A Digression 3: Okay Hang On What the Fuck Has Happened

First, yes, I am aware that someone updated Clickbait, that's not important right now. 

I continued reading Punch Myself in the Eyes, and quite frankly what the fuck, man. Like, yeah, okay, sure, I was a bit harsh, but what the fuck is this about 'seven days'; I never wrote that anywhere in the first digression post.

. . . okay what the fuck

It's there, plain as day, in the text. I didn't write that. That wasn't me. And so this apparently cursed Erin to be attacked by a figure in red.

A figure who called herself Arkngard. Like, that's what she said to Erin before killing her.

What the fuck, why is she calling herself Arkngard, that's my name.

. . . she's here

Staring me in the eye from across my computer screen.

What do you want with me?

. . . I am to join her.

We are one.

ニッコ ニッコ ニ～

. . . When I am Finally Free

I'm past the nothing, at my everything.

So are the Camper.

But that's okay; I know how to defeat them once and for all.

I approach my home and am now surrounded.

'You're mine now, slender man', says she.

'Not so fast', I reply, 'for I have something important to tell you'.

'What is it?' she interrogates.

'The reason why you haven't replaced all water on this planet . . . ', I begin.

She recoils in horror, for I am about to kill her for ever.

'. . . is that that would kill all suspense in this story', I finish, proudly standing at my full height.

'Impossible!' she booms, before all Camper close their eyes and fall backwards, dead due to convoluted meta bullshit.

I enter the doorway to my old home, triumphant.

I am the slender man, and this was my story.

There are Camper Everywhere, so in the Mean Time I'm Going Back to My Old Style for Post Titles: Paeoniae Exercitu

Ah, yes, a post title in Latin. I've missed doing that; I haven't done that since I posted my mugshot on my old blog.

Good times, that.

Anyway, back to the story at hand.

There are Camper everywhere around me.

I can't say I'm surprised; they knew I would be coming back here after my escape from Empty City, WA prison.

They seem to have taken my old house as their base of operations here.

I'll have to come up with a plan to get rid of them.

'Til then, though, they'll never find me.

Homecoming

I've made it back to the Black Forest.

It feels good to be back; it's been too long.

I think I should look for my old house; y'know, the one I borrowed with no intention of returning from those cultists way back when.

I don't know where I am in relation to the house, but that's okay.

I've got all the time in the world now.

One Fallen Angel's Spell is That Same Fallen Angel's Sick Joke

Okay hang on, why am I on The Path of Black Leaves.

Why am I here, this isn't what I had requested.

. . . more importantly, why didn't I think of this in the first place.

Well, time to get walking, I suppose.

Re: Born

Fallen angel, it is done.

I have the fuel which you require for your spell.

Let us begin.

One Slender Man's Task is That Same Slender Man's Salvation

I know what it is that I am to do.

There is a certain Camper lurking nearby; they are to be my prey, and their blood is to be the source of vim for my interdimensional travel.

They are in my sight.

'Who goes there?' they ask no one.

'No blogger,' I respond.

'Your voice is familiar,' they utter.

'Oh, I know,' I imply.

'I know who you are; come out and face me'.

I remain hidden. We are in a forest; I blend in perfectly against the trees.

'Before I do, I have but a question for you,' I expostulate.

'Out with it,' they moan.

'Tell me the name your body owned before your assimilation,' I roar.

'Wait what the fuck why,' they stutter.

'I feel a strange compulsion to know,' I gesture.

'Okay, fine. It was Erina'.

I strike, conjuring slenderbranch after slenderbranch, and my target is no more.

'Your blood is mine,' I say, vampirically.

Re: Birth

Fallen angel, I have come to you to ask for aid.

I require passage back to the Black Forest.

The Camper are the water; they would surely apprehend me if I were to attempt to travel by boat.

I am ready to pay any price for your power.

A Digression 2: I Have the Best Plan

Okay, 'Punch Myself in the Eyes', here's how this is going to fucking go:

1) I'm going to have my retribution in a way which you shall soon see.

2) It's going to be fucking glorious and will be the greatest insult in the entire fucking history of gog damned insults.

3) You will weep in an agonising pain.

4) I will have a good laugh at your expense.

5) You will leave the Blogosphere forever with a sense of shame so fucking great that you will never write again and your English degree will be rendered pointless.

Hoo hoo hoo.

A Digression: Okay Hang On Who the Fuck is 'Punch Myself in the Eyes' and Why are They Calling Me Out and Why Should I Give a Shit

Okay seriously what the fuck, I'm taking a bit of a break from writing this story and some blogger motherfucker thinks they can just come in a attack me for it.

Gog damn I hate the internet some time, I can see why Magreat takes his sweet time in his writing and escapes to the side (steps to the side, if you will, see fucker I can make clever puns, too), this is bullshit and I hate everything.

The Battle of Empty City, CT Part Five: Whoops I'm Not Actually There Any More so the Title is Misleading

I have successfully evaded my assailants and am back on my journey to the Black Forest. Hopefully the Camper will be either distracted for a suitable length of time for me to complete my journey or outright eliminated in the storms of war.

Either way, they'll never find me again from here on out.

I could rehash my first journey and sneak onto a boat, but I have a better idea.

Fallen angel, I'm coming home.

The Battle of Empty City, CT Part Four: Oh God the Empty City is Burning

I've made my escape.

