Category: The Black Order

The Dark Crier

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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.

https://t.me/the_dark_crier

The Dark Crier aims to provide a news source for the Satanic, Sinister, Insidious, and Dark Occult Tradition. If you wish to submit an editorial for review email it to:
houseoficonoclasts@protonmail.com

We plan to bring you the following:

1. News
2. Interviews
3. Videos
4. Reviews
5. Recommendations
6. Culture
7. Publications
8. Editorials
9. Merchandise

Tune in. Turn out. Stay informed.

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Λόγος & ἁμαρτία: Larvae in the 09A

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Prefatory Note:

The evidence featured within this text has been mostly acquired from sources that are in the public domain, that may or may not have been hidden in plain sight, and the remainder was held within the private domain.

°°°

The content creator known as Interzone Analysis has been generating some interesting discussions in the comment section of a video of his titled: The Absolute State of the O9A. “Niners”, described by Chloe as freelance operatives that self-identify with the O9A, have been arriving in small numbers to discuss what contributed to the downfall of the O9A and what can be done to turn it around. Among the Niners, we were pleasantly surprised to see a well-known name giving his opinion. It was none other than Nameless Therein, back from obscurity after publicly swearing in an article published by him on the o9a dot-org website (that was deleted shortly after his very public and passionate disavowal) that he would not return.

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=WGTFXCfGzkE&pp=ygUoSW50ZXJ6b25lIGFuYWx5c2lzIGFic29sdXRlIHN0YXRlIG9mIE85QQ%3D%3D

[The comment by Nameless Therein has been pinned by Interzone at the time of writing] While the original o9a dot-org post titled ‘Conspectus’ has been deleted by Brett Stevens, Nameless Therein’s heartfelt resignation can be found at the following link:

https://web.archive.org/web/20230329092534/http://o9a.org/

From his return and the gathering of self-stylised shepherds intent on taking control of O9A, but currently without the courage to do so, it’s clear that there is a becoming, unified logos among Niners that is propelling them in an effort to return beauty to that which is now ugly. The only problem with this coming quest is that the O9A has always been rottenness anticipating ever since the ONA returned to the dark in 1998 e.v (Beest, 1998).

°°°

What the MS Terfyniad brings into question is the allegation made in the infamous email between BX and Chloe, in which she stated that the Order of Nine Angles did not exist as a physical entity in what she referred to as “phase one.”

For reference: phase one, or P1, is the era attributed to the elusive entity known as the ‘old guard’.

If Chloe’s allegation was true, why would Christos Beest, a man that has nothing short of an honourable reputation within the Sinister Tradition, feel the need to announce that the ONA would be returning to the dark, and why would he dissolve Rigel Press (Terfyniad, 1998) Furthermore, why would Order of the Deorc Fyre also follow that example soon after (Williams, n.d.)?

Keeping in mind an ODF member moved to England to become a representative of ODF (Williams, n.d.), does this not speak to the existence of a very real and connected clandestine ONA network? For what other reason would an entity that grew out of The Black Order, which had by then been relocated to England (Erda, n.d.), have for also going dark at “some point after 1997”?

“The ultimate withdrawal of the ODF from the public domain occurred at some point after 1997 (the exact date remains unknown to the present writer). Initially, as far as I am aware, the ODF went ‘underground’ imitating the withdrawal of the ONA.”

Order of The Deorc Fyre: Overview

°°°

Thus, without any proof provided by Chloe to substantiate the claim she made in the email, her allegation of the ONA not existing as a physical entity in phase one is nothing more than conjecture, and even causes the questioning of whether she really was on the inside of the ONA, or whether she was just another victim of the machinations of Sutter’s O9A.

One testimony from Ryan of Temple of Them certainly calls into question the validity of her character in an agency capacity. According to Ryan, Chloe advocated the weaponising of pedophilia against mundanes (Temple of Them, 2023), which to rational and deductive minds should introduce the very real possibility that Chloe had a much closer relationship to Sutter’s activities than initially believed, and if this was indeed the case, she would naturally have a motivation to sully other reputations in order to protect her own.

“I was present in the O9A forum’s when two prominent members, DL9 and Chloe both advocated pedophilia as a strategy against mundanes; a suggestion met by others in the forum with mixed response.”

– Temple of Them.

For clarification, O9A is what became of the public remnants of the ONA after they left the public stage and Rigel Press was dissolved by Christos Beest (Beest, 1998). The distinction between ONA and O9A must now be made clear.

