Private Entry
December 4th, 2017
Literature Pieces
Anime Relations: Overlord
Author: The Traveler? (The Original Writer) Thamos Prey (Translator) Lilith Raethor (Publisher)
Title: The Traveler; On Gremorit
Genre: Published Journal
Classification: Public
Content:
Publishers Note
Originally, I was just going to publish this book as "Cleansing of Gremorit". However, in the final stages of publishing, the translator says he went back to where he found the original, and found a new book. Which was apparently quite interesting. So instead, he convinced me to name it "The Traveler". Perhaps the start of a series. Depends if he keeps finding more. Either way, Enjoy~
Translator's Note
I found this book about three years ago. A journal of some kind. Thick and in a language I didn't even know existed. Upon further inspection, it didn't. Now to clarify, I found this book sitting under a tree. In the center of some kind of circle burnt into the ground. May not have been the wisest choice; but as a professional linguist, I thought it an interesting challenge to attempt to translate this work assuming it wasn't just a collection of random symbols with no meaning. And so
I did. Finding out that this was the journal of a mad-man who would write about his experiences whenever he had the time. Or perhaps it was just a fictional work. Either way, I personally found it interesting enough to share, and sent it to a good friend of mine to review and publish for the pleasure of others. It by no meaning is... entirely coherent, and I think a lot of details are missing from the full story. But fragmented like this, it takes on a different charm. Not everyone will like this I know. But it seems to be something... different. So why not.
Entry 001
Earlier today, I bought this journal with some money I got selling a gemstone I... acquired. I'm not too sure why. It was probably on impulse. So here I am, writing in a book that nobody is ever suppose to read? I suppose it is a good way to record my thoughts for a future date. But knowing myself as well as I do, I doubt I would have the determination to do this as a regular thing. Oh well. I suppose I should rant on things that are happening. Thinking on it, the first thing that comes to mind is the war. That damned War. Its been ten years... And if i think about it, I can't even remember who it is we are fighting. But we hear casualty reports every single day. Repeating on loop over the radio. And to be honest... I'm at my wits end. I'm about to take my shotgun to that damned noisemaker.
Speaking of which, the Television centers are down. Apparently they think it was sabotage. I doubt it personally. The infrastructure of this country is about as frail as an elderly roach. If you breath on it the wrong way, the power goes out for a month. How are even still a nation at this point? We are buckling under our own weight. It doesn't matter to much I suppose. At least it wont tomorrow. I'll still wake up, and I'll still do my own job. And then I will sleep. At least there is peace in rest.
Entry 002
Its been a few days. I could write about the same things. A nothing had really transpired until now. I wake up, eat, work, sleep, repeat. Earlier today there was an explosion at an orphanage. They would have saved time by listing the survivors instead of the victims... They claim that it was an enemy attack. For the first time in a very long time, I broke down in tears. I... I cant continue writing. I'm just going to go to bed. There is rest in sleep. There is peace.
Entry 003
I write this the day after my last entry, while the dream I had was still very plain in my mind. It was a dark room. At least I thought it was a room. I couldn't see any walls. And I was eating dinner before a stranger at a table, which was the only illuminated thing around us. I think he was eating. That particular detail, while of little importance, eludes me. I can't remember too much of his face, and even now, writing about it, memory fades. I don't get the impression that it was someone I have met before, and just remembering in a dream. As, while I cant remember why, his face seemed... Inhuman? Not real? The feeling I got from it was along the lines of "This isn't natural." Yet I felt no discomfort.
I cant really remember much about it anymore. First dream I've had in a long while. Oh well. It was something to write about. A decent excuse to write, which is a decent distraction from from my coming day. I suppose I should get ready for another day at my job.
Should I start a new entry? It has been a few hours. I arrived at work to be questioned by the Homeland Defense force. My boss has been taken for treason apparently. And is being executed tomorrow. I wish I could say I feel sorry for him. But he was not a good person. He would work you to the marrow and then nearly beat you into submission if you so much as fumbled.
Entry 004
Twice in a row, and the same dream. While i can remember, Ill see if i can't describe the man in some greater degree of detail, as that seems to be quite vague. I can't remember his face, but I can remember his shape. He wore black cloth, yet he also wore metal pads on his shoulders. His hair was black, and his skin seemed pale and smooth. The nails were red, a blood red. I remember he opened his mouth, and a terrible sound came forth, and my head ached. I woke up, and my head actually hurt. Which spooked me a small bit. That shouldn't have happened, right?
