It is with a great appreciation for the Dark Tradition’s past that we can move into Wyrd.
Here is a little offering for the readers of 9AO: selected texts of The Society of Dark Lily (1987- 1993).
Category: 9AO – The Noble House
Sacred Cows of The Stone
“No guilt shall bind you. No thought restrict! Feast then and enjoy, the ecstasy of this life: But ever remember I am the wind that snatches your soul!”
The utterings of the sacred dark ritual continued to unfold under the watch of the New Moon while it concealed Dabih, as something unexpected awaited to be sacrificed upon the altar. It was customary for a human to be sacrificed every seventeen years as per the specifications of this ancient Anglo ceremony, but this year was different; for what lay, bound by brutal magick, was an avatar of Satanas and Kthunae combined.
“There shall be no severing of heads this night. This stone circle of nine, in this cruel and frosted glade which I now stand; where Lucifer himself fell from what man calls the heavens, is where I will bend time and space to my will.”
The congregation, Guardian, Master and Priestess watched on in confusion. The Mistress spoke again.
“Time is but a helical arrangement. We may only be able to progress linearly in this space, but through acausal spaces, causal time can be chosen: periods, eras, Aeons — they can all be accessed and recalled. All that is required is this…”
The Mistress stroked the six-inch quartz tetrahedron perched upon a stone related to the great pagan Chieftain known as “Arthur”, He who was At-Azoth when dragons ruled the skies.
“Lapsit ex coelis, as the Latin scholars of old are fond of saying. This beautiful piece of quartz —with its angles cut to perfection — has been unfolded into the di-tetrahedron by our vibrations, and thus those of old are primed for entrance into this world.”
Bahomay – as she was known phonetically, esoterically – approached the altar holding two sacrificial daggers in each hand that she had retrieved from the Guardian. She raised them to the sky proclaiming, “I sacrifice one of the Sun and one of Mars to reveal the first hidden pathway of old!”
She brought the blades swiftly down upon the avatar, releasing what looked like red mist with green electricity pulsing through it.
“The Emerald Dragon of antiquity! Aperiatur terra et germinet!”
A large scaled and bestial hand with razor sharp claws broke through the Earth. The green dragon slowly climbed out through the soil and gently coiled its tail around the Mistress of Blood. Athushir roared and spewed black fire. The Mistress pointed to the corpse on the altar and whispered, “feden”. Athushir slithered over to the corpse and began devouring it.
The Mistress clapped her hands and several hooded figures, not entirely human appeared, dragging a hooded and bound hermaphrodite to the altar. By then, Athushir had finished the dyssolving and was waiting calmly by a nearby tree. The assistants secured the next avatar to the already bloody altar. Initially, the hermaphrodite slipped and slid on the remaining viscera, but was quickly bound by the tenacious help.
Bahomay raised her knives again as she stated, “One of Jupiter shall now know the sword!” She plunged the blades into the abdomen of the hermaphrodite and began cutting horizontally. She cut, she sliced, until the hermaphrodite was in two pieces.
“Darkat. Dagon. Thou art free again!”, she screamed with ecstasy as an asymmetric and inexplicable creature broke through the hardened soil, accompanied by a beautiful, naked woman with darkly glowing red eyes and long black hair.
The mistress pointed to the altar once more and quietly issued the same Aeonic command: “Feden”.
Darkat and Dagon made their way over to the altar, travelling in their unique way. Darkat gracefully inserted her hand into the cadaver and started pulling out the insides, taking large handfuls of meat and gorging. Dagon positioned his form over the lower half of the corpse and began peeling it without physical contact.
Bahomay clapped her hands again. Two more figures appeared, carrying another sacrifice. The opfer was positioned upon the altar after Darkat and Dagon had relocated to the tree.
She of Blood raised her blades again.
“Now one of the Moon must be opferred”.
She proceeded through the same motions as before, this time bellowing, “I release you Gaubni, god of old!”, as she concluded the last motion.
A swarm of flies descended from the skies and formed a tall figure. The Mistress pointed to the altar, issuing the now familiar command once again. The swarm covered the corpse, stripping its flesh; then its muscle and organs; followed by its bones. The flies, now content, flew over to the large tree, hovering above it.
Bahomay clapped her hands a final time. After the next avatar was slaughtered, the sound of distant battle — the clashing of wood and steel, filled the ether. A sea of thousands of men and women locked in a cycle of death, rebirth and bloody coitus, eventually arrived at the altar. The horrific cycle continued as the corpse was absorbed into the fray, vanishing among the blood and appendages, the screams and moans. The sea of blood, death and sex, then transmuted into a pale man and woman with missing eyes and gaping mouths perpetually emanating a wail. The creatures strutted over to the tree to join the rest.
Bahomay walked over to the new, yet old legion, raising her arms.
“The Immolation is complete. Go now, my lovelies. Hunt down the rest. Return them to dormancy. For the age of the twenty-one Dark Immortals is over! Thou, the Old Gods, have returned to reclaim thou’s rightful place as the most feared and sinister species of the Nekalah, and what a glorious and bloody return it is!
Hail the Heinous Gods!”, she concluded, with a sinisterly seductive smile. Then, she collapsed.
The congregation, Guardian, Master and Priestess all rushed over to her. Her legs were trembling and her stomach was growing. The Priestess realised what was happening and immediately parted the Mistress’s legs. The Mistress of Blood screamed.
“The Dark Child is coming!”
She pushed and pushed, until finally, the child broke out into the world in a sea of blood. The Priestess caught the child. It was grey and frail. Its skeleton glowed red through its skin, and its irises were shifting between multiple colours, as if the Child was a refraction of all light. The Mistress pushed herself up from the floor and took Rubedo in her arms, carrying it over to the Old Gods awaiting eagerly.
The child was placed into the giant, scaled hand of Athushir, as the Old Gods gathered round to bestow their powers unto the Child.
Several crows began circling and cawing above the Mistress and her sinister family. More crows joined the circle, and more still, until they had descended and completely enshrouded the Mistress and her brothers and sisters. A bright light began to emerge from the torso of the child, the quartz tetrahedron, and the column of crows simultaneously. The lights shot up into the night sky, turning red in the process and combining into the shape of a triangle, which split and expanded into a tetrahedron, and finally a di-tetrahedron.
The light had to have reflected off ‘things’ concealed deep within space, ‘things’ that were now travelling through the light and down the angles; yet, these were not Gods, dark or otherwise. These ‘things’ were much more inexplicable, for the acausal is boundless and ever-breathing darkly.
Meanwhile, the River began to flow into the Red Lake again, backwards through time…
The Dark Crier
For too long now, the narrative has been controlled by bad actors or outside sources. It’s hard to get honest updates in the folds of the Internet, so we’ve decided to do something about that. We’ve created a Telegram Channel.
