The Dimensional Federation

Chapter #411010
The Iconoclast
The Destroyer. The Corruptor. The Saint.

A man of an incredibly suspicious nature. He dresses formally and monochromatically - suspenders, tie, dress shirt. His arms are covered in watches of various shapes, size, and material. Each watch tells a different time from another but never the correct one. From his arms, strings with baubles hang in various lengths and loops. The baubles are made of cheap silver. They serve no purpose or have no value. His voice is quiet. His movement is rigid, almost robotic but not a robot.

He wears a fairly substantial trenchcoat like a cloak. The coat is tattered and covered in papers of propaganda nature. The coat is worn in such a way that the face is obscured no matter which angle and distance. What remains exposed is the mouth. The mouth is small. The mouth is remarkably insidious.

He is shrewd but venomous. He is polite but foul-mouthed - though he retains the latter in spirit of the former. He is indifferent to beings but will speak when spoken to. He is indifferent for a goal consumes his mind and life. He is on a single-man and single-minded quest to deliver justice. To set right what was wrong. For eternity is sullied by the marks of corruption - every inorganic atom, every biological follicle, every fiber of existence. Reality is sick and he must cure it by all means necessary. Especially by all means necessary.

So he goes on his holy crusade. Despite his noble intentions, his actions pervert the ideal he stands for. He foments strife. He organizes violence. He purges order from people's hearts and in the void, he sows chaos. His closemindedness and carelessness guarantees his plans to fail more than they succeed but not before making kingdoms fall and cities decay.

He brings great change for he is the Iconoclast. None shall stand in his way. For those who stand in his way are even more corrupt than those who shun his presence. As such, he shall purge them from these folly. His methods are not by sword or hand, but rather by rope, the strings hanging from his very arms. He shall tie them, strangle them. Releasing their life and breath from others is the only method he deems fit for their purification.

His plans are often resisted for he brings change, but never the change people wants. He had been mortally wounded many times. His anatomy rend to pieces. His frail body containing not flesh and blood. He is filled with liquid that is black and foul-smelling, reminding and having properties of petroleum. He is filled with intestines - emaciated and stringy like dead plants. He is filled with metal-pieces are same as the metal baubles that hang from his arms though stained with the filth of his vital fluids. Despite each injury, each end. Despite being a mere man, he somehow manages to recover.

Just in time for another revolution.