°°° ° °°°

ONA:

The ONA, which has been in the dark since 1998 e.v, was never exported from the British Isles. It never possessed the concept of the Authority of Individual Judgement, that is to say the ONA had hierarchy, rules, standards, ethics et al. An individual could not just “become it”, they had to endure and persevere through a personal quest of occult adjacent pathei-mathos before they would even learn what it was they were involved in, and even then all efforts would be sought to hide the truth, not as a deliberate intention to deceive for some personal abstract goal of another, but as part of the alchemical processes of Nigredo, Albedo and Rubedo. Thus, the secrecy of the ‘old guard’ (so often remarked upon in a negative light) is necessary for the production of genuine adepts, as any serious student or scholar of traditional western alchemy will agree.

O9A:

The O9A is the opposite. Anyone can become a ‘member’ because there is no hierarchy, no traditional initiation, no rules, no expectations and no stipulations as to what constitutes a temple/nexion (beyond the flawed Code of Kindred Honour), allowing the opportunity for charlatans to exploit genuine persons interested in the Longusian Tradition; for people to act in ways antithetical to ONA ethics without being held accountable. This is the legacy of the Authority of Individual Judgement. Therefore, the blame that is illogically placed on the ‘old guard’ for ruining the O9A is tragically misplaced. The only thing they can be held responsible for is contributing to the O9A’s creation by returning the ONA to the dark, but to assign blame to them based on a decision that protected the best parts of the Sinister Tradition from corruption is nothing short of childish.

To those people that assign blame to the old guard for some perceived ruining of their lives, we say grow up! Take responsibility for your own actions, your own failings; own that you failed their tests and fell for the machinations of those that were/are operating under the O9A banner.

Despite all of this, the old guard has taken responsibility for O9A and are actively trying to elucidate to those that will listen, that the Longusian Tradition could not be further in quintessence and texture from the Sutterian Frankenstein’s Monster that is the O9A.

The Skeleton in the Wall: Project Polaris

Beginning with yet another piece of evidence that implicates Chloe, as such an implication pertains to intimate knowledge of Sutter’s sexual exploitation of children, we find an email chain titled Project Polaris, replete with a sign-off from Chloe and endorsement from Sutter (Jack McLeod) for the instillation of a new outer representative named Jall.

PDF for the email chain can be found HERE Click to Download

For the unaware, Project Polaris was also the name for a website which featured indecent images of children with a certain ‘uncomfortable suggestiveness’. The Archive link will be provided as evidence but viewer discretion is heavily advised due to the nature of the content.

https://web.archive.org/web/20140130202150/http://projectpolaris.net/

Also provided is the website data for Project Polaris’ active periods, which reveals a large gap between when the website domain was bought and shelved using a [dot] net extension (2011) and when it began publishing content (2014) once it switched to a [dot] org extension. The date of March 2014 is cardinal because the email chain titled Project Polaris is from February 2014, revealing that Jall was elected as outer representative by Chloe, and endorsed by Sutter, just a month prior to the posting of content from the Project Polaris website.

Screenshot of the archived Project Polaris website indicating its date of activation

°°° °°° °°°

Whisperers of ONA 1.0 (pre-internet/ONA)

In an article published on theo9away.wordpress.com titled: The Metaphorical O9A, the ‘old guard’ disclosed a familiar statement regarding the nature of what they term ‘ONA 1.0’.

“Crucially, ONA 1.0 was devoid of satanism, theological and ritualized; there was no Labyrinthos Mythologicus with its tests, japes, and misdirections; no dialectical engagement in the world by means of Insight Roles, or through politics or otherwise; and no support for whatever antinomian reason of National Socialism.”

– The Metaphorical O9A

https://theo9away.wordpress.com/2024/08/18/ona-1-0-and-ona-2-0/

This statement is familiar because it is essentially a reworded explanation for the Rounwytha Tradition written by Anton Long in The Rounwytha Way in History and Modern Context.

“The Rouning tradition was and is one centred on certain gifts, certain skills, and is distinct in many ways, for instance:

i) There are no named deities or divinities or ‘spirits’. No ‘gods’, no ‘goddess’. No demons.

ii) There are no spells or conjurations or spoken charms or curses; no ‘secret scripts’ and no ‘secret teachings’; indeed no teachings at all.

iii) There are no ‘secret book(s)’ or manuscripts; indeed, there are no writings.

iv) There are no ritual or Occult or ‘wiccan’ or ‘satanist’ elements at all.

v) There is no calendar, as calendars are usually understood, and thus no set dates/times for festivities or commemorations.

vi) There are no oaths made, no pledges written or said.

vii) There is no organization, no dogma, no codification of beliefs, no leader(s), no hierarchy, and no stages or grades of ‘attainment’.”

