*The book is worn and the words are written in an untidy almost illegible scrawl, the language is Draconic*

I still remember the first time I walked into that tower, my eyes were met with all kinds wondrous and pleasing colours and shapes. I then saw my new master's ever constant, frowning, wrinkled visage. I do not remember much of the things he said to me in those early years, except one, and this talk I have taken with me ever since.

"So you wish to study magic girl? Tell me what you know of the schools... BAH! You know none of them! Nonsensical, flummoxed, dullard! And do not take that tone with me either... yes. Well, the schools, yes. Let's see, there's abjuration, focuses mainly on magic altering magic.. useful, though you can't go far with it.

Conjuration, the study of the planes and calling items and creatures back and forth between them, a useful school, though you won't get far with it unless you ally yourself with some forsaken dispicable devil, and you don't want fiends feasting on your living flesh, do you girl.. no I didn't think so.

Divination, fairly useful, you can find information with this school girl, perhaps even forsee your own death, it holds no key to life though.

Hmm, let's see, ah. Evocation, the primary field of a spellslinger, useful if you want to kill everything, which is sometimes necessary. Evocation manipulates energy, a useful skill for experiments but hardly something to focus on, unless you wish to be a battle wizard or some other tiresome killing thing.

Next we have transmutation, which basically equates to change, a very useful school, the change of life itself. With transmutation you can alter your very being, or the being of others. Transmutation holds some secret to life though not the quintessential aspect.

This brings me to one of the most frowned upon schools in magic, necromancy. Necromancers use spells that manipulate, destroy or create "life", though since they see life and death as one this often means twisted and warped beings called undead. Doubtless you've heard of them in some nursery tale. Never -ever- create undead, child. Necromancy has some merit and is a necessary part of what I one day hope to accomplish, but it is far too commonly used to create monstrocities or turn the mage himself into a being of undeath.

Now let's move on now shall we. The "school" of enchantment. Enchanters seek to control the mind, they try to alter it and control it. That is not the way, Enchantment is foolish, there is only one way to alter the mind and that is through Illusion.

Illusion is the quintessential truth of the universe, child, for the universe is all in the mind that perceives it. Remember this and remember this well, sensation is the first and -only- reality. If a tree falls in the forest with no creature to hear it, then there is no tree. My master told me this and his master told him and so on. Now I am passing the universal truth that of everything that is, down to you. With illusion you can change reality itself, you can make the sun appear in the night, you can create your own world.

A master of illusion can enthrall the soul, he can alter perception enough, enough to trade places with another if he so desired. He can protect cities by disguising magic alone, he can elevate human lives to that of gods. Remember this child, with illusion, anything is possible, it combines all the schools together perfectly."

I never forget his words, my master's, he spoke truth and since then, enticed me down this path, this path to life, death, the universe and everything. With this knowledge comes the responsibility to look after the lesser man, for with my knowledge I have become greater then many, atleast those who do not study the arcane. He may be dead, but his work shall live on through me, I only wish I had the time to gather his notes. I shall begin my research, the first order is helping to protect this new "town" I currently reside in. I begin my duty, Azuth guide me.

It has been a while since I bothered to pick up this old thing. Quite a lot has happened. As of now I am Associate Lindgren, Private First Class of the Spellguard. I was promoted after saving Agent Varlam Nikitovich from the grasping claws of death, nothing more then my duty.

The Associate position is trying and difficult, sometimes I find myself regretting my decision, though most of the time I am honoured to serve and help. It is my duty to help the lesser man, however ungrateful and dull-witted he may be, I cannot blame him for being raised in such a unlearned place. I knew the burden when I signed the Associates' Contract, but by Azuth it is hard. There are all manner of knaves worthy of nothing less then hanging, child abusers, reckless sorcerers, illegal casters, illiterate moronic barbarians, undead creating necromancers, false priests, gangs, slavers, thieves and tomb robbers to name a few. I have found myself concentrating on dealing with these fiends rather then perfecting the art, yet what good is power if you do not use it responsibly? And using my gifts for the benefit of others is the least I could do.

By some chance of fate, I have progressed farther then I had thought imaginable. In a few short weeks I have mastered the third circle and have already begun calculations for the fourth.

Sadly though, I have made little progress on my master's dream, other then trying to raise funds for the Spellguard by creating a new merchant guild, overseen by the Spellguard and me. I would have already begun operations if I was not so charitable. I have given an estimate of one thousand gold pieces to help Lower and catch a chronic child abuser. I shall try to be less sparing in the future, yet when I saw those children...

Azuth guide me

Who am I?

