Us vs Them

I haven't posted in a while, I know. I'm still alive. I'm still here. I still have this information, but I'm no longer sure I can share it. Because...because I used to think it was Us vs. Them. We were on one side and They were on the other and anyone who worked for Them was automatically against Us.

But what if that's not true? What if I have been working for Them all these years without even realizing it? What if there is no Us, what if there is only Them?

My mind reeled with that thought. I didn't want to think it was true. But some part of me, deep down, said: what have you ever done? what have you ever accomplished? what lives have you saved?

Have I saved lives? Or have I simply saved myself at the expense of others? Is that not what They do?

And so I sit here with this information and wonder if I should release it. Is that protecting others or self preservation? If I think I know things, is that truth or arrogance?

Is anything I say even right?

Servants: The Crepuscular Mysteries

So, as I stated before, the Nightlanders don't really have any use for servants. They don't go on recruiting drives, like, say, the Slender Man or the Archangel does. People aren't lining up to work for them, since anyone who does work for them is more like to become bisected and rearranged than anything else.

But there is a group of cultists that worship the Nightlanders and have been around for quite awhile: the Crepuscular Mysteries. They appear to be some form of mystery religion, like from ancient Greece or Rome, steeped in obscure rites and rituals. I haven't been able to learn much of anything about them, since they are super duper secretive, but I did get my hands on one pamphlet they printed. Unfortunately, all in contained was this passage:

As the sun's rays die away in the heavens, twilight emerges from the earth. Twilight: a great army of the night, with thousands of invisible columns and billions of soldiers. A mighty army that from time immemorial has contended with light, broken in rout with every dawn, conquered with every nightfall, held sway from sunset to sunrise, and in the daytime, scattered, has taken refuge in places of concealment and has waited. 

Waited in mountain chasms and urban cellars, in forest thickets and depths of dark lakes. Waited as it lurked in ageless caverns in the ground, in mines, ditches, corners of homes, recesses of walls. Dispersed and seemingly absent, yet it fills every nook and cranny. It is present in every crevice of tree bark, in folds of people's clothing, it lies beneath the smallest grain of sand, clings to the finest spider's thread, and waits. Flushed from one place, in the twinkling of an eye it moves to another, availing itself of the slightest opportunity to return whence it had been banished, to break into unoccupied positions and flood the earth.

As the sun expires, a twilight army, silent and cautious, moves out in serried ranks from its refuges. It fills the corridors, hallways and poorly lit staircases of buildings; from under wardrobes and tables it creeps out into the middle of the room and besets the curtains; through cellar airholes and through windows it slips out into the streets, storms in dead silence the walls and roofs and, lurking on the rooftops, patiently waits for the rosy clouds to fade away in the west. 

Another moment, and there will suddenly spring up an immense explosion of darkness reaching from earth to heaven. Animals will hide in their lairs, men will run home; life, like a plant without water, will contract and begin to wither. Colors and shapes will dissolve into nothingness; fear, error and crime will take their sway over the world.

It's apparently from a short story called "Shades" by Bolesław Prus. No secret code I can discern, although the whole thing has a vague creepiness to it.

Them 16: The Nightlanders

Let's get this out of the way right now: these guys look like shadows and they organize shit. You may be thinking: well, that's fucking stupid. What are they going to do, organize my house?

Well, yes. They will organize your house and your internal organs along with it. They will move things according to their own Eldritch Feng Shui and if that means suddenly your lungs are now two inches to the right and you can't breath, well, tough shit.

That used to be all the information I had on them -- sparse, right? But I found this journal during my travels written by a town hall record-keeper.

The shadows have moved things again. I know it was them. There are more shadows here today then there were yesterday. Shades of shades. Are they ghosts? Shadows of dead men come to haunt me in my golden years?

[...]

They make patterns in the dust. They move the cabinets and the curtains and the books and I can see there is a special pattern to them. It is not random. There is a method. There is a pattern.

[...] 

The pattern is life. They are spelling out the entirety of life for me to record. Their patterns hold secrets that have been lost for millenia. Information that was never recorded before, information they are giving me. I am their records-keeper.

[...] 

They are showing me such wondrous things.

[...] 

I can't stay here much longer. This place is too empty for me, too lacking. I need more patterns. The shadows are showing me a way, a way to a place of where the patterns are complete. Where the information flows.

They will bring me to a land of perpetual motion and eternal night.

I don't know what became of the record-keeper (even his name is lost -- it's scratched out completely in the journal), but I assume he either died or became one of the few servants of the Nightlanders. Let's hope it is the former.

Back again.

I'm tired. I'm tired and I'm hungry, but all I have that's edible in the fridge is a can of tuna. I think it's edible.

Okay, yep, that's edible. Doesn't really satisfy my hunger, but it's better than nothing. I'll need to order some more food tomorrow. Can't go outside.

