my fucking job. Seriously, you get pissed off that I don't respect him enough and then say that he don't care much about respect? Have you been playing with magnets recently?

Anywho, my cab's here. Might be back later, once I've sorted the possibility of a tail.

A chance encounter

Had a rather odd meeting today. This evening. As you probably know, we've been having a spot of trouble with redlight coming back and trying to take control of the world. Dude needs a hobby. Like stamp collecting.

Well, my people have been keeping their eyes open for any redlit individuals. Proxies wearing red, especially. They try anything, kill them, burn the body, stick the ash on a magnet (in other news, we need a fuck-off big magnet. Anyone have a spare they need to get rid of?). Mucho paranoid, but it's pretty justified, I think. Especially since it's beginning to seem like death is no obstacle to a happy and fulfilled life anymore (looking at you, Morningstar).

So while he was on patrol, one of my guys found someone who seemed suspicious, all in red. Knew about proxies, but didn't quite fit the pattern, so he brought it to me. Turned out that was a very good idea. If that person had been killed, it would've been veryvery bad. Reason being it was one of redcap's. As in a fear. Directly possessed by the Redcap, poor sod. We had an. Odd talk. Interesting. Hard to describe really, can't find the words. I think it was slightly bemused by me; it's a fear based in sex and it wasn't getting anything off me. Not sure if I want to know what it meant by that...

Talked about the arteries and veins beneath reality. Hard to explain without sounding insane. I think it might have been trying to recruit me or something. Gives me the creeps, a little. Why would it want me?

Um, what other news? Mind still feeling a bit odd. Deimos found runner base. Close as they get to bases, small groups. Five or six, not well trained. He sent ten proxies, mostly hallowed. four proxies dead, all five runners. Pyrrhic victory; too many losses. Not worth it. Foolish to waste lives, need to preserve, conserve.

New arrival. New proxy, lucky we picked them up before they got topped by some runner. Found the poor girl on the street. I'm still not used to seeing Slendy in the azoth. Gives me a headache, lasted all day. He sent  Guthix to fetch her. She's in a bad way; cuts on her feet, legs. she'd been living rough for a while. Had a worrying array of knives, though. Seriously, I think one of them was military. At least as good as the stuff we've got at base. She's gonna need rest, before she can get into training. I guess we'll see if she knows how to use those knives.


Couple blokes are off the air

Just a quick post, couple of blogs are down. That Manu Mortis chap and the one who thought she was Slendy. Links below:



So yeah. RIP. Or HIP, if the proxy ended up Hallowed. Either way.



Finally, all that form-filling-in has payed off. Seriously, had to fill in three separate requisition forms for the WP, what the fuck?
So what're the goodies?
  • Ammo for Asbolus' rifle
  • Two Three revolvers and a bunch of speedloaders and ammo
  • Knives. Two combat, 'bout a dozen throwing and a cleaver. Not sure why they threw in a cleaver but oh well.
  • A sword. Like, a genuine falchion type thing.
  • An axe. Good to see them keeping up with the classics
  • A crowbar; to open the crate, but they didn't ask for it back so I'm gonna keep it just in case.
  • Some sort of protective vests; I'm just gonna call them kevlar for the sake of brevity. Yeah, seven of them, along with some overcoats the cover them up, because in this weather overcoats aren't suspicious at all. Can't complain, it was a custom request. Cost a fortune.
  • Grenades. Fragmentation, smoke, and other types. Didn't actually ask for the fragmentation ones, but I won't look a gift horse in the mouth.
  • WP. Useful for my long term plans.
  • Petrol. Like, a couple of Jerry cans full. We don't have a car, but that's not what we're gonna use it for.
  • Polystyrene. I'll admit, I bought this myself. The price Central wanted was a pretty stupid markup. Guess it's because they can't buy in bulk.
  • Pens. We tend to get through them fairly quickly, and they were free from Central. Don't ask why, I don't know.
  • Certain books I requisitioned. Cost a bunch, but they're pretty rare, and if I'm right they could be useful.
Also, the guy who delivered them is just standing there. Like, not doing anything, I think he's a hallowed. Offered him a cuppa tea with no response, so we know there's something wrong (because otherwise he would have said yes or no. I like tea, but I don't demand others do unless it's for comedic effect). Any idea what to do with a hallow who's just kinda standing there? I tried telling him to head back to Central, but there was no response.

*EDIT*: Hallowed was wearing a red pendant under his hoodie. Checking over supplies, informing Central now. Hopefully there'll be some tighter security after this. Everything seems in order thus far, but some things I can't test without attracting undue attention. Could go badly.


More tabs

Yeah, I had some free time so I figured I'd try to get up to date on Rose's blog. You know, since she's making a comeback and all. Anyway, I found a song by her on youtube and felt like tabbing it out. So I did. Here it is:

A first draft of a tab for the song in this YouTube video (skip to about 1:50 to hear the song)





Tab by pHIL McDonald, Song by Spyre (sorry for confusion)
Baseline is very much a WIP. Will work more when I have more time, most likely after my meeting with the cold ones.



Twitch is out on the streets, and absolutely insane. He has at least two knives, and is entirely capable of using them. Don't get near him, runner or proxy, 'cause there's no guarantee that he'll check his targets. Don't bother using tazers and other electrical methods, won't do squat. Just keep the fuck out of the way. That goes for proxies, runners, and cold ones (especially because even if you do get him, that'll piss off Veigar and he has access to white phosphorus. Fair warning)
So, yeah. To the cold ones I was going to meet with, due to this security risk it'll have to wait. I'll contact you when another meeting is possible.


Another meeting

Gone to another meeting. After all, we need to get our shit together for when you people (excluding any proxies who read this) come along to try to kill us all. So we got together; a load of leaders, from the likes of Dresden to Deimos to me. Felt a little intimidated, but it's good to have people like that on our side. Speaking of which, thanks for keeping an eye on things while I was gone, Veigar. I had to leave in a bit of a rush, meant to be some sort of security thing. Smells of bullshit to me, but no matter.

