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Hah, Blütgrindor and Carmilla's rusty old memes don't effect me because I barely considered them funny to begin with
(Said Quiet_boi with an akward sense of overconfidence as he tells of the event to Soup King #96)
Why are you telling me of this? Shouldn't you be embarrassed of being dommed like that by a shirleyist?
That's the thing (Quiet_boi said)
Now that they think I'm gay I can extort the far left side of the internet in our favor, they'll have no chance
I doubt that's how it wor-
(96 was interrupted by a series of app notifications coming from a 2013 Galaxy Quiet_boi had got for the occation)
And there's your awnser. Kaijin's girls may call me gay and treat me like a bitch, but they can't do that to all this people
(He says as he holds the phone towards 96's face, which only shows a series of notifications from Youtube about uploads that Quiet_boi isn't even paying any attention anymore)
Yes, a whole army at our disposition
(Said 96, with the most smug tone in it's voice)
I gotta unsuscribe to some of these channels…. Damn
(Said Quiet_boi, knowing that Blütgrindor and Carmilla got away with it, but for how long?)

(Oh yeah, time to roast Twitter Identity Politics and chew bubblegum… and I'm all out of gum.)

A panel on Soup King #96's chest then swung open to reveal Ludibrium hiding inside the Shitbot's torso. The maniacal joker slithered out of the machine, stood up and announced:

"You may be a guy dude in their eyes, but just a little friendly reminder that Blütgrindor's practically a pansexual, even if she doesn't believe in all those labels and sexualities. Plus, she's in not just an interracial homosexual relationship, but practically in a polygamous relationship with half of her army as well. You can claim one, maybe two labels that Twitter nuts irrationally worship, but Miss Little Queen of Intemperance can claim at least four. Besides…"

Ludibrium climbed onto the ceiling, swung down and pulled out a brown paper bag which he held up to the Quiet_boi's solid-white MS Paint-looking face.

"…I don't think you'd qualify for Human Rights by their standards anyways."

Ludibrium then swooced right in to a vent cover, disappearing from view while his laughter faded into the distance.

(In all honesty though, Blütgrindor's response to an angry Twitter mob would be to just start slashing them apart and calling them gay and the minute one of them points out that she's in a homosexual relationship and asks why she's fighting them, she'd just look at them and say "Yeah, so?" and resume impaling people and slinging insults and slurs at them.)

(Alternate timeline, go!)

Soup King MM sat at his desk working on paperwork one morning, he enjoyed his position as the head of the New York City branch of the Circle Cult. He was going about his regular day when all of a sudden he noticed that his vision had slowly turned red, he tried to walk to the maintenance facility but before he could even come close, the red hue had turned opaque and he could no longer discern anything about the world around him.

Then, suddenly, it all stopped. Soup King MM's head had been cut from his neck and above him stood none other than Varicella and Zoster and the NYPD and the National Guard were standing behind them, no, alongside them. Before he could inquire as to what was going on or why it was a completely different time of day after what felt like a only few seconds, Zoster slammed his massive halberd onto the machine's disembodied head, destroying it.

The New York Mayor stood at the podium and offered his condolences to the people of his city. He spoke at great lengths and tried to reassure the grieving masses that they were safe now and that the incident was over. But inside he knew that it what happened earlier throughout the day would scar not just the the city, or the state, but the country and possibly the entire world, possibly forever. Nothing could atone for the massacre that happened in his city, under his watch.

"Here we are tonight at Times Square in Manhattan," A reporter announced standing in front of a scrambling swarm of ambulances, fire trucks, police vehicle and armored fighting vehicles, all hastily working to maintain control and heal the damage around them.

"…Where a large portion of the chaos unfolded, as you can see, there is carnage and destruction everywhere and responders are still searching for survivors of the deadly insurrection that happened earlier." She continued. "There is still no answer as to why the local branch of the Cult of The Undeserving Circle suddenly mobilized it's private army against the residents of New York City."

Varicella and Zoster sat atop the HMMWV that held the chopped up remains of Soup King MM inside. They rode through the streets with the burnt and damaged high rises leaning above them. The two marveled at how despite the buildings having been subjected to various weapons beyond their understanding, they still stood, even if much of their interiors had been blasted to rubble. They also marveled at the numerous destroyed metal giants that littered the streets, their hulking forms twisted and distorted by salvos of M26A1 rockets and Hellfire missiles.

After a while they passed through where several apartment complexes once stood, in their wake was nothing but debris and the people who had once lived there wandering about distraught at the loss of not just their homes, but their families and neighbors as well. Their first priority when they arrived in The Big Apple was to clear the residential areas of the Circle Cult's drone footsoldiers and try to evacuate any and all civilians to a safe area, but instead and much to their dismay, what they found were entire neighborhoods turned to deathtraps and the stench. Varicella and Zoster were all too familiar with the smell, they had seen their fair share of mass graves, ablaze and not thanks to their service as knights, but they had believed that the people here, even their reviled enemies, the Circle Cult, would not begin constructing such monuments of savagery, especially so soon into a battle.

It took them two whole days to reclaim the city from the Circle Cult, in that time 300,000 people had been killed, not just through the general chaos of war, but deliberately, as if the Circle Cult held some sort of deep-seated and innate hatred against Humanity. The culling didn't seem to target any group or demographic in particular, but seemingly everyone not associated with the cult was rounded up and either killed or held captive to be executed later. The strangest part was how sudden it occurred, it just did, for no apparent reason, the head of the NYC branch just decided to conduct a genocide with no apparent provocation.

March 14th-16th, 2007 would live on in infamy, politicians, celebrities and seemingly everyone was calling for the forcible dismantling of the Circle Cult and it's private military. Some even called for religion as a whole to be banned. Things escalated quickly as the Shitbot heads of other cities' branches began displaying increasingly disturbing personality changes until they too suddenly snapped and attempted to decimate everything in their reach. Soup King Prime, MCC, 56 and 82 all worked diligently hour after hour and day after day to try and resolve what was wrong with the other Shitbots, but before long there were none left to fix and the military was beating down their door. They knew what was about to happen next, they knew that they were not at fault for whatever was driving the others to genocide and that possibly nobody was and most importantly, they knew that nobody would listen to them.

(I really enjoyed writing this and liked how it ended up, but I then realized halfway through that it would completely screw up the timeline of events I wanted to precede the comic's story, so it's just in it's own universe.)

(Now, to figure out something else that I could dump here as filler to pass the time that's not contradictory to the story I want to tell later.)

(I don't where this is going, but it's got me imagining a bunch of my Shitbots in balaclavas declaring that the sinful fleshbags need to be purged and that all who die fighting them will receive 72 Blank Hard Drives when they reach Silicon Heaven.)

(Robotic Jihad FTW.)

(I was considering making it longer and having PRIIIIIIIIIIIME!!!! and the gang go on a quest to stop the head of either the Los Angeles or London branch of the Circle Cult from going fully off his rocker, only to be just a hair too late and end up having to fight the Branch Head while he goes irreparably nuts while singing Pink Floyd's "Waiting for the Worms")

(Just SK-Prime, Quiet_boi and Olors hacking-and-slashing through hordes of drones while the Head of the Branch Shitbot's rocking back and forth in the background screaming "WOOOOOOOOOO-OOOOOOOHHH!!! YOU CANNOT REACH ME NOW!!!! NO MATTER HOW YOU TRY!!! GOODBYE CRUEL WORLD, IT'S OVER!!!! WALK ON BY!!!!")

(There'd also be a part where it's revealed that it's a virus that's making the Shitbots go full-retard and the Circle Cult immediately suspects the Shirleyists, but they're fully compliant with the ensuing investigation and it's revealed that they have nothing to do with it. Eventually, Castiellea and a big-tiddy goth waifu I've yet to unveil show up and explain that the virus is paranormal and from another dimension and that they're going to begin taking action to isolate the dimension the thread takes place in from every other conceivable alternate reality in order to prevent any more occurrences of supernatural demon computer viruses making robot cult leaders attempt to commit omnicide.)

