Misery doesn’t love company. It loves to be admired but not adored. If anything or anyone shall adore me, I would take the life away. Your question is why?

I honor the unknown gods for I still have yet to disagree with them.

Society is confused. They portrayed themselves within their own lies. It’s not about good and evil. It’s about anger and joy; the way we get to one of these feelings within ourselves. I am grim; I am sad…I am sad to see this world so puzzled. I take the stand to punish them for every moment they become hypocrites. I am searching for a perfect world by destroying one.

And that is why I prefer to be alone, because in time, I will punish my significant other.

We are gods…each and every one of us. That means the pansies too, you know. Like mythology, we, the pantheon, battle one another over beliefs. We tell our foes that they are wrong, and we are right. So in reality, there is no exact right or wrong. It’s a matter of who accepts our beliefs that we call friends, lovers, brothers and sisters.

Even She and I had our conflicts over such matter. Two dark gods were raising havoc against each other at the last chapter of Alpha. Now she has the Crimson Tide, and I wander with around her in peace.

--Journal Entry, 12 January, Nemesio Canales.

*The morning fog breaking on the North End of the Isle, she walks to conduct Inspection, as she does each morning, out onto the grounds of the encampment. A slaughtered sharken's entrails littering a dunegrassed area, she nods at the oral report as to why. Now all three have been destroyed. She shows little facial concern about it, but thoughts weigh upon her and after issuing the daily assignments to the ranks, retires to her quarters to articulate some thoughts into written word*

This almost makes me ill to admit, as so much of myself, so much of my beliefs went into ensuring that this worked.

The experiment failed. Miserably. The attempt to harness their sheer brute strength in the name of the Gods, for the Cause, has left me with several dead and nothing to justify the time and gold expended. I am angry at this. Rather than adapt and thrive, they turned upon the caretakers, bit the hand that fed them.

*Her handwriting reflects the inner anger and turmoil, and the quill's tip shreds part of the parchment, but she continues to write*

What would -he- say about this failure? He'd laugh, find it amusing that I even attempted this.. and say to quit wasting effort on futile prayers that have no listeners, and put thoughts into actions, and attain what I need as he has always done. By relying on yourself and delegating to the only the most loyal subordinates.

And there's merit to his ways, as for the first time in this life, I am doubting my Gods. I prayed with the fervor and passion of the most devoted priest, I gave the offerings, I did what a True follower was expected to. And what do I have to show for it?

The remains of three Sharken, that symbolize a dead dream and a reason to rethink Religion.

The glorious breed was terrorizing the Island, and my efforts focused, capturing three and molding them into Messengers of the Order. Enforcers. They showed promise for a brief while. But all this time, all these months now wasted. What hopes I'd had..

The prerequisite candidates shall be Human, Elven, Dragon, Orc and Ogre only, once more. I am through wasting time, both with cultivitating the new, and will rely on what's served me best over the years: The True ways. And I will seek his counsel, and see if he can advise me on matters of the Clergy. In what do I put my trust and faith?

Journal Entry, 12 January, First Knight Aemelia Trione.

*Is seen home by Knights Trione and Canales, and locks the door as they instruct. Scowling, as her night was cut short and being 'put to bed', so to speak, she pauses to write in her diary*

What don't the common scum get? That ugly little midget peasant, Neo was his name. Touching me! What audacity! That would've lost him his hand back home! Attrei would've had his head cut off for putting his lips on mine. Who do these people think they are? What they have perpetrated on me is, from where I hail, a crime. Then again at home, I would not be mingling with peasants..

Nemesio called me 'troublemaker' but grinned at me, after standing up for me, it seems that maybe he thinks I either played up what happened tonight. All right, I did cry rape when Neo touched me, but who knows what peasants are capable of? It could've turned into a rape if Nemesio didn't arrive when he did.

I warned fairly that I would tell, but that didn't seem to stop the crude one. And his friend did something that made the women and that horrible Neo laugh at me *Cast a spell unbeknownst to Cipriana*..I don't like that friend much either. I will have to tell on him too.

Knight Trione eyed me, almost like a disapproving elder, and outside when she spoke to me in private, said that she and Nemesio cannot be with me every waking hour of the day, so try to avoid some unnecessary trouble but of course do not tolerate the unwanted touches. But that she will not assign me a private bodyguard, that she feels that unnecessary. Can you believe that?

I protested and told her that of course I didn't wish trouble, but it seems to follow me! Couldn't she spare someone? No, she said. I was upset. But perhaps she's right, because with a guard would come having to answer to him to a degree. And I don't wish to answer to a guard.

I just have difficulty believing the churlish behaviors of some of these people. Not all, but some. Look at that ugly half-elfwoman (Mags) who called me whore, when all I did was enter the Pleasuredome! I did NOTHING to her, and she attacked me with words. How dare these people behave in such a barbaristic way? They don't know my standards. I had and will one day have everything..servants at my beck and call, the finest of everything, and Father's power. Then they'll be sorry, all of them who have been so horrible and rude.

I can't shake that grin. It was as if he could see inside my head...

