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