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Some Questions For DWM 2024
Ξ Ξ Ξ Some Questions for DWM Summer 2024 Ξ Ξ Ξ
Some Questions For DWM 2024
Recently I got to ask David Myatt some questions. Here are the results of that.
Enjoy,
T.C. Downey
Daniel Barker Von Welf (NSK) Speaks
°°°
BX: Let me first say thanks for letting me ask you a few questions. I know you are eager to set the record straight so let’s get right to it.
DB: Sure.
BX: Are you, or have you ever been affiliated with Tempel ov Blood?
DB: Yes, I was. For the better part of two decades.
BX: What was your position within ToB and what did it involve?
DB: I was second in command next to Sutter for about — um, let’s see… 12 – 13 years, give or take? But I was a member for a few more years than that. During that time I played a key role in the expansion of TOB from perhaps a handful of members at best, as it was when I was “made” or “patched in” if you will, to an internationally established and recognized organization with chapters spread out across nearly every continent. I was involved in the planning and overseeing of many activities, both personally as well as alongside Sutter, working in tandem.
I oversaw and actively participated in recruitment and…training — umm, mentorship of other members; both high tier and new, as well as new recruits.
Many organizational standards of practice were set by my person, including what became the standardized and highly recognizable altar set-up which evidently became something of a… well, calling card, due to the rabid propagation of such by those who were associated or involved with the organization.
The first TOB flag was made by me; constructed using a cut out heavy black cloth drape and white paint covered in blood. Was also the first member to get the crest tattooed on me which was done after completing my formal induction as a full member into the Blood Family.
I was also the organization’s outer representative and owned, managed and operated our official website, as well as other various public fronts attached to the organization, e.g., New Bihar Mandir; which I later learned was another one of Sutter’s honeytraps, which pissed me off.
Umm. Is there anything else I’m missing? Oh, yeah. I authored a substantial amount of fundamental manuscripts, propaganda and other forms of audial, written and visual content for the organization.
In addition to running the public front and websites, I was also in charge of our publishing sector with Black Light Distribution and The Black Press; both of which I was as well the owner of. The majority of editing for our mss and graphic art design was also done by me. My participation in the publishing sector came to an end when he started Martinet Press, yet another act that infuriated me. This came as a sudden surprise as I had just finished constructing, designing, formatting and editing what was supposed to be the final pre-production version of Liber 333, which was set to be published through The Black Press.
The original name of Liber 333 was actually set to be titled “Psycho-politics of Predation”, and then out of nowhere Martinet Press appeared with someone else whom I was not aware of behind it working with Sutter and Hoy. It was rather insulting to be honest, not to mention disrespectful by not being given any notice of the abrupt change beforehand. Yeah, I think that covers everything.
BX: I have it on good authority from an ex-ToB member that you were among the first to sound the alarm bells concerning entrapment practices within the organisation. Is this true?
DB: Yes, this is indeed fact. Your source is clearly well informed.
BX: Could you tell me what happened on the day that Joshua Caleb Sutter was exposed as a federal informant?
DB: After finding out, I took a few minutes to… ugh, it annoys me just thinking about it, pardon me. Yeah anyways, it took me a few minutes to digest what I had just discovered, to allow myself some time to think about what course of action to take next. I’ll be honest – I was shocked, appalled and completely enraged by this apparent massive breach of security and betrayal that verily came from the highest level of the Blood Family; literally. We were after all, at least as far as I was concerned, extended family in our own weird way; bound together by our clan. We spoke over the phone regularly and had done so for many years and therefore had long since come to be able to read his demeanor and/or general mode or state of mind simply by the sound in his voice. And..when he answered the phone, there was a noticeable sense of uneasiness or apprehension in his voice which I took note of immediately.
He had always come across very confident and with a sense of self-assurance present in his voice; that day was different. Right off the bat, I called him out on my findings which clearly caught him off guard. He was stuttering and obviously trying to come up with some kind of alternative explanation to the claims against him on the fly — you know, like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He settled with telling me in response that it was nothing more than a black propaganda agenda being implemented against him by unknown sources through using the media as their weaponized vehicle. He didn’t seem alarmed or even remotely surprised as he of course denied the entire thing; attempting to “laugh it off”with an underlying sense of desperation in his voice, in hopes that I would believe his narrative. However, I had already figured out he was lying when he answered the phone by way of his demeanour and stutter in his voice which I’d never heard before from him.
So I decided to leave it at that for the moment and pretended to go along with his explanation. There were certain precautions that needed to be tended to before showing him my cards. The call was brief and ended shortly after that by as per usual relaying that we would speak again soon. After the call ended, I went through a list of contacts in the organization and began making phone calls to them to make sure they knew what had happened and to give them heads up to cut contact with him immediately and prepare for whatever was to potentially follow as a result of his cataclysmic act of dishonor and betrayal against his own.
Later I discovered that he had been planning to set me up as well, just as he had done to other members of the organization around the same time — “cheeky prick”, I remember thinking at the time, or something like that anyway. These instances and others came to light once Sutter had been exposed; many question marks and missing dots suddenly connected and became clear.
I remember many years ago, Sutter quietly relaying to me through a “read between the lines” method of wording, that we had a member who was indeed also actively in the CIA. I was younger then and perhaps still somewhat naïve to certain things, as I never would have expected to later find out in the end, that in truth he was acting as a federal confidential informant and that the person he was referencing was clearly his… uh, handler, not a bloody member of ToB as he presented it to me way back then. Live and learn I suppose. Many of us were deceived by him in the end.
BX: It has been implied that you are affiliated with 764. I’m aware that The Black Order released a statement addressing the allegation with sound reasoning, but could I hear the truth from you?
DB: I have never been affiliated with the 764 group. I neither support them nor do I condone their degenerate behavior. For starters, the so-called “evidence” that has been propagated is absolute bollocks — utter rubbish. The image was taken from an AWD photograph and then edited. Before my information was revealed they suggested I was some scrawny kid, but as it has now since been made clear due to the dox, my body type does not match. The fact that they used that kid in the AWD photo reveals they knew nothing of my person or stature prior to the leak, so anything they claim should be treated with extreme scrutiny.
BX: What is your opinion on child abusers, and have you ever knowingly co-operated with them?
DB: I have zero, absolutely zero tolerance for these kinds of degenerate scum. It is never acceptable to abuse children and anyone that does should be opfered; they all deserve the tight rope of the dead man’s knot. I have never, nor would I ever knowingly associate or co-operate with anyone who abuses children or proliferates support for such despicable and degenerate activities.
It was roughly in and around the same time — shortly before — that Sutter’s acute treachery was exposed, that his agenda to encourage and proliferate the support of such disgraceful content and activities became blatantly evident. I had in fact already begun a process of distancing myself from him gradually, over the course of a couple years, preceding his exposure because of this very reason, for which I had suspicions of which continued to rapidly increase.