(Obviously the events of the story would require a massive rewrite of the comic's story, so I decided to just shove it into it's own little non-canon timeline, which I guess makes the end part with Castiellea quarantining it from the rest of the multiverse bit sorta kinda canon in a "Malal isn't canon" sense.)

Blütgrindor stood surveying the smoldering remains of an old fishing town on an isolated island as her underlings piled the remains of its inhabitants into mounds nearly 10 feet tall. The sound of turbines lunged towards her and stopped as a thud roared behind her, Kitty Hawk walked towards the scarred savage while surveying the destruction and stooped low to scrape a drop of the blood spilled from the ground and hung it from her finger in front of her eye.

"Yep, looks like you were on to something after all." Kitty said as she flicked the droplet back onto the ground. A sinister grin stretched across Blütgrindor's face.

"I do as I was assigned to, I bring wrath and judgement to the heretics and when they commit unforgivable acts, I wipe the world's surface clean of their madness and revel in the righteous slaughter!" Blütgrindor announced while leading Kitty towards a shed, the single remaining structure still standing.

"Ok, but you said that this wasn't it, that there were things far more concerning here…" Kitty said as Blütgrindor simply smiled and gently opened the door of the shed to reveal it's contents, while stretching her wings out so as to block any sunlight from illuminating them. "Dear lord!" Kitty said at the sight of it.

Before them were mutilated remains that looked eerily human, but morbidly wrong. A severed head, snarling and resembling a monstrous mockery of the human form sat stuck in a permanent aborted screech while behind it were a massive pair of skeletal wings covered in a leathery, pale gray skin more akin to a beast's hide. Blütgrindor ever so slightly folded one of her own wings so as to shine some of the sun onto it and the skin immediately began simmering and sloughing off to expose bone and muscle.

"It doesn't respond to well to the sun as you can see…" Blütgrindor remarked. "We finally slaughtered it once it began to flee just before sunrise. As fast it flew, it's no match for yours truly teleporting right before it and slashing it limb from limb!" She continued, her gloating reaching higher and higher levels of confidence.

Kitty looked to Blütgrindor sternly. "This isn't good, I'm going to-"

"I am already here." Castiellea said as she walked towards the two. "It is not what you fear, though it would have been a threat if it were not discovered sooner." She said as the roof and walls of the shack crumbled to dust, exposing the remains to the sun so that they too, crumbled to dust.

Castiellea continued. "Fortunately, I have been able to locate the others. All deep underground in the Middle East, crawling about in forgotten labyrinths far from any people. Regardless, as long as they toil aimlessly in the shadows, they are a threat waiting to be unleashed."

"Very well, then. Have you already reported back to Kommando?" Kitty replied.

"Yes, he has already set out to destroy all that remains of these… curious abominations." Castiellea replied before disappearing back to whence she came.

"Your Highness, we have stragglers!" Said the garishly colored Undefinable as she flung two local teenagers onto the ground before them. "We caught them trying to row their way to the mainland with a small raft! They must be desperate……." She continued, leaning uncomfortably close to the two survivor's faces with a macabre grin on her face.

"Thank you, Perifonos." Blütgrindor said before turning her attention to the two captives. "You surely must want to go on if you escaped the events of last night… let's see if you truly have survived, however…" Blütgrindor said as she stretched her fingers out to their faces and dug the sharp tips of her indexes into their cheeks. Examining the resulting blood on her fingertips, Blütgrindor looked at them with a devious smile and merely uttered the words: "Infected."

She then turned her hands into her dual chainsaw blades and outstretched her arms to each side, even spreading her wings high above her head, casting a shadow on the two who almost survived. Kitty merely looked to the two teens and said: "We are genuinely sorry and offer our deepest and most sincere apologies, but you more than likely know why we can't just let you live." Blütgrindor's arms then swept down, past each other and stopped crossed atop her chest, she retracted the blades into her arms and regained her clawed, skeletal hands. The two survivors had met their demise and Perifonos stood above, them with a saddened look upon her face. "I- I wanted to do that…" She commented, holding back tears over the loss of the opportunity.

She opened her breastplate and ejected and small metallic cube that twisted and rearranged itself into a small Undefinable. "Come on, Laslinigow… let's add these two to the pile, you take the heads…" Perifonos said as she picked up the two beheaded cadavers and hoisted them over her shoulders.

The mounds of infected corpses were set ablaze as produced a large metal cylinder with fins on it's back that made Blütgrindor light up with excitement.

"Oh, Kitty Hawk, first of her name, my superior under our righteous leader, may I perform the honors of the final cleansing of this tainted, filthy island? It has been so long since I had the pleasure of-" Blütgrindor's speech was cut off by Kitty, who had pulled the cylinder away from Blütgrindor with reflexive haste. "No!" She replied. "There's a reason you're not allowed to play with these anymore!" Kitty lectured before ordering Blütgrindor to move herself and her forces off of the island.

Kitty flew to the center of the island and sat the cylinder down in the grass, rotating it to reveal a panel labeled "WARHEAD YIELD: 50 Mt" She then opened the panel, twisted both keys and set a timer for 5 minutes before taking flight and speeding away from the island.

She dropped back to the ground at a pier on the mainland over thirty miles away and quickly sat back and faced the direction she came, flipping on a pair of sunglasses before the glowing plume rose high into the sky and the shockwave and a roaring sound ripped through the air, accompanied by a noticeable rumble in the ground. People gathered and briefly stared at the colossal pillar of light that sprouted from beyond the horizon before running and fleeing further inland.

Kitty sat back, quietly exhaling before commenting. "Talk about getting a job done!"

Later, in the dead of night in a city that knows no sleep, a bright flash of light burst into the air over a litter-laden street illuminated by the psychedelic glow of competing signage. An unsuspecting taxi swerved to avoid the phenomenon and crashed through a phonebooth and into a streetlamp. The light had disappeared and in it's place was a woman, tall and lithe, her silver armor almost blending in with her nigh-paper-white skin, her long and straight white hair flowed behind her as her head scanned the towers above her.

"The fuck is wrong with you, bitch? Don't you know that the fuckin' road's for cars!" The cabbie shouted as he managed to kick the broken door of his taxi open. The woman didn't seem to notice him, instead, her eyes were shut and her nose was pointing towards the sky, she took a breath, opened her eyes and quietly spoke to the night.

"I have found you… I have found you! Now… there is only time separating us… and not much at all… your end is near… I will kill you…" She unsheathed a katana with a blade that glowed and emitted a faint, white mist and held it up into the moonlight. "I've come for you… Blütgrindor!"

Is all this part of the story of that comic that you are working on, Kaijin?
Because I'm failing to recognize the correlation to your figth against the Great Holey One and the ridiculously evil nature of most of your characters.

(Well, most of this is one giant reference to House of Ashes. It's made by the same guys who did Until Dawn and Until Dawn: Spoopy Ship Edition if I'm not mistaken.)

(I think you are forgetting Brother Boi that we are the plucky protagonists of this story.)

(We are literally trying to attack and overthrow goddesses and I'm pretty sure Shirley is the only one who can be called Good Aligned so far.)

(It's actually a reference to Midnight Mass, I watched and thought how hilarious it would be if Blütgrindor or Hell, any of the Shirleyists stumbled upon the events of that miniseries.)

(Although, I would argue that just this once, Blütgrindor's sorta kinda in the right. I mean, she did just destroy an island contaminated by demonic vampire blood. She might be doing it to relish in the slaughter of her enemies, but Kitty's definitely there to make sure that the vampirism doesn't leave the island.)

(I also wanted to shove the tiny bit of lore that Blütgrindor was at one point given access to the Shirleyists' Nuclear Arsenal, only to get it revoked very soon afterwards for very obvious reasons.)

(Also, the vampires weren't in the middle of the Iraqi desert. They were under it, in, like, catacombs and shit. But, there being more than one is something I came up with, mainly to justify Castiellea showing up because I haven't used her in one of these in a while and wanted her to show up.)

(And I personally tend to think of the conflict between the Circle Cult and the Church of Shirley as between two factions that have wildly opposing perceptions as to how the world should be with none of them being identified as clear-cut Heroes or Villains, except for the obvious evil characters like Blütgrindor or 56 and 82, the later of whom I don't care what you think, their capacity for chaos alone makes them too dangerous to be considered anything resembling heroic.)