So, I'll give youse the shortlist on what happened during the meeting. I've got the job of broadcasting the information to proxies who weren't there, using the standard code for this month, so some will be encoded, being classified (for lack of a better, or less pretentious, word), but the harmless stuff will be in plaintext.

The ceasefire between me and Deimos is more permanent now. Probably won't become a full-blown war. There's far, far too much to deal with right now.

Speaking of Deimos, [CODES REMOVED FOR SECURITY]. Expect further instruction on the matter to come direct from him.

There's a strong movement to just nip the problem in the bud. Kill any runners who look like they're organising before they become a problem. Luckily, a bunch of us managed to convince the majority that the situation is salvageable. Maybe if they score some attacks that deal real damage to us, it'll be different.

We've found the safehouse matvei attacked. Had to burn it, get rid of any evidence, which wasn't anything to do with me except for contributing some cash to pay bribes. Everyone had to.



For further information, track down Dresden or Deimos, depending on the job.

And don't blame me if someone cracks the code, Krill swears it's good enough.


Phil Lovett the friendly proxy's seven step guide to Playing the first bar or so of 'the load'.

Right, guitar lesson time. This is gonna be pretty bad, as guides go, but hopefully you'll be able to work things out yourself using this guide as a framework.

The tuning for this is standard, EADGBe, and the first thing to do is find the fourth position (that is, when your index finger is at the fourth fret). You should put your index finger on the fourth fret of the G string, and your middle finger on the fifth fret of the B string. On a guitar tab (where the row shows the sting, and the number shows the fret) it should look like so;


Not terribly difficult, eh? The next step is what gives that fluency to the intro. After strumming the B and G strings (I pluck using my index and middle finger, but it's really whatever method you're comfortable with as far as I know) you need to hammer on to the sixth fret of the B string using your third finger, so the sound is changed without strumming the string again. Now the tab looks more like this;


Then, without changing the position, just strum your B and E strings.


Now it gets a wee bit more complex. You'll need to barre the fifth fret in the E and B string, that is, hold down both strings with one finger, then hammer on to the seventh fret on the B string. This might be marked out on your guitar's fretboard. Afterwards, play the E sting again, without changing the position.


Now you go back to the position you first played, and pluck that, except hammering onto the seventh fret of the B string rather than the sixth fret of the G string, comme ca;


Then play the 5 4 position again, twice, the second time hammering to the sixth fret on the G string, same as before (note: I almost missed the second repeat of the chord, thank you to Taylor for tabbing this out far better than I did);


Now play the 5 4 position again, before sliding down, while holding the position, so that you're playing the third fret on the B string and the second fret on the G string. Hammer on to the fourth fret on the G string (this position is the same as the original, just transposed downwards). Repeat this twice, missing the hammer on on the final repeat, like so;


You're coming to the end of the intro now. Wait a few beats, then play the second fret on the G and D strings, hammering onto the fourth fret of the D string. I find the best way to do this is to play the second frets on the G and D with the middle and index fingers, respectively, as opposed to using a barre, then hammer on with your pinky. The tab now looks like this;


Hold the position, and pluck the G and D strings, consecutively in that order;


The final chord is a simple barre over the second fret of the strings from E to D. If necessary, mute the E string by touching it (but not holding a fret down) with one of your free fingers. Strum downwards from the A string. The final Tab looks like this;


With practice, hopefully that'll sound right good. Best of luck to you, and sorry to Veigar and everyone else in the safehouse, who had to put up with me going over the intro over and over again.

*EDIT*  You may need to use a larger screen to read the tab, on smaller things like smartphones it wraps around. Fixed font changing partway through.


A report on Fred

Things have quieted down here quite a lot, now. That's good, because we were running low on the essentials. Food, toilet paper, white phosphorus, gin, pencils. All the essentials.
So I've been doing some shopping and networking. Jeff got around a lot. Damn fine medic, worked with several different groups. So there are several people willing to help me. Also several people who blame me for his death, but I'd be a hypocrite if I complained about that.

Anyway, I have a spare couple of hours, and figured I'd try something. See, a comment on Marconi's blog got me thinking. He publishes articles about 100 words long, around once a month. It has been said he's really cranking them out, so I figured I'd try to get an approximate timeframe for how long he takes on them.

So, here goes nothing. A Brief Biography of Fred, of A Stupid Summer Assignment [http://astupidsummerassignment.blogspot.co.uk/] fame (gotta love that sibilance), and, more recently, The Path to Redemption is Paved in Blood [http://tocorrectawarriorssins.blogspot.co.uk/] (speaking of which, it's spelt Assault. 'A' followed by 'U', not the other way around).

Fred first got involved in the machinations of the Slenderman back in June 2012, when he (Slenderman, not Fred) began to take an interest in his younger brother. The story progressed in the usual way. Somewhat sad that there is a 'usual' way, but oh well. Fred began to see more and more of the Slenderman, which drove him to research him. A vicious cycle. His brother, Tim, began to speak with the Slenderman, fall under His influence. Now, for most people that would be the cue to start Running, but Fred wouldn't leave his brother alone. Noble. Didn't end well, with Fred succumbing to Slendersickness, which affects different people differently. There's no concrete proof of what Slendersickness is, but the best theory so far, as posited by Med, is that it's caused by a buildup of Azoth, caused by contact with or proximity to the Slenderman. Most of you are runners, who will be all to familiar with the coughing fits caused by this sickness. That is your body trying to reject the azoth, prevent it covering your insides. On the other hand, there's the rest of us. Those who don't have a reaction to it. On the plus side, we don't have to worry about runner's cough, or any of the other issues you have. On the negative side, spending time around quantities of Azoth, such as the Path, or Slenderman, leads to Azoth buildup. No real way to remove it without brain damage, for us. And the more azoth is in you, the less control you have, the closer you become to a puppet. Power, at the cost of free will.

