Right, you miserable lot. Let's talk about succubi. That's the plural of succubus, for all of you who wanked your way through classes.

Which, while we're on the subject, is what succubi are meant to make you do. But sometimes, they don't bother with the tidy bodies and gorgeous faces. Sometimes, they're not interested in sucking your soul out through your dick. They'd rather rip it out of your chest. That's when they come at you with bloody great teeth and claws and other things you don't want to hear about. And that's when you remember they're not just tarts--they're demons.

As far as I can tell, some of the uglier ones were here, in this City. They didn't meet the best of ends, though. Something sprayed their metaphysical guts all over the City. Turns out that shit burns. In a metaphysical sense, of course. Burns in this case meaning "turns whoever and whatever it touches a little bit demonic themselves." Or more than a little bit, if you're following along at home.

The deities couldn't be arsed mopping it up. No surprise there, eh? The only surprise is that somehow we managed to do it without their help. Maybe I'm not completely surrounded by idiots. Just mostly.

[ooc: what's that? Nope, John is not admitting that he was responsible for the hellplot...that would be too easy. But those who are aware that there was a massive spiritual backlash right around his return, followed by several days of nightmares and bad feelings, followed by the hellplot, may put the pieces together and accuse him if they so wish. Mood reads as "annoyed."]

If I were a less cynical bloke, I might be asking why everyone in this City lets the deities get away with bollocks like yesterday's curse. Too bad I already know: because everyone's too bloody scared and apathetic to do shit about it. Easier to stick your brain-damaged heads in the sand, wait for the next curse, and pretend it won't be as bad.

Too bad for you I haven't got the slightest intention of following your lead. The gods here haven't learned that if you want to run a hateful, hurtful world, you'd better do it from the shadows and the sidelines so no one can come after you and make you pay.

Oh, and for the rest of you. I've heard a little something about eating souls?

You can try mine, but you'll be puking it out in the gutters after the first bite.

That shit is tainted.

[OOC: Strikes are internal monologuing. Feel free to poke him with ex-characters for the curse.]

[voice post]

[Same noises of churning gears and endless ticking as in the previous post.]

I hate this fucking City. I hate these fucking gods. I hate this fucking clock.

I want my bleeding cigarettes--

What's this?

Ha. I knew I'd find something like this eventually. Dare I pull the switch? It might mean the end of the worlds, you know--well, if it does, I'll fix it then.

[Clunk.]

Is that it--

[Swish thwack thump.]

...Ha bloody ha.

[OOC: John pulled a dramatic-looking lever in what seemed like the center of the clock...and got snagged by a mysterious rope from behind, was flipped upside down, and found himself dangling from a tree in Xanadu. I'm kind of woozy tonight so I won't be responding to that many comments before going to bed, but I'll definitely get the rest when I wake up.]

Bloody fucking hell, it feels like zombie sharks chewed through to me brains.

...And I still remember what happened last night, so obviously I didn't drink enough.

Ha, you fucking tossers, I bet you thought you'd get to hear everybloodything from me this last curse. Sorry, you lot, but it takes more than that to bring me to my knees. In some senses of the phrase, at least.

You know, this City's starting to lose its sodding charm.

( private // warded )

[voice post]

Right, so my computer's still broken from that last curse. 'kinell was I meant to know that stomping on the keyboard and smashing a bottle into the screen would break it? Bugger all this technology, you can't trust a bit of it. For now I'm using [crackle] this thing to post instead.

Of course, now that I'm back up on the Network, looks like there's another bleeding curse. Either that, or Cassidy's right about all the birds here being on the rag at once. But I don't think that's it.

Ladies, I noticed a few of you've mentioned being a bit lonely, like. How can I help?

Someone tell me being killed by a fucking doll was just a bad dream. Except I have plenty of bad dreams, but that's never been one of them.

Why the hell am I in a sodding closet?

...Cassidy, you tosser.

Hope you don't need all the booze anymore. Good luck finding it.