(That said, I still think of Blütgrindor as a protagonist, albeit a hideously villainous and evil one. As we can see with the Taxicab incident however, her love of reckless and indiscriminate violence might be coming to bite her in the ass.)

(And as I've already mentioned, anything involving Blütgrindor in this thread before the comic isn't cannon to the comic, as Blütgrindor isn't revived/reborn/created/etc. until after the events of the comic.)

(Now, to draw a bunch of irrelevant crap and get mad at myself for not working on the comic. Thick thighs really are going to be my demise at this rate. Also the fact that there's like a grand total of 3-4 characters for that dieselpunk vs. fantasy fictional universe I've mentioned time-to-time that Varicella, Zoster and the demonic sorcerer guy from a few months ago are from despite the fact that I've designed a shit-ton of weird dieselpunk aircraft for it. I'm going to draw busty half-Minotaur mercenary women wielding SMGs that look like an ungodly hybrid of an MP5 and a Thompson against eco-terrorist nymphs and elves while the Industro-nymphs from a few pages ago destroy an Elf forest village in the background with giant robots made from scrapped car parts with a hopper-fed 15mm Agar gun for a right arm and nobody can stop me. Because before there was BRVVRVRVRVRVRVRT and DAKKA DAKKA DAKKA there was TOOF TOOF TOOF TOOF TOOF.)

Blütgrindor was once again wrangling the insubordinates among her subordinates with Hinokaizen having briefly regained her confidence enough to orchestrate an insurrection. Having chased the traitors to an industrial city somewhere in South Japan, chaos immediately unfolded in the streets as creatures of fantasy and legend of the distant past unfurled into towering mechanical warriors, the entire city was partially through the process of being turned into an impromptu temporary fortress by the traitors with many streets barricaded off and small outposts and forts erected inside and on top of the buildings.

Blütgrindor flew through the air towards an area where her loyalists were having trouble with a particularly hardy traitor, previously they had reinforced and armored this one's body so the loyalists could use her as a meat- er, metal shield in particularly hectic wars, but she was intent on abusing it in futile attempts against her rulers. The blue-and-white Wyvern Undefinable swooped down onto the traitor, launching steel javelins at her until a thrown club struck her wing, causing her to swerve and crash into the ground and tumbling past her opponent. "Nobody hurts MY Velka!" Shouted Carmilla as she descended upon the armored traitor with a pair of toothed, scythe-like axes which she used to grapple the traitor in place while she tried to unleash her swarm of mechanical insects, but instead the traitor broke loose of her grip and proceeded to beat the towering loyalist into retreating with her studded kanabo. A black pegasus Undefinable landed behind the traitor and tried to shoot her, but her weapons were ineffective and the armored brute grabbed the loyalist's arm, slammed her into the ground and flung her almost three city blocks away and into a storefront.

Blütgrindor spawned her replica while still in dragon form and hid it behind her as she charged directly into the traitor, who despite being knocked down and dragged by the blow had grabbed her by the wings and was in the process of suplexing her when Blütgrindor's clone switched to Undefinable form and slashed through the traitor's shoulder, causing her to drop the Undefinable Leader and leaving a massive gash that seeped with molten metal. The armored traitor quickly turned around to deal with the clone but found herself impaled by the original's bladed tail and flung through the air and onto the ground. The metallic dragon then stood up on it's hind legs as it's long, serpentine neck began shortening as it's legs split open and shortened and thickened themselves as it's knees switched from bending back to bending forwards. It's forelegs also began shortening and rearranging the armored panels that covered it as the shoulders raised above the torso and the torso distorted and bent it's armor into a more human shape. When the tail had finished retracting into the body and the head had moved down to where it's golden toothed jaws had attached themselves to the top of the torso's breastplate, the panel covering the top of the head retreated back, revealing Blütgrindor's head which ascended into the appropriate position as her blood-red ponytail extended down from the back of her head down to her ankles and her golden spiked halo unfurled itself around her ponytail. With her wings folded behind her back and flowing in the wind like a cape, she stood tall as the armored traitor scrambled to get back on her feet while being bathed in the ominous glow of the numerous small red lights peaking out from the gaps in Blütgrindor's armor on her torso, arms and legs.

"You won't crack me this time!" Shouted the armored traitor. "How many times have I already ground you to dust?" Responded the scarred and fearsome massacrer.

The armored traitor charged towards Blütgrindor, but the Undefinable Revelation's leader was a master of deceit in combat and had desired this. With a flash of light the scar-faced warrior disappeared, leaving the armored traitor to fumble to the ground when suddenly she felt her right hand had been sliced from her wrist and scrambling to defend herself, found that the armor on her back had been cleanly sliced off, exposing her metallic spine, ribs and muscle fibers. Recognizing the sound of metal parts shifting around, she braced for the worst as she felt Blütgrindor's skeletal claws grab her shoulder blades as she was dragged away into the sky above.

Having resumed dragon form, Blütgrindor flew to a tall tower overlooking an area where several of Hinokaizen's traitors had assembled and slammed the armored traitor onto the rooftop, with the thud of the impact and the angered protests of the traitor attracting the attention of Hinokaizen's collaborators. Blütgrindor planted her feet on the traitor's limbs, restraining her while she switched back to her Undefinable form. Picking up the traitor by her shoulders and flipping her over onto her front, Blütgrindor clawed through her lower lower back muscles and while looking the opponents below her in the eye without blinking once, bit into the shrieking armored traitor's exposed spinal cord and tore it apart, finishing by tearing the now-paralyzed traitor in half and swallowing the metallic vertebra she had pulled out in a singular gulp.

"Blütgrindor! I'll kill you for that!" Shouted Hinokaizen from the ground.

A perverted smile stretched itself across Blütgrindor's face. "Sister!" She shouted back as she threw the two halves of the armored traitor to the ground. "I thought you'd never show yourself!"

"Don't call me that, EVER!!!" Hinokaizen retorted as she became uncomfortably aware that she had just provided exactly the reaction Blütgrindor's obscene display had intended to provoke from her. Before she could ready herself, Blütgrindor had entered dragon form and was charging straight towards her. She managed to veer the dragon off course with a spear, but with a flash of light, Blütgrindor revealed that Hinokaizen had only stopped a clone and grabbed her before slamming through building after building after building, using the winged traitor's body to breach each and every wall, breaking parts off of her each and ever impact.

Blütgrindor then dropped Hinokaizen onto the top of a skyscraper where the entire area could be seen for miles and miles. Blütgrindor's claw burst through her sister's abdomen with a segment of her spine gripped between it's gaunt metallic fingers and Hinokaizen was left with nothing but her upper torso and half of her right arm.

But then, it all stopped, she was simply sitting there staring at the horizon, where the ocean and sky melded together in a brilliant display of blue. Blütgrindor wasn't doing anything to her anymore, no clawing, no slashing, no dismembering, not even hurling the slightest insult or profanity at her. She was simply holding her in a choke hold, but nothing else.

Before, Hinokaizen had lived expecting every kind of torment her ruler had thrown at her, but now? Whatever Blütgrindor had paused in preparation to do must be terrible, so terrible that Hinokaizen's nearly went mad trying to predict what would come next, she had endured this for millions of Eons at this point, but unable to handle the weight of the freshly rediscovered unknown torture that awaited her, Hinokaizen did something she had not done since before she had first been turned into an Undefinable for Blütgrindor's army: Weep.