But I digress. The important thing is that Fred is/was a natural proxy. Doesn't/didn't reject the azoth, it built inside him. Started to skew his perceptions, drive him a little insane. He fought pretty hard, tried to keep himself, but all that means, all that ever means is that when you break you shatter. Fred went insane eventually, ended up a zealot. Mad as a hatter with a flamethrower. Shit like that is the reason I serve willingly. Well, 'willingly'.

Naturally, one of his friends, Kyle, got involved, read his blog. He's still alive and running now, and somewhat screwed, judging by precedence of other Heralds in his position. Horror stories, and not even particularly well known ones. Took a lot of digging to uncover. Nonetheless, he got wrapped up in this shitstorm, and pretty soon Fred got involved. Took the name of 'the Warrior', got together a group of zealots, and killed everyone in his town. Including his family. Ironic, really, that trying to stay strong and protect his brother ended up with that. Reality has a twisted sense of humour. Nonetheless, thanks to some very unwise deals with another abomination, the Dead One, not to mention getting several police officers killed (my idea. Damn good one too) Kyle managed to kill the militia, and got said abomination to tinker with Fred's mind, stop him from being mind-raped into killing runners by having him mind-raped into helping runners. By killing proxies. The 'two wrongs make a right' method of conflict resolution. So now he's cast off his violent past, and turned over a new leaf, killing people in the name of good. Because, you know, there's no way those proxies have been mind raped into helping Slendy, when has that ever happened?

Once again, I digress. He's trying his utmost to tear his way through the proxies in the US, at a far less efficient rate than that other stalwart defender of good, justice and everything that a Runner stands for, Kelevra. Funny how, without changing his behaviour, he went from a sick necrophiliac fucker to a damnably nice guy, by the simple expedient of killing acceptable targets. But we're talking about Freddy boy, here.

And he has been busy, using his connections within the organisation to kill several key members. Not sure if they're actual key members, but to be honest it doesn't really concern me until he comes here or I go there, and that's unlikely. To be honest, posting the identity of his mole on the internet is a bit of a shitty thing to do. I give it a month before the guy gets offed, tops.

This is Lovett, signing off at 1215, after about an hour of writing. Given that this is a first draft, it's a bit shoddy, but oh well. Got other things to worry about.

PS; The name Lovett comes from a song by the guy.



Got back from the meeting in one piece. Thanks for clearing the path, Veigar. Came in handy, even if I didn't realise it'd happened at first. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

When I got the message, that Deimos wanted a meeting, I almost didn't go. Seemed like an unnecessary risk, until I realised I could, for lack of a better word, cheat. Turn the risk to my favour. So I went out, but not alone. One of mine, who prefers to go unnamed, followed on. He's a damned good sneak. So I went on the path, sprinted to the next building along and got out into the cellar. Not sure where the people who own the place are, but they're lucky not to be there. Although I have been looking to try something... Nonetheless, the place is empty, So I made it out and went to the graveyard. Felt kind of like when I was a runner, to be honest. Keeping to alleys and side-streets, causing distractions. All those useful little tricks to avoid getting tailed. Didn't get attacked, so it must've done some good. And there was someone trying to follow me; painfully obvious, I gave him the slip on the path. Half of my guys are better than that at following people, it's downright insulting that the guy assigned to me would do such a half arsed job of it. There's such a thing as professional standards, you know?

Anywho, I'm not going to complain about that. Made it to the meeting unmolested, so it's all good. Would've used the path if I'd known it was clear, but I didn't actually read your comment until, like, five minutes ago Veigar. Thought there were still his guys on the path, and carving a path through somebody's subordinates often offends (and people say I have no grasp of diplomacy!). Played it safe, didn't get anyone killed (although at least one's been arrested).

It may seem odd, but I've never seen Deimos before. Apparently he was big even when delta was in charge, but I've never dealt directly with that particular group. Ran some guns for them, back when I was first starting and my only real assets were paranoia and survival on the path, but that was through a middleman. So I only met them by proxy. Dude stands out. Not necessarily because he's a big guy, because he isn't. I mean, I'm pretty tall, but nothing major, and I have a good few inches on him. But he has a presence, like he's been superimposed over whatever's behind him. And he was wearing a suit. It fit with the image he was trying to make, but I've done my homework. There's a reason he's in charge of his group, and it isn't luck. The suit does not a businessman make.

He didn't seem like he was going to speak, so I started.
"You called. Or Emailed. What was it about?"
"One of your scouts. The German, Sigurd. I had some interesting words with him, and now I'm reconsidering this particular conflict. I'll accept your terms of surrender."
"Yeah. Real fucking charitable. But from where I'm standing, we're doing pretty well. How many of your did I get with the carbomb, anyway? I know five died with the sniper, but our bookkeeping is a little scant. Either way, it would appear we're doing better than you out of this, and I'm just getting started."

Thank God for the masks. I don't think I would've got away with that particular line of bullshit unless I had my face covered. 'Course, it wasn't complete bullshit; I did have a plan in the works, and it's going swimmingly. But I didn't know that then.

Deimos wasn't wearing a mask. So I could see something had him riled.
"I'm assuming you meant the trick you played with the Path? I lost a lot of good men to that. You should be thankful that I'm giving you a chance to get out of this."
"Unless you want what happened on the Path every time one of yours try to use it, I'd drop that line of thinking. After all, it happened before, and none of mine were at risk."
Which is all true. That line of thinking could lead to him attacking and absolutely crushing us. Which would lead to the belief that the Path is safe, and since it was nothing to do with us that could have led to the same thing happening again. Twisting logic is fun!

"So here's my counter-offer. Give up, disband your group. Spread them across the other organisations, across other countries. Give up, because otherwise I intend to kill them all."