No use dwelling on it. I need to go to my job now that the investigation is over. A sigh of tedium would escape my lips were I not too tired to bother.
Entry 005
I saw his face, and I remember, though I kind of wish I didn't. Instead of eyes, this man had a large bandage over his sockets. And a the cloth was soaking wet with blood. So much, that streams of fresh blood seem to roll from its bandage. It didn't have lips, it looked as if they were cut off with a serrated edge only moments before. The sound of thunder woke me before I could scream. The sound of heavy rain comforted my pounding heart.
It didn't last long, as the sound of wind and rain beating against my near-derelict household lulled me back to sleep. Where I saw the thing again. It took me a while to gather my courage. And I spoke up. I tried to speak, ask what it was, but my voice didn't come out. But yet, it somehow responded. The voice was loud, yet coherent enough to listen to. In a loud thundering voice, I heard "BHAAL" echo through my head as another crash of thunder awoke me from my sleep. Just before my own alarm rang. Bhaal. What was that? Its species? Or its name?
Bhaal may look grotesque... But I do not fear him. After all, its just a dream. I wonder why it was so vivid last night.
Entry 006
Bhaal continues to come to me every night. And every night, I tell him about the news in my world. He says nothing in return, yet from what I can see, Bhaal is rather enjoying it. I wonder why. To find enjoyment in hearing stories of death and fire. What kind of mindset must you have? What pain must you harbor? Even if he is Psychotic, and not actually real, this is therapeutic. I feel better after telling Bhaal about the world. Its been three weeks since it began. And so far, my last entry was the first time, and the last time he spoke. But why am I dreaming about a thing named Bhaal? I've come to not actually care.
Entry 007
Bhaal said something last night. Something that caught me off guard. I was telling him the recent news, and with his lip-less mouth he gave a small grin. And with a loud whisper, he spoke. The words still ring in my head. "The Others think your world must be a miserable place..." I replied by asking him, what he meant by others. But then I woke up. Damned alarm clock. I crushed it under foot. And then I went to work. I hate being ripped away from Bhaal at such inopportune moments.
I came back to my house, and I found the door to my room open. I grabbed my shotgun and looked around the house. Until I stumbled upon an odd sight. Two marks on the ground, seared into it as if by a brand. The marks were still hot, and were that of a pair of feet. Someone had gotten into my house. Yet I do not know who or why. And why this was the only other sign left. Someone is messing with me.
Entry 008
It has been a few days. I haven't returned to work since my last entry. And Bhaal has not ceased to speak with me. He tells me of others. Others like him. He says they are old like him. But I never knew how old he was. And these others have the same interest in me as he does. He calls me a Vassal. But hasn't quite explained that much yet. So far, he mentioned one of them by name. Quasar. And he talks about Quasar like he is the boss.
I woke up again. It was the sound of a beating on the door. But I dozed off again. Until I heard the door being kicked in. And soldiers coming in. I suppose the country didn't like me slacking off from work. I dozed again as they entered the room and continued talking to Bhaal as if everything was fine. He offered to help me with the soldiers, and I chuckled at that. After all, what could he do? Knowing this, the dream ended, and I awoke to the platoon pf soldiers splattered against my wall.
Every part of them in a different crevice than the others. They were quite literally ripped into pieces. Bhaal saved me... Bhaal is real!
I think I'll spend the rest of the day cleaning up this mess.
Entry 009
Its been about a month since I last wrote. Its been a very hectic time. I was shot. Several times. That same day I last wrote, another squad came and shot me in the head. I thought I was dead. I was dead. But I heard a strange voice. A cold yet calming voice. I remember it very clearly. "Rise up. The Vassal must not die yet." Bhaal introduced me to this new being in my next dream. And not only just told me about it, but she was there. Morgulis. That was her name. Her face was covered by a hood, and her robes were opened at the front. Yet there was nothing inside. From inside the hood you could only see two grey eyes.
I was shot the next day too. And every time it happened Bhaal tore them apart, and Morgulis resurrected me. I dont know why this was happening. But Im glad Bhaal will protect me.
Afterwards, Bhaal asked me, if I wanted to be immortal. And I responded not if I was alone. One life time was enough. Half a lifetime was enough for me. But he then argued and asked what if I wasnt alone, but had a hundred Immortals to spend eternity with. Beings incapable of age. I asked him again, what he is, and he responded to me "Ancient of Murder." It made sense. The way he tore apart those trained soldiers? The Dreams. Or maybe this was just me grasping at whatever reality was before me.