"Do you know something, sister?" Blütgrindor spoke into Hinokaizen's ear. "After all these eternities, I've thought of something I never have before…" Her deep, hoarse voice projected into her ear. "Do you remember when we were first reunited?" What was once a smooth and graceful sound was rendered into the deep, snarling animalistic wheeze it was now by none other than Hinokaizen herself. "…And how my mother, who you had grown to accept as yours as well…" Hinokaizen does not know why Blütgrindor would mention this after so long, or why someone as sultry and vile as she would even dare to remember someone as revered and pure as Hinokaizen's stepmother. "…On that day, that one day where she took us into your capitol to celebrate my return…" Hinokaizen herself had begun to forget, it took her a few moments to recall that the woman in question was merely her stepmother, but Blütgrindor's true, biological mother. "…And it turned out that my sword had been trapped?" Now Hinokaizen was beginning to sob again. "…And she gave her life to protect me? Me? I get that I was her long-lost only flesh-and-blood child, but…" Hinokaizen was pushed to her limits at being forced to remember her beloved stepmother's death, Blütgrindor was responsible for that, too, but not intentionally. This was at a time when she was a gentle warrior of peace who would never revel in another's agony. "…But, she was in the company of some of the most prestigious fortune tellers of her time! She even had a few deathly accurate premonitions herself!" Hinokaizen did not want to keep remembering, or thinking at all for that matter. "…So, she would have had to have seen me now! She would have had to know what she was doing by saving my life, know what I've done…"

"NO!" Hinokaizen shrieked in anguish. "Yeeessss…" Blütgrindor replied.

"She knew that we'd be here, now, with me torturing you for all time!" Blütgrindor continued. "She, the stepmother you cherished and loved as if she had given birth to you herself, quite literally leapt at the chance for me to hurt you in newer, increasingly despicable ways every moment of every day… forever!" Hinokaizen broke, she could no longer continue or wrangle the mental strength to chalk up her sister's words as lies, or even unprovable hypothetical, it didn't matter if it was the truth or not, the thought alone destroyed her already worn and eroded psyche.

Through wails of agony, Hinokaizen called out to her adversary: "PLEASE… KILL ME!!! STOP AND KILL ME!!!" Blütgrindor took a moment to revel at finally achieving what she couldn't until now. She could brake Hinokaizen's body as if it were a twig, she had effectively ruined her sanity and mental stability, but now? She had broken the one thing that Hinokaizen had swore to never let Blütgrindor lay a finger on: her spirit.

The loyalists had long since quelled the traitors and had assembled on top of the skyscraper around Blütgrindor and Hinokaizen, bearing witness to the wails and cries for death. Even though it was their enemy, something inside them felt deeply disturbed at the sight before them, even Perifonos, a depraved killer who took great pleasure in killing even before she had even met Blütgrindor, let alone become an Undefinable, could as much as sincerely smile at the sight before her.

"Is-isn't this what we wanted? Wh-why aren't we j-just going t-to?" Carmilla asked, trying to avoid giving away the fact that she was honestly a deeply terrified at whatever Blütgrindor had done to their longtime nemesis. "Patience, my dear Sister!" *Blütgrindor responded. Rhajamaut was feeling conflicted inside by the sight before her, on the one hand, nothing failed to please her more than the sight of her beloved Blütgrindor happy, but something felt wrong about this…

…Or something she couldn't feel felt right. Rhajamaut looked upon the absolute state of pure misery and torment Hinokaizen was in and realized… she hadn't felt fear in such a long time that she was… happy to be scared… and pain… she hadn't truly been hurt since her body was dumped in the ocean all those eons ago, countless cosmic decades had passed via all sorts of multiversal dimension-hopping and throughout all of that she hadn't as much as been discomforted by an unpleasant fabric. She wasn't even subjected to any sort of social pains, as opposed to how people looked upon her in life, she was well respected as an Undefinable, second only to Blütgrindor herself! She now felt an intense yearning for even the slightest unpleasant sensation, she couldn't experiment now, while everyone was watching, but when they were finished here and she could find a moment to herself, she would have to find a way to do something to herself, even if it was only the slightest of discomforts, it would have to do.

Back at the fortress, Rhajamaut had finally found the time to act. She first returned to Human form and started intentionally stubbing her toes on hard corners, then she started driving her fingernails into her skin and scratching herself as hard as possible. After billions of lifetimes, she had done everything she possibly could have to entertain herself, the slaughtering and torturing goes without saying, but she had played every game, competed in every sport, taken every dare, given in to every temptation she came across and violated almost all taboos that were not put in place by Blütgrindor herself in that impossibly long period of time and it had all grown dull and monotonous to her, but this… pain… was something that she had not experienced in so long… the only thing she had not experienced in so long that she now actively desired it. She wanted to bled again, but as she had finally gotten around to actually trying to draw blood, she discovered that she could not. The dagger she had procured specifically to lightly lacerate herself with would not hurt her skin, she could harmlessly scratch herself with it, but it was no more dangerous to her than her own fingernails. She suddenly darted her eyes across the room, she absolutely had to hurt herself now. After trying countless methods of achieving some form of injury to herself she fell defeated. She had lost the willpower to stand back up out of the actively burning fireplace she had just leaped into. The flames harmlessly curled around her body, not even singeing her hair. She started to cry, but noticed that Blütgrindor was about to walk in on her, she quickly got back up and spread herself out on the bed as if she were simply await her mistresses' return, but then suddenly thought for a second. Why did she do that? Why did she need to leave the fireplace if… she then realized that she was capable of feeling the one kind of pain she had forgotten: the pain of fear. The fear of what would happen if Blütgrindor discovered her odd cravings was so tantalizing to her that she had no problem recomposing herself once her leader entered the room. She didn't know what was wrong about her experimentation, or if Blütgrindor or anyone else in the fortress would even object to the latest object of her desire, but she knew one thing for sure: The pain and fear of not knowing was something she hadn't felt in forever and as such, she was welcoming it in open arms as it burned her inside in a way she had never felt before and pleased her greatly for the time being.

(I honestly don't know how I went from "Wow, cool robot fight!" to "Immortal goth girl gets sad because she's invincible and basically wants to try masochism.")

(I- I need to just shut up and go back to drawing now, don't I? I mean, I swear to God, that that last part was purely me speculating on how boring it'd get being immortal and invincible, y'know?)

(I don’t know either)
(That’s the situation my character has been in too. Sorry for coming up with a writing prompt, but it’s interesting to see that, at least in this way, my character has more in common with Rhajamout that any CoC member. Furthermore, although the angel’s origins were self-imposed, they were still nonetheless unnatural.)

You see? that's why outside of Circle intervension and being lucky enough to not be dead yet my character is a completely normal human.

From the last full moon until now, the angel had been resting, even sleeping at times. Even though he rarely gets tired, the rest still came with many benefits, such as a clearer mind, rejuvenation, and endurance, to name a few.
He saw a flash of energy. Because it was the emotional kind, the angel felt obligated to forego the incredible pleasures so he could travel through the space-time. The angel saw a gathering of Undefinables, which he had avoided up until now. One of them, the source of the distress signal, stopped emitting emotional light; the angel could only see her with conventional vision.
After curiously observing this dejected state, the winged figure noticed a different signal nearby. He only recalls seeing this kind in the heavenly realms, whenever they were aggressively bored, either from neglect or when their lifespan was about to expire.
The angel recalls how the time of rest actually had preventative and opposing effects against such harsh restlessness. But nows not the time for prescriptions, it’s time for some counseling, immortal to immortal, supernatural to supernatural.

A green light with a comfortable brightness illuminated the room which Rhajamout was in.
Hello…
The light merged together, with a conspicuously dark space splitting them in two. They formed two chairs, the one on the floor was indicated to be for the undefinable, still in human form.
The angel was still invisible and airborne. (If Rhajamout sits, the angel’s chair falls to the ground.)

Somewhere lost in time, yet only a shadow's breadth away from the here and now, a camera crew was recording.

"Are you getting this, 118?"

"You bet I am 324. This is gold! Absolute gold!"

The crew had been recording the entire escapades of the Undefinables and the upcoming heart to heart the angel was going to have with Rhajamout.

"I can't believe we managed to get the merchandising rights for this 118. Ever since they've turned up, we've made an absolute killing."

"If only the Grand Frenemy could have swallowed his pride and admit that the Undefinables were created to conquer a literal island of excrement, 324. Oh how He must seethe at the injustice of it all."

The crew continued to record the scene before them in silence.

"Um…excuse me?"

"Yes, 8324?"

"How do we know that…exactly?"

"We're a 5th dimensional inter-planar intelligence inhabiting mechanical shells, 8324. Our capacity, and retention, of knowledge greatly exceeds that of a creature bound to but a singular universe."

"Yes…but how do we know they were created to conquer a poo island?"