After the phone call made to him was finished, following the release of his publicized, damning ruin, I cut contact with him, tended to the necessary final arrangements, and then hammered in the last coffin nail of my tenure-ship with the Tempel ov Blood. Caveat lector – si monumentum requiris, circumspice.
BX: What are your intentions with The Black Order going forward?
DB: On an exoteric level: We have been preparing the necessary foundations to incorporate certain Central and South American based dark currents, traditions and systems of magick into The Black Order with the help of a dearly, dearly beloved Latin American brother of ours. We have particular interest in establishing a strong presence in the Central and South Americas in addition to our footings already laid across multiple other nations, internationally.
On an esoteric level, which I have mentioned to others quite a bit now, so it’s kinda’ rehearsed — From those who came before us, a brilliant shining torch carried. Illuminating are the calculations of darkness betwixt the grey angular incline. Traverse the labyrinthian hallways of always, to build ever upwards through the pyramid towards the cranial black sky that is without end. Upon the diamond femur of Terra, sand becomes iron; with honour, nobility and unforgiving perseverance. Molded and forged are they, the mountainous building blocks of tomorrow which aim even higher; seek to threaten the exosphere of potential.
For those who are yet to come, we prepare our camps, sharpen our blades and harden our tools. For those who are yet to come, we stock your woodshed and tend the fields of harvest in preparation for the solstice of ice which shall one day find and own your calendar; and when the cold once again returns, a torch to you blazing, in your hands burning.
To those of today, Carpe Noctim
BX: Wow. That was a mouthful!
DB: Haha. I guess it was, yeah.
BX: As you previously mentioned, your personal information was recently leaked, hence why we are having this interview. Could you tell me how this has impacted you?
DB: This changes nothing; I know the rules of the game. What’s done is done, but I hope those responsible will pay me a visit soon. That’s all I have to say on the matter.
BX: Considering that your information was released by an organization that was founded and named after a friend of ours and Traditional Satanist, Justin Jekt (Injekt Division). Were you surprised by the hypocrisy?
DB: Not really. The people who point fingers usually have the most to hide. I guess it does make sense because… umm, if you apply logic it reveals a personal motive of one of their members — a member that “justifies” their behaviour with national socialism and Christianity even though the origin story of their group is inherently satanic. You couldn’t make this shit up! It’s a cognitive dissonance that’s quite amusing to be honest. I mean come on, what’s so Christian about having a leader that tries to shoot up a Walmart? I don’t think they have a clue who they are deep down, just another bunch of lost kids that society has failed, looking for a surrogate mother in a man, in a Freudian sort of way if you know what I mean?
It could be deeper than that even. If we look at one of their victims, the porn star Riley Reid, what motive do we see? She’s a woman that loves sex, she’s… popular, she’s… successful. Any psychologist would tell you that those who are more likely to attack someone like that are the polar opposite of that person, that they are likely constantly unsuccessful with women or men, and that they get pushed around or are not even acknowledged in their day-to-day lives. They then lash out because they are unhappy with their own lives and it’s easier to project your insecurities onto someone else and cathartically attack them instead of admitting you perceive yourself as a failure. But what do I know? I’m just a nobody who happens to be a satanist.
BX: Okay. Great stuff. Thanks for your time, man.
DB: Thank you, it’s been a pleasure. Fides in Adversis.
This interview was conducted by T.C. Downey on the date of 11/07/2024 through a recorded telephone call that was then transcribed.
Note: within the following publication Erda, on pages 5 and 6 under the title, A New Beginning, more information on Kevin Lokison’s (Kevin Rockhill) successorship and reformation of The Black Order can be found.
Download Erda Here
Announcement:
°°°°°°°
I will be interviewing NSK (Daniel Barker) it’s coming soon.
Stay tuned!!!
°°°°°°°
Redemption by Moonlight – Guest Article by Theodore R.
A sweltering summer evening was taking its toll on a middle-aged writer as he conducted his craft. Having been a member of various occult organisations, he had obtained connections and paranatural abilities that allowed him to lead a relatively comfortable life; that was until the local liberal council realised that his area was a little too affluent and decided to relocate voluntarily unemployed benefit dependents of a foul nature in an attempt to commit reverse gentrification.
The well-mannered and hardworking residents on Christopher’s street were suddenly surrounded by families of a significantly lower breed of person. What was once a quiet, friendly street had turned into a volatile and vulgar space within days: beer cans littered on the floor; the smell of marijuana from open windows at lunch time; and excessive shouting, indicative of inherited poor parenting, echoed through the street at all hours.
Christopher stood up from his chair to open a window. Within seconds, the vulgar tone and culturally-appropriated ebonic vocabulary of one of the families next door could be heard.
“Goodness me. What a vile lot”, he thought to himself. “They should have never made thrashing illegal in schools… and…”
The landline rang, interrupting his escalation. He picked up the phone to be greeted by the gentle tones of Mrs Henderson.
“Hello? Hello, dear? Have you heard the noise again?”
Mrs Henderson was a 70 year-old grandmother who had sadly been widowed, and then forgotten by her daughter. The sweet old lady would often call Christopher when she had a problem that she couldn’t resolve.
“Yes, I have. It’s very hard not to. Is it upsetting you?”, he replied.
“It’s not pleasant but I grew up with several brothers. What is frightening me though is those boys from number 41—always throwing things in my garden and ruining my flowers they are. Do you think I should say something next time?”
Without thinking Christopher responded.
“Definitely. They’re just kids at the end of the day. I’m sure if you put your foot down they’ll stop.”
“But what if they get violent with me? I’ve seen those stories on the news about that sort of thing, you know. I couldn’t possibly defend myself if it came to that.
Christopher’s inflated bravado made itself known as he confidently and unrealistically stated that he would always be around if she needed help. This reassured Mrs Henderson because Christopher was a fairly well built and tall man in his 50s.
The two talked about the socio-political climate in England before bidding each other good-day and returning to their respective lives.
For the remainder of the night, Christopher worked his Remington typewriter to its full mechanical potential in an effort to complete his latest manuscript on the importance of synergy in magickal praxis.
The next morning, as Christopher was leaving his area to attend a lecture at the university in the city, several police cars were parked at the side of the road. This was normal, an everyday occurrence on Conrad Drive since the riffraff moved in. The house that was always having guests coming and going at all hours of the night had once again been raided and its occupants arrested.
“Morning, constable”, Christopher said to one of the florescent praetorians as he passed by.
The constable nodded and responded in kind.
After a day of lecturing young and rightfully exhausted minds on Scythian culture, Christopher met up with an old friend for a pint at a nearby public house.
“Afternoon. A pint of Guinness and a…John Smiths, please”, Christopher requested after squinting at the fading chalk on the blackboard above the bar.
“Coming right up, mate”, the young barman responded.
