Entry I
I am - born. I awaken to the sight of my most holiest...Saint Marle. "Acolyte", she beckons. I hear, but I do not heed. My mind is flooded with the thoughts of meat, the smell of flesh, the sustenance that it brings. On the floor, I find such sustenance - and I devour and rend. So sweet, so fulfilling, so good...
My name is Acolyte, a newly born...man. They regard me as different, yet, I see myself only as one would see themselves - normal... They bring up such concepts as "fatigue" and "pain". Yet, when the whip strikes my back--I feel no such thing. But they quiver and squeal from its grace. I do not understand. I cannot be concerned - I must eat...
[A few wanton entries after this; riddled with sketches and diagrams of a woman, surrounded in mist.]
Entry VI
I know of my kind, it is insulting of what I have become and all that I have lost. I tolerate few of the 'living', and few tolerate me...
Consistency lies in my Saint and of Ezra. Other than the gluttony bestowed upon me, these are what drive me. They are what keep me sane...
Entry VII
Warden, so she says. This is my new identity, my new specification. The title of Acolyte, the name of Acolyte - behind me now. The Shield I can produce, it brings me closer to you My Saint. How I long for you. My Saint, how I need you. You are beautiful, you are pure, you are what I wish. Yet, I cannot escape my thoughts - thoughts of tasting...no...these...
[The next few entries aren't titled. They are scripted in a much less competent handwriting, visible shaking and trembling apparent in its structure. The spelling and grammar becoming more rudimentary]
Yakov Delesneuh saved me from the Barovs. He spoke the word of "Genisis". I preach and preach and no body would listen. A Vampire tells me the Delesneauh are triking me, he is very convencing. I am no Sentire, I am Warden. The book of Genisis was burned prumptly. I return to my Siant.