Now, the graveyard isn't at home to violence. Just isn't done, proxy will not hurt proxy there, or suffer dire consequences. Still, it was amusing to watch Deimos try to convince himself not to kill me for my insolence. He turned away, didn't let me see his face.

That's when it all went to hell; someone fired a shot. Handgun, I think. Not a big gun, but plenty big enough to kill me dead. Possibly, not actually certain about that. I mean, I doubt I'd bleed out, but I probably wouldn't get on so well with getting shot in the face. My eye shows that there are some things I won't heal from. I pulled my knives, and Deimos gets out a goddamn shotgun. Like, an actual sawn-off shotgun under his suit. And I thought I was prepared for a fight.

Needless to say, he didn't shoot me. You can tell because I'm sitting here typing this rather than slowly decomposing. He looked surprised, almost as much as I was. Like he wasn't expecting an attack.

"This is neutral ground, what the fuck do you think you're doing!"

I was somewhat pissed. Some things you just don't do.
But he hadn't. Somehow a runner had got hold of the location, decided to kill some proxies when they weren't expecting it. Fucking cowards. I pathed out, sprinted to the gunshot. Not much cover there, not like a regular graveyard. We don't go in so much for headstones and flowers and the like. The memorials are more personal; a knife here, because he would fight with one. Jeff was a medic, so there was a roll of bandages marking his grave. There was one cross, made of sticks. Guess he was religious.

But on the path, it's something else. Guess there's some sort of resonance, because it was a stereotypical graveyard there. Headstones, statues, mausoleums. I ignored them, sprinted past it all, through rows of graves, covering some 400 metres in half the distance, and jumped back to  meatworld. Hard to explain how I knew to jump. Guess it's just intuition, that little voice telling you what to do. Maybe azoth. Either way, it guided me right once again. I landed right behind the runner; a girl, maybe twenty. Odd that I think of her as a 'girl' when she was older than me. Now, I like to think I'm well mannered. Chivalrous towards women. But once you cross the line, it doesn't matter. I didn't give her a chance to take a shot at me, jammed a knife into her side. It stuck. She fired, but I'd moved too quickly for her to aim, caught her off-guard. Guess she thought I'd just run. Not my style any more, so I went on the offensive, jabbing at her with the remaining knife. She stepped back quickly, tossing the gun aside and pulling her own kitchen knife. I gave her a slash on the wrist, she caught me on the stomach. Don't get me wrong, I'm a pretty good fighter, but she had a better reach, and I was somewhat winded from my sprint. She managed to keep at a distance, and backed away. Which was when Deimos blew her legs out from under her. Quite literally, he blew her leg off.
Now, that would normally be the point where I would go in for the kill. But going through her jacket pockets, I found something interesting. It would appear she didn't just get lucky. Or unlucky. Someone had noted down the way to get there, and when. Signed with an initial, -P. And another place and time. Deimos took the girl to get more information from her. And I'm not going to use euphemisms, that does most likely mean torture and rape. So for now there's a truce. Wouldn't say we're friends, but for now we're going to hold off on the explosions and mayhem, so Veigar, if you want to stay we can get some of the supplies we've had on the periphery in now, so feel free to come along with your organisation and make yourselves at home.



Right, confession time. I got another one of mine killed. I fucked up again, and now Sigurd is dead. Fucking hell, I'm a shitty shitty leader. Sent him out scouting, trying to get a lock on Deimos' forces, see where they were, if they were massing. We're still somewhat pinned down, waiting on the cavalry, and if he managed to catch us off-guard it wouldn't be a fight. It'd be, like, a fucking duck shoot, a slaughter. I needed to know where he was, where to expect an attack. It should have been a routine job. I had fucking Asbolus keeping an eye on him on the rooftops. It should have been easy. Deimos has his own scouts, though. And he already knows where we are. Christ on a bicycle, he must have had Sigurd pegged as soon as he got out of the fucking door, even using the Path to cover his tracks. Fucker waited until Sigurd was clear of the safehouse, we couldn't afford to send out help without opening ourselves to a counterattack, even if we had known. Three of his, catch Sigurd by surprise, knives out. Asbolus managed to ing one, for all the good it did. Which is to say, not nearly enough. Fucking came out of nowhere, dragged Sigurd onto the path. I only know this because Asbolus made it out, didn't follow onto the path. Makes sense, he never really spent much time there. Not much of a resistance to its energies, would've died because of the exposure before he could do much to help. Not his fault, I should have been prepared, should've thought it through. What the fuck am I doing?

And Deimos has sent a message, as well. Right fucking now, half nine on the sixteenth. Fucker wants a meeting, at the graveyard tomorrow. No weapons, no backup. Just a talk. Don't trust him as far as I can throw him, but I know he won't try anything at the graveyard. Hallowed doesn't seem like the right word, but still. It's sacred ground. Possibly unholy would be a better word; after all, we work for the devil. Point is, he won't try anything. Neither will I, even though the Azoth in me is screaming to wreak bloody vengence. I've been reading the old blogs, the sages and the like. Doing my homework. Dude mentioned reciting bible verses to keep a cap on that sort of thing. I've never been religious, but a few bars of Brauer's first are helping. I won't attack, I won't break trust. Not to say I'm going unarmed; he didn't say I wouldn't be attacked on the way to or from the meeting, and I don't intend to be caught off-guard. And Deimos, I know you're reading this, so take some friendly advice. Me being away doesn't render my people weak. It doesn't provide you an opportunity to attack. I set up substantial defences, with help from [Anon] and Garm. Any of your men who enter will burn.

Internet's down right now. I'll get someone to post it once it starts working again.

Note; Name removed for the sake of continued anonymity.


