They believed themselves the utmost faithful, but that conviction became oppression.

A secret few among the Templars grant absolution by bearing the guilt of others.

The Sign of Purity, yes... a descry staff that Piety sent me to study at one point. Apparently it was a gift from Innocence to the first High Templar, Maxarius. Dominus couldn't even bear to touch the thing so he had it locked up in the Ossuary. Quite reactive behaviour for a man of such formidable intellect, yet now it's making a little more sense.

The staff was certainly able to conduct and store energy, yet remained inert when I applied corruption to it. It must only respond to divine energy, and with corruption and divinity being diametrically opposed, it's no wonder that my experiments failed to excite the thing!

Meaning, if the Sign of Purity is a repository for the power of Innocence, Dominus could never have wielded it, being steeped as he was in the opposing power of the Beast.

You though... you're a different matter entirely.

The Sign of Purity? Let's see... a staff, bathed in innocent blood. No, sorry, bathed in the blood of Innocence. Yes, Innocence gave a part of his divine self to the thing and gifted it to the Templar.

Now that I recall, I read a tome about it when I was a cadet. Bloody long time ago. I skipped most of the boring pages, so only remember the bit where High Templar Maxarius 'smote with flame the army of the faithless with one ray of its hallowing light'. The book's words, not mine.

Outside of my humble flesh, the Sign of Purity's about all that's left of Innocence.

Seems Tukohama's raised up a host out of whatever afterlife the Karui believe in. I feel for those poor bastards, if I'm to be honest. The Karui haven't had an easy history. Colonised, enslaved, used as pawns in many a war, and now abused in death by their own bloody god.

This is why I don't follow any deity. They're all as bad as each other.

Founded by Marceus Lioneye as a supply station for his campaigns against the Karui. In its day, Lioneye's Watch could be defended by just a small garrison of well-armed legionnaires.

What have I got? A handful of starving criminals with driftwood clubs and rusted hatchets.

On the fall of the Empire, the historians are deathly silent. After the Purity Rebellion, the Kingdom of Kaom blockaded Oriath, preventing any trade or correspondence with the mainland. It's said that Kaom planned to invade.

Only when the Karui retreated did Oriath get any news from Wraeclast, but by that time there wasn't really anyone left to tell the tale.

At age thirteen, carving knife in hand, I killed beasts for the amusement of the filthy. At fifteen, they thought me worthy to fight a fellow man.

A butcher he was, twice as big and twice as stupid as I. I butchered the butcher and many like him, earned my way, kill by kill, out of the offal pit and into the Grand Arena.

I thought I would find wealth and glory in the arena. I was wrong. I found something far more precious. My Lady Merveil.

I was always meant to be at the top of the pile. Nobody else can compare. And this tiny man, this new challenger, Daresso, will fall like the rest to the might of Barkhul.

I knelt in the sand of the Grand Arena, awaiting the killing blow. I raised my eyes to look upon my death.

Instead, I saw her. Merveil. Her beautiful eyes met mine, and I knew that she saw me too. I turned my opponent's strike and killed the man with his own dagger.

Fighting had always been about survival. The primal instinct to kill or be killed. Now the fight became about something else. Love.

The previous King of Swords was a giant of a man, both faster and stronger than I. Yet I needed only look up at my Lady Merveil to know that I had no choice. I could not die this day.

I made him shiver under every parry, striking with all my might, so that my arms felt they might snap with every impact. All the while, I studied his face, watching for that moment when he began to doubt. It took an hour, but finally it was there.

Burning with pain, empty with exhaustion, I stepped inside his faltering swing and I slit the giant's throat.

I did not take my victory bow. I knelt in the sand, looked to Merveil, and cried out for my Lady's hand in marriage.

From that day forth, I wore the Crown of Swords upon my head and a ring of eternal love upon my finger.

Look, as a rule I don't ask for help. I don't need someone getting involved in my business and messing everything up. Unfortunately, I must now break that rule. I need... I-... Ugh. Why is this so hard? Ineedyourhelp. There. I said it.

Before I was exiled, I was romantically involved with a man from a very good family. We kept it secret while he tested the waters with his mother and father -- it's not exactly ideal for the nobility to be fraternising with the 'uncouth', as they say. Less than a week before I was heaved overboard and my exile began in earnest, he proposed.

