12-08-2011, 04:53 PM
(The text is an exert from a little black diary kept on Lynette Phearsen's body at all times. The script is elegant and easily read, the ink a light blue color that shimmers with preservatives which keep it from running when wet. The entries are small but frequent and span weeks.)
![[Image: Death_Circle_by_Kredence1011.jpg]](http://i863.photobucket.com/albums/ab193/Symikins/Death_Circle_by_Kredence1011.jpg)
Entry One:
We've all been there, felt that rush when doing something we know is wrong...or more specifically doing something we know could kill us. Death is such a touchy subject in the world I know, some love it, some fear it and others are blissfully unaware that it touches them every day. I guess the biggest difference between me and the surging crowd is that I know exactly what I'm touching, exactly what I'm risking but I keep going back for more. It's like an addiction, this painful need just below my breasts to dive headlong overboard and play with currents that aren't meant to be toyed with let alone breathed in and consumed. Sometimes...I dream about the circles breaking.
Entry Two:
I met one of the leading summoners today and got a real tour of the crypt in Stormwind. It was everything I dreamed and more. I plan on spending a great deal of time studying down there but I have to be careful, they don't appear too friendly with my type. Laughable isn't it? Unwelcome even in the most seething dark places. One day I'll show them all...right before their blood feeds my circle.
Entry Three:
Obsessive?! I'm -not- obsessive. I merely spoke out against that cautious ninny who thinks he knows so very much about summoning. A fool, a witty, talkative and altogether too friendly idiot! I speak with passion because I -know- of what I speak. Obsessive...he will die first.
Entry Four:
Not everything is as it seems in the deep dark of Stormwind, whispers of a fel user who uses the crypt as his own personal playground. Not a summoner...a user. I hate users. So high and mighty in their indecent use of the power without taking the necessary risks. I must be wary now of my activities in the crypt. That which can lend aid can also lend a blade. No one is to be trusted.
Entry Five:
I was forced to leave the crypt when one of my experiments was discovered and destroyed. An abomination of everything we are, they called it. My beautiful child of the deep dark destroyed because of those insufferable -casters- who are afraid to summon more then an imp! I will -crush- them.
Entry six:
This bay is disgusting...it reeks of unwashed bodies and drugs. It suits my needs however. The goblins do not care what you do in a private workshop so long as the gold keeps flowing, no matter where that gold is coming from. So much time lost...I must begin anew on my experiments. The only good thing about this humid cesspit is that no one notices the sods who go missing.
Entry Seven:
It's too late...they interrupted...so much. Gone...it's gone! Can't control it, so little time...it's going to-
---The rest of the page is smeared with some strange substance akin to dried blood---
We've all been there, felt that rush when doing something we know is wrong...or more specifically doing something we know could kill us. Death is such a touchy subject in the world I know, some love it, some fear it and others are blissfully unaware that it touches them every day. I guess the biggest difference between me and the surging crowd is that I know exactly what I'm touching, exactly what I'm risking but I keep going back for more. It's like an addiction, this painful need just below my breasts to dive headlong overboard and play with currents that aren't meant to be toyed with let alone breathed in and consumed. Sometimes...I dream about the circles breaking.
Entry Two:
I met one of the leading summoners today and got a real tour of the crypt in Stormwind. It was everything I dreamed and more. I plan on spending a great deal of time studying down there but I have to be careful, they don't appear too friendly with my type. Laughable isn't it? Unwelcome even in the most seething dark places. One day I'll show them all...right before their blood feeds my circle.
Entry Three:
Obsessive?! I'm -not- obsessive. I merely spoke out against that cautious ninny who thinks he knows so very much about summoning. A fool, a witty, talkative and altogether too friendly idiot! I speak with passion because I -know- of what I speak. Obsessive...he will die first.
Entry Four:
Not everything is as it seems in the deep dark of Stormwind, whispers of a fel user who uses the crypt as his own personal playground. Not a summoner...a user. I hate users. So high and mighty in their indecent use of the power without taking the necessary risks. I must be wary now of my activities in the crypt. That which can lend aid can also lend a blade. No one is to be trusted.
Entry Five:
I was forced to leave the crypt when one of my experiments was discovered and destroyed. An abomination of everything we are, they called it. My beautiful child of the deep dark destroyed because of those insufferable -casters- who are afraid to summon more then an imp! I will -crush- them.
Entry six:
This bay is disgusting...it reeks of unwashed bodies and drugs. It suits my needs however. The goblins do not care what you do in a private workshop so long as the gold keeps flowing, no matter where that gold is coming from. So much time lost...I must begin anew on my experiments. The only good thing about this humid cesspit is that no one notices the sods who go missing.
Entry Seven:
It's too late...they interrupted...so much. Gone...it's gone! Can't control it, so little time...it's going to-
---The rest of the page is smeared with some strange substance akin to dried blood---
When life gives you lemons, you make lemonade...so crush those lemons and pour on the sugar until you've got a drink you don't just swallow down but actually enjoy.