End of the line

Fuck. FUCK. It was all going so fucking well, but it's the end of the fucking  line now. We're holed up in a safehouse, well supplied, but my scouts have seen Deimos hisself, and a fuckload of his supporters, all on their way here. Nowhere nearby to run to, no  fucking way to fight it out. We're fucked. Pinned the fuck down; Even though there are only twenty or so left, that's still enough to crush us. shitting hell. So yeah, I fear you have me over a barrel, Veigar. What's your price for your help? Didn't want to, but there's no fucking choice, i can't see any other way out.


Tired as balls

I'm tired as fuck, but things are going worryingly well. Deimos' group found another safehouse to replace the one we burned, but there was a stroke of luck; Caligori had stayed there for a while. He's a pretty sneaky bastard too. managed to nick a rifle and ammo, not to mention most of their food. Cut the supply lines. So Asbolus found a few spots with a decent line of sight, Kappa kept the police off our backs (expensive, but well worth it), and I took to the path. Killed anyone who went out for groceries, managed to keep it up for a couple of days before Asbolus ran out of ammunition. By then they were too paranoid to risk it, and they tried to break out through the path. Killed five, but there are limits to what I can do, even on the path. There was, of course, a counterattack. Invasions of two or three safehouses we use, lucky the forces were split. Managed to keep them off, no major injuries but Quasit and Jinn. Grace is taking care of them now, not as good a medic as Jeff is but she gets the job done.


First strike

Downside of vast amounts of people is that you have to keep a larger safehouse. It's easier to track down. Lucky for deimos, the problem is somewhat reduced for him.
Found his safehouse from Kafka, who used to do some work with Jeff. Introduced the front door with a speeding car full of fireworks (Jeff's car, I'll acquire a new one if he makes it. Looking unlikel. Fuck). Set the building on fire, not sure if it actually hit anyone (brick on the accelerator, by the time it hit I was on the Path) but it definitely gave them something to think about.

Updates maybe rather sporadic. Can't let them pin us down, so we're keeping on the move. Lucky there're a couple uninhabited safehouses, not to mention the abandoned buildings runners seem to favour so much.




As you may have gathered, I'm pretty fucking pissed off. Some fucker shot Jeff. A fucking proxy. So I'm back in England; Jeff's alive, but he can't really do what he needs to do. Frankly, we're not even sure if he'll make it; he's pretty fucked up. Fucking Deimos (yeah, the ancient Greek personification of terror. How fucking egotistical) has taken control of most of Delta's old group. And there are a fuckload of them. Fucker decided to eliminate all the competition or something, I have no fucking idea. Maybe he's just fucked in the head. I should have fucking been there
Anyway, I'm back in England. You don't fuck with my people and get away with it. He wants a civil war? He's fucking crazy, but he can't be allowed to continue.
Congratulations, Sanna. I'm not following you right now. I'll find you later.
OK, I've calmed down somewhat now. Still fucking pissed off, but I've just got the estimates on numbers. Sobering stuff. Twelve of us, and thirty odd of them, plus several hallowed. Royally fucked if it goes to a pitched battle. After all, we ain't that great at fighting. Well, I'm not, neither is Orbis, or Kappa, or Grace, or me. Asbolus isn't bad on the range, and Quasit knows his way around a sword. And Caligori knows a thing or two. Still, three good fighters and ten decent ones against thirty people? Slaughter. Times like this I'd be drinking, but I can't afford to. Fuck, I can't face this sober and I can't drink. I need a fuck-off brilliant plan. Any of youse got suggestions?


I need a thesaurus for other ways to say update.

I really do. Sadly, didn't get a chance to pack much, found out Sanna was off about when she was going through customs. So I pretty much have a change of clothes, toothbrush and knives. Not terribly prepared, had to rob an art shop for most of the important supplies. French proxies less than helpful. Lot of ill will from Felix. Apparently popular; explains why so high up while being entirely incompetent. So without usual supplies, having to improvise. And avoid others. Blame me for proxy M tortured. Apparently I should have' done something'. Pricks. What do they want, me to step in whenever something goes wrong? I probably would've died if I tried anything, or got caught and let something slip about my people (note to self; false tooth with cyanide capsule. Wonder if you can get that at the dentists?). On the other hand, there are more of them than me, and they also have knives.

Had something of a run-in with the Cold Boy's followers. Children of the cold, or something along those lines. Bastards just don't die. Or even bleed. Slow down. It's like stabbing a tree. Or, like, a zombie. Probably wouldn't burn; they cooled down my tea through a thermos, so they'll be too cold to set alight. Not to mention a lighter probably wouldn't even set a regular guy alight without an accelerant. Maybe if I siphoned off a car or something. Or beheaded. Maybe if I could bum an axe or sword off the Frenchies. If they didn't just kick me out. Almost makes me wish I hadn't warned them M knew where they were.

There's some static in my headphones, pretty much constant. Guess Master's watching me. Feels odd. Wrong and right at the same time. Still, not worth worrying about. He probably won't step in unless He wants to, and you can be pretty damn sure that stopping me from dying won't be that high on His to-do list.



I'm healing well. Worryingly well; but then again, I'm <i>better</i> on the path. You see, I did some experimenting (it's all the rage these days). A little azoth from the path, alcohol to ease integration, and here I am. Incredibly fucking good, but only on the path. On the earth, better than most. Faster, capable of teleporting. Capable of taking a lot of punishment.
I can move my right hand, now. It probably wouldn't have healed without either medical assistance or azoth. After all, I could feel my bones shifting, slotting fragments into place, knitting together. A most unnerving experience, punctuated with intense pain. But at least it's healed.
So I left the path. Weren't really fit to live on in the long term, even if it is a hell of a nice place to visit. Good to be active again, even if it is just getting X to his meeting. Got to pace myself, especially with the scale of things to come. See, it turns out that stunt with Kelly had further reaching effects than I thought. Some twelve people who want me to take the lead, the seven I saved plus two others. It's fucking ridiculous. Sure, a lot of them are new, young and reckless, but surely even they realise that there are people better suited to the job than me.Still, it was helpful to have people to make money and deal with runners while I was incapacitated. But if this carries on I'm going to get these people killed. I'm not a leader.


taking inventory

Right, may as well list out what's been going on with me. Besides, jeff reads this blog, and he's in charge of providing supplies. cheers for that, by the way.