I have pondered this for nearly everyday of my life yet I have never come remotely close to an answer. Life is an illusion, I am not even sure if anyone exists, if I exist. All around me I see death, death of colleagues, death of those I would call friends, death of innocent children; did they die for naught? Did they even exist in the first place? If they did not exist, then why does their passing trouble me?

Perhaps we are all an illusion of a grand mage's world, it is possible, we could all be the same as the clowns found in the clownland illusion generator, illusions with no more soul then a piece of rock. Doubt consumes me and nurtures me all at once and it all ties back to the one question "Who am I?"

Those in Tantras, they gave their lives to stop Bane and spare their children from his tyranny, yet wretched Bane has returned, and to me at least, it seems their sacrifice was for naught. Leon defines good as the sacrifice of the many for the few, how can his perception be so warped?

His mind seems to be too influenced by his concept of good, the ends do not justify the means; he fails to see that they often do though it is too frequently cold and painful; Do I save one child if I know in the future a thousand other children will die because of it? The illusion of good is a dangerous one indeed.

Everything is an illusion for we have no way of knowing what is real and what is not.

The gloom of not knowing sometimes weighs down heavily on me, though often it is just as easily uplifting. Life, love, death and hate, all these things are easy to create with but a wave of my hand, I can be an artist, a creator, a destroyer and a hater, yet I still ask myself each and every night "Who am I?"

Azuth guide me and show me the way of reason.

I am going insane, each creak of the floorboards has me stirring in the night, wondering if they had come. My dreams are filled with horrid fields of blood, the cry of babes and dismembered child body parts. I see Lockwood; he slashes my stomach with a glowing, dark, red sickle all the while smiling at me benevolently and Kudur's voice echos through my head "Tainted Flame". I simply stand still in horror, the pain excruciating. I witnessed the final blow to N'Khalir and in my dreams his body lies at my feet; Agenor's great axe sticking out through the middle of his torso; his pale dead corpse starring up at me quietly, a sickly grin on his face. "Why do you persist?" I ask. "A Lord, though not a Queen or King, no ruler" I answer to myself .

There are so many devious forces threatening this small, petty town.

After slashing me with that sickle, Lockwood is killed by a figure; a massive flail smashing his head from behind and sending out a fire that dries the immediate blood surrounding us. Kudur stands before me and I stare, unable to move as a Vampire slowly approches him and severs his head with a quick swish of a sword. He licks the air in delight at the subsequent blood spray. Turning to me he smiles, the fangs prominant. The "Mistress" appears, unclothed beside him, telling me I will bow and renounce Azuth and Kossuth and instead turn to them.

I look between the both of them, finding a strength within me not found before; a hunger. With that hunger I become as Belmont always warned, a monster. I consume the both of them, my mouth around the Mistress's neck then the other's. I laugh finding humour in their surprise; Feeling the pleasure I felt beating the necromancer Isaac senseless in previous days. I look around and see the fallen bodies before me, Kudur, N'Khalir, Lockwood, and surprisingly, my old teacher, Valian; dead as the day the Banites left him. Cold to the touch, I feel nothing, only the hunger of the Vampires. Consuming them all in my blood-lust, my thirst, I head to Sanctuary, craving the blood of all, only to be met with Belmont at the gates. I could feel the blood within him, flowing an ebbing through his many veins. I wanted more, Valian's blood dripped from my mouth and I turned to Leon hungrily. His sword was a glow with holy lights and he charged at me, the same lust for blood as in me. I wake as the sword pierces my heart and I cry out in defeat and despair.

These phantasims have to stop, a result of my new illusion spell that can bring death itself or the constant bloodshed I witness nearly everyday, everyday after Valian's death, I do not know. Foul arcana, necromancers like Marvolo and Isaac. They are the cause for all the problems, for all the hatred and mistrust in magic. They are the reason why the path of the mage is one walked down alone.

I'll burn them all, in Kossuth's and Azuth's glory.

I hear warnings, that if I look into the abyss, it will look back into me.

I say the abyss be damned twice over; if I become a monster then I will destroy every last "living" undead not alive. The cancer on the art will be gone and those practicing it will experience pain before they are denied what they seek.

*A short additon, scrawled into the long neglected book* The necromancer Marvolo is dead, seeing him suffer felt good. I do not know why it was, but seeing the life taken out of him, his blood sprayed all upon the ground was satisfying. Never knew torture had its upsides.

I was accepted into the Spellguard, it is tiring and confusing. I was never a guard and never thought I would be. There are so many idiots about, everywhere.

Tane may be good at severing fingers but he's soon becoming a threat, this is all too overwhelming, I need rest. Simply must write more, coherently if possible. So tired.