– The Rounwytha Way in History and Modern Context

Yet, what does this correlation reveal? It reveals to those capable of deductive reasoning that what is termed ONA 1.0 was actually the Camlad Rounwytha Tradition in totality, sans ‘satanism’, sans politics, sans societal engagement and so on as stated. The reason why the ‘old guard’ didn’t outright state that ONA 1.0 was the outer shell for the Rounwytha Tradition is something only they know, but given their propensity for a ‘shadowy guiding hand’ rather than clear instruction, it could be posited that learning this now apparent correlation between ONA 1.0 and the Rounwytha Tradition was part of the quest for Lapis Philosophicus. Regardless, it is highly challenging, even disingenuous, to deny the thesis of ONA 1.0 equaling the Camlad Rouning, at least until such a time that the ‘old guard’ provide an antithesis so that we may arrive at the synthesis of truth via the Hegelian dialectic. Thus, the dialogue of opposites should – for now – rightly be “The Rounwtha Tradition and O9A” (or Rounwytha vs O9A), not “ONA 1.0 and ONA 2.0 (O9A)”.

This new suggested distinction removes a lot of confusion and conflated presuppositions, which will assist all with attaining the truth should they desire to discover it.

Note: One crucial point to note is that Anton Long inherited the Rounwytha Tradition, thus the designation of the ‘Longusian Tradition’ as a representative of a revitalised and growing ‘ONA 1.0’ is just as authentic a designation as The Rounwytha Tradition.

°°° °°° °°°

The O9A Going Forward:

The O9A is still alive and kicking because it has no hierarchy, thus no one with the authority to put it out of its misery. With concerns to the Niners debating whether they should take control of the O9A situation: more power to them. They have the authority to take control because there is no inherent authority. In conclusion, we wish Interzone and the Niners all the best with their alchemical crusade to transmute the O9A (1998-present) into something numinous, honourable and interesting.

– T. Roper

For ease of sharing this is the PDF version Click here to Download

References:

Beest, Christos. Terfyniad.1998 eh

Williams, Grant. Order of The Deorc Fyre – Overview. Sodl.co.uk (n.d.)

Erda (n.d.)

Temple of Them. Responsibility to the Responsible: An Open Letter to Nero of the Noctulian Blood Covenant. 2023 —
https://solitarism448572678.wordpress.com/2023/10/06/resonsibility-to-the-responsible-an-open-letter-to-nero-of-the-noctulian-blood-covenant/

O9A. ONA Outer Representative (Email). 2014.

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Daniel Barker Von Welf (NSK) Speaks

Beast Xeno

°°°

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

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Redemption by Moonlight – Guest Article by Theodore R.

Beast Xeno



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…

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A Message From TBO: Here We Go Again

Nine Neighbours

Once again, social media has been used to push a scurrilous lie about an honourable man. The following photo, which allegedly depicts NSK as a member of 764, is a poor attempt at a smear campaign.

The photo below is of the neo-nazi organisation Atomwaffen, as you can see they are both identical except for the amusing provocative filter. Thus, the first — and crucial — piece of evidence is presented.

Points to note regarding NSK:

(1) NSK has never been a member of Atomwaffen Division.

(2) NSK, Nonagonal Press and its associates, vehemently oppose the ideology and modus operandi of Atomwaffen Division.

(3) NSK, Nonagonal Press and its associates vehemently oppose the ideology and modus operandi of 764.

(4) For those who personally know NSK, they will immediately notice that the height and body type of the person in the photograph is markedly different.

Taking into account the evidence and the four statements, it becomes transparent that: (1) the person in that photograph is not NSK, and (2) NSK is not a member of, or in any way affiliated with, 764.

We surmised that NSK would come under fire for taking a stance against the black propaganda campaign currently being waged against the Tradition, and we were right. This only proves that he — and we — are proving bothersome to the grand plan of the Tradition’s enemies.

See you next time for another addition of…

Fallacious eye for the mundane guy: illicit transference gone awry.

-Stephanie Brown
Nonagonal Press
AOS: Anno One

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