The older Shitbots gave each other a puzzled look and began quietly chatting to each other before turning back to their younger colleague.

"Er…meta?"

"I…seem to recall The Waifumancer turning into a…swirly-whirly purple vortex…thing."

"Has…has that happened yet?"

"I think…not?"

"This is confusing."

"It's no wonder our kith and kin just ignore or temporarily dabble in the mortal world. I don't think a singular consciousness could be arsed with all this effort."

"I bet Gurathnaka, Eater of Dreams, doesn't get his shit kicked in on a regular basis."

"Yeah, that'd involve them getting off their arse and leaving Kadath on occasion."

"Oh goodness gracious, we can't be having them demean themselves like that, can we now?. They're Great Old Ones, don't you know?"

"Bloody jobbers, all of them."

As the Shitbots continued to bicker and moan about the unproductive and passive nature of their relatives, they nonetheless kept recording the scene about to play out before them; although they had to step away from the tripod in case their gesticulating bumped the camera.

(Umm… you guys knew why Blütgrindor entered the room Rhajamaut was in, right? Are the Shitbots aware that they're basically peeping toms right now?)

Blütgrindor and Rhajamaut looked up from the bed at the Shitbots and their camera.

"ARE YOU FUCKING FILMING US RIGHT NOW?" Blütgrindor shouted at the two Shitbots as they scrambled into the darkness, she then snapped her head towards Olors and shrieked in hatred: "GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY ROOM, I'M FUCKING MY GODDAMNED BIG-TIDDY GOTH SUMMONER GF!!!"

Are they using toys? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

• No.

>TFW you don't realise you have an inter-dimensional Only Fans account that rakes in more profit than the economies of minor solar systems.

The chairs began to fade out of existence. The angel turned to the shitbots, nearly as embarrassed as the undefinables, and said
are you serious? Assuming you are unaware of the effects of your own actions, allow me to explain.
Let this nugget of wisdom be known among yourselves, and those rest of the CoC, that spying on anyone, especially in a RATHER PRIVATE setting, is harmful. Even if the victims of the act do not find out, the potential amount of harm that can be done greatly outweighs the pleasure via schadenfreude. In fact, it is better to avoid seeking schadenfreude at all, lest you make more foes than friends.

The angel turned toward Blütgrindor and Rhajamout, and his tone of voice shifted to a deeper, more aggressive kind.

Creations of Kaijin, I am aware that I just hinted that I’m part of the CoC.

The sky becomes an ominous red.

I had not participated in violent conflict in many lifetimes, not since I was killed as a lowly worker ant. If it’s true that suppressed anger tends to build up, then this will be quite the showdown, especially since neither of us have a reason to fear death anymore.

The fortress becomes engulfed in a dark cloud as the angel’s wings morphed into a form more suitable for combat.

Blütgrindor looked at the Circle Cultist angrily while her minions gathered around to defend her. Seething with pure hatred and aggravation, Blütgrindor shrieked once more at the Cultist:

"I'M TRYING TO FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKK!!!"

Regaining her breath, she continued: "I am the daughter of a mad god! And the chosen champion of another, more powerful god! DO NOT TRIFLE WITH ME IF YOU VALUE YOUR EXISTENCE, WRETCH!!!"

(I have an idea for a cool fight involving Olors vs. a hefty member of CIDI planned for the comic, but I'm tempted to type it out here. It'd spoil the shit out of the comic, though.)

(Also, I did not expect you guys to create a situation where Blütgrindor is perfectly in the right: She's trying to have sex in the privacy of her own home, but Olors and the Shitbots just barge in on her uninvited and refuse to leave while she's sitting naked in bed. What the Hell is wrong with you guys?)

(Plus, I'd like to just drop that it's canon that Blütgrindor's suffering from repeated severe Traumatic Brain Injuries that basically did more to make her the impulsive, genocidal maniac she is today exponentially more than Kommando's converting her to an Undefinable ever could, do you really want to start an argument with someone like that?)

The darkness shrank down so it only concealed the room. The visibility range was so low that only the two undefinables could see each other.
OK fine. Now no one else can see this. Not even I can see you now.
The angel then shattered the camera and evaporated the scraps.
just to make sure…
The angel then caused an EMP, disabling the internet in that timeline.

_ July 1st, 2006._

A meteorite, estimated to have had a diameter of around 3 meters impacted and destroyed several hangars at the Naval Air Station Joint Reserve Base in Fort Worth, Texas. The Defense Secretary has claimed that the affected hangars only contained older F-14D fighter jets that were in the process of being decommissioned and no aircraft in official service were damaged or destroyed and no personnel were injured in the incident. Thought there has been no mention of it in the official press release, residents in the area at the time allege that they saw a single F-14D in an unusual black, gray and orange color scheme take off from the airbase immediately after the impact, although no footage of this mystery flight has surfaced so far.

In similar news, several of the Mauna Kea Observatories in Hawaii were destroyed in a similar manner last month and NASA has observed similar impacts into the Pacific and Atlantic Oceans over the past few months. There's even rumors that a Chinese Airbase was destroyed my a meteorite impact, but the Chinese Government denies any such events happening. These recent events have raised concerns from both the public and the scientific community have raised concerns about the increased frequency of meteorite impacts since this January, and the answers proposed range from simple random chance to Global Warming to even claims by some that this is part of an alien invasion or a government coverup. The only thing experts agree on is that the more impacts that occur, the more likely it is that they'll happen in a populated area with potentially catastrophic consequences.

July 2nd, 2006.

A meteorite impacted around four miles South of Kitty Hawk, North Carolina last night, fortunately landing in some uninhabited swamp away from the nearby neighborhood. Authorities rushed to investigate the meteorite, but surveys of the crater have yet to discover the object that impacted the ground, with some proposing that it rolled into the bay. There is yet to be any word from any part of the government as to what will be done, if anything, about the sudden frequent meteorite impacts. Some have proposed the construction of bunkers and fallout shelters in the event one is on course with a populated area, but the lack of a reliable method for detecting and predicting the meteorite's appearances and impact zones makes most municipalities slow to accept this proposal.

July 4th, 2006.

The President has announced plans in cooperation with Canada, Russia, Greenland and Norway to begin construction of an astrological observation facility in the Arctic that aims to provide a reliable method of predicting future meteorite impacts in the Northern Hemisphere. Although the project is projected to not be completed until 2011, the action has been praised and will be accompanied by several visits from Navy fleets from across the world, the first of which being the newly established "Arctic Security Fleet" led by the USS Dwight D. Eisenhower, which will be assigned to monitor the area around the construction site until the Summer of next year.

…Sometime in early 2007…

Sam was driving home one night to the suburbs outside that sprawling Las Máquinas City when she noticed that she had passed the same car several times, a Black 1968 Chevrolet Camaro Z/28 that was heavily customized, the hood bore a pair of steer horns and it had white racing stripes befitting of a Z/28 running all the way from the front of the hood, over the roof and to the rear bumper, orange flames that were a light blue when intersecting the racing stripes were painted on the hood and sides of the vehicle, a bullbar covered the car's grille and a large incandescent flood light bar was mounted on it's roof, a decorative license plate reading "DON'T MESS!" with the silhouette of Texas between the words was on the front bumper.

Sam pretended not to notice and kept driving, but eventually she decided that something was up and peeled out down the Highway and arriving in the Suburbs, was surprised to find the same car right next to her at the first traffic light she stopped at. Having no patience, she ran the red light and flew down the street at 75 MPH. The Camaro gave pursuit and Sam reacted by swerving around a corner and down an alley, just to find the Camaro waiting for her at it's end. Sam drove down a park path and through a scrapyard in an attempt to lose her pursuer, but found those steer horns in her mirror whenever she checked. Her race through the town attracted the attention of 3 squad cars and no longer able to see the Camaro anywhere, she decided to pull over. She was questioned, lectured and tested for any sign of intoxication and substance abuse by the police and determining her to be completely sober, the Police suspended her driver's license for the incident. Calling Quiet_boi to pick her up from the Police Department and drive her home now that she was legally incapable of doing so herself she went home frustrated and confused as to what was going on.

