Wander Aimless If You Must You Fuck, Stay Far Away From Me and Mine Or I Will Eviscerate You However

Vermilion Queen

I speak in verses, prophecies, and curses – Otep Shamaya


The Vermilion Queen comes to those who do not believe. She talks to those who do as old friends and compliments them on the openness of their minds. Her visage never changes to those who understand that She is an intangible abstract. A theoretical metaphor, a whisper in a screaming field of shrieking children. She is where your shadow goes in the noonday sun and the absence of warmth when the full moon rides high in the sky and the wolves bay their mournful worship. No one speaks of Her, everyone thinks of Her. Everyone knows Her, no one knows Her true name. They do violence in Her name and scream at other pacifists to do the same so that She is honored. Never once will the truth be discovered because a lie is the aberration of the standard morality of a deviant society claiming to be altruistic.

The Tarot will dance around you and when the Ten of Swords draws itself over and you leak like a metal colander, know that all you needed to do was believe in Her, or at least do Her the kindness of lying to everyone you knew about believing in Her, you like to them about everything else, why wouldn’t you just keep up a trending behavior? Can you not simply not just babble in incessantly about the wonder of the Circus as your death screams ricochet off of walls made by your malevolence and avarice of spirit?

Judge me not for seeking to find Her in the wastelands of what you left me to work with. I am not the one who deceives everyone by trying to fit the camel through the eye of a needle smaller than the eye can see. I am not the one who discards that which should HAVE BEEN HELD THE TIGHTEST to their bosom. No, I am the one who will search for Her, who will wander until the end of the world to see if I can find a hint of a rumor of the legend of the myth of Her. You will stop your shuffling soon and drop into the perdition you set up for yourself so long ago that you think it preordained by a King that has not been ruling since long before the Queen or the filth of you, was even a distant hope in a twinkling eye.

So as I sit for a moment to catch my breath and refill the blood of my heart with the fight that it needs to continue, you will be aimless, hopeless, heartless and worthless and that will make the job of the Queen so much easier.

Expect Her soon, fool. So very soon.

Well, This Happened

Nirvana Smiley Face

I haven’t written anything non-cryptic or based in an entire fantasy world in a few days and, since it is early on a Saturday morning and I am straight awake and not really doing anything, I thought I would go ahead and, you know, write something that wasn’t cryptic or based in a fantasy world. I don’t really have anything to say, so this is going to be one of those things I remove directly from my posterior and show to you, but I am assured by my own fragile ego that you will forgive me. If you don’t, well I will cry and all of that and make another writing which, oddly enough, some of you will like more. I win is the point I am trying to make here.


Just like that I straight ran out of any ambition to do this.




What follows is an account from an incident that occurred at «REDACTED» on «REDACTED», 14 20XX.

For the purposes of security, names have been kept the same to acknowledge the fucking guilty.

He never showed up. On all the days he could have fucking bailed on his daughter he chose «REDACTED»? That, Gentle Readers, is a class fucking act. Missing the «REDACTED» of his «REDACTED»? Who the fuck does that? WHY would you do that?

Still, now I hope the Crimson Princess takes apart the Light in him as he did to «REDACTED». I hope She rips him limb from motherfucking limb ad devours the dark chunk of dead wood that is his fucking heart.

Yes, Crimson Princess. All of the Circus will be there to see the Tarot come to life and dance in the Courtyards Of Damnation as «REDACTED» judges with laughter in their voice and the darkest hate of revenge on their lips.

We have all seen what happens when you are asked who you serve by the Fisher King. Now, we will see what you will gag out as you die when you are questioned at last by the Vermillion Goddess and the retinue She carries with her always and everywhere.




With Hands So Gentle He Destroyed The World, With Bloodied Hands He Cradled A Babe At Rest

Hunt Master

Fear. He knew the smell of it like he knew the paths of the world. He knew the ways of things that felt fear when they heard the Hunt Master was searching for prey. This was different, this was something he had never known. He walked in the soft snow of the lands surrounding the people he was to slaughter and he finally understood.

He was afraid. No, afraid was weakness compared to the overwhelming dread that hung over his mind and heart as he stalked the creatures to make sure all of them were accounted for before he set to work. Siobhan, the Dark Goddess, she had filled his mind with precisely what she would do to him if he failed her. He was shown the Darkness that Devours, he had seen It, It had seen Him, and he would never be able to escape from it. Even the fleeting memory of it made his blood run cold and his palms sweat.

Not now.

He nodded as he saw the last of the ones he was looking for. There was not going to be subtlety, there was not going to be traps and snares and the thrills of the hunt of a cunning prey. No, this time he had a different weapon that he rarely used, but it never failed him.

Cracking his neck from side to side slowly, he simply grew. Ten, then twenty, then thirty feet. Above the trees, at last, he looked down and could pinpoint each of them, their locations locked into his mind as he knew they still did not see him, for he did not want to be seen as of yet. He walked if moving aside trees could be called such until he stood in the center of the village. There was the white of the snow on the tops of the dwellings and they were surrounded by a crude fence, which he sighed in happiness about, it made his life so much easier.

He took a breath, whispering a prayer to the Dark Goddess herself that he finds success and at the moment he remembered the Darkness seeing him with Her, he appeared to them.

