CLOK BBS

Lost my friend today. My friend was taken by a few animals. Pleasant animals, really. No pretensions. No delusions. Mostly instinct, mostly unbridled, ungoverned, free, unthinking, full of peace from time to time; myriad routines no doubt-- properly stimulated. Animals remind me of eating, unfortunately.

The perplexity returns, the lacuna disturbed, something dwells where there ought be nought. My phylactery is gone, my vision blurred with delusions. I approached another, no doubt an Undying regarding a new phylactery. His suggestions were less than helpful. He refused the rite. However, I suspect he comprehends the estate. Perhaps we can talk again, later.

Although the terminal is still elusive, I pursue it not. I pursue nothing. Drop me from the heights and I shatter; I dream another fall again soon. I burn, just like Shadgard burns its trash. I am a god burning in the deep while the faces remain. Rubbish piled too high, find the maker and strike the root!

I have procured another phylactery. I have attained a measure of consistency in my work, now.

I was working on a small task for a philosophy teacher when I came across a man and a woman in the wilderness. I had dealt with her before, but he was unknown to me. When he fell happenstance in a melee I dragged his body away and cut out his heart before dispensing his corpse to a fool of an empath who took no verbal notice of unaccounted organs.

The woman I was traveling with assisted in the deed, as I intuited she would.

I have been able to discuss my work and share my profound wisdom with the blind prisoners of this world. I have made a considerable amount of riln from these impromptu lectures, and expect to form my school soon.

Although I have little use or care for riln, I can make something greater of it. There is also something deeply symbolic about the act of another giving their riln to me. It has stymied me to further workout and balance my scapegoat theory of civil construction.