So special K tipped up a few days ago, when ew were discussing the next course if action. Snowy's death, yanno?
so anyway, a lookout say kelly coming, so we started evacuation. problem is that about half of the guys with me don't really know the path that well. soi they needed time to get through, and guess whopicked the short straw?

it was something of a curbstomp. a guy wuth knives who can't leavvea against fortissomo? got me ino a grab, and then it was a simple mattr to ask what questions he had. where Sanna was, amongst other things. I started off lying asa matter of course, obviously, but to be honest i douby he cared either was.

so i took a beating, then used the path. took off. i thinnk he thought i wasnt capable of using the path (not kowing it was me. mustve neen a pleasant suprise, eh?). so, to the scorecards

  • broken hand, right, palm & gingrts.
  • slashed wrist, arterial spray. since bandaged.
  • broken knee (or possibly some other variety of fuckedupness. won't bend, swelling. I think thats a sign its broken)
  • fractured ribs, i think
  • burst eyeball
  • broken nose
  • missing teeth (some teeth. anyway)
  • general fuckedupnwss.
  • lost infrmation regarding Sanna, xander etc.
And in my favour?

  • 7 escaped proxies. Cpmplte with hands, noses, wrists legs teeth etc.
  • about a quarter to a half od what I said was lies.

So I'm counting that as a victory.if only vbecause I managed to walk (well, 'walk') away from it.


Phil the friendly proxy's 7 step programme for identifying a psychopath


 Hello, and welcome to the first (and probably only)  installment to Phil the Friendly Proxy's guides. Today, we will be examining the proper identification of psychopaths.
And the first question to ask is: 'What is a Psychopath?'. Psychopathy is generally identified and diagnosed by something known as 'Hare's Scale', named for Dr. Robert Hare.This test identifies social and emotional features of psychopathy, and for each feature the patient will be awarded 0-2 points. 40 points is an archetypal psychopath, while anything above 30 is enough for a diagnosis of psychopathy. These features include being extremely glib, a grandiose sense of self-importance, pathological compulsions towards lying and a lack of realistic long-term plans, to name but a few. It's also worth noting that a psychopath will rarely admit to being a psychopath. This links to the key features of a psychopath. Enjoying causing pain in others leads to the potential psychopath lying or omitting the truth, not for any personal gain, but instead to cause pain in others.
Now to use this test on two people, one known to be a psychopath, and one known not to, to see how it faces up.

  • Glibness/superficial charm- 1
  • Grandiose sense of self-worth- 2
  • Pathological lying- 1
  • Cunning/manipulative- 2
  • Lack of remorse or guilt- 2
  • Shallow affect- 2
  • Callousness; lack of empathy- 2
  • Failure to accept responsibility for his own actions- 1
  • Need for stimulation/proneness to boredom- 1
  • Parasitic lifestyle- 1
  • Poor behavioral control- 2
  • Lack of realistic long-term goals- 1
  • Impulsivity- 2
  • Irresponsibility- 2
  • Juvenile delinquency- 2
  • Early behavior problems- 2
  • Promiscuous sexual behavior-2
  • Many short-term relationships- 2
  • Criminal versatility- 2
    Total- 33, with some factors removed due to lack of information.
  • Glibness/superficial charm- 0
  • Grandiose sense of self-worth- 0
  • Pathological lying- 0
  • Cunning/manipulative- 0
  • Lack of remorse or guilt-0
  • Shallow affect-0
  • Callousness; lack of empathy-0
  • Failure to accept responsibility for her own actions-0
  • Need for stimulation/proneness to boredom- 0
  • Parasitic lifestyle- 1
  • Poor behavioral control- 1
  • Lack of realistic long-term goals- 1
  • Impulsivity-0
  • Irresponsibility-1
  • Juvenile delinquency-0
  • Early behavior problems- 0
  • Promiscuous sexual behavior-0
  • Many short-term relationships-0
  • Criminal versatility-0

So, as can clearly be se

*EDIT*- You'll have to excuse this being unfinished, Snowblind dropped in, and I'll be busy burying the body. If I remember I'll finish it later.



I can't believe it was only a couple weeks since I turned to the mask side. Feels like longer, but to be honest dates have always seemed a bit screwy to me. Might be because I'm usually doing something during the night now, rather than just being paranoid and waiting to sleep. Keeping busy is good. Sadly, I'm not particularly busy right now. I don't think my leg's broken but it won't stand up to much. Would've though the azoth would make it heal faster, but I guess that would be pushing my luck. I'll take what I can get.
Still, there've been a lot of changes.  From thinking of the path as a death sentence to being able to go there myself on a whim. Takes getting used to. Still, spending a week with more of my time on the path than not was painful. Reminded me of being a runner- The path is hostile, and you're always being hunted. Exactly like being a runner. Being against the world itself.
I'm still getting used to not even being the person who's been here for the longest after two weeks. It seems odd. Either it's an outlier or the turnover rate is pretty fucking high, and since most people at the safehouse were surprised by me and Grace arriving I guess it's the former. She's probably stalking the guy I was working on before that got a bit fucked up. Hope that works out.
Not sure what else to say. I decided on a name as a proxy and no, I won't share it. Given the stuff I've said on this blog, I'd prefer to avoid going public. Could be repercussions, and that'd suck. I value my anonymity, so I've left the warehouse. I don't think anyone knows where I was, but nonetheless it was a risk. If someone kept up with the blog and decided to track me down, it'd be a simple matter of finding the proxy who took me there and asking where I was taken, then going there and stabbing the guy with a crutch. At least now it isn't a matter of finding a proxy with a crutch- and let that be a lesson on why you should always have access to your basic supplies. A change of clothes and an idea of where to hole up. Never thought I'd actually use Dad's advice. Heh.
Oh, and in case you don't follow Sannas blog, it turns out that french proxy git is dead. Moment of silence, please.                   And anyway, moving swiftly onwards, Snowy set up a blog. Interesting stuff, even if you don't like the guy. and to those of you who do like him, thanks for reading the blog Snowblind and you're welcome for the free advertisement.
And a good day to you Sir/Madame/Master/Esquire/Baron/Senpai/[error 404: honourific not found]

