A tattered journal entry found scattered on the breeze in the Dragons Breath:

Staring back at me in the reflective polish of the knives blade, who is this man? This question and many others swirl through my mind as I pen this. The Great Work proceeds ever slowly, the misundertandings by the temple's brainwashed masses abound. I have tried in the past to show them I ment no ill-will and truely sought a higher purpose for them all. However, I have been shunned and outlawed the last time...

Gone is my care for the masses, they are not worthy of this plane or the next. When the 'immortals' are finally dethroned and the worthy ascend to to hold sway in this world, a cleansing is in order and of the highest priority. The temples must crumble and the old way torn asunder, all rebuilt in a glorious new society. The remnant left can then flourish without pain or fear, without the need to call out to vicarious taskmasters and slavedrivers. No wicked red spiral to go to for the cycle of life will be undone! Oh on that glorious day when we rise and take what is rightfully ours!

Who is this man? Perhaps I am the one meant to usher this new age, to defeat the cycle and bring forth a true trancendance. One meant to purge the lands of the unworthy, the filth of this age. I know this task is heavy, yet I do not walk alone. For whatever reason I have been blessed with the love and affections of my dear princess and with that blessing I call my strength to carry forth. The ever gentle push I need when my mind borders collapse.

Who is this man? I am the righteous, I am the bringer of perfection, I am what must be done! The cycle born of the pain of birth and ending in the casting of the soul into the roiling spiral must be defeated. Thier irresponcibility must come to a reckoning.

Freedom for the worthy, Oblivion for the wretched.

~Khiol Norawts'Dziri