“Madness takes its toll. Please have exact change.”– Graffiti near the entrance to the Bleaker Gatehouse
Oh, what’s the sodding point?
A faction who don’t even bother to preach, the Bleakers just resign themselves to facing life as it heaps its woes upon them. There’s no Grand Meaning of Life, no Hidden Truth, not even a morsel of Hope left. Life just happens, and then it stops. Happy now?
Being slapped in the face with your own insignificance and mortality doesn’t do most cutters much good. In fact, the Bleakers take it upon themselves to look after the ones whose tiny insignificant egos couldn’t face being pointless and lost the plot. They’re all cared for in the Bleaker’s Madhouse. Charitable sods, the factioneers also set up soup kitchens throughout the poorest areas of the Cage to care for the poor, the destitute and the down-on-their-luck. Just because there’s no meaning to life, it don’t mean you shouldn’t help feed a hungry mouth, berk!
So the Bleak Cabal take events as they come, trying to keep a grip on their sanity in a Multiverse slowly losing its own head. In time people will realise, when they finally get sick of looking for the elusive Answers. They’ll never be found because they were never lost, see? They never even existed. And the sooner cutters realise this, the less suffering there’ll be in the end…
Philosophy by Numbers
A Bleaker gives us a Glimpse of his Final Solution; not that you’ll find it much Comfort
What use are Words in a Multiverse where there are No Meanings?
Coteries of the Bleakers
Who Come to Terms with Who they Are by Forgetting their own Identities
Being a Segment of the Bleak Cabal who’re Sorry, so very, very truly Sorry
A Barmy Artist-come-Planewalker who’s Seen much More than any Sane Cutter Could
Inside the Gatehouse
Being a Motley Collection of Dangerous Barmies Captured and Held most Securely inside the Criminally and Irretrievably Insane Wing of the Bleakers’ Gatehouse
Source: Jon Winter-Holt, mimir.net