I know it's crazy, and I know it's almost certainly impossible, but I want so desperately to marry that man. Just taking his name would wash clean my past, and I know I could find happiness.

So I need a dress. When Merveil and Daresso wed, they held a most elaborate ceremony. Merveil was said to be the most beautiful visage ever to walk down the Basilica aisle. It took six people to carry the train on her dress. I want that dress. I need that dress. My beloved deserves to see me in that dress. So you're going to help me get it, got it?

If the history books are to be believed, Daresso the Daring presented the necklace to Merveil on bended knee. And from the moment he placed that little chunk of Wraeclast at her throat, Merveil began to sing. It's told her sweet voice grew to fill even the largest concert halls of Oriath, and brought warmth to even the coldest of hearts.

But then she began to change. Her mind and body twisted, as did her songs. The sweetness remained while the sanity fled. Knowing what little I do about the powers that lie dormant here in Wraeclast, I'd surmise that if you have Merveil's necklace, you have the Siren's voice.

It's him! He sails back to me, my Daresso! I shall sing for him. I shall show him the way. Come, my love. Come to me. We shall be together at last.

If you have to quench your curiosity about Merveil, go look at the corsairs that haunt the grave of ships. Like any mother, Merveil's got hungry mouths to feed.

Welcome, husband. We knew in our hearts that you would find us. Come, Daresso, Ambrosia and Amarissa must meet their father. Come, my love. Return to your family.

Petarus: Daresso? He's down there, inside the mountain?

Vanja: Are we talking about the Daresso? The Sword King?

Petarus: Seems like it. But... how did he get in there? He left Oriath about a century and a half ago, hoping to find a cure for his lady, Merveil. He would have had to fight his way through the Maraketh, but... Oyun's never mentioned anything of the sort.

Vanja: Maybe he didn't go in alive.

Petarus: What do you mean?

Vanja: We live in a land where the dead walk and things like Dialla live for centuries.

Petarus: You think he died somewhere else and then the Beast got hold of him?

Vanja: Could be.

Petarus: Well, if the Beast can do that, then... what bloody good was Deshret's Seal?

Vanja: Exactly.

You know, Not-a-Cockroach, had I accepted my place, my rapturous role, the Beast would be no more, no less, no anything at all. My selfishness tickled the Beast's fancy and it laughed the world I knew away.

Yet I have had much time to think on my lonesome. Much time to wonder. Wonder if the Rapture really needs to eat a Gemling Queen.

Maybe, something else will get its catastrophic juices slavering. Something like... eyeball soup!

The Eye of Fury. The Eye of Desire. Pretty gems for our pretty designs. But where could they be? Don't fret now. I have my suspicions.

Kaom, the Sovereign of Slaughter. He remains, and suffers his delusions right here in the halls of nightmare. Fury is all he knows, so Fury Kaom will have.

Daresso, King of Swords. Damned by Desire. Oh, aren't we all? He's down here too, and Desire's curse remains his to bear.

Go on, Not-a-Cockroach. Bring me the crown jewels so that we might wake the Rapture and finally put an end to this pestering Beast!

I was a happy child, before the cruel truth was revealed to me.
I fight so that the children may remain ignorant.

Mother comes from around the rear. She looks pale. Her eyes are red, and her clothes are torn. She doesn't look at me but she grabs my hand. We walk home in silence. I lay awake in bed. I hear her crying. The man comes over often after that, with toys and food, but I don't like him...

I see by the sign around his neck he has been caught stealing. I swear I will not look away, but fear overtakes me. I hear the rope snap taut and the crowd cheer, but I fight back the tears...

I am not one of them! Can't you hear me? I'm not Maraketh, nor homeless, and I have committed no sins. That ship is not for me! Why won't you listen?!

I'm certain now that I was a Templar. Yes, I remember watching their mighty parades through Oriath Square as a child, and I can still feel that sense of satisfaction the day I truly donned the mantle. All of the pain and sacrifice was worth it, to do good, to protect mankind... to protect the children...

The Courts are burning. Accusations fly. Sinner! Heretic! I am but an initiate, and my patron urges silence. We will keep our heads down while one High Templar supplants another. It's all about power, my patron whispers, and we have none.

Exile! That was the moment Venarius decided to seize life and vie for power. That was the moment doom for men like my father was assured.

I condemned an innocent man to the pyres, but to admit this mistake is to condemn myself.
My only choice is to strive harder.

