I'm guessing you're probably as surprised to see this post as I am to be writing it -- it's been a long time -- we've moved on -- things are quiet -- things are safe I guess...
...but are they?
After what we learned in new york, can any of us really feel safe? Is anyone else still having the dreams? Has anyone heard anything?
how many of us are still out there? How many of us still have the heart to keep going?
I'm still providence -- are you?
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...because every single square's a Whammy. Whether it's that chick you're into that tells you to get lost, or that long-lost buddy shows back up after totally ditching you for a new clique, the weird kids you ran with when you thought nobody was looking, that teacher you had that kept sending mixed signals, or that new fella you run into that seems to know more about your past than you're really comfortable with. There's no way to escape it, you've just got to stay on your toes and keep your eyes open.
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When all good little boys and girls gather together to observe that most sacred of holidays.
It seems like it starts earlier every year...
]]>What is for certain is that there are five of us who don't have the luxury of walking away. They've become, irrevocably, part of the nightmare we've all experienced. Part of the madness.
I can't help but think that while we go about our everyday lives, the outpost crumbles, the prayer wheel turns, and the nightmare continues.
It's time for Providence to come home.
Now we wait....
Beautiful Work Sinyx
]]>On January 21 we received an email from Peter Severn of Forsythe Security. He has a proposition for us. A quid pro quo if you will. Our accursed hard drive in exchange for some interesting files of a medical nature.
Dear Prudence open up your eyes
Dear Prudence see the sunny skies
The wind is low the birds will sing
That you are part of everything
Dear Prudence, won't you open up your eyes
Look around round round
Youtube link to the musical stylings of Paul and John
or
Siouxsie and the Banshees if you are so inclined.
In the absence of fresh information, all we're left to do is extrapolate, interpolate, and manipulate the information we have in order to coerce some meaning out of it. In other words, speculate. So I've started the ball rolling in a thread of brainstormic intentions. Pop on in and throw out your best guess as to what this all means. Your speculation doesn't have to be logical, but it helps if you believe it....to some degree.
"Is this some kind of Bust?"
Take me home indeed.
I hope this won't be my last entry
As if that weren't enough excitement, HPHack (Howard) came home to an actual message on his actual answering machine from none other than eXu hisownself. eXu must be slipping in his obfuscatory skills because his clue-drop quickly led to several files created by Miskatonic Music professor Dr. Elizabeth Riley. The mystery deepens.
From mysteries found in a dream
Events converge into a theme
Centered 'round an astral scream
Help us figure it out.
The game is afoot.
Not a word!
Into your clothes and come!
Then it all started to fall apart.
One by one through madness, suicide, murder, death, and fates unknown the Original Sentries were taken from us:
Themagician - Bryce Droher
GetMEout - Kevin Cosby
Econjen - Jennifer Pike
Politicaltexan - Alan Camacho
Mkaos - Marie Kim
StuR - Stu Ronomi
Plucked from the battlefield by the hand of some unknown entity(ies). When the carnage finally subsided, there were only two left standing.
One is on the run and of little use to us.
The other took it upon himself to recruit some help.
So here we are, the new blood, picking up the standards of our fallen brethren, augmenting the weapons arsenal with our own. Our mission is to keep the TentryOutpost in top running order so that you, the "New Sentries" can go about the business of hunting Choraz and its ilk for fun, profit, and the safety of the world.
We're going on a Choraz hunt.
We're going to catch a big one.
What a beautiful day.
We're not scared.
We are Providence.
You are providence.
Welcome aboard.
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