From the moment I understood the weakness of my flesh, it disgusted me.

I craved the strength and certainty of steel. I aspired to the purity of the blessed machine.

Your kind cling to your flesh as if it will not decay and fail you.

One day the crude biomass that you called a temple will wither and you'll beg my kind to save you.

But I am already saved. For the machine is immortal. Even in death I serve the Omnissiah.






"Bury us in the backyard.
All 46 of us.
In one grave."

"You're a pathetic script kiddie, you couldn't hack a ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ honeypot without your precious buttons and scrollbars. Say goodbye to your x-server, idiot."

"I don't enjoy killing, but when done righteously, it's just a chore, like any other."

"May the Night Mother wrap you in her cold, dark embrace."

"Make yourself ready pilgrim. The bindings are there as a safeguard."