Fuckong fuck

Might have iver done It with those painkilluers my stomach feels like its been stabbed and I'm pissing blood. Word of warming if you overdose on ibuofen it really fucks you up. Good thing in a proxy, feel the azoth now, moving inside of me and topping me from dying.

Sorry, I started typing this up sometime in the night but passed out. I'm actually feeling a lot better now, which is odd. I took a whole bottle of painkillers, and now I'm fine. I believe the correct response is huh. I guess thats something to learn; I can't top myself using an overdose.

Anyway, here I am in the classic abandoned warehouse. Nobody around, probably looking for Sanna.  Someone left me a crutch, so I can get around a little. Looking around now, the place seems pretty empty. Some kit mats and sleeping bags here and there (probably for winter, this place stays pretty warm), and some bags full of tins of food. I'd love a bite to eat, but I can't find a tin opener. I'll look in the offices- might be they kept everything important there.


New arrival

So there's a new arrival. As I would probably have known if I hadn't been busy taking notes on a dude reading books all day. Bleh.
 She says her name is Grace, not sure if it's her actual name or a taken name. Probably the second, I'm pretty much the only person sticking with my actual name. Mostly because I'm a wee bit shit at coming up with actual names. She seems pretty on the ball, definitely had training of some sort, but she isn't going into details. I can't say I blame her, if it weren't for the blog I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be telling anyone anything about myself. So she's going straight into work, helping out with the snooping on my runner. With this and another guy topping himself, my schedule is really clearing up. Just have the plod work on one runner, and stalking on another guy. And to think half a week ago I was splitting my time between three people. This has really brightened my day. Night. Whatever.
 Not really much other news, just felt like putting this up. Things are looking up.

Theme music

So the guy I've been following has been, for lack of a better word, faffing. Not much news, it seems like he knows he's being followed but that's according to plan (do you have any idea how irritating it is to convince someone they're being followed without drawing attention? I felt like an interior designer, rearranging the furniture in his room). Still, on the actually following him front I've had a lot of time to myself. Mostly listening to music.

And that leads on to the point of the post. I was listening to a particular band (Vernian Process) and figured I'd try to link their songs to people and groups, like the runners and the fears, after a couple fit pretty damn well.
So far I have:
Behold the Machine- The Manufactured Newborn
The Curse of Whitechapel- Kelevra
The Exile- The Eye
The Last Express- Archangel
Something Wicked That Way Went- The Fears in General
Unhallowed Metropolis- The Runners in General
Vagues de Vapeur- Med

And that's all I got. So yeah, being a proxy involves vast amounts of sitting around listening to music and doodling on a notepad. Who'd have thunk it?


More proxying

So I've been promoted! Kinda. The guy who was in charge, Snow, killed himself. I didn't know him so well, being new to the job, but he was a hell of a nice guy. Guess that was the problem; good people can't really live this life. All our bridges are burnt, we're just constantly helping a god that we don't understand, fighting against people who don't deserve to be fought against. And it isn't like there's a way out-even if someone like Med makes a cure, we've still done what we did. So it's no surprise that suicides are apparently saddeningly common. It still hits hard, though, knowing that the guy who cooked dinner yesterday hung himself, that he decided death was better than living like this.

Fuck, this is depressing.

Meanwhile, life carries on. Because God forbid we have time for something like a funeral, anything like that, fuck no. A shallow, unmarked grave. Not what he deserved. But I've been kept busy, making sure the loss doesn't show. Lots of standing round in alleys, making sure he can catch a glimpse of me before backing out of sight. Smoke and mirrors, seeming omnipresent, keeping that pressure on. It's too early to get me to do this- not long ago I was living in fear of the proxies, and now I'm visiting that fear on someone else. Ironic, I think.

So that's my life, hope you guys out there are doing better. Because if you aren't, that's a fucking tragedy.


Up all night

Just came back from my first real job as a proxy. Had to keep an eye on this guy, who was likely to get involved (one of his mates was caught up in this shit), make sure we knew where he was and what  he knew. To be honest, not much. He hadn't seen S, and he hasn't even connected to the blogosphere. Spent most of his time in and around a park, where his friend went missing. Keeping track of him in there was pretty hard, especially since he is so damn paranoid. Or not really, I guess; you aren't paranoid if  we really are out to get you.

Still, it was pretty dull. Following this guy around, staying up all night to watch his house then following him all morning. I was pretty much dead by the time I was relieved, so I've been sleeping it off. Major caffeine crash. Still, someone has to do it- half the time, the proxy who's meant to be your nemesis is acting off information gathered by someone like me. I'm going to have to go out again tomorrow, which will be fun. So much for weekends.


