Where did these Presents Come from

So we woke up to find GIFTS under our Christmas tree. Is there a Proxy Santa or something? Because I have ABSOLUTELY no idea where these things came from. None. Though I got a new hat. Nice little thing. Recluse got some fancy prayer beads, Tiger got new Brass Knuckles, Jack got a book of ye olde fairy talesith. Morgan got jack shit, but I don't think he cares much. He bitched at us for letting an intruder in to deliver these gifts. Fair enough, but he didn't have to threaten us on Christmas. I admit, I halfway guessed that these gifts would explode or something. If that were the case, we would know that the Baker Street team was behind it.
Still, it is nice that the gifts were real. Everyone deserves SOMETHING for Christmas. I used to give shit to charity organizations so more people could enjoy the holiday. I don't do it anymore, mind you, but still. We are even letting our next target enjoy Christmas before we go kill him. Aren't we nice? It will probably be early January before we get to him. Proxies get Christmas break it seems. I doubt the Big Guy takes a vacation though, so... Watch the windows kiddies.
Anyway, we have a party in a few days to attend. Lots of Proxies are coming. Hosted by the Baker Street team, so I expect a fight or two to break out. Valtiel and Writer will be there, so I don't expect fatalities.
You know. I can see why Morningstar used the blog thing so much. It feels good to be able to post your thoughts like this. Even if dumbasses are reading it. Helps me de-stress, you know? Anyway, I am rambling now. Hope everyone had a Merry Christmas. Seriously, you guys should enjoy it like it was your last. Because it probably was. Heh.

Progeny ofeth a Prostitute (Translation: Son of a Whore)

Right. Before we begin, this is Gleeman. Since you dumbasses can't seem to read English with an "ith" at the end of everything, I decided to be nice and translate everything for you. I promise I will use small sentences.
WOE to the poorith RIPPERNATOR. He hadth beenith DEFEATEDITHIMICATED BY THATETH HARLOT. THATITH BAKER STREET BITCHETH. Our TARGETETHS wereith to beith SIMPLEITH. But herith TREASONITHIFICATION delayedith us for WEEKSITH. The FOOL waseth WAITINGITH FORETH SIR JACK. She DEFENDEDITH the TARGETSITH. DEFENDEDITH!!!! FORSOOTH SIR JACK ATTACKEDITH her and droveith her offeth a roofith. ALAS, poor Sir Jack was thenith attackedith from behindith by the runnersith... The BITCHETH gaveth them ORDERSITH TO LOCKETH ME UPETH!!!!
Jack failed to kill his target before the Baker Street Bitch did. Gnat (Whatever the fuck her name is) seems to have pretended to be Runner and helped the Targets fight off Jack. A clever move, I admit. Jack must have hurt her (Gnat) bad though, as the targets weren't confirmed dead until days after.
SOON, SIR JACK WILLETH HAVETH HIS REVENIFICATION ON THEE, THOU WHOREITH OF BAKER STREET. I WILL DECORATEITH MY ROOMETH WITH THE BONESITH I SHALLETH PLUCKETH OUT OF YOUR EVISCERATEDICATED BODYETH. FORSOOTH THOU SHALT BE SENTITH TO THE VOIDITH WITH THE REST OF THE WHORESITH AND TRASHITH OF THE WORLDITH, AND JACK SHALL SIT ABOVEITH IN PARADISEITH AND LAUGHETH! LAUGHETH ATETH YOURETH ETERNALITH SUFFERATION!
Jack likes Gnat a lot.
Masterith Morningstar, I beseech thee. Forgiveith Sir Jack's mosteth grievousith errorimication. Jack shalleth doith betterith nextith timeith.
Jack will do better next time Morgan. Let it GO. I know what you are gonna do, and it won't help us. You think it will. But it WON'T. Listen to me on this one. We will do better next time. But we can't do that if we are DEAD. So, calm down so we can come back to our apartments without fear of DYING.

Dance of the Dragon

Once again, I have a story which I bring of my service to The Sensei.

As has already been discussed in posts before this one, each of us was assigned a target also given to one of the "Baker Street Regulars" team, to compete for the honor of taking down this mark between us. This was presumably to hone our skills in hunting under pressure so as to better serve our Master in the future. Whatever the case, I was tasked with the elimination of one Jackson Cagle, one of those most foul "Runners".

