News:

Don't get me wrong, I greatly appreciate the fact that you're at least putting effort into sincerely arguing your points. It's an argument I've enjoyed having. It's just that your points are wrong and your reasons for thinking they're right are stupid.

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Petitioner, Beware.

Started by altered, November 23, 2022, 02:54:52 AM

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altered

Crosspost from Twitter. It feels distinctly different to me from the THERE ARE DREADFUL THINGS series, though it handles the same subjects.

It's a lament for my enemies.

QuoteTo those who expect to be treated with humanity despite naming us terrorists, deviants, monsters:

Caveat precator.

You wanted devils and you got what you wanted. The sages knew: do not call up what you cannot put down.

You have called up the whole abyss.

Caveat precator.

You did not keep your circles drawn close. There is no rite of banishment. We are here now.

The power in the blood you shed has not dissipated. We remember each drop. Not one name is lost: we feel the ones we do not know.

For every curse you bestowed upon us: caveat precator.

Caveat precator.

You wanted hellfire and damnation, and now the sun will rise like arson. You asked for desolation and there will be no landscape so bleak.

You asked for an adversary.

You got what you wanted.

Why would you be surprised?

Caveat precator to everyone who builds themselves monsters to burn in effigy. You have ignored the power of words for too long. Wishes really do come true, and they have teeth and talons and thoughts like bombs.

There is no future but the hell you forged. The doors are barred.

Your application has been received. Your comment has been observed. Your request has been granted. Congratulations.

Caveat precator.
Ruin comes for you all.
Caveat precator.
There will be no graves to mark you.
Caveat precator.

Petitioner, beware.
"I am that worst of all type of criminal...I cannot bring myself to do what you tell me, because you told me."

There's over 100 of us in this meat-suit. You'd think it runs like a ship, but it's more like a hundred and ten angry ghosts having an old-school QuakeWorld tournament, three people desperately trying to make sure the gamers don't go hungry or soil themselves, and the Facilities manager weeping in the corner as the garbage piles high.