What had seemed sacred and infallible
so quickly became flawed out of necessity.
Created from compromises. Vulnerable to mortal whims.

I was a Templar, yes, but now I remember that I secretly despised them. I understood that they were a diseased organization prone to brutal oppression. Friend, was I exiled as well? I cannot imagine my resentment would have gone over well with my superiors. Maybe I kept my thoughts to myself and lived a life of quiet desperation, but I feel like I was the kind of man to act.

So what did I do?

We knew of the gems, but we did not know of what Malachai called his 'muse.' The smugglers have returned with rubbings of the device they found. They call it 'miraculous.' I know a thing or two about miracles, so I will be the judge of that.

I feel a rush of excitement as I review the contents of the crate. The pieces, aged as they are, still hum with energy. I can feel its potential, and it fills me with hope and terror. I cannot assemble it, but I know who can. I need only apply a little pressure...

I am Valdo Caeserius, chief Arkhon of the Oriath academy in Theopolis. Servant of the High Templar Venarius.

I begin these writings as a record of events transpired, in hopes that the penning of such horrors will help bring sense to the matters at present. Some time ago, I was commissioned in the repairing of a strange device delivered into my hands. A golden machine found broken in the ruins of Wraeclast. Believing it to contain some dark infernal secret, the High Templar asked that I restore it and weaponize whatever powers it might contain.

Though I saw it as mostly inconsequential at the time, it is worth noting, my daughter, a quiet young thing of five, suffered nightmares and tantrums unlike any I'd seen, during those former weeks I spent working on the device. I'd assumed that she missed her mother and was going through a rough patch grieving. Now, however, I can't help but wonder if perhaps it was a sign.

I'd considered refusing Venarius, though not in any serious nature. Though my personal politics remain my own, I've often struggled to follow his instructions and rule – filled with such malice and hunger. Regretfully, I accepted his orders, for I know of many families who have refused the High Templar before. They have all vanished now.

The device lay on my work table, shattered and in pieces. I'm ashamed to admit now that not once did I ask of what design it belonged to. Rather, I busied myself on all the little pieces, ignoring the sum of its parts. I pondered on how it had been structured for days on end, until at last, a creeping dread submerged me.

I was unable to rebuild this relic – whatever it was. Though it seemed to be mostly functioning, something... important appeared to be missing. Worse still, it seemed as if the part required, well... it didn't exist. Not in our reality anyhow. The thing that made it tick, the thing that was mysteriously vacant, I could only conceive of in the half-baked imaginings of my own mind.

My thoughts felt like a fleeting dream during the first few minutes of waking. I worked tirelessly in search of answers, exhausting myself beyond what I'd ever done before, until finally, at the base of that cruel device, I fell into a deep, deep sleep.

Another fragment! So, like a temptress, the dreamlands seduced him... Oh, yes - forgive me. For you, Exile.

The Shade nodded thoughtfully. It knew of the device. The machine was a doorway between my world and the dreamlands, I was told. The device had been lost. Broken and torn apart by villains and thieves. The Shade was overjoyed to hear it found, and offered to help me rebuild that final missing part.

It seemed too good to be true. We would open the gateway between worlds, and then, all the goodness of these lands would flow out into Oriath leading us into a new age of prosperity. I agreed wholeheartedly – for I feared, and I still do fear, what will become of my daughter under High Templar Venarius' reign. All that the Shade asked of me was to return the favour, when the time came.

And as I lay down in the cool grass bathing myself in the soothing sun, I found that sleep once more took my body, only this time, when I closed my eyes there, I also opened them in the cold, empty darkness of my study...

The day came when the missing part of the great device had finally been formed. A bizarre segment meant to hold mystical images of ancient maps. It was on this day that the Shade requested its one favour.

I was shown suddenly images of the past, of the Shade's once proud rule as King of all the dreamlands. I saw his good and noble kingdom, and the shadow that fell upon his domain. A sect of hateful men and women – The Watchers of Decay rose up to destroy the Shade. Questing to control the land, these terrorists fashioned a powerful blade meant to divorce the King's spirit from his body and curse it to wander his former kingdom while his body blistered in stone.

I was mortified! How could people do such cruel things to this humble creature? And where were these villains now? Had they been the same ones whom had made off with the device? Had they been the ones who severed the connection between worlds and ruined its function?