Our Lady of Fire is a nigh-indomitable force in the face of combat; she enveloped the building which served as my inner sanctum just as the Camper breached my dwelling, and I contorted myself to beyond-slender proportions as I slid through the newly forming cracks in the wall, and I am again on the run.

My proxy army are holding the line valiantly. They're all good men. I'll have to give them all promotions after the lights are out and the party's over.

My final order to them is to get the hell out as Empty City, CT burns to the ground while the Camper army are still within its borders.

I shall have to secure transport back to Europe.

The Black Forest calls to me.

I'll be home soon.

The Battle of Empty City, CT Part Three: End the Heartache and the Thousand Natural Shocks

They're inside my hideout. They're coming for me now, as I write.

They'll be here any minute now.

Little do they know, though, that I have as many ways to escape as they have bodies. For you see, Empty City, CT knows my struggle well, and is prepared to turn the tide of war in my favour.

It is but a foregone conclusion that I will prove too slender for their iron fist.

They're outside my door now.

Catch me if you can.

The Battle of Empty City, CT Part Two: The Torment of Existence Weighed Against the Horror of Nonbeing

Ten days we've waited. Ten days they've delayed. Ten days' grim anticipation

But they're here now. The night sky is aflame with the bright colours of our saltpetre engagement. Every second there sounds a symphony of malevolent lead percussion.

I am perched on the steeple of Empty City, CT's Cathedral of the Ecclesiarchway, overlooking the slender scene. None have reached me yet, but I am amply prepared for such an encounter; only my finest proxies guard this inner sanctum.

I see the Camper's gunshot fireworks reaching the streets closeby. They may be here soon.

I await eagerly to entertain company. Hope they don't mind the mandatory twenty-one gun salute upon their arrival.

The Battle of Empty City, CT Part One: The Ichor and the Proxy

It's been a quiet three months, but they're here. I see Camper lining up just outside of town. Armed to the teeth. Watching. Waiting.

I have a spy within their ranks.

I used a slender-invocation to fuse the consciousness of one of the Camper with my second-in-command. He sees what the Camper sees. Hears what the Camper hears. Feels what the Camper feels. Knows all of their plans, strengths, weaknesses, everything a guy needs, really.

They are to strike at dawn.

We'll be ready.

'Til death you eldritch fuck.

Our Lady of Fire

It's been a while, Blogosphere.

I'm deeply entrenched here in Empty City, CT.

The ol' proxy army are in every corner of town.

Every street, watching; every intersection, fortifying; every building, barricading.

I have numerous escape routes planned, for such a day when my proxies are bested.

There's not been a single sign of indication that my pursuers are here.

I have gained an unexpected ally, however; a pale lady garbed in a dress of pure kerosene passion.

Her partner in crime, swarthy fellow clad in the thickest of smoke, is forced into thraldom by those blue she-devils, not unlike that indisen Rake was before.

So, Camper, if you don't do the right thing, and burn to death, then come and find us.

We'll settle this.

You know where we'll be.

Blow Wind Call Forth Storm

I know there are at least six hundred proxies nearby.

I read about their little pow-wow on The Eldritch Post while I was in prison.

Join me, proxies. Rally to this New England battlefield as falcons descend upon their prey.

Fight for me; die for me; be reborn for me.

Keep your boots tight, keep your gun close, and die with your mask on if you've got to.

Speak Eldritch of die, my twelve angry Camper fiends.

From One Empty City to the Next

I'm back where I started.

Where this all began.

The city in which my former eldritch coworkers first assailed me.

Empty City, CT.

It feels good to be back.

I shan't stay, though; they'll be coming for me.

Let them come; I'm ready for them.

It would be less poetic a fight were it here, but if it should come to that, then I'll oblige.

How Can I Have No Idea What I'm Doing . . .

I've made it out. Away from that accursed prison and into this bleak void-forest of eldritchosity.

If I keep running, Empty City will give way to nothingness, and will I be delighted then.

Past the nothing is my everything.

I wonder how's my old house in the Black Forest doing.

I'll be home soon.

Speak Eldritch or Die

Today's the day.

I'm leaving this prison.

I think I'll be safer now, by running away.

Nothing will get worse.

I'm going back to the Black Forest, and I'm killing those Camper.

All of them.

Coleman's Telling the Dirt-in-the-Drainpipe Story

I've been working on getting out for a while now.

There's a drainpipe behind my cell. It's my means of escape.

I know where it connects to the main Empty City pipeline, where it would be wide enough for me to fit. It's not too far from the prison's grounds.

I've been digging an escape route near some exercise equipment. It's easy to hide a tunnel when you can move pommel-horses over it for when you're away.

I'm so close to finishing.

It won't be long now.

Here's to the Prison Life

It's been a while, hasn't it, Blogosphere?

Did you think I've forgotten about you?

I've come back. I always come back.

I've only been silent for this long because of the unfortunate incident over at The Eldritch Post after the second part of my story got posted. Those twelve angry Camper (and an indisen Rake) are tenacious, to be sure; they'd come for me, locked away in the Empty City, WA prison system.

My writing this blog means that they'll set their sights upon me once again; I'll have to act, won't I? Become a Runner again?

Yes, I think now's the time.

Here's to the prison life; may mine end with my glorious liberation.

I am the slender man, and this will be my story.