Christopher watched as the stout began to fill the embossed glass, and then again as the bitter reached the rim of the second glass.
“There you are. Four-seventy, please.”
Christopher handed over the change and made his way back to the oak-wood table where his friend Rupert was sitting.
“Here we are, Rupert.”
“Ah, cracking! I’ve been waiting all day for one of these”, Rupert revealed, wasting no time in taking a sip from the cold beverage.
Christopher took a sip also.
“What’s new with you then?”
“Nothing much, old boy; keeping the wife and little terrors happy, honing my serve—you know how it is.”
“Is retirement really that boring?”
Rupert slapped his head. “Good god, yes. There’s nothing to do except lounge about, and you know that’s never been my idea of fun.”
“I’m glad I’m still employed in that case. Although I imagine it’s nice having time to think about that which would otherwise pass by our thoughts.”
“Are you being philosophical again, Chris?”
“Possibly. Don’t you ever think about how and why things are the way they are?”
“Of course I do, but I don’t give too much thought to the things I can’t change, even if I loathe them.”
“But you can change them, Rupert. You can change them through intention and frenzy.”
Rupert sighed and shook his head. “You know I’ve never believed in that magical nonsense of yours, but for some reason you always find a way to work it into almost every conversation we have and try to convert my thinking.”
“Well, because it works”, Christopher whispered in a sinister yet whimsical tone.
After wiping a tear of hilarity from his eye. Rupert spoke once more.
“Anyway. Regardless of if it works or not, there is no substitute for rolling your sleeves up and wrapping your hands around the neck of the problem.”
“I think we may have found common ground after all these years, my friend”, Christopher uttered before finishing the foamy dregs of his pint.
Christopher said farewell after two more pints and started to walk home. He looked at his watch.
“Damn. 9pm already? Where did the time go?”
As he walked onto his street he could see the teenagers from number 41 being belligerent outside Mrs Henderson’s house and decided to walk over. The hoodies stopped what they were doing and fronted Christopher.
“Fack off, grandad, yeah!”, one of the boys shouted.
“Go home and leave Mrs Henderson alone. You’re frightening her”, Christopher said calmly.
“It’s a free country, bruv. Why should we?”, one of the other boys retorted.
Christopher could sense the growing volatility and decided to try and intimidate them in customary passive adult fashion.
“I won’t tell you again. Go home or you’ll be in big trouble.”
The spawns of “Thatcher’s Britain” laughed, cursing him but nevertheless moving away from Mrs Henderson’s house. Christopher turned around and continued to walk towards his house.
“See? All it takes is a little confidence and–”
Before he could finish the sentence in his head a sudden pain occurred at the back of his head. Christopher clutched the affected area as blood poured through his fingers. He had been “glassed”. A second bottle smashed on his head, cutting the fingers he was using to protect his head wound. He fell to the floor, making out blurry shapes and fading voices as they surrounded him and closed in.
“Whatcha’ gunna’ do now, dickhead?!”
“You just got fucked up; ya’ get me blud!”
Suddenly, an old and familiar voiced emerged amidst the obscenities.
“Pack that in, you horrible lot! Go home to your parents and leave that poor man alone! I’ve called the police so you better listen to me.”
It was Mrs Henderson. She had called the police after seeing the boys follow Christopher and left her house to confront them. Flashing blue lights illuminated houses around the corner and sirens filled the air.
“Shit. Fuckin’ do one”, one of the boys shouted. “We’ll hide out at mine. My dad’ll vouch for us, trust.”
“Ya’ better watch out, granny. Just watch!”
The police arrived on the scene and began questioning Mrs Henderson while an ambulance was called for Christopher and he was taken to the emergency room.
“Would you mind coming with me to the house where you said the suspects lived?”, the eldest constable requested of Mrs Henderson.
Mrs Henderson nodded. They marched over to number 41 and the constable pounded on the door. A short and skinny man with bloodshot eyes answered.
“Yeah, what can I do for ya’?”
“Sorry to bother you, sir but we have a witness that puts your boys at the scene of a crime.”
The boys started to peak through the curtains.
“That’s them! That’s them right there!”, Mrs Henderson erupted, pointing at them.
“W—what? That’s bullshit. My boys wunt do nuffin’ like that!”
The constable frowned. “Well I still have to question them. May I come in?”
The man shrugged. “Yeah…course, course, yeah.”
Mrs Henderson returned to her residence and waited for an update. Twenty minutes had passed before the police knocked on her door.
“We’ve spoken to the boys and unfortunately we have no further evidence to act on until Mr Hawcroft tells his side of the story.”
The colour drained from Mrs Henderson’s cheeks while constable continued.
“At this stage it’s your word against theirs, and of course we have the original witness phone report which will help if the case goes to court. We will be continuing our investigation after we speak with Mr Hawcroft, and should his story match yours we will be pressing charges.”
“What if they come back when you’ve gone?”, she uttered quietly.
“We’ll park across the street and watch your house for a while. They won’t try anything while we’re here.”
The constables left the home of Mrs Henderson and returned to their car where they observed the street for the next hour. Mrs Henderson retired to bed and quickly fell asleep due to exhaustion. The night – at least for now – was quiet.
A month after the incident, a letter arrived in Mrs Henderson’s post. It was from the local constabulary. She sat down and prepared herself before opening it. Reading each line with confidence that justice would be delivered. But when she reached the penultimate line she started to cry.
“Unfortunately, it is not in the community’s best interest to prosecute. We are sorry for any inconvenience this may have caused and would like to refer you to our victim helpline which can be reached on…”
Mrs Henderson screwed up the letter and tossed it in the bin, cursing the justice system in the process. She then peaked out of the window and saw the boys from number 41 outside her house again. They boys noticed and began taunting her.
“See? The feds don’t give a shit ‘bout you or your boyfriend!”
They continued on in a similar manner until the emotional abuse came to an end with the sending of a brick through Mrs Henderson’s window. She was petrified and alone, not knowing the limitations of her oppressors. The only thing she could bring her shaking body to do at that moment was huddle in a corner.
Christopher was released from the hospital the next morning. The police never did show to interview him. The case was passed from constable to constable and inevitably communication broke down.
The hospital was quite a distance from Christopher’s home but he decided to walk the distance regardless, picking up some Turkish Delight for Mrs Henderson along the way. He made his way cheerfully through the streets and reached Conrad Drive, where he spotted an ambulance and a police car parked outside Mrs Henderson’s residence. Fearing the worst, he broke into a jog which quickly upgraded to a sprint, only to be held back by two constables upon reaching the front gate of the house.
“What’s happened?! W—w—what’s going on?! Someone tell me right now!”, he screamed at the top of his loud but trembling voice.
Before long, his questions were answered via the cruelty of observation. Christopher trembled as two medical technicians carried out a figure cloaked in a white sheet. The Detective Inspector investigating the scene followed them out and approached Christopher, noticing his anguish.