The Shade led me deep into a dark forest and revealed to me in the depths of a forgotten cave, a statue, cast from black marble, pierced by what I assumed to be the very same sword from my visions. The effigy was frightening. Utterly terrifying to behold. The creature it depicted – a violent and abhorrent thing, stood amidst an altar of ancient wood and bone. I felt a chill go up my spine as in that moment, the Shade closed in behind...

Months have now passed since my horrifying descent into that fox-hole, since the Shade revealed its true nature. Every day, the slimed and poisoned tendrils of fear grip ever tighter into my flesh, and each morning, I lock myself inside my study, delving into the darkest tomes one can find, searching for some infernal, occult knowledge that might save us from the thing I fled.

I'd almost given up hope, so little did I really know about the Shade and its "dreamlands". That is, until this morning when a shipment arrived for me from Eramir, a scholar whom I greatly admire. Sifting through the countless fragments of parchments and books he has sent me, I have found at last, some information which could be of some use.

These Watchers of Decay did indeed exist at one time in our world's distant past, and now, I've some of their work! The truth of their history... it's... it is so unutterable that I hesitate even now, to write it down, to put the words to my own journal. Yet I am an Arkhon and us Arkhons record all...

They hoped that, trapped in its prison,
the creature would age and perish.
But time would not touch the fiend.

It appears my Father encountered this "Elder" sometime before his entrapment in its lair. Many of his most recent diaries make reference to the creature and his learnings around it. There wasn't much, just second-hand myths from the research journals of the Watchers of Decay.

One concept however, came up time and time again. This Elder is not a lord unto itself. It serves a greater master, or... a greater purpose... I'm unsure. It's confusing; both my father and the Watchers refer to the Elder as "coming from the nothing" while also being "a carrier for the nothing." There are also mentions of an unholy desire to spoil and decay... perhaps it all relates somehow to those fungal growths we've seen in the maps...

How could I have been so stupid? So caught up in this whole nightmare that I forgot my work as an Arkhon! My "supposed" lack of progress on the Map Device has given the High Templar cause for suspicion.

At noon, as I neared the completion of my work, he and his guards interrupted my tinkering with a furious rage! Tossing my machine to the ground, he destroyed much of my research, demanding to know why I no longer focused on the task given to me. Clapped in irons I was led off to the Theopolis prisons for my insubordination.

I write this now, due only to the kindness of a friend in the Templar guard, he knows of my partiality to journaling and so as soon as he heard of my capture, managed to sneak in a diary for me scribble upon.

I don't know what Venarius plans to do with me. I've heard whispers of public shaming and lashes, but none of that is certain. What is certain, is that the Elder is coming for us. It's coming for us all. No matter whether you are High Templar or the lowest of the Karui slaves, the Elder knocks at the threshold. Bringing Decay... I must find my way from these chains at all costs. Only I can save us from this blasphemy that has fallen upon Oriath...

The land was as beautiful as it'd been when last I'd visited. The breeze rippled across the meadows and the sun beat affectionately down on our necks. The High Templar and his men marvelled at such wonders. My daughter cried in fear. I felt sick to my bones.

As we trampled through the wilderness, it wasn't long before we were met by the overwhelming presence of the Shade itself. The very essence of the Elder stood silently before us. I felt its eyes bore deep into my skin. Demanding of me in visions to tell it why I had returned. But before I could answer, Venarius stepped forward and greeted the phantom, offering his words up into the air:

"He tells me you are King of this land," he said, "My poor, poor scholar says that you are imprisoned, that you need a key."

As he spoke, the shade stayed quiet, listening and smouldering smugly.

"I can be that key for you." The High Templar announced.

For a moment more, the Shade did not respond. A perverse, pensive, pregnant pause lay heavily upon us all. Then finally, casting an image at once upon all of our minds, we felt it ask of Venarius:

"What dost thou want?"

The High Templar smiled. "Why, power, of course." He replied.

I fear this to be the end. Not just the end for me, but the end of all things. The Elder has been freed. Soon it will feast on me and then, my daughter. Once it has finished with us, it will turn its sights on the rest of the world.

Times will become as they were in the days of old, when the Watchers of Decay were formed. Children will go missing from their beds. Parents will mourn, darkness will descend, and then birthed from that carnage, the Decay will arrive, finding its physical form in our dimension – for that is the Elder's true master! The fungal monstrosity will manifest and spread forth its mighty tendrils. The mould from before time and space began, will seek out the destruction of all things...