Cagle was of average build, above average height, an African American male wearing a gray hooded sweatshirt and a pair of cargo pants. With me in this quest to rid the world of yet another disobedient spirit was the "Baker Street Regular" Ronin, a skilled enough warrior on his own. I have only just now returned to my current abode, an apartment building on the west end of town where I am staying, and shall be retiring to my study for meditation and relaxation after this post has gone up. I am weary from the battle which has only hours ago ended.

That said, my duty to The Sensei has been done, and Jackson Cagle is no more.

Having found him on the outskirts of a forest, I took up hiding high in a tree, awaiting the perfect moment for a strike, when he would least expect any form of attack. Jackson was an insane man who shook and twisted a lot, and for some reason sought shelter in the doman of The Sensei despite his being a target.

Soon after I spotted the "Runner", Ronin appeared and took after our mutual target. Unwilling to fail my mission and be dishonored, I gave chase, and we fought a great deal as our mark ran us deeper and deeper into the forest. I employed several of my more effective techniques in keeping Ronin at bay, yet still he pursued. Jackson himself sustained a number of injuries from my opponent's blades, including wounds to the shoulder and calf.

After we had pursued the "Runner"(such an ignorant, yet appropriate term; it truly fits how cowardly you all are for attempting to 'run' from karma) through a large stretch of forest, we came to find him in a clearing, screaming about how he had found 'salvation!' This was incorrect, for after a brief exchange of rivalrous words, I managed to land a blow to brother Ronin's chest with my sword and used this opportunity to drop in on Jackson in the clearing.

Apparently, injury was not enough to sway brother Ronin from the right, for both of us impaled the "Runner" at once on our swords, and he died almost instantly. I admire the tenacity of my opponent. Continuing the hunt despite his intense bleeding, brother Ronin showed considerable dedication, skill, and stamina over the course of this mission. I greatly commend him for his efforts.

The mark was destroyed, and The Sensei'sorders have been carried out. I hope that in the future training can come at less of a cost to us and our's; I suspect I may have done grievious harm to brother Ronin. This upsets me, but in battle, one can never show hesitation. It is a weakness all its own.

Now I shall go and rest, for it has been a long, long day and shall be an even longer night. Glory to The Sensei, and may New Morningstar be proud of the task carried out this day.

One to One

So it turns out my head start was pretty much useless. The target was some little brat. My plan was FLAWLESS. Set fire to the kids house, kill the parents as they panic, and then kill the kid. Simple, straightforward, and would allow me to get back home by dinner time. Or rather it WOULD HAVE BEEN, IF THAT BAKER STREET BASTARD HAD NOT SHOWN UP AND MESSED WITH THE PLAN. Cameraman, or whatever the fuck his name is, got in while I was enacting phase one. So I come inside while the house is on fire and see him fighting the parents. So I give him a helping hand, killing dear old Dad for him. Fucking ingrate. In any case, the target kid escaped out a window. Somehow. I expected her to be cowering in the closet or under her bed. The Kid was CRYING. A sound I have gotten used to over the years. I swear, brats will cry at the ICE CREAM CLOWN giving them SUGARY TREATS. Makes me wonder why any of us bother trying to entertain these little dumbasses.
So one shanking later, Camerafucktard shows back up and tries to KILL ME. Being the badass that I am, I easily held him off with my superior stabbing abilities and sent him running with a whiff of my posie. Acid Flowers never get old. I expect he bitched for a while to his boss and the clean up team. Fuck him. Morningstar didn't give a shit, why should I.
So now this means that Team Morganstar and The Baker Street Bitches are tied, one to one. Tiger and Jack won't fuck this up. I am sure of it. Oh and Recluse... Don't be upset that you didn't kill your target. We all have off days, you'll do better next time hun.

Error de asignación

Our latest assignments in the service of El Angel are strange. Instead of being given a mark and told to kill them as usual, we have been paired off with members of the other team and told to compete for our kills. What purpose this serves in our service to El Angel de Muerta, I am not sure, but I am told he wishes us to prove our worth.

Which is why I am so ashamed to make this report. I was paired off with Fia, whose methods I have long thought were sinful and shameful, against the natural order of things. We both employed a disguise to reach our mark, a middle aged detective who'd started to look into the affairs of El Angel and had to be silenced. She got to him first.

When I approached them she'd already gained his trust, and it was not difficult for her to highlight me as a fake. I attacked her in my rage, dislocating her shoulder. The man attacked me and when that failed, he shot me. A simple wound, not much more than a graze, but she had won. I pretended to be unconcious while she killed him. No matter how blasphemous, it is not right that we should fight among our own any more than needed.

I failed my assignment. Senor Nueva Morningstar, many apologies.