I accepted Bhaals offer, and in an instant, I felt as if a hundred things entered me at once. And I knew them all. Ancients. Old, old things. Bhaal was the Ancient of Murder. Morgulis was the Ancient of Death. And Quasar was the Ancient of Rifts. I still don't quite understand what an Ancient is, but now, I hear them all. While I'm awake, I hear their voices call out to me. Quasar seems to think I can just leave this world behind now. But Morgulis has another idea. And quite a few of the Ancients agree with her. Bhaal told them about this world. And they wanted to find out who was responsible, and devour their souls. Before I met Bhaal... This would have disturbed me. Now, I agree. This world was rotten. And I want to clean it. I have the power. And the Ancients want it as well. They all must burn. Juggernaut had an idea, the Ancient of Momentum, and I liked the idea.
I turned to the center of the city, and then charged. As if I was an unstoppable force, my dash crushed the the walls of businesses, and through the homes of people. I kept getting faster an faster and faster. Until I came to a very abrupt stop in the center of the head of government in the city.
Then Veritas, the Ancient of Truth spoke a word of power, and Quasar sealed the building in space-time. There was no escape. I found who was in charge of running the city and found out who were rotten, and I rIppeD oUt tHeIr blAcK hEArTs.
Entry 010
I cleansed the city, and then I cleansed this world in a like manner. I gave the Prime Minister every disease ever conceived by the touch of Bubos... I turned his greedy politicians into gold with the gaze of Mammon. Sent the enforcers into a dark dark place with the help of Quasar.
Have I done it? I burnt away corruption in this nation. In the entire world of Gremorit. One of two things will happen. The people will fight to survive and destroy themselves. Or the people will band together and recover. Become free once more. Either way, I have nothing in this world but bad memories and genocide... I think I will leave. Quasar is going to open a portal to a new world. And I will leave this behind. So that one day, someone can find this note, and understand what happened to the old system. And why it had to. This is the final entry.
Closing Notes by the Translator:
Having read through this numerous times, I find that it doesn't seem to get much more coherent as time passes. So I opt instead to leave it as it is. Fiction, the Ravings of a Lunatic. It kept me occupied for a time. A funny thought I had, what if this was real, and Quasar's rift pulled the book in too. I don't know I'm just tugging at things that aren't there for the laughs. Either way, this is the end of the story. Maybe there will be more.
Title: The Traveler; On Gremorit
Genre: Published Journal
Classification: Public
Content:
Publishers Note
Originally, I was just going to publish this book as "Cleansing of Gremorit". However, in the final stages of publishing, the translator says he went back to where he found the original, and found a new book. Which was apparently quite interesting. So instead, he convinced me to name it "The Traveler". Perhaps the start of a series. Depends if he keeps finding more. Either way, Enjoy~
Translator's Note
I found this book about three years ago. A journal of some kind. Thick and in a language I didn't even know existed. Upon further inspection, it didn't. Now to clarify, I found this book sitting under a tree. In the center of some kind of circle burnt into the ground. May not have been the wisest choice; but as a professional linguist, I thought it an interesting challenge to attempt to translate this work assuming it wasn't just a collection of random symbols with no meaning. And so
I did. Finding out that this was the journal of a mad-man who would write about his experiences whenever he had the time. Or perhaps it was just a fictional work. Either way, I personally found it interesting enough to share, and sent it to a good friend of mine to review and publish for the pleasure of others. It by no meaning is... entirely coherent, and I think a lot of details are missing from the full story. But fragmented like this, it takes on a different charm. Not everyone will like this I know. But it seems to be something... different. So why not.
Entry 001
Earlier today, I bought this journal with some money I got selling a gemstone I... acquired. I'm not too sure why. It was probably on impulse. So here I am, writing in a book that nobody is ever suppose to read? I suppose it is a good way to record my thoughts for a future date. But knowing myself as well as I do, I doubt I would have the determination to do this as a regular thing. Oh well. I suppose I should rant on things that are happening. Thinking on it, the first thing that comes to mind is the war. That damned War. Its been ten years... And if i think about it, I can't even remember who it is we are fighting. But we hear casualty reports every single day. Repeating on loop over the radio. And to be honest... I'm at my wits end. I'm about to take my shotgun to that damned noisemaker.
Speaking of which, the Television centers are down. Apparently they think it was sabotage. I doubt it personally. The infrastructure of this country is about as frail as an elderly roach. If you breath on it the wrong way, the power goes out for a month. How are even still a nation at this point? We are buckling under our own weight. It doesn't matter to much I suppose. At least it wont tomorrow. I'll still wake up, and I'll still do my own job. And then I will sleep. At least there is peace in rest.
