Category Archive

Saber Rattling. It’s the act of making threats of violence. Most of the time, it’s empty actions, nothing but noise, hollow echoes into the darkness. Just a bunch of men standing in the woods, shaking their swords in hopes of … Read More

They say give a man enough rope and he’ll hang himself.  Meaning if you see someone making mistake after mistake and you don’t stop them, eventually the totality of their mistakes will be what ends them.  Hatchet, you’ve always let … Read More

The silhouette of Nox sits in his gas chamber, shrouded in gas, his voice over the intercom.  “Art is a maxim about creation.  Some people create using different media.  They paint, they sculpt, my dioramas, making things of beauty to … Read More

“Well, I must say, I never thought it would be you and me locked in a cage with each other.  But it makes sense that our decisions have led us here to this moment in this darkness.  The calliope music fading … Read More

You know, I love to work with my chemicals and gases when they’re at their freshest.  That’s when they truly sing, it’s when they’re at their most potent.  Because all things, as they age or are experimented on well, they … Read More

I like to consider myself to be a thoughtful person, and that’s not in the abstract of, “Oh, he’s so thoughtful. Nox got me this nice gift”.  Pft – No, I mean in the fact that I plan, I calculate, … Read More

You’ve always been the builder, Stubbins.  Ever so meticulous, you’ve built your empire brick by brick, a vision in mind, and you executed everything perfectly.  You built upon an unshakable bedrock.  Created this visage of being inhuman, unshakable, and calculating.  … Read More

Night after night, I heard the sirens of Deathrow going on lockdown.  All hell breaking loose while I sat back and contemplated the next big move.  The next meaningful step is what mattered to me while the dogs below fought … Read More

Months ago…  Smoke fills a corridor leading away from Deathrow, and a figure stalks through the smog.  We see a poster taken on the breeze of Arcadia’s internal ventilation systems coming to rest at the feet of Nox.  The poster … Read More

A desolate wasteland spread out before us.  A monster has clear-cut the trees.  Tilled the soil into sand, the colour of rust.  It is death incarnate as the breadbasket, which Arcadia is dependent on, is thrust into famine.  The strong … Read More