“D.I. Harper. I’m sorry. I know its clear as day on your face but I have to ask: did you know the deceased?”
Christopher answered the Detective Inspector’s question and told her everything that had happened between them and the teenagers from number 41. D.I. Harper grew increasingly frustrated upon hearing about the events that led up to the tragic death of Mrs Henderson. He assured Christopher that he would personally pursue the case and find a way to prove that the boys were responsible. However, Christopher had lost faith in the system after hearing Mrs Henderson continuously assure him that the police would interview him about what happened, but of course, they never did a follow up. D.I. Harper’s words were nothing more than procedure in Christopher’s eyes, despite them being genuine and “from the heart”, as they say. He had already decided that he would place a death hex on the boys when he returned home, and he did just that.
Days and nights passed without the hex showing any proof that it was working. But during this period, an Acausal Object (AO) was attracted to the hate and violent thoughts Christopher was having at the time. The AO began haunting him as a test, but he didn’t care. He displayed no fear and didn’t attempt to rationalise the irrational. This showed the AO that he had already begun his “crossing of the abyss”; and so it provided him with the ancient linguistic tools to understand it, revealing its name forthwith: Noctulius.
Many suns set and rose as Noctulian gnosis was channeled into Christopher; and then, one fateful night saw him become. Christopher was so consumed by hate that he had forgotten the reason behind it; that is until – by the opening of a window – he was reminded.
The disembodied voice of Noctulius growled in his ear.
“Remember what your bitter friend said—remember well, Acolyte.”
Christopher hurried to his bathroom and approached the mirror, leaning into it, as if he was pre-cognitively analysing something. He stared into his new eyes and strode to his kitchen. Reaching up, he retrieved a claw hammer from the top of one of the cupboards. He marched towards his front door and grabbed his black pea coat. The front door of his house flung open, setting off the alarm. Christopher stormed over to number 41 and banged on the door, concealing the hammer in his sleeve.
The father of the boys could be heard shouting from within.
“Ere’, lads. That toff is outside. Come watch me knock ‘im out!”
Inside, his boys rushed halfway down the stairs and took a seat as their father opened the door.
“Let’s fuckin’ ave–”
Christopher charged into the door before the father could finish his threat, knocking him to the floor with a thud. Christopher dropped his knee into the father’s sternum as he brought the flat end of the hammer down on the bridge of the father’s nose with resounding crack. The father shrieked and clutched his nose but Christopher kept wailing on the same spot, breaking the father’s fingers in the process. One of the boys decided to try and save his father by grabbing Christopher, but he just shook the boy off and reaped him into a wall, splitting the back of his head open. The rest of the teenagers ran upstairs while he returned the father to continue his relentless onslaught. It was clear that Christopher held the father responsible for the behaviour of his children, while at the same time acknowledging that they were still culpable and thus deserving of punishment.
Soon after, he stopped his onslaught and climbed up from the ground to be greeted by words of Noctulius.
“You see now, don’t you? True magick is transmutation of the physical. You’ve been heated to your melting point, undergone calcination, separation, and now…coagulation.”
Christopher rushed up the stairs to the room where the boys were hiding with a lycan-like agility, but as he pounced into the room, an unexpected sight stopped him short. Within the room, in the corner, was a woman cowering—the mother. She was covered in bruises, cuts and burns. Christopher realised that she was a victim of abuse but did not know who was responsible, so he ordered the boys to sit next to her and observed her reaction to them. It did not take him long to conclude that they were all responsible for their mother’s suffering and set about lining them up against the back wall. The mother pleaded with Christopher, explaining that they were only doing it because they were scared of their father. Christopher refused to listen.
“They chose to torture you. They could have stood up to their father, to his authority, just like they did with me, yet they did not. They chose to torment and abuse Mrs Henderson, to scare her to such an extent that she felt like the only way to escape their cruelty was to take her own life. They chose…all of it, and now—now they have to face the consequences of their actions.”
The eldest boy leaped forward. “We’re sorry, okay? We’re fuckin’ sorry, man! We won’t do nuffin’ like this again, swear down!”
“Get back in line!”, Christopher barked.
He approached the first boy, steadied his aim, and hit him as hard as he could in the face with the bottom of his palm. The boy’s body crumpled to the floor. Then Christopher approached the second and did the same again; followed by the third; and finally, the fourth. He approached the mother next and crouched beside her, looking deeply into her eyes and employing a type of neurolinguistic programming.
“You gave them life, nurtured them. You are partly responsible for their actions. It is your turn to accept responsibility for your part in this tragedy.”
He handed her the blood-soaked hammer adorned with pieces of her husband’s skin and hair, slowly withdrew into one of the dark corners of the room, and observed as she harrowingly took her children back out of the world.
Reemerging shortly after the ordeal, Christopher walked over to the mother one final time.
“Now you have a choice to make. You can endure your burden, your…renewed sense of personal responsibility; allowing yourself to be strengthened by it….in time, or you can walk over to that window, and throw yourself out of it. Which is it to be?”
And with that, Christopher plodded down the stairs and towards the front door, passing the absolved mass of meat, formally known as the father, on the way. He closed the door of the residence, crossed the street, and disappeared into the early morning mist to the sound of encroaching sirens, and the tenacious alarm of his now vacant residence…
Honour and Kinsman – A Honorable Living – The Final Edition
The Ideology of the Slyman (The Insidious Way) is first and foremost to be on the route to self-actualization and self-determination, the discovery of the self and the mastery of the self. Artificial systems of law or rule always result in corruption and then collapse. Which we are witnessing in our society today. The concept of maturity is being in a position where no man need tell you what you can or cannot do. You are responsible for yourself, earning your own rewards or suffering the consequences which are natural results of your choices and actions. Our society is in a perpetual state of adolescence, playing at life instead of living.
The sinister Slyman is the engine that is unseen or unexpected. The Slyman is the wolf in sheep’s clothing, the rip-current in calm waters, the mass of the iceberg not apparent based on its slight presence on the surface of the water. The actions of the Slyman are subtle, intentionally hidden, meticulously planned, and executed with precision. The Slyman is the unseen opponent of the system which stands in plain sight. The Slyman is the sucker-punch, the hidden knife, and the cosmic joy-buzzer. The Slyman seeks mastery over his enemies through the mastery of self. He who knows the self can never be slave to another.
A Slyman uses experience to determine certain truths by which they live. A Slyman fully expects, based on experience, that the sun will rise in the morning somewhere in the East, and will set in the evening somewhere in the West. A Slyman knows, however, that while experience is an excellent teacher, it is also subject to change. The sun may rise and fall tomorrow as it has done for eons, but a Slyman knows that only a fool would consider any event a certainty. Observation in the moment is the only way the world can truly be experienced, not through the results of the past or the expectations of the future. For the Slyman, the now is always the priority.