Entry 002
Its been a few days. I could write about the same things. A nothing had really transpired until now. I wake up, eat, work, sleep, repeat. Earlier today there was an explosion at an orphanage. They would have saved time by listing the survivors instead of the victims... They claim that it was an enemy attack. For the first time in a very long time, I broke down in tears. I... I cant continue writing. I'm just going to go to bed. There is rest in sleep. There is peace.
Entry 003
I write this the day after my last entry, while the dream I had was still very plain in my mind. It was a dark room. At least I thought it was a room. I couldn't see any walls. And I was eating dinner before a stranger at a table, which was the only illuminated thing around us. I think he was eating. That particular detail, while of little importance, eludes me. I can't remember too much of his face, and even now, writing about it, memory fades. I don't get the impression that it was someone I have met before, and just remembering in a dream. As, while I cant remember why, his face seemed... Inhuman? Not real? The feeling I got from it was along the lines of "This isn't natural." Yet I felt no discomfort.
I cant really remember much about it anymore. First dream I've had in a long while. Oh well. It was something to write about. A decent excuse to write, which is a decent distraction from from my coming day. I suppose I should get ready for another day at my job.
Should I start a new entry? It has been a few hours. I arrived at work to be questioned by the Homeland Defense force. My boss has been taken for treason apparently. And is being executed tomorrow. I wish I could say I feel sorry for him. But he was not a good person. He would work you to the marrow and then nearly beat you into submission if you so much as fumbled.
Entry 004
Twice in a row, and the same dream. While i can remember, Ill see if i can't describe the man in some greater degree of detail, as that seems to be quite vague. I can't remember his face, but I can remember his shape. He wore black cloth, yet he also wore metal pads on his shoulders. His hair was black, and his skin seemed pale and smooth. The nails were red, a blood red. I remember he opened his mouth, and a terrible sound came forth, and my head ached. I woke up, and my head actually hurt. Which spooked me a small bit. That shouldn't have happened, right?
No use dwelling on it. I need to go to my job now that the investigation is over. A sigh of tedium would escape my lips were I not too tired to bother.
Entry 005
I saw his face, and I remember, though I kind of wish I didn't. Instead of eyes, this man had a large bandage over his sockets. And a the cloth was soaking wet with blood. So much, that streams of fresh blood seem to roll from its bandage. It didn't have lips, it looked as if they were cut off with a serrated edge only moments before. The sound of thunder woke me before I could scream. The sound of heavy rain comforted my pounding heart.
It didn't last long, as the sound of wind and rain beating against my near-derelict household lulled me back to sleep. Where I saw the thing again. It took me a while to gather my courage. And I spoke up. I tried to speak, ask what it was, but my voice didn't come out. But yet, it somehow responded. The voice was loud, yet coherent enough to listen to. In a loud thundering voice, I heard "BHAAL" echo through my head as another crash of thunder awoke me from my sleep. Just before my own alarm rang. Bhaal. What was that? Its species? Or its name?
Bhaal may look grotesque... But I do not fear him. After all, its just a dream. I wonder why it was so vivid last night.
Entry 006
Bhaal continues to come to me every night. And every night, I tell him about the news in my world. He says nothing in return, yet from what I can see, Bhaal is rather enjoying it. I wonder why. To find enjoyment in hearing stories of death and fire. What kind of mindset must you have? What pain must you harbor? Even if he is Psychotic, and not actually real, this is therapeutic. I feel better after telling Bhaal about the world. Its been three weeks since it began. And so far, my last entry was the first time, and the last time he spoke. But why am I dreaming about a thing named Bhaal? I've come to not actually care.
Entry 007
Bhaal said something last night. Something that caught me off guard. I was telling him the recent news, and with his lip-less mouth he gave a small grin. And with a loud whisper, he spoke. The words still ring in my head. "The Others think your world must be a miserable place..." I replied by asking him, what he meant by others. But then I woke up. Damned alarm clock. I crushed it under foot. And then I went to work. I hate being ripped away from Bhaal at such inopportune moments.
I came back to my house, and I found the door to my room open. I grabbed my shotgun and looked around the house. Until I stumbled upon an odd sight. Two marks on the ground, seared into it as if by a brand. The marks were still hot, and were that of a pair of feet. Someone had gotten into my house. Yet I do not know who or why. And why this was the only other sign left. Someone is messing with me.