The Shitbots spoke in the growling chitinous language of the Great Old Ones as they took the remains of their equipment deeper into the labyrinthine depths of inter-dimensional space.

This ancient language has no true direct translations into any language spoken by planet bound civilisations. However the main gist of it was:

"By the Idiot God's writhing pseudopods! How can the machines see us through a dimensional barrier?"

"If the angel snitched on us, all of me is going to be very upset. You don't tattle-tale on friends."

"I don't even know why they're getting angry. If they didn't want alien intelligences from beyond time and space to intrude upon their privacy, they would've drawn an Elder Sign on the wall. Common sense, really."

"It's fine…it's fine. The (untranslatable) will forget. They always do."

One thing that must be pointed out, as it does not technically belong to the realms of mere translation, is that the Shitbots muttered curse words so ancient and foul as they made their retreat that they materialised out of thin air and quickly scuttled, slurped or flopped their ways into the darkened corners of the room.

The Shitbots retreated a couple dozen of dimensions back, where they waited patiently.

They were good at that.

They wouldn't stop, of course. The mortals did not know about the pact they had made with the Purple Cloak With A Thousand Waifus.

The Tome of Kickassery, or as He humbly called it "a comic", was making steady progress; but required constant sources of inspiration. As well as funds to feed the army of countless six-armed monkeys that were writing the plot.

The finished product would venerate their respective Outer Gods and spread their greatness far and wide!

Of course, The Song In The Metal expected there to be a…slight bias in favour of Sher'Lee Abstract Title Pending; but on the whole, it was acceptable.

Merely naming The Holely Lord would plant the seed of an idea into the heads of all who saw it.

And ideas, just like dreams, never die.

[Quiet_boi arrivs the police station on foot, much to Sam's surprise, prpting her to ask]
Where's your car?
[To which Quiet_boi just awnsered]
Does this look like the face of someone who has a car? Just jump on my back, I'll carry you back to the church
[Along the way, Sam tells the whole story to Quiet_boi, knowing the he would believe it]
Yeah, that makes sense, though I expected for the Church of Shirley to be able to pay for something more expensive, or at least less cliche. Like a '73 Corvette
[Said Quiet_boi]
It was the shirleyist?
[Asked Sam, she continues]
How do you know?
[Quiet_boi said with a very deadpan tone]
Even though I've only known those people for about a year and a half, I already know enough of them as to say that they are predictable
[After a few more minutes of travel they safely arrive back to the church of the Holey One]
Thanks, but… Do you think my life is in danger?
[Sam asks]
[Quiet_boi responds saying]
Probably, it is best that you remain here in the church for the time being, the Holey One will protect you
[After a few seconds of silence Sam asks]
Aren't you afraid for our lives? You seem very apathetic towards this whole thing of being in an eternal stalemate on a war against literally undefinable beings and their minions and superiors
[Quiet_boi blinks twice and says]
No, not really. The Holey One is just too big for even them to understand, they will always be at war with us because they don't understand, nor will they ever will. However it's better that way, better they be destroying the literally endless armies of shitbots rather than killing more innocent people. And that's a reason for why I haven't given up, and neither should you
[Quiet_boi simply walks away, leaving Sam alone once more only to her own thoughts and the feeling of dread that if things don't improve soon, she'll be the first Sam to actually die and be replaced by a clone]

July 2nd, 2006.

Kitty was driving in her 1959 Cadillac Eldorado towards a massive construction site situated on the coast beneath a mountain range, highways and overpasses looped and spiraled like a spider's web above construction zones and pits being dug deep into the Earth, in preparation of the implanting of massive foundations for skyscrapers that would stretch far above the clouds. Kitty drove towards the massive skeleton of a building in construction that rivaled the mountains themselves in height, next to it was a colossal pit descending at least a couple thousand feet below sea level. She parked in one of the many completed parking garages, stood up and entered an elevator to reach a deep subterranean basement level.

Upon exiting the elevator, Kitty walked down a dimly lit concrete corridor that was bare aside from ceiling-mounted CRT displays and the various doors on to either side. When she finally came to the end of the hallway she entered the last door in the hallway and found herself in a large office. A tall, not-quite-human figure stood in the dark, studying various live feeds of information being displayed on large CRT monitors. The figure turned around and began briefing Kitty.

"You'rrrrrrrrrrre late! By thrrrrrrrrree whole minutesssssssssss!" The figure hissed at her in annoyance.

"Who cares, I'm still getting used to traveling around like this. Besides, who else has made it back so far?" Kitty replied.

"Everrrrrrrrryone elssssssssssse got herrrrrrrrrrrrrre beforrrrrrrrrre you!" The figure retorted angrily.

"Oh, quitcherbellyakin' and get to the point, give the girl 'er mission!" Said Tex as she entered the room. "How ya doin' Kitty?"

"Fine." Kitty replied.

"Do not interrrrrupt me, everrrrrrr!" Shouted the figure.

"Oh, stuff it! I could knock you to your ass in two seconds, maybe three tops!" Tex snapped back with a smirk as she leaned towards the figure.

The figure was simmering with disgust. "I am in charrrrrrrrrge herrrrrrrrrrrrre! Do not-"

Tex grabbed the figure by it's long neck and dragged it's head below her waist. "Feller, there's only one person in charge of our operation here and you know it ain't you!" She then let go of it's neck and it growled as it walked back towards the CRT monitors.

"Kitty, you'll be patrrrrrrrrrrrolling the coassssssssssssst line until furtherrrrrrrrrrrr noticcccccccccccce." The figure ordered. "…And Tex, you'll be rrrrrrrrunning some errrrrrrrrrandssssss forrrrrrrr me…" It hissed angrily.

Tex merely smirked. "Do your worst, kid."

The angel returned to the main timeline, entered the CoC temple, and meditated as was routine by this point.

Ever since that encounter, the angel was quite troubled, to put it mildly. The seeds of the event were present in his mind. Evil thoughts became more frequent, something no one except the shitbots with the meta-knowledge to read this narrative know about. In this state, it’s not possible for the angel to experience absorption, so even interacting with the Undeserving Circle was out of the question.

How could this be settled? Surely, he thought, they would get their revenge at some point. It was their purpose, was it not?
If two parties comprising of practically immortal beings fight, it would be futile, because neither could kill the other. But if one is enticed to join the other, it would lead to covetousness, though it would not be right to cause another to think such thoughts.
The two adversaries claim to have been fighting the other for many generations. But if peace is temporary, war must also be temporary. Just because distinct communities had gotten along for, say, seven generations, quarreling among the eighth is still possible. But if hundreds of generations had been fighting, their lifespans shortened by the conflict, it is possible the next could reverse the descent toward catastrophe into an ascent.
But such a radical shift remains elusive to me. What kind of catastrophe could occur…

A whisper is audible in the angel’s mind.
mm..

whatever mode of destruction suits it

The angel is conscious of those thoughts, but doesn’t respond, awaiting a follow up.
The source of the whispering is gone.
Okaay, that was weird.
Yeah, this is hard. Who knew world peace could be so difficult to achieve?
The remark about world peace he found funny, so it released some of the tension the angel had.
Thinking more clearly, he began speaking.
I’ll start from the inside, and work my way out from there.
First, get rid of these mental hindrances so I can do my part to help
Second, reconfigure ethics. A universalist approach is not helpful for the average person, as few have the wisdom or power to make decisions that apply to all cultures without friction. And the overemphasis on actions is problematic: some may be forced to choose between options that all lead to a negative outcome.
Third, share the wisdom to those who hear it, whether or not the Great Singularity had revealed it or if it was learned by someone else, or by insight. If not even one member of the CoC can understand, then write it, announce it, enter dreams, announce it in the public square, whatever it takes.

The angel called someone over, repeated the description of the three steps, and it was recorded.
He went back to pondering how to escalate the conflict, so it may end.

(Yeah, the angel’s in quite a dark spot, even if the intentions are good. Will the means be justifiable? Probably not. Will he come up with something different to do? Yeah, albeit temporarily.)
(Will he eventually return to the nice and wholesome personality he got a reputation for? Not really, I’m gonna try something different with his character. Who was once the CoC’s best means of communication for its object of devotion will grow more unhinged. The winged figure may act more aggressively and make known his criticisms of the organization.)