Fucking psycho runners

As you may have gathered from the title, I've had some trouble with a runner. But in my defence, he tried to kill me first.
I was coming back from a grocery run, cutting through an alleyway, when this guy comes up behind me. I walk quicker, maybe he just hasn't got that firm a grasp on personal space, you know? Then he pulls a knife. He must've been watching for a while, known this was a proxy safehouse, because I was in mufty (you know how hard it is to buy groceries in a mask with a hoodie?). I would've had a knife myself, but we don't carry them in our civvies- too much risk of getting pulled up by the police, which can be awkward. Not such a problem in the full uniform, though. Guess the police know that we aren't a threat to Joe Public. So I was unarmed, with a crazy guy trying to stab me. Lucky I have the reaction times to deal with this stuff now- if I hadn't taken a sharp step back I reckon I'd be dead, or at least in no state to blog. He overextended himself, and I dumped the groceries and grabbed his arm, twisted. Not quite a throw, but enough to put him off balance, make him drop the knife. It clattered to the floor, and I gave it a kick, making suer it's out of reach. Then it's just about keeping him off balance, making sure he can't get his bearings. Lucky this is such a small town, or I reckon there'd have been quite a crowd, even though this was in an alley. As it was, we were alone, and I could continue uninterrupted, beating his head against a wall, making sure he wouldn't threaten me or mine again. I blacked out, the azoth taking complete control, and when I regained my senses, it was done. He was dead. I returned the groceries, before fetching the body, and a spade. Buried him in a wood somewhere, and now we're on alert, in case there are more. What''s worse is that there was no warning- normally there's at least one proxy keeping tabs on each runner, reporting to any large groups that the runner gets close to. His minder was probably in a ditch somewhere, poor sod.



So I should probably put the things I've been up to on this blog. At the very least, it's a fair warning.
As you can probably guess from the last post, I passed out in a little village somewhere. Didn't check the name. I don't know how long I was out for, but I woke up on the path. I think that would have been on the Tuesday, the 21st. I don't know how long I was there, scared out of my wits. Then I was attacked, by some kind of monster. Not sure how to describe it. It was like a person stripped of all the things that made him a person. with fuck-off big claws. If it'd just been me, I'd have been dead, but the azoth had been building up for a while. I relied on it, managed to avoid getting hit. It was a rush, like turning the world into slow motion, except nothing like that at all. I was faster and stronger than I'd ever been before, more powerful, but I was still me, still in control. Working with the azoth, not against it, as a single unit. It felt natural, like what I was made for. Hell, it is what I was made for. I managed to get a hold of it, beat it's head in against one of those azoth trees. I'm ashamed to say that it was a good feeling, that power and control. I think it was then the Azoth realised that it had me. Not that the stuff really thinks that way, or really thinks at all, but it's as close an approximation as I can get.

Next thing I knew, I was leaving the path. Can't really explain how, it just seemed obvious. I had no idea where I was going, but the Azoth guided me, and I ended up in a proxy safehouse. I've been here for 5 days now, training. Learning how to use a knife, to kill painlessly. After all, I doubt there's any question of me being a runner anymore. Even if I wanted to, I can't go against the Azoth in that way anymore. So count this as a warning. Hopefully it won't come to this, but if you threaten the proxies who took them in. I will kill you. These are my family now, and I won't allow the same thing that happened to my real family happen to these people.



Walking all day today. Hungry as fuck, would love some actual food. Nothing but 1/2 bottle coke and some sandwiches from someones car. Their fault, left it open. Service station was Near a little village place, not goiong to say name because proxies. Tired as hell, wouldve hitchiked but but there were no cars- must be a really quiet place. Cant fall asleep by the side of the road, but damnit I almost did. just need to rest, then get the fucking black shit out of me. Its whispering now, over and over. not sure whats me thinking whats the azoth. Christ who am i anyway? Craft, phillip, the azoth what? Getting confused, not sure what im doing. going to sleep now, hope craft dosnt come out.



As the title implies, I'm out of house and home. There were proxies, too many for it to be a coincidence, and they knew exactly where I was. I don't know how, I kept everything fairly quiet, but they found me. Suppose it was inevitable, after a while. Any runner fort, regardless of defences, will fall. There's a reason we're called runners.

So the proxies came. I tried to stay put, thought I could hold out and get out after they'd been distracted by my security system. And it almost worked. They reached the door, and I fired up the coils, and they were all disorientated. Me too, actually. I could feel the Azoth inside my head, shifting. Rather disconcerting. It always leaves me feeling disconnected, like I'm watching it happen to someone else. But it was worse for the proxies; They were running into walls, throwing up, bleeding, dying, it seemed. It was awful. Then the machine stopped, might have been a blown fuse or something. I made it out into the hall, fell down the stairs, tried to get back up, but I couldn't, it was like this weight on my back and I was pushing against it but it was like I was doing nothing. Then someone knocked me out, hit me in the back of the head. I thought I was dead, for a bit, when I woke up. Must have wanted me alive for some reason- maybe hoping to use Craft?

I woke up in a car boot. New experience. Couldn't get it open, but I was panicked. Don't like small spaces. Managed to break through the back seat. I'm at a motorway service station, with a laptop, and my clothes. Kind of them to leave one. Suspicious. No idea where to go now, no idea where I am.

Need help with procurement.

Well, I need a hand here. Specifically, I need some sedatives capable of putting someone to sleep for long enough for me to get them to a magnet, stop them using the path (I hope). You see, Snowy has crossed the line, so now he's going to help me do some tests. Like if the path can be used under magnetism, the effects of bleach on internal azoth, and if the path can be used with no legs. That reminds me. I need to get an axe, a shovel and a blowtorch. For medicinal purposes. After all that, though, I think I might let him go. No need to be unecessarily cruel, so I'll find some way to send him over to you, med. FedEx, maybe?



I should probably explain my post yesterday a little more... coherently. You see, I'm fairly sure the proxies at the warehouse were waiting for me because I'd posted what I was gonna do on this blog, like a tit. So I figured I'd test the theory, as wells as possibly helping out a little. So I went to the warehouse and got what I needed, then posted that I would go the next day (yesterday's post), as well as insulting snowy. I figured he'd probably be waiting for me, along with some of his mates (if he could use the path, anyway). Then I called the police, told them there'd be trespassers at the warehouse. Tell me Snowblind: did they get you? Were you there?