Journal Book of Lilette

[Lilette Blackbriar]

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From personal diary​

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'Tis been some winters since fleeing Fal'addas from whence I came, and yet only the feintest knowledge of my own accursed condition hath studious nights taught me. The Bimaristan of Ragash- to which I fled upon my near-discovery via the Dreadlords of Vel Anir- for all it's bounty in the ways of medicinal science, hath revealed so little in fact that I may venture to those boorish folk of the famed Elbion college.

To say that these fruitless experiments have soured my spirit would be an understatement of gross proportions.

But still I must cling to what fleeting hopes I can yet conjure. The great sorceress Medja, who intervened when I was accosted by outlaw ruffians upon the road to Ragash, hath agreed to allow me an audience that could mayhaps aid this tiresome research. Surely, one so powerful must have information and a price for recompense? It is true that I've little to offer by way of material value, but perhaps her ladyship could be persuaded via services, be they arts of mending or be they arts of unmaking.

None can say until our meeting hath passed, though it shan't be o'er long now.

In the meantime, I simply must find a method by which to feed. Though my work as a doctor of mundane means, rather than magical, hath allowed the collection of sampled blood from these patients mine, I am afeard 'tis too little to quantify an entire meal.

My tests hath indicated that the blood of a beastly creature shall satiate the thirst for a time, 'tis much too fleeting. Even within a city so large, the number of beasts that would require consumption o'er the course of a moon's rise would not go unnoticed. Perhaps I should hunt men once more, lest I discover what fate be reserved after we creatures brave the pain of starvation.

Though tales of such monstrous folk make thee wonder, Do these creatures slumber, or simply die?
My research has borne mixed results, and I dare not resort to self-experimentation with such a dangerous question, though I am most curious.

If only fate would deign that another creature should join me. Perhaps I could be spared the pain then, and greater results be yielded.

Perhaps I will better record my works then, just in case such a thing were to happen. The organization would aid my research and see that I ask better questions should I have need to interrogate a subject, be they a willing partner or caged creature.

 

[Lilette Blackbriar]

Spoiler: Note

Many prior pages are ripped or blood-soaked beyond repair nor legibility,
but what little can be discerned tells of painful self discovery and odd experimentation,
then resumes with abrupt clarity.​

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'Tis been too long since I last fed, and I doth fear my strength waneth. Unfortunate though it may be, I wilt hunt man again cometh night. Mayhaps for Amol-Kalit 'tis a blessing in fanged disguise? After all, I hunt naught but those who prey upon the weak. Certainly 'tis how I justify mineself, at least.

Whatever it may be worth to mine consciense, I hath grown better at fasting for long periods, much longer in fact than afore. Even so, I am afeared 'tis gone too far this time, a mistake I shalt correct in due time.

It shalt not be under this moon, however. I must pack for mine journey to the College of Elbion, though mayhaps I wilt feed in Maraan ere I hire a carriage to complete the rest of mine journey.

Though I doth suspect yon mages shalt bore me to second-death, as mother didst once, I am nevertheless filled with excitement by this development. I hadst exchanged letters with an enchanter by the name of Vaezhasar Drakspae, who may yet reforge Godewyn's armour. Olde though it be, the enchantment remaineth strong, and I seeth no better way to keep him close than to bareth his maille.

Shouldst these theories o' mine proveth true, the metal may yet hold it's properties even melted down, so long as it remaineth pure, unalloyed with mundane metals.

In which case, It shalt be refit to the needs of mine body and prove less cumbersome than afore.

That is, assuming sir Drakspae findeth nary a flaw in mine theory, of course.

'twill do naught to honor Godewyn's legacy I doth fear, to seeth his knightly armor upon a galavanting creature hunter in the night, but mayhaps this once I shalt be selfish in the ways I doth mourne.

He is dead and I am not. Not in any way that matters.

He needeth not such earthly possessions.

Please, dear brother, forgiveth me mine tresspass.