(If it helps Olors, the Shitbots aren't as unified as they appear.)

(Only a fraction of them are actually CoC members.)

(The individual members of the greater whole have a wide range of beliefs and non-beliefs.)

(For example, The Order of the Piledriving Quail is a sect of highly aggressive atheists that go around challenging Deities to boxing matches to prove their existence.)

(The CoC came about after they stuffed the heart of an Arch Angel into a spare chassis whilst experimenting with new eco-friendly power sources, resulting in the creation of Number 15 and a number of them just decided to roll with what it was preaching; because why not?)

(One of the most curious cases is the kitchen staff have started to revere a months-old piece of Camembert residing under the fridge because it hasn't gone mouldy yet.)

(His name is Fred.)

(He's a good cheese.)

(Although they all have the same body and with the same base mind, mostly, each of them is mentally fully independent from the others; allowing them to be shaped by their own personal experiences.)

(This is kind of why you can find the clearly evil, psychotic ones enjoying a pleasant afternoon tea break peacefully with the ones that are friendly and harmless; because they are the same person, they've just trod different paths through life.)

(As for the conflict between me and Kaijin?)

(Well, we'll have to wait to hear Kaijin's thoughts on the matter, but I've always viewed it as two neighbours playing boyish pranks on each other for entertainment.)

(It's just that it's being done on a scale so large that it looks like all out apocalyptic war.)

(It's why most of the things the Shitbots do seem nonsensical and stupid. Because they're not taking any of this seriously.)

(To them, it is all just a game.)

(Thanks, that clears things up.)
(Also, though I’m not that surprised by the CoC’s origin story, if my character ever finds out, he would certainly renounce his CoC membership after warning Jamie, and begin working against the organization.)
(Though the CoC had braved demons and the undead, dealing with an angel with some form of ptsd, even within its ranks, will be a more interesting scenario. While the shitbots, from the perspective of everyone else, are basically amoral due to treating this all like a game, the winged figure is the foil, having a convoluted ethos underpinning his multifaceted ideas on morality and ethics in general.)

>To them, it is all just a game.
(That it's actually more scary than half of what Kaijin has come up so far)

(Shirleyism is a largely Humanist and highly Individualistic, albeit Militaristic belief system that aims to liberate Humanity from the influence of gods, devils, aliens and any other non-Human entities.)

(Therefore, Kommando's goals are primarily wiping out cults and groups that benefit non-Human entities and creating and developing new technologies for the purpose of making Humanity infinitely superior to gods. (i.e. Undefinables))

(Other goals include ushering in new Industrial Revolutions, Conquering Space and alternate realities, destroying all fully-sentient AIs (which is partially why they want to destroy all Shitbots), banning Human cloning and destroying any clones already made and driving alien life extinct in order to prevent competition against Humanity.)

(Also, I almost ROFL'd at the fact that Olors' character now has PTSD from watching Blütgrindor and Rhajamaut gettin' jiggy with it (nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah.) I mean, I get that Blütgrindor's kinda supposed to be a butter-face due to extreme scars all over her face, but she wears her hair over most of it, so it's not like you'd see the worst of it, like the massive scar on the side of her head, hidden under her hair that she got from a thrown axe when initially betrayed.)

(Which, to get specific about Blütgrindor's death, after the blow that reopened the axe wound on her shoulder, she was hit in the Occipital lobe with a kanabo and upon turning around to retaliate against whoever did that, she was hit by a thrown axe on the top of her head, penetrating her skull and now stumbling in place due to brain damage, Hinokaizen slashed her throat and impaled her through the torso with a spear before throwing her overboard.)

(As a result, Blütgrindor's voice is incredibly hoarse, strained-sounding, painful, gravelly, and deep for a woman's voice. It also makes people that haven't met her before think she's in her her 40's-50's, or even 60's, despite being physically in her early-mid 20's. Only her facial scars are visible in her Undefinable form, but if y'all are interested, I'm planning on making a scar map for her Human form.)

(Anyways, as soon as I finish Rhajamaut's reference sheet, I'm going to have to make one of those "The myth of Consensual sex" memes featuring Blütgrindor, Rhajamaut and Olors off in the corner, watching in angelic silent horror. So expect it 6 months from now because I'm terrible at finding time.)

(I mean, my character started off human before merging with various other souls, but I don't expect your characters to know that, unless they somehow discover the event through some kind of reality-traversing knowledge. Or my character talks about it.)
(The ptsd is mostly due to human memories from the events that occurred in the Ruins and Snowdin.)
(also, any sex grosses him out, which is partially why he abruptly went back to normal and concealed them after realizing what happened.)

(Wait, have you been using the same character in each thread and not doing a canon-reset between each thread?)

(By that logic, wouldn't he have reason to hold a grudge against Jenna MacMadeth since she basically started the Snowdin Incident?)

(That just makes me laugh even harder because his PTSD is from a giga-tiddy redhead redneck serial killer waifu killing Sans Undertale.)

(Yep. Same person, no character reset.)

(Now I'm just imagining your character gets emailed a Megalovania meme and immediately starts running around screaming for "The shelling to stop" and ducking and covering under any and all available furniture, all because they witnessed the lynching of Sans Undertale.)

(A-ha! I knew it!)

(Despite what you have so boldly claimed in your pamphlet, it turns out you are not tolerant of other races or creeds at all!)

(Behold, the true shape of Kaijin's "god".)

(We never said anything about tolerating other species, only Humans of other shapes, seeing as Undefinables are Humans that have the ability to take a form capable of taking a possibly limitless variety of shapes and are not discriminated against, this part of out scripture is actually adhered to.)

(In fact, a preceding part of the Scripture: Shirley's Truth 19:69, discusses the importance of preventing competition against Mankind from other species and uncontrolled A.I.s. Humanity is first and foremost in all of Shirley's Truth.)

(Also, if you want to make a more accurate image, it's closer to the other way around. 99% of The Church of Shirley's "Theological" activities are Kommando asking Shirley random questions, Shirley agreeing with him and them adding it to Shirley's Truth. The rest is Kommando hatching master plans to achieve his and Shirley's vision for a better world free of the oppression of sentient machines, and non-Human creatures, like gods, devils and angels.)

(And just another bit of lore, Undefinables can change between a vast variety of forms and the number is usually dictated by a strange form of mental capacity, but not necessarily their sanity or overall intelligence. Particularly unimaginative Undefinables, like the members of Undefinable Revelation can only switch between one or two forms besides their Human and Undefinable forms, while other Undefinable groups can switch between even larger numbers of alternate forms, though rarely ever more than 4 or 5.)

(There's also small differences between each group of Undefinables' anatomy and morphology. For example: Undefinable Revelation members universally have exposed ball joints for their hips and their faces are colored a glossy, bare metal gray color and have larger irises and pupils in their eyes. Meanwhile, another group of Undefinables that are yet to be introduced have more muscular, Human-like hips with the ball joints hidden underneath the metallic muscle fibers, their faces retain their skin tone from their Human form and their irises and pupils are smaller. Also, the leaders on Undefinable groups usually have recurring features in their Undefinable forms regardless of what group they're a part of, namely having numerous brightly glowing colored lights peeking out from beneath their armor, a large energy-based cannon-like weapon somewhere on their body and having skeletal hands that can be rearranged into a variety of monstrous claws.)

(I don't know man, you're Undefinables just sound like Robots, But With Extra Steps to me.)

(Does the hypocrisy of the highly-bigoted Church of Shirley know no end!?)

(P.S: I'm still in "Creative" mode, so I apologise if the above joke comes across as aggressive instead of silly.)

(Robots can't turn into normal people that can go about their lives normally, also immortality isn't endemic to being an Undefinable, it's granted alongside but separate from it. Like I said in the other thread, it's a set of powers granted to a Human, it's a technology a person can use and stop using whenever they want, not them just stuck as a robot forever (With the exception of Undefinable Revelation's traitors, who are purposely prevented from accessing their Human forms. They are the exception, not the norm.) Undefinables also don't have a consistent code or software in their brains like a robot or computer would. If anything, they're more akin to cyborgs than robots.)

