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You are a being of Eternal struggle. An archetype frequency drawn by blood, called into existence on this plane of war through the medium of your Father and his Father before him, beyond recollection of time. A soul stream attuned to familiarity of flesh, visiting again in parallel with your bloodline. The greatest fraud was convincing our people that our lives were temporary. To equate a quality of life as a measure of happiness, to seek after money and luxury with no care of racial loyalties. The truth is that we are eternal, that we must strive for greatness even against self gain.

The Earth lay decadent in the absence of its God. Abandoned by its caretaker to fall into the hands of lesser being. So long as we refrain from the throne this will be its fate forevermore. This cause is ours alone to bear, the burden of dominion ours to hold. There is no other God. No other King from which to decree, no other name before your own. Our purpose here is beyond comprehension. Our natural state beckons from something greater, a hidden yearning that only the memory of soil abides. It speaks to our soul from a primeval sense of familiar fate that we can not fully elucidate, yet still the call remains. Reclaim the Throne.


A darkness has come for me, with horrors long forgotten to blood memory along with it. I have been consumed by this darkness until the rotten husk I called my flesh has been brought to bone, until the eyes I thought I could see with have been rendered into charcoal, until my mouth has been filled with ember so that I can not speak nor see. The complete weight of this endless struggle has bore down into my mind until the fire died out. I stretch forth not my hand for I do not believe in the possibility of securing for that which I desire. My cries unheeded. My pleadings cast into the deep to be forgotten. The full weight of this annihilation press upon every hair on my head.

Only when Man is completely alone face to face with that bitter unknown will he find the will to put his own name before any other.

of crazy

Eat or be Eaten

I've been caring for a eft for several years that i found on the side of the road. Feeding him by hand and watching his strength and health progress. I made the little guy a 75G palidarium with an island and self sustaining population of tropical fish and little bugs/ worms. Such a mysterious little soul.

It broke my heart to find him dead when i got home from another 16 hour day. His lifeless body floating in the water with no explanation. He would crawl out of the moss and foliage during feeding time and i could lead him around with the food like a puppy. I fed him every day for years. Watched him in fascination for countless hours as i try to maintain what little sanity i have. I've lost my parents, most of my family. Like most of you i've lost all my close friends. Now there is this immeasurable loss. I'd strangle a hundred thousand nigger babys with my owns and never so much as get a lump in my throat. My dear issac was not supposed to die this way. He was supposed to be a good old newt, someone my kids would know for another 15+ years. His magic now is gone, my stewardship over. I will be haunted by this loss.