Diary Page 1


Day: Unkown So... much blood. I have killed again and I do not recall any of it. Oh god! Why is this happening to me? What have I done to deserve this fate? My mind - it becomes blank with every outburst of my rage. This shell that once could hold in my desire of the flesh of others can no longer contain itself. I am finding that with every blackout it leaks from me and acts upon its instinctual desires. I am a legendary smith, a weapon maker of the finest swords in all the plains... Is this the Gods' way of punishing me? For making tools of destruction? Is he letting me feel the darkness that my tools bring mankind? There can be one escape from myself. I can no longer make weapons of violence. I need to atone my sins and use the power that the Gods gave me to make... something to defend others from each other... and myself. Perhaps an armor of some sorts? One that can withstand the power of my blades, but I cannot make something this powerful... as a singular piece. For if it was ever taken from me, some may also use my only source of redemption as another instrument to my shame. Not that it would do them much good for my creations go beyond mortal understanding. Still... just to be safe. Some of the black ink has been smudged by dark red blood, as if finger tips had been gently pressed upon the parchment's surface.

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