A giant, fifty feet tall with blood running in rivulets down his skin, the heat from his body melting the snow. No one moved, no one understood what was going on precisely, but they all knew it was going to be bad. He did not hesitate and, he bent his knees, lowering them to nearly the ground and took in a deep breath.

Looking around once more to make sure they were all there, he let it out in a shriek that was filled with neighing horses and the scream of the eagles. It was filled with the fear of the Hunt, and, most importantly, it was the heat of anger.

The fire instantly destroyed every building, tree, and every single one of the people there in an instant. A circle of destruction spread wider and wider and the Hunt Master let it grow to make sure that no one escaped. He k where the young lady was and she was in no danger at all. He had warded her earlier and placed her deep into a sleep so she would never know the sights of what needed to come next.

He opened his eyes wide, counting each charred corpse and reaching outwith long arms and plucking them from where they had fallen and placing them in a pile in front of him. He counted them, then counted them again, then even a third time and when he was satisfied he had completed the first task his Dark Goddess had set for him was complete, he sat down in the fiery waste of the village to do the part he was used to.

Cleaning the kill.

He sucked the marrow from the bones, ate the flesh off them, tore the clothing off with his teeth until he got to the skulls. Each one he carefully cleansed with a vial of a clear liquid that looked of water but ate away everything save the bone from the skulls. He polished and buffed each one, his workmanship noteworthy on a normal day, but there was so much more at stake.

Satisfied he had done this well, he stood again, the village an ashen heap beneath him. This would not do.

Again he took another deep breath and the scream that came next was clean, it was pure. It erased the village, replaced it with the trees and shrubs that had been there before. It buried their bodies and let the maggots feast and soon no one would be able to tell that there had ever been anything here other than the serenity of a wood.

He gathered the things he needed and walked in strides to where the wee lass lay against the river. Her body broken and so far past the hope of any save the one she would see next when she opened her eyes. He picked her up as delicately as an ice flower in midwinter and closed his eyes and whispered.


Venenum’s Crusade


Each face in the room took on a snarling countenance as they saw and immediately recognized the filth in the picture Delilah showed them.

Desdemona spoke first, all hints of her happiness erased in an instant with two simple words. “Moon Beasts.”

Now, Moon Beasts was a name their father used, hence they did, but the rest of the world, human and otherwise, called them the ever-popular moniker of Werewolves. Cursed and broken things that were once men of shamanic power that gave away their humanity for the ability to shape themselves into the feral dogs they worshiped. Most humans knew that par, and if you got attacked you joined their ranks, but unlike the Vampires, the Moon Beasts were sadistic in their hunting tactics. In medieval Europe, it was an easy enough thing to deal with if a Saxon village disappeared, but the money The Authority had to spend when they had eaten, literally eaten, the entire population of Fresno, California had been immense. They had moved tens of thousands of people over the course of a few days. Money had been paid to everyone, everywhere. It had taken hundreds of millions of dollars and thousands of hours to make it right.

That was just a single pack of these monstrous fiends.

Delilah took a deep breath and began her report, she had not been looking forward to this since she received the news this morning. It wasn’t a question of “winning” or “losing”, there was no way for them to lose this, it was the cost, in money and political favor, to clean up whatever disaster these mindless savages made.

“This picture was taken by one of the scouts we assigned to Southern California after the disaster in Fresno. Obviously, there is only one in this photo, but if it is the same pack, there will be forty to fifty normal beasts and at least three to five alphas. It is the full moon too so while the humans may believe what they will about when the things come out, we all know all the full moon does is make them a dozen times stronger than they usually are…”

“Sister Stop.” The voice was full of the power it had always had the potential to have, but never shown. Venenum stood up and walked into the room proper, his features shown for the first time to all of them in countless hundreds of years, his taking refuge in the darkness accepted by all of them as wanting to hide his visage as a matter of personal honor. The candle flames all turned a violent green and cast the room in a hideous light, the shadows showing more than what was there.

Venenum stood in front of them now next to Delilah. He towered over her by nearly two feet yet the hunch in his back and the ravage scars of the Church made him seen almost her height. He had lost one eye long ago in Sheba fighting for the people who would eventually betray him. His feet had been misshapen and broken in the Inquisition, his right arm withered and rotting due to a curse from a Witch in Medieval France. he could have looked like a sculpted Greek god if he chose to, no damage to them was permanent, but he allowed his wounds to stay, to remember the failures and not repeat them. He was and had always been, the chief of the forces that went to war for their kind in times of need.

“We will not buy people. We will not move people. We will not make calls to the damn men in suits. No. Not this time.” His voice was full of hatred and bile. His first wife having been taken by the beasts in Rome and eaten slowly over months, which she was still alive and in agony.

“I will go to California immediately, you will make the usual accommodations for me Delilah. I will take Drysun with me and we will take care of the Moon Beasts.” Delilah began to speak and Venenum raised his good hand and shook his head. “I did not ask this Delilah, I am the Marshall of the Forces as our Father made me, I will take the fight to the enemy. This conversation is over.” The flames on the candle exploded all at once and the room was bathed in the darkness of their brothers’ mood.