from the doctrines of dauchauskrim eyekiller the blasphemer.
"what a total motherfuck. seriously, absolute dickery. at least i feel less dirty than dealing with garen. maybe when the upper planes act dirty as a praxis steamer you are supposed to act surprised? but i just feel fucking tired. so appeloth & i had been exploring this forgotten city, todmort, lost amidst the mists of the outlands. what brought our fine asses out to the shit-hole of concordant opposition? oh, the usual clap-trap; greed. or well, the real cunt of it was that we were trying to get coin to invest in leige's godkiller, lay down some voting stake. fucking smart idea i had, that fucking idea, since towerboy amun-evilface is the black pharoh of a fucking empire. dumb dumb skrim. to break the tacit agreement between reader & writer? listen you shit head! if you are reading this & thinking skrim is your lord fucking god? allow me to point out that i am a total bastard with no god-damn clue. i followed the advice of oisos' hapless warden, marin the platinum dragon, to todmort. marin, if you are reading? you are still a fucking set of anal beads. i'd get a real kick out of ripping you out of my ass. you fuck. you total fucking piece of shit. i wish you're mom had stomped on your egg.
why all the vitrol about todmort? oh, you know. only my total fucking compromise of principals. bringing old malebryn the ruby death, the red deadly, back from the dead. maybe i wasn't getting enough air? maybe this whole hanged man thing means more like a noose around my neck. you know, we poke around, run the fuck away from a sphere of anihilation, kill some golems. rescue some no-neck asshole with a tiny dick (i saw him naked, he has a tiny penis) high priest of some dead god. he gets all pissed that we are here to graverob from dead gods. i should have put him back in the hole he was being tortured in. the whole time i've known him its been like getting a blowjob from a guy with itchy whiskers. meet some tigerhead who wants to be the next rakshahsa prince, maledicktus, you know. oh, meet the ghost of the witch that is the ghost of the goddess who used to run the joint.
long story cut real shit short, she's dead, almost talks us into bringing her back to life, i convince appeloth that we are being too clever for our own good, an evil god named vavid steals some memories from every tiefling on oisos, we find out we can't leave todmort without crippling fucking amnesia unless we free malebryn, &c. a whole steaming load of black pudding dumped on my stylish but comfortable magic boots. well oh ye children of my creed, what did precious unblemished fucking skrim do? cut a deal. see? i can't even stick to my own principals! you'd be better off without a patron, don't say i didn't warn you. so we broke the circles, broke the magic on the city (which used to be a layer of acheron in its own right). well in exchange? you fucking bet i did okay. so now some fuckers? when they die, they get a choice. they don't neccisarily go to the place that they'd usually get shuffled off too. they get a quick tour of the ever winding road, a peak at the places the dead go. then they get to pick. fuck the afterlife. choose how you wanna spend the hearafter. i didn't get to, & lemme tell you. it sucks. don't be fate's bitch. be your own fucking person."