*Blinks as a rock hits her window and bounces off, and scowls as she hears Knight Trione's voice from outside, "Get to bed already, we are not standing out here all night like watchmen. Extinguish the light"...muttering to herself as she blows out the candle, Cipriana murmurs, "They would've -asked- me to retire for the eve if we were home. But here? 'Go to bed', like a naughty five-year old?" *Continues to mutter and goes to sleep*

Journal entry, January 13, Cipriana Vyras

Melodious sounds cease to innoculate the depths within
Masking cheerful faces, often make for the soul's twin

Gathering placid glances through one's peering glass
Giving your all, but your all is often leaving the air crass

Standing gallant with a vigil of virtued foresight
Stationed in place while basking in the sun's everlasting light

Emotional statures often come crashing down
Everlasting mayhem is very often renowned

Today I stand as an epiphany of coresponding strength
Tomorrow will I have that same feeling within the same length?

Journal Entry:Her Thoughts, 13 January, Chastity

I seem to already have lost track of my entries. Have I missed a day? Not sure .. maybe. I returned shortly from my visit on the mainland. Not many came to greet me ... I miss Attrei on this one but Chas' greeting kinda made up for it.

My visit proved to be of little inspiration to me, I have collected very few songs during my stay there. Only three which I have entitled: "All because of you", "Written in the Stars" and "Last Rose of Summer". I'm not sure which season we're in .. it's always warm on the island. I miss autumn ... so in tune with what's whithin me these days. I'm missing something or someone .. dunno who or what ... or why.

There's something wrong with me .. or with the world? I kissed her cheek today. When have I last kissed someone? I don't know .. seems ages since ... well .. I rather not mention anything right now. I have been wrong before, it's so hard being wrong. I'd concentrate on my work now. I must. Maybe someone will order for a song .. maybe hire me? I don't know. I still hope.

Journal Entry, 13 January, Nightwind

*sits at a desk in his room, a blank parchment and jar of ink already on the desk waiting for him. After staring blankly at them for a few mintues, he finally conjures up the will to write again. He pulls up a chair, sits, and picks up the eagle quill pen he was given by Char. After a glance about the room and a sigh, he dips the pen's tip in the ink and wipes off the excess ink on the rim of the jar. He puts the tip to the parchment and begins his writing.*

It has been long since I last wrote. Much has happened, but I have not the time to list all. I have chosen to write merely for reflection...and record, lest I not survive what may occur. To make a long story short, the mutiny I feared occured on the Demonshadow, leaving 7 men dead, Morte with severe wounds, and me with steel poisoning. I regret to write that the aftermath is far from over. Vincent, the man who supposedly saved me from Lyle's finishing strike, is apparently not whom he seems. Turns out he's Marcus Geist, Morte's brother...Marcus does nae bring back fond memories, it was because of him I was caught back on the mainland. Barely escaped with my life. Morte and I have nae had much time to discuss his plans, but what little time we've had has helped immensly. From our conversations, we assume his intentions are thus:

Marcus obviously wants to kill Morte for murdering the king. The feeling is mutual, apparently. Morte would like revenge for Marcus' actions, which led to the death of his fiancee. One night, Char claimed Marcus followed her to the dome. If so, that raises the question what he'd want with her. I do nae know his intentions in that area, but knowing Marcus, it is nae to wish her a happry life. Marcus demanded I deliver to him what I've stolen. Morte and I inspected the object, a box, which appeared rusted until Morte dispelled the illusion cast upon it. It was actually a brilliant silver, jewled with assorted stones. Inside was apparently nothing, but further inspection..*chuckles as he remembers his 'further inspection' was slaming it into a wall*..revealed that he had hidden a parchment with a spell written upon it. Morte has translated much of it, and claims the spell has the power to oust the soul of a living, and replace with a soul from the deceased. I can only guess who Marcus would like to use that on...and why. As for his current actions, he has been using Char as a sort of spy. Keeping a psionic link with her so that he may know what she knows, which is much of the same information as I know. Morte took care of that with his own connection to Marcus' link, and sending a surge of energy to the other end. Marcus could nae handle such magic while keeping the link up, so I think he did nae take it with a smile. I need to speak with Morte though...I have something important to discuss. By the stars though, I feel tired...I think I shall lie down for a moment more...this steel poisoning is really getting the best of me.

*He signs his name hastily and leaves the pen on the desk as he stands and wearily makes his way to bed, falling in it and almost immediately succumbing to the darkness that beckons.*

Journal Entry: Eyas, 13 January, Eyas

I feel like I was still right, after all doubts I had. Somehow she reverted back to the cold politeness, I guess she realized something ... I don't know what. Fooled by her playfullness of the morning, I failed to tell he all that I wanted, but ... I don't know. Now she's distant again. Dammit, I wanted to open up so badly. Well .. nevermind. And the other one .. Thia .. went away again. Doesn't matter ... not anymore. If something's bound to happen, then it will, why do I struggle over it so bad?

Still ... something in that morning's happenings told me she's worth fighting for ... Chas ... but ... now she vanished too. Will I vanish too? Can't tell. I want to. Maybe I will. How can I speak up? I haven't, in such a long time ... the sign of the Raven had forbidden it ... the family. They are dead. My poor family. I think I love Chas. It goes so easy on paper .. told to you dear Journal, but impossible to speak out and break this cold politeness of hers. Maybe ... who knows. I need another endeavour out on the mainland.

Journal Entry:Part two Same night, 14 January, Raven Nightwind