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[Matty P]

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Cove. The cool air, the smell of fish, a feeling of oppurtunity, as well as security. These were the reasons that had brought me to sell off my old, crumbling tower in the forests of Minoc and move to a different environment. One that offered feelings of comfort, instead of lonelyness. Unfortunately, these ambitions were the farthest thing that my new home has to offer thus far. The old Dark Order jail that I turned into my own personal abode was like a nest on the edge of a tree-branch in the middle of a horrid tempest. Perhaps it was the recent turn of events swirling about, that led me to feel this way. Whatever it may be, it is obvious that something has changed. In the recent nights, sleep has been a privalege, rather then habit. Every time I lay my head upon my pillow, I swear I can hear the voices of past prisoners whose bones littered the dusty floors downstairs. It was like they were sitting atop my ear, whispering vile, malicious little secrets - chanting their mantra of deceit, hate, murder, strife and of course, death. I swear this place is haunted. God only knows how it's former owner could deal with all the insanity. I hope this is not just me being delusional , or else I'd feel quite silly indeed.

The house itself sits right outside the wooden gates of the village of Cove. Perhaps it was the winds of the sea that I was not used to. I was of exceptionally close proximity to the piers, where the local men and women tended to their daily activities. Fishing was the primary source of income for the people who lived here and they are adapted to the waters like no other. They tended to them like shepards overseeing their flock of sheep. The crisp air always tasted salty around these parts, but as of late, it had become obtusely unrecognizable. I do not know what has been causing this plague of the senses. My mind, eyes, ears, nose, and touch has all taken a new form. It's like they had been ripped out and re-rooted in a strange plot of soil, one tainted with a poison of some sort. What has grown out of this disgrace of land is a conflagration of disfigured weed's and droopy leaves and stems that overlapped one another. Everything that used to feel like routine seems like it needs to be taught once again. Sitting, eating, talking, walking, humming, singing, listening, touching....everything had changed. Nothing was the same.

Nevertheless, I have been slowly adjusting. Just the other day I purchased a very delicate, yet gracefully woven twilight black robe. It's threads are strung together like no other and the tailor of this beautiful creation was indeed skilled in his or her profession. I adorn it like a new shell in which I could shield any sense of vulnerability. If my enemies do not notice the state of confusion and re-adjustment I am currently in, then I have therefore done well at keeping myself safe. At the same time, my skills as a warrior are also beginning to sharpen. I have learned a form of defense, from a friend of mine who goes by the name of Lord Cedric. He has taught me a thing or two about being swift and deadly, such as the foxes that scurried around in the meadows, hunting down their prey with unrivaled precision and cunning. Even my abilities in swordmanship, which I had previously thought could not improve, were beginning to evolve into a deeper form of understanding of the blade. I desire to become a fearsome foe to all those who wish to challenge me.

One thing that I have learned so far is that change means nothing if thou does not accept it. But I, Liuetenent of the Dark order, guard of the Armunn family, defender of the virtues of evil and darkness have finally started to realize the path that lay ahead of me, and I am just beginning to take my first foosteps. [/quote]
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Matty P.