The One God strode out -- a puppet trailing
severed strings -- from the conflagration. Another
city destroyed, another people cut down in their
tens of thousands. Who among us, witnessing
his emergence, could not but conclude that
madness had taken him? For all the power of
creation he possessed, he delivered naught but
death and destruction. Stealer of Life, Slayer and
Reaper, in his eyes where moments earlier there
had been the blaze of unreasoning rage, now
there was calm. He knew nothing. He could not
resolve the blood on his own hands. He begged
us for answers, but we could say nothing.
We could weep. We could laugh.
We chose laughter.
Creed of the Mockers
Cabal