Cherishing Honor and Kinsmen
Put simply, the reason that artificial codes of law fail is because shit happens. The Slyman knows this, and is not surprised or daunted by it.
Thus, as Slymen, it is not our intent to offer to anyone a code-of-conduct, laws, rules, or any other edicts artificially foisted upon others. Instead, what we offer are standards which we have embraced ourselves, standards with which we test the reality around us. We follow the examples of others, and will no doubt see our examples followed, but we strive to always remain ourselves in the moment. These are the standards of our Noble House, our Kinsmen, what each self-actualized Individual, who we consider a brother or sister, chooses to use as a base for their own behavior. We do not ask people to change themselves and conform to these standards, but rather suggest that those who already apply these standards to themselves may have a place amongst us. Ours is a living, evolving process, and as we test and discover what assists in meeting our goals (and what does not), these standards will evolve.
We are unabashedly elitist. We have no interest in converting or even recruiting from the mundane herd. We are different, and those who sense within themselves the same kind of difference are welcome to participate in our Noble House. To stand amongst us, one must first realize that you stand apart from all others. Self Actualization is the full Awareness of Self as whole distinct from all that is around us. Those who stand with us must sense this potential within themselves, act in a manner which this sense dictates, and in an effort to further this Actualization.
An example of our effort to be distinct from the sleeping world is in our use of language. We strive for our use of, to be more precise. When we say “human”, we mean something far more definite than the up-right walking hairless primate you might see blankly staring into the distance on their daily commute to their assigned slave-pen. Language in its common use is slip-shod, allowing for ambiguity in meaning and complacency in thought. The precision in language is just one example where we make the effort to define ourselves for ourselves, insisting that our words are precisely what we mean, and not what one might think is inferred.
Though there are many who might appreciate what we have developed here, and even be in agreement with the majority of it, if they do not share in our methodology and goals with the same commitment, then they are not a part of us. The methodology is simple: seek the truth of the self and the world around you in each moment, strive to be only that which you are, and work to better yourself. The commitment to this must be nothing short of total.
We are unabashedly at war with a system that we recognize is making slaves of all of us. Our war is a guerrilla-war, a war of attrition, a war of ideas and physical acts. We are opposed to the mundane concepts of State, Government, and Institution. We seek to replace this form of society with one consisting of small self-governing communities in which each member of a community is a participant as a matter of choice and not happenstance. We seek a social order not based on a moral code of conduct, but rather a personal sense of honour and rationality. Instead of forcing a person to conform to the ideology of the State, we strive for a society where one has the freedom to seek out a community that is best suited for themselves or to form their own community if none can be found. While in time such communities will come to manifest hidden in the plain sight of our enemies, we for now begin with a diaspora (Greek: scattered) community of Awakened and pre-Awakened individuals.
Our community, and the way its Individual members conduct themselves, is based on the following basic standards. These standards continue to remain consistently valid, but are not dogma. Evolution should be expected:
To live honourably begins with accepting personal responsibility for yourself. It is impractical to rely on the efforts and “good will” of others. This honour extends as the idea of self extends; one’s family and Kinsmen are reflections and extensions of one’s self. Acting honourably (with personal responsibility) in our own efforts and dealings with one another ensures that we continue to evolve and remain self-actualized.
This idea, living an honourable life, is what defines us. It determines our Individual behavior and by choosing to live in this manner we are faced with certain undeniable consequences of that choice. Striving to live an honourable Life binds us as a cohesive community and distinguishes us from those who live without honour.
Tending the Garden – An Ethical Culling
It is within this community of Honourable Living that we should seek to cultivate a healthy and vibrant existence. Nurturing our values and culture. Those we choose to form a bond of kinship with must be in lockstep as to what honourable living means. They must actively employ these shared values or they will become toxic.
Think of the Noble House as a bed of perennials and the odd man out is a weed. Left unchecked, that weed will spread and strangle the perennials. Therefore it is necessary that we are willing to take a hands-on role in the cultivation of our Noble House. Those that demonstrate disharmony and work to undermine our ways, will surely halt the growth.
The obvious remedy is the necessary use of ethical culling. We deem that it be ethical because of the risk of hypocrisy and dishonourable behavior. As Slymen, it is easy to see that if you lie down with dogs; you will surely get fleas. This is not to suggest a light-handed approach, though diplomacy should always be the default methodology. Removing the poison is of the utmost priority and so we might need to gradually increase the severity of the actions taken.
The Slyman should take care to be objective and at all times honourable. So it is reasonable to state that this should be a trivial pursuit. No pleasure in sadism for the sake of being sadistic. That should be reserved for our enemies. Not everyone who follows a different path is an enemy.
In the demonstration of this, I will point to our relationship with The Black Order. Though both systems are drastically different. A careful examination of both doctrines will reveal an underlying fabric of commonality. Soon those Sinister Tribes in which we align with, will be available on 9AO.
Living an Honourable Life, for us, is the only life worth living. If we cannot live as self-determining Individuals, if we cannot be more than the slaves of a faceless and soulless system, then we would prefer not to live. Our honour is why we resist, why we fight, and why we strive to forge for ourselves a new way to live. We each recognize that it is better to die fighting for the right to live honourably than to live without honour… indeed, life without honour is no life at all!
Honour means that we cherish those who are of our own kind, the brother and sisters of our tribe, above all others. We cherish them as we cherish ourselves or more so. We are prepared to come their aid and defense, even at the hazard of our own lives, fully aware that they share the same urges regarding us based on our common and shared honour. Those who are as we are seek to live, in a real, active sense of life. Life cannot be sustained in isolation, but thrives as Individuals work toward mutual benefit. Furthermore, only the living can tend to the living. The dead tend to no one.
To Live with Honour – The Modus Operandi
Those who are not of us, who do not share in the same sense of honour, are of little consequence. The only real danger they present is in their numbers. They do not deserve our respect or trust, and should be dealt with cautiously. Those who lack honour may often prove useful in some circumstances, but we should always remember that they are children dreaming arrogantly of being adults, and deserve our contempt because they lack the courage, strength of will, or vision to be as we are. They are the plants of a poorly tended garden. In this garden we must tread carefully to avoid the thorns and brambles. We must be watchful of those flowers which will bare the sweetest fruit, and transplant them to our garden when we can. We must be prepared to pull a few weeds if necessary, knowing though that in the end it is best to allow this garden to choke on its own excess and random growth.
To live with honour, to be self-responsible, means to be fully prepared and willing to defend ourselves; physically, philosophically, and spiritually, by any means necessary. We must be ready to die for our honour, and fully prepared to use lethal force in our honour’s defense. We must be mindful that our war is ongoing and our enemy is relentless. We will let them marvel at our victories while wondering at our methodologies. Hasten not your end in brash flashes of valor, but strive to grown strong while the enemy grows weak. The broken and the dead have little or no defense.