As we fled through the forest, I focused my resolve. It was too late for me. I knew of the shaping powers. Only I could have a hope at defeating the Elder. Preoccupied with its feast, the eldritch abomination had somehow forgotten us, and as we made our way back, retracing our steps, I found myself standing once more before the portal home. Not even stopping to look behind, I dove through the shimmering window, and together, we collapsed into Oriath.

With not a minute to waste, I took a nearby tool and jammed it into the infernal device, where it hummed, ominously entrenched in my laboratory floor. The Elder had to be stopped, and so... I left her there, bidding her to hide in a closet or beneath a work table. Then, with the portal flickering and shrinking steadily, I turned back and stepped forward into the dreamlands, one final time.

My father was dragged into the Atlas by the High Templar Venarius. Surely you remember just how cruel and conniving he was before he "disappeared". Well, I discovered he didn't simply disappear... He was trapped and slain in the Atlas, and now his soul haunts the fragmented memories that are scattered across the Atlas. See for yourself, but... be careful.

Though my life is gone, my purpose is not.
My will remains, emboldened and empowered
by the righteousness of my cause.

The last three weeks feel like they've passed in an instant. The atmosphere here since the High Templar's disappearance has been so relaxed, but, while enjoying the sun on my roof this morning, I saw the black smoke billowing from the Chamber of Innocence turn red.

Rumour has it this was built by order of a previous High Templar, the name of Venarius. If the impossible components we need are anywhere in our mortal realm, they would be in the Vault of Venarius in the Reliquary.

We're going to need to find the key to that Vault. Dominus was the next High Templar, and thus the one who declared his predecessor's pursuits heretical and had them sealed as blasphemous. A load of manure to secure the secrets for himself, no doubt. A man like him would have kept the key close. My gut tells me it's likely in his old office in the Templar Courts. Let's head there.

Halfway across the world and yet the tie between Vinia and I endures. That was Piety's real name back in Theopolis, before her rise to greatness.

Vinia sold her thaumaturgy in the day, her body at night. Sought after, she was. Enough so to become one of my best buyers.

But money never meant much to Vinia. No, she was striving for something better... nobler. Used to tell me that "Life needn't be this hard. It's time you all realised that."

I bet she fed Tolman the same bloody line.

You can change your name, but you cannot change your history.

Piety and I have devoted ourselves to the betterment of the human condition. As for our methods, Piety had a saying that summed it up nicely. "Would you consider the feelings of the stones when constructing a glorious cathedral in the name of God?"

Casticus supplied us with slaves, mostly Karui, and I put them to good use. In fact, I believe their participation in my experiments elevated them from squalor to splendor. Our subjects were able to give their otherwise meaningless lives to something greater than themselves.

Isn't that what we all want in the end?

The Sign of Purity, yes... a descry staff that Piety sent me to study at one point. Apparently it was a gift from Innocence to the first High Templar, Maxarius. Dominus couldn't even bear to touch the thing so he had it locked up in the Ossuary. Quite reactive behaviour for a man of such formidable intellect, yet now it's making a little more sense.

The staff was certainly able to conduct and store energy, yet remained inert when I applied corruption to it. It must only respond to divine energy, and with corruption and divinity being diametrically opposed, it's no wonder that my experiments failed to excite the thing!

Meaning, if the Sign of Purity is a repository for the power of Innocence, Dominus could never have wielded it, being steeped as he was in the opposing power of the Beast.

You though... you're a different matter entirely.

I embraced the patronage that High Templar Dominus offered my struggling museum. I took his favour and conducted his research into the thaumaturgical arts practiced within the Eternal Empire.

I wish I'd known then what I know now. That I was pandering to the warped dreams of a madman.

I used to pride myself on taking care of these tomes, but the ancient treatises concerning the Vaal... should be burned. He's making me research for him, and the things I'm reading about concern the destruction of all mankind.

I thought Dominus was a leader of vision, of purpose. The man who would resurrect the Eternal Empire. In truth, Dominus is only after power... the black, thaumaturgical power locked within the Virtue Gems. He wishes to create a new empire, one in his own image. I drank every night to try and wipe that image from my mind. It's still there.

I am Templar Thaumaturgist Davaro, the ecstatic, the knower of hidden things, the key to ancient wonder!