Where have I been for the past year? Gathering information. Gathering all possible information I can about Them. Anything and everything. The ones I knew about and the ones I didn't. I was on a Mission from God (if he exists), so I went out and I found everything I could.

And now I'm going to share it all with you.

Them 15: EAT

So. I haven't really addressed this one. Don't know why. Guess I should. So here's EAT.

Yeah, it's a crappy picture made in paint. Get over it.

EAT is...what the fuck is EAT? I can't seem to really get a straight answer out of any of my contacts. They can't even agree on what the fuck EAT stands for. They all say that it's an acronym, but an acronym of what?  One said it's the "Epping AquaTarkus" (whatever the fuck that means), another says that it's "Evolution's Angry Twin" (oh, that sounds scary) and yet another says that it's the "Eternal Answer Tree" (at least that sounds imposing).

Meanwhile, I have a bunch of people who say that the real threat isn't EAT, but what EAT creates: the Camper.

Not people who go camping, no. The Camper are a group of hive-minded (I think) people who seek to spread the infection that is EAT. Drink a drop of EAT and you become obsessed. With that? I have no fucking clue. Whatever you want. Playing video games. Sleeping. Whatever.

And then, apparently, the obsession drives you to go to a nearby pond or fountain or place where EAT is. Where it's Ink is. (Why is it called ink? No clue. Again: I have no clue about anything.) And then it...does something to you and you become a Camper.

I've got people who say Camper are harmless. They just repeat what you say. And then there are others who say that this is just an "early stage" Camper (again: whatever that means) and that "stage ten" Camper are much, much worse. Not that anyone will tell me how. When I asked, they muttered something about "five arms" or something.

I guess the reason I have been putting off writing about EAT is because I really know nothing about it. Everything here? Could be totally and completely wrong. I've never encountered EAT (or if I have, I don't know it). All this information is second and third-hand. A friend of a friend of a friend.

So I guess what I'm saying it: draw your own conclusions.

And Wonder Why

I visited Finder's grave today. Fenella's grave. I don't know. I guess I just felt like it.

I haven't posted here lately. I haven't felt like it. I don't really know if any information I put out there actually helps anybody.

And lately, I've been feeling my age. I'm older than I thought. I'm older than I ever thought I would be.

I thought I would be dead by now.

I read a book a while ago. It was a fantasy novel by Glen Cook - I like his books. No epic fantasies, just regular people trying to survive. The book was called Soldiers Live and there was a quote that I liked. That I think means something:

Soldiers live. He dies and not you, and you feel guilty, because you're glad he died, and not you. Soldiers live, and wonder why.

Finder died and I wanted to die in her stead. I would never be glad that she was dead, but now I am glad that I am not. I glad I am alive and I wish to remain so.

I am alive.

And I wonder why.

Them 14: The Dying Man

Alright, time for another. I figured I've been off the air long enough.

So: what the fuck is the Dying Man?

Well, from what I've been able to gather, he's a body-jumping parasite. Have you ever seen that movie Fallen, where Denzel Washington has to fight the demon Azazel who can transfer bodies with just a touch? He's kind of like that only it sort of takes more than touch to transfer. It takes dying. Hence the name.

Imagine a knife-wielding maniac attacks you and you, in self-defense, kill them. If they were possessed by the Dying Man, well, you're screwed because now you're possessed by the Dying Man. I have no idea if there is a way to get rid of a Dying Man infection, because all reports of infections I've heard end in the possessed dying. The best thing you could probably do is go somewhere completely isolated to kill yourself, so that the infection isn't passed on.

Now, here's where it gets complicated. You see, you might not be able to go anywhere; you might be completely controlled by the Dying Man. Or it might just mess with your head. Or it might unbalance you. Or it might lay dormant.

Because there isn't just one Dying Man, oh no. There are many. Apparently, it used to be one big thing and then it was split into many smaller things. Because that always works out great.

In any case, being infected by a Dying Man usually means your body will either immediately be taken over or slowly be taken over. This also applies to the rate your body degrades - oh yeah, I forgot to mention that the infection also comes with degradation of your body, mutation, decay, and, eventually, death. Because the Dying Man is always dying.

Another thing to consider is that apparently all the different Dying Man have different names and personalities or something. I'm really not sure about that one - all of the operatives I've talked to who have come in contact with the Dying Man have avoided talking with him, probably for fear of becoming infected themselves.

The Dying Man is one of Them that you should not, I repeat NOT kill. Killing it in a populated area will only release it to be passed on. Probably to the person who killed it.

Your best bet if you actually capture someone infected with the Dying Man is to take them to an isolated area where you are sure there is no people for miles around. Then a slow acting poison might work best and allow you to leave and get far enough away to avoid infection. In any case, it's a lot more complicated than just shooting them.