Entry 008
It has been a few days. I haven't returned to work since my last entry. And Bhaal has not ceased to speak with me. He tells me of others. Others like him. He says they are old like him. But I never knew how old he was. And these others have the same interest in me as he does. He calls me a Vassal. But hasn't quite explained that much yet. So far, he mentioned one of them by name. Quasar. And he talks about Quasar like he is the boss.
I woke up again. It was the sound of a beating on the door. But I dozed off again. Until I heard the door being kicked in. And soldiers coming in. I suppose the country didn't like me slacking off from work. I dozed again as they entered the room and continued talking to Bhaal as if everything was fine. He offered to help me with the soldiers, and I chuckled at that. After all, what could he do? Knowing this, the dream ended, and I awoke to the platoon pf soldiers splattered against my wall.
Every part of them in a different crevice than the others. They were quite literally ripped into pieces. Bhaal saved me... Bhaal is real!
I think I'll spend the rest of the day cleaning up this mess.
Entry 009
Its been about a month since I last wrote. Its been a very hectic time. I was shot. Several times. That same day I last wrote, another squad came and shot me in the head. I thought I was dead. I was dead. But I heard a strange voice. A cold yet calming voice. I remember it very clearly. "Rise up. The Vassal must not die yet." Bhaal introduced me to this new being in my next dream. And not only just told me about it, but she was there. Morgulis. That was her name. Her face was covered by a hood, and her robes were opened at the front. Yet there was nothing inside. From inside the hood you could only see two grey eyes.
I was shot the next day too. And every time it happened Bhaal tore them apart, and Morgulis resurrected me. I dont know why this was happening. But Im glad Bhaal will protect me.
Afterwards, Bhaal asked me, if I wanted to be immortal. And I responded not if I was alone. One life time was enough. Half a lifetime was enough for me. But he then argued and asked what if I wasnt alone, but had a hundred Immortals to spend eternity with. Beings incapable of age. I asked him again, what he is, and he responded to me "Ancient of Murder." It made sense. The way he tore apart those trained soldiers? The Dreams. Or maybe this was just me grasping at whatever reality was before me.
I accepted Bhaals offer, and in an instant, I felt as if a hundred things entered me at once. And I knew them all. Ancients. Old, old things. Bhaal was the Ancient of Murder. Morgulis was the Ancient of Death. And Quasar was the Ancient of Rifts. I still don't quite understand what an Ancient is, but now, I hear them all. While I'm awake, I hear their voices call out to me. Quasar seems to think I can just leave this world behind now. But Morgulis has another idea. And quite a few of the Ancients agree with her. Bhaal told them about this world. And they wanted to find out who was responsible, and devour their souls. Before I met Bhaal... This would have disturbed me. Now, I agree. This world was rotten. And I want to clean it. I have the power. And the Ancients want it as well. They all must burn. Juggernaut had an idea, the Ancient of Momentum, and I liked the idea.
I turned to the center of the city, and then charged. As if I was an unstoppable force, my dash crushed the the walls of businesses, and through the homes of people. I kept getting faster an faster and faster. Until I came to a very abrupt stop in the center of the head of government in the city.
Then Veritas, the Ancient of Truth spoke a word of power, and Quasar sealed the building in space-time. There was no escape. I found who was in charge of running the city and found out who were rotten, and I rIppeD oUt tHeIr blAcK hEArTs.
Entry 010
I cleansed the city, and then I cleansed this world in a like manner. I gave the Prime Minister every disease ever conceived by the touch of Bubos... I turned his greedy politicians into gold with the gaze of Mammon. Sent the enforcers into a dark dark place with the help of Quasar.
Have I done it? I burnt away corruption in this nation. In the entire world of Gremorit. One of two things will happen. The people will fight to survive and destroy themselves. Or the people will band together and recover. Become free once more. Either way, I have nothing in this world but bad memories and genocide... I think I will leave. Quasar is going to open a portal to a new world. And I will leave this behind. So that one day, someone can find this note, and understand what happened to the old system. And why it had to. This is the final entry.
Closing Notes by the Translator:
Having read through this numerous times, I find that it doesn't seem to get much more coherent as time passes. So I opt instead to leave it as it is. Fiction, the Ravings of a Lunatic. It kept me occupied for a time. A funny thought I had, what if this was real, and Quasar's rift pulled the book in too. I don't know I'm just tugging at things that aren't there for the laughs. Either way, this is the end of the story. Maybe there will be more.
Posted by Darth_Lewdious | Dec 4, 2017 7:32 AM | 0 comments
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