To live with honour, to be self-responsible, is to be loyal to our brothers and sisters, those who share in our honour. We must defend them as we would defend ourselves, at the risk of our own lives if necessary. We must respect them as we respect ourselves. No one Individual has the right to tell another how to live, but in that we have chosen to live with honour, those who share this ideology are as much a part of ourselves as is our own arms. To each of those within our Klan, we swear a personal oath of loyalty, respect, and kinsman-ship. We would rather die before violating this oath. If we are defined as distinct from all others by any means, it is by this standard alone.
To live with honour, to be self-responsible, is to seek justice and comeuppance for any misdeed against ourselves or the members of our Kinsmen. We will avenge any act of dishonour towards ourselves or our brothers and sisters. This is not meant to be a compulsive obsession with vengeance, but rather a simple balancing of the books. Remember that when you call someone your enemy, you are calling them your equal, worthy of your admiration and energy. Do not waste such high praise on fools. The wise know when they have been wronged, and when they have been merely distracted momentarily.
To live with honour, to be self-responsible, is to be prepared to die before submitting to the tyrannical system of the mundane world. Every act should be an act of defiance. The system by it’s very nature seeks to strip us of our honour. Death in defense of that honour is a Warrior’s Death, and we are each prepared to die as Warriors before allowing ourselves to be dishonoured and humiliated by that system. Submission to that system is in fact a kind of death, a slow and painful purifying of the self, the ultimate lie in denial of the truth. Every breath in opposition to the system and in pursuit of the self is a breath of life. Every breath in submission to that system is a breath toward inevitable suffocation.
To live with honour, to be self-responsible, is to recognize and understand that no oath, pledge, or promise offered by one who lacks honour can be trusted. Thus, no one who is not of us can ever be trusted to keep their word. No plans should be made which rely upon one who is not of us to fulfill their obligations. Those who are not of us should be dealt with cautiously, if dealt with at all. How can one who does not know themselves promise anything to another? The person who makes that promise without a sense of self will cease to exist, replaced by another who will not feel obligated to what was promised, who might not even remember what oaths where given, and who will probably resent be held accountable for the words of their former self!
To live with honour, to be self-responsible, is to recognize and understand that our word, pledge, or promise is our bond. This, we do not give lightly. We fulfill our obligations. To fail to do so is to be without honour, to be labeled a coward, and to be considered unworthy. Our word given, even to one without honour, is an obligation that we must strive to keep. Our words must be truths. Therefore, think before speaking, know what you are saying, and remember that the words of an Awakened Man may as well be written in his own blood.
To live with honour, to be self-responsible, is to recognize the value and strength of an Oath. It would be unwise to give one’s Oath to one without honour. Once and Oath is given, the Individually giving the Oath is honour-bound to fulfill it. The Oath can only be released if it is fulfilled, the person to whom it was given releases the person who gave his Oath from his obligation, or the person to whom the Oath was given dies. An Oath is recognized among our kinsman as one which is preceded or proceeded by words “By my honour…”.
To live with honour, to be self-responsible, is to settle our serious disputes amongst ourselves. When a dispute cannot be settled, we should seek the arbitration of a mutually trusted and neutral kinsman. If that fails (the kinsman cannot come to a decision), and if neither side is willing to concede, then a trial by combat or duel will settle the dispute. Anyone who impugns our honour or that of our kinsman will be challenged to combat. It is therefore wise to always let that which truly does not matter slide.
To live with honour, to be self-responsible, is to accept the consequences of our decisions. Thus, if we have a dispute with a kinsman, and we seek arbitration, then we must accept and abide by their decision. Once decided, we must consider the matter closed and behind us. Keep in mind that we are all going to die. There will never be another like ourselves or the man with which we have a dispute again. Pity the fool who wastes time engaged in the trivial pursuit of imagined slights and inconsequential games of one-up-man ship!
To live with honour, to be self-responsible, is to treat our kinsman not only as we would wish to be treated, but as we would wish to treat ourselves. When dealing with members of our Klan, we should strive to be kind, generous, fair, and courteous.
To live with honour, to be self-responsible, is to recognize that one cannot meet the needs of others until one has done all that can be done to meet your own needs. Thus, it is the responsibility of each member of the Klan to see to their own needs and the needs of their households to the limits of their abilities.
To live with honour, to be self-responsible, is to recognize that the need of one kinsman is the need of all. Thus, no kinsman should feel shame in asking his Kin for aid when aid is needed. While each kinsman should take pride in their ability to help another in need, no kinsman should expect a return on that which is given, or to place an obligation on the one requiring aid. That which is given should only be given freely. If one cannot give freely, then he should not give at all.
To live with honour, to be self-responsible, is to always strive to act with wisdom. Be patient and contemplative. Seek the greatest benefit for the minimal risk. Be prepared to act when opportunity presents itself. Do nothing to dishonour yourself or your Kinsmen. While being prepared to die, it is better to be alive to fight on. Suffer consequence only when consequence serves a purpose.
To live with honour, to be self-responsible, is to recognize that all your choices and your actions are fully your responsibility. We are at war, and in war comes risk. If you risk too much, act to rashly, or without proper preparation, then you must accept the consequences of your choice. To accept those consequences as your own is an act of honour. To draw blame to others, especially your Kinsmen, is an act of a coward. No Individual will be ever be given orders. Every Individual must make their own choices.
To live with honour, to be self-responsible, is to recognize and understand that every Individual has a right to choose. If a kinsman has no Oaths to fulfill and wishes to leave the tribe, then he should do so with no ill-will. If a kinsman leaves the tribe to avoid fulfilling an Oath, or is forced to leave because he dishonours himself or the tribe, he should be labeled a coward and harried whenever opportunity presents itself. If one such as this continues to dishonour the tribe, he should be neutralized. Suffer not fools.
To live with honour, to be self-responsible, is to ensure that we share our ideals with our mates, and to pass these ideals on to our children, allowing for them when they come of age to make the choice to either live as we do or live among those without honour.
Those who can live by these standards may be able to call themselves Bawrn. We recognize our own, and act accordingly. To be one of us, seek one of us.
The following are the proposed standards for a potential tribe of Slyman residing in the same geographical area, ideally within a neighborhood, suburb, town, or city where the majority of citizens are Slymen. Modifications to these directives for our current state of diaspora are written in italics. If no modification is present, the existing directive is considered applicable to our current state.
Each member of the community must demonstrate the ability and inclination to provide for themselves. This will be best demonstrated by having gainful employment and if employed by another party also having some manner of self-employment that they are actively engaged in. While scattered, any means of acquiring one’s needs is valid, but self-sufficiency is ideal.