Honestly the Undefinables as a whole start to sound like a glorified, biological ship of theseus to me.

(But they still have their "original components" their Human forms? Therefore they are indisputably the original? Even Blütgrindor, who has the scars to prove it.)

(Well, besides the drones, which were never Human to begin with and the aforementioned exception to the norm.)

July 3rd, 2006.

Another wave of meteorite impacts have hit the headquarters of major companies today, crippling their operation. Companies affected include e-commerce company "Amazon" and automotive manufacturer, Tesla Motors, Inc. , social media company Facebook, Inc. and even an aerospace company: SpaceX. This is the first time actual deaths and injuries have officially occurred as a result of the recent meteorite impacts and it is not known how these companies plan to or if they can recover from the damaged incurred by the impacts. The most recent reports indicate that key people in these companies may have been injured as a direct result of the impacts.

There is still no word from the government on the recent catastrophe, though the White House has stated that there will be an announcement from the President tomorrow on the recent meteorite impacts.

January 12th, 2006.

Meteorites have impacted two military bases in California, a Marine Corps base and an Army Aviation base. No deaths have occurred, but one tank crew is being treated for concussions after their M1A1 Abrams tank was flipped by the impact. No official statement has been issued regarding the incident, but concerns have been raised regarding public safety and meteorite impacts.

Rumor has it that a Chinese Airbase testing top-secret next-generation aircraft has suffered a similar fate but the Chinese Government denies that any incidents have occurred at their facilities.

One dark and dreary day, when the acid rain was pattering cheerfully off the windowpanes and the smog was drip, drip dripping off the roof, there was a Kaijin happily going about his day in his Kommand Centre.

Devilishly devious designs were drawn.

The Grovelling Groveler made many a pleasing sound as he babbled and crooned behind him.

Cheerful chants and happy hymns were sung joyously as he toiled away.

Suddenly, the main screen flashed to life and Soup King, Kaijin's bestest frenemy appeared!

"01011001 01101111 01110101 00100000 01100001 01110010 01100101 00100000 01100001 00100000 01110111 01101111 01101110 01100100 01100101 01110010 01100110 01110101 01101100 00100000 01110000 01100101 01110010 01110011 01101111 01101110 00100000 01100001 01101110 01100100 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 01110010 00100000 01110000 01100001 01110010 01100101 01101110 01110100 01110011 00100000 01100001 01110010 01100101 00100000 01110000 01110010 01101111 01110101 01100100 00100000 01101111 01100110 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 00100001"

Cried Soup King, before he threw half-a-brick at the screen.

This caused Kaijin's big TV screen to smash into a million little pieces!

"Arrrghsdgdjhxbgmhzsghxz"

Said the Grovelling Groveler as the half-a-brick hit him with considerable force and sent tumbling down to the back of the Kommand Centre.

How does Kaijin respond!?

"Grovelling Groveler? Pffft! We retired all of ours long ago! We use Roombas now, they clean the floor and grovel at the same time, plus we don't have to pay them!" Kommando said.

Kommando then walked over to a 20-inch CRT TV and sat down as he began to watch. "Let's see how Scarlette's doing with that show I gave her… I do hope this spreads the good word of Shirley across the airwaves, despite the fact that we're not supposed to be using them since it's after the FCC digital switchover date. Hopefully nobody will notice the terrible reception their cellphones are suffering from all of a sudden."

On the TV, Scarlette was sitting behind a cluttered folding table and in front of a moderately dingy wall. She was ranting and raving angrily.

"WHAT KINDA FUCKIN' GARBAGE IS THAT!?!?!?!" She shouted as she slammed her fists onto the table, knocking over a poorly drawn Church Of Shirley logo that had been scribbled onto a piece of notebook paper and sat on the corner of the table. "Whoops! My Shirleyism symbol!" She exclaimed as she quickly reached to set the piece of notebook paper back up.

"That'sssssssssss a mood, Scarrrrrrrrrrrrrrlette!" The not-quite-Human figure said as it tried to eat a spoonful of cereal, despite lacking a digestive track or a sense of taste.

Suddenly, the image started distorting and warping as static and noise began overtaking the broadcast.

"…And it- BSSSKKKKTTTZZT …that it's- BZZZZZRTRTRT …phonecalls- ZZZZZRTBZRT …same time, so- BZZZZSTRTRSTRSSRT FUCKIN' VERIZ- BZZZZT …AND AJIT P- BBBBZZZRRRT …LOBBYING- BZZZZZRT …EVERY LAST ONE OF- BZZZZZZRT …WITH THEIR INTESTI- BZZZZZZRT …FUCKIN' SICK AND T- *BZZZZRT"*

The signal had become nothing but indecipherable noise and static as Kommando and the not-quite-human figure watched.

"Thissssssssssssss interrrrrrrrrruption issssss highly inefficient! Let'sssssssssss ssssssssssssssee how much they enjoy interrrrrrrrrrrrrrupting ourrrrrr brrrrrrrrroadcasssssstssssss once I'm done rrrrrrrrrre-planning theirrrrrr infrrrrasssstrrrructurrrrre!" The not-quite-human figure announced as it out the door and the deafening roar of afterburning turbofan engines shrieked throughout the premises.

"Oh, errrrrrrrrrand-girrrrrrrrl! I have an imporrrrrrrrtant tasssssssssk forrrrrr you!" The not-quite-human figure began radioing.

"Who the Hell're you callin' 'errand-girl?' I saw the original Terminator when it came out for my 6th birthday, beg your pardon!" Snapped Tex over the radio at the creature that was 27 years her junior.

"Nonssssssenssssssse! My intellect and pssssssychological capabilitiesssss far outpace yourrrrrrr experrrrrrrrrrrrience, Msssssss. Rosssssssssssss! Now be a good little nigh-menopausssssssssssal terrrrrrrrmagant and dessssssssstroy the cellularrrrrrrrrrr communication towerrrrrrrrrsssssss I've dessssssssssignated! NOW!" The figure retorted with it's signature arrogant tone.

"Go fuck yourself, eat shit and choke on it." Said Tex as she simply continued driving down the highway, passing several cell towers and doing nothing.

"INSSSSSUBORRRRRRRRDINATION!!!!!" The figure shrieked back. "NO!!!" Kommando shouted over the radio. "YOU'RE INSUBORDINATION!!!"

"MASSSSSTERRRRRR???" The figure cried in terror.

"I never authorized your mission, return to base immediately!" Kommando ordered the not-quite-human figure.

The not-quite-human figure immediately turned around and returned to base and was painfully beaten the shit out of by Kommando for launching attacks without authorization. When Tex eventually got back to the headquarters, she too beat the ever-loving shit out of the not-quite-human figure a second time and threatened to lynch it with razor wire if it ever called her a 'nigh-menopausal termagant' ever again.

This one I did like, even if it was just because of how much shit the not-quite-human figure had, I love to hate that little shit.

(No spoilers because I want to reveal it's name and appearance in the comic, but if Blütgrindor can be thought of as a personification of raw, unfiltered emotion, instincts and base urges, then the not-quite-human figure can be thought of as the complete opposite, being raw, unfiltered intellect, knowledge, ego and a general lack of emotions and base urges. Ironically, their color scheme also primarily consists of a muted grayish-blue, opposing Blütgrindor's pure bright-red hair and eyes. I created this character before Blütgrindor and the major differences they possess are entirely incidental, but they're on-point enough that I've decided to roll with it.)

(Would me hurling more bricks at them make their lisp better or worse?)

(If you want to get technical, they don't have a lisp as that would be pronouncing "S" and "Z" as "Th," whereas they intensely hiss every "S" and roll every "R.")

(Although to answer the actual question… They're going to speak that way as long as they're alive.)

(Now that I think about it, they'd certainly be one hell of a character to voice considering that _every "S" has to be hissed and every "R" has to be rolled.)

(So, because I'm bored, what do y'all think's gonna happen plot-wise in the thread? Or the comic? I'm curious as to what you're expecting.)

A continuity reboot caused by your character's OPness and King coming up with more illogical logic by the way of 56 and 82's insanity.