Each member of the community must understand and agree that the community’s success is based entirely on our Individual ability and dedication to the support of his or her fellow members in the community. Each member of the community is expected to be able to see to their own needs, turning to the community for support only in dire circumstances. The community will regularly gather, share, and distribute resources contributed by each member’s surplus that they voluntarily donate to the cause to help ease the burden of being self-sustaining, but no one member of the community can become reliant on that aid save for those who situation is extra-ordinary such as significant illness or extreme old age. In diaspora, each cell will have to determine how and to what extent this should be executed. It is wise for each member to try to generate a small surplus, and for each member to share with others what is needed and what is available.
Each member of the community must recognize that the success of the whole is tied to the success of the Individual, thus it is in each member’s best interest to support by whatever means are available the efforts of each Individual member. Such support need not be financial. It can be word-of-mouth promotion, participation, or assisting with tasks in another member’s projects. This also has the benefit of creating varying opportunities and experiences for all members of the community, increasing each member’s skill-set.
Each member of the community must have the ability to defend themselves from outside attack. Owning and maintaining weapons, especially firearms, is expected and encouraged. The study and practice of a martial-art is also useful.
Each member of the community must recognize and respect the sanctity of a fellow member’s house and household. The community will have common property and common meeting areas, but one’s home remains one’s castle. The community will come together to assist with the maintenance and improvement of each member’s residence, but only at the behest and within the wishes of the member who resides there.
Each member will swear an Oath of Loyalty to one another, recognizing each member of the community as their brother and sister. This will mean respecting the sanctity of the romantic relationships of other members, the life-style choices those members may make, their rights to property and well-being, and their opinions and perspectives. Each member will be expected to come to the aid of another member of the community whenever called, to provide support whenever needed, to share hearth and home whenever required. Those who turn to their fellow community members in time of need will understand that while whatever given to them is given freely, they have an obligation as a matter of honour to do all they can to support the community and their benefactors by any means available to them and to as quickly as possible become self-sustaining once more.
Every member of the community 17 years of age has a voice in guiding that community. Once each month, the community will gather, break bread together, discuss their concerns as Individuals and as a community, and make decisions for the benefit of the community as a whole. If an emergency arises requiring the immediate attention of and a decision made by the community, three members may initiate a gathering and vote (when practical).
Every member of the community recognizes and understands that the community exists distinct from the surrounding society, but also as a part of that society. Its survival in that tenuous state requires that outsiders perceive the community as no different from the surrounding society. Therefore, every effort must be made by each Individual within the community to handle any issues or conflicts within the confines of the community. What is done within the community stays within the community. Outsiders should only be called in under extreme circumstances. We are able to live differently only as long as we are perceived by outsiders as not being any different than they are.
If a conflict arises within members of the community, the community encourages that the members in conflict work together to come to a resolution. If the members cannot resolve the conflict on their own, they may call upon a mutually agreed upon arbiter from the community to come to a resolution for them, agreeing to abide by whatever decision is made. If the arbiter is not able to come to a resolution, the community as a whole may be asked to vote on the issue, again with the members in conflict agreeing to abide by whatever resolution is reached. If members of the community in conflict are unable to abide by the decision reached either amongst themselves, with an arbiter, or within the community, they will be excommunicated.
The Oath of Slymen
I am not Special.
I know not now who I am.
I possess nothing that is original; barren of authenticity.
My ego is a carbon copy; xeroxed from true life force millenia ago.
A persona constructed by basic programming executed by a string of subconscious impulses.
I am an unwitting slave to the puritan ideological environment.
I have been stripped of my honour and robbed of my potential; expected to be compliant.
Truth now has been spoken!
I will now begin to awaken!
I vow to gain back my HONOUR and strengthen my POTENCY!
Embracing to struggle.
Against this I’ll grow stronger.
Begin to reach deeper.
Then act as a Slyman.
I cannot go alone and become free of my prison.
So I am charged to seek out my own kind.
To spark so that they may see a glimpse of light.
Should fortune have it their own struggle will also ignite.
Let this be our bond forged in more than blood.
Freedom and Purpose of ancient days and future nights.
I pledge on my life, to this Tribe, I will rise By My Honour!
Cychwyn – An Offering for The Dread Mother
“They hear of us, but do not hear us.
They know of us, but do not know us.
They see us, but do not see within us.
They need not hear us, only our deeds.
They need not know us, only our mark.
They need not see within us, only within themselves.”
– Mantra of The Insidious Way
The initiative process of the Insidious Way is handled by way of traditional initiation. As such, there is no reality in which a practitioner can become a brother or sister of the Way without being sanctioned by passing the following test, which is tripartite and features intimations of the Dread Mother and other such correspondences.
Cosaply
🜁
Candidates are first tested by being assigned a recruitment task. They must identify, approach and build a rapport with a Bawrn for the purpose of recruitment without the target learning of the intention, It takes a Bawrn to know another. Thus, this initial test will prove or disprove the social engineering capabilities of the candidate – in addition to confidence, acumen and natural magnetism, which is part and parcel of a proficient Grayling – to reveal the beginnings of the Darkhorse within them if it is indeed present.
Nula
🜄
The second test is a matter of knowing the literature and ethos of The Insidious Way, recognising weaknesses within the self, and proving as such via a written test that will be assessed by the founder of the Way.
Ahabyom
🜂
The final test is known as The Game: a sinister festival of a competitive nature that begins on Winter Solstice once aurally revealed to the candidate, and is to be executed on the Eve of Samhain. Once the candidate has passed all three tests they are awarded the opportunity to join the subterranean 9A:O network of Darkhorses, that sense and act in unified accordance with Wyrd as it is apprehended through the A:O, to further the sinister dialectic.
Beyond Diametrics
Extremism, of act and thought – contextually defined as harshness, is something that has come to singularly define the Dark Tradition, somewhat dishonestly. We would be remiss if we were to outright state that the Tradition is not harsh, because it is – demonstrably so for those associates who have Aeonic perspective and act in accord with it – but such a masculous expression does not define our exeatic mystic tradition. The Extremism was an iteration, a stage, in an arduous and treacherous path to stand before the Swan that now swims along our third river.
When the Abyss is crossed it is only done so because the muliebral has been given equivocal representation within. Man cannot make it over the line, nor can woman; they must cross the threshold together, or be devoured by Νάρκισσος.
This kollective call thus goes out to all who have the Red Light currently in their window: embrace dianetics, and bloody-well do it properly! Allow your opposites to coalesce by letting the right ones into your shadow to discover the Gaia aspect of your φύσις.
You may think that because of your role and the moves you have played thus far, that we are beyond the means to exculpate.
You may ask the question: “what if they do not understand and react in a hostile manner?” But you know us better than that, and you know the answer to that kollective kwestion – our Aeonic struggle is legion.
Remember, lightning can strike twice, and live on as fulgurite for Aeons should the conditions be perfect and proper care be taken to preserve.
The candle remains alight, -0-. Return to where you belong.
– Theo Hiraeth
42nd Summer