In such a short time, everything has changed. The singing of the relics to me no longer pains my ears, in fact, I hear music in them, songs revealing great truths to me. My theory that the Vaal once dwelt in this land has proven fruitful, one of their ancient sites lies not far from here. There is great power dormant in the ruins, one that I am yet to tap fully, but it will come soon enough.

Through my thaumaturgy, I was granted special sight, I saw the ancient Vaal city that once stood in this place. All around me were signs of the legendary Queen Atziri ruling from afar. I saw, as I stood at the base of a great pyramid, the sacrifice of new harvest unfold. The steps ran red with a river of blood, a crimson tide, cascading towards me and washing over my skin. In it, I felt my being shake, as if lightning was reverberating through my body. I felt the strength of that blood ritual, and then returning to my senses, I found myself once more standing in ancient ruins. I thought it to be all a dream, only, when I reached up to touch my face, I found it both horrifyingly and marvelously, pelted with that same salted vermillion.

- Templar Davaro of Theopolis, Key to Ancient Wonder

My beautiful Queen is all I see. She dwells in another world, I know this now. Our worlds are separate realities, but not entirely ones without doors and bridges to offer transport. In our dreams we make love amidst the coagulation of our victims' blood. The red is our passion and the gore has become our wedding bed.

Soon, I will be with my love, she will be closer to me than my own flesh. I have learnt a spell. Blood Thaumaturgy - forbidden by the Templars, but they have no idea as to the power they have ignored...

In the streets outside, Theopolis is in a panic. Two children belonging to noble families have gone missing in the night. As I look out my window, I see the guards questioning beggars and citizens alike. They will not find the boy or the girl. Such precious beings, they were. The young girl passed from consciousness before I took her. The boy, so brave, never screamed once, not even as my blade cut into the soft of his belly.

They are both silent now. Unmoving. And shortly I will join them, and together we shall unite with my queen - a happy family. Husband, Wife, Daughter, Son. My knife still drips beside me. I leave this final account in hopes that those who may find us will yearn for the same pleasures I have found, and join us in eternity.

- Templar Thaumaturgist, Davaro

Hillock of Slaugh

You have transgressed against your God and your fellow Man. You have been a willing vessel for the following Sins.

Mortal Wrath

Six counts of Common Homicide

One count of Infanticide

Two counts of Homicide with post-mortem Desecration

Unlawful Avarice

Twelve counts of Extortion through Threat of Mortal Harm

Seven counts of Armed Larceny

Two counts of Armed Larceny resulting in Mortal Harm

Unsolicited Lust

Four counts of Rape

Two counts of Attempted Rape

Mortal Wrath

One count of Rape resulting in Mortality

God has charged me with your redemption. You are hereby Exiled to Wraeclast where, it is hoped, you shall come to repent your Sins, and make your peace with your beloved Father.

- High Templar Dominus

When I come to, I'm alone on a tiny island. Little more than a rock, really. I can't see any other land. Even Wraeclast would've been better than this.

I gave Piety everything, devoted my life to her work. What did that thankless bitch do for me in return? Left me here to polish her beakers while she pursued glory in Wraeclast.

Oh. You killed her, did you? Likely as not, you'd have killed me too had I been there. In that case, perhaps we both got exactly what we deserved.

Our expedition made camp in the western forest while Piety took a few men through the pass to Axiom Prison. She was after the research notes of one Shavronne of Umbra, a witch who devoted herself to the study of transfiguration during the latter days of the Eternal Empire.

Piety returned alone and disturbingly happy with her findings. I've learned that when Piety is happy, misery is soon to follow for everyone else.

Piety has become a true mistress of thaumaturgy. I wonder what else she has learned in her time here.

The High Templar's Blackguards? They're here, rubbing shoulders with us mere exiles? A mystery indeed, and so near the Chamber of Sins. Whatever they want with that foul place, it won't be for the betterment of humanity.

Piety was after a creation of Maligaro's called the 'Baleful Gem'. It's nearby, and it's something that heartless bitch must never get her hands on.

Please, find it and meet me at that Azmeri village by the river. My days with the Ebony Legion are done!

Dominus and his Ebony Legion arrived some time ago. Now the Blackguards scour Sarn like hungry maggots on a carcass. What're they looking for? Only that which is best left unfound.

I don't know much longer I can do this. Every day, we cart in the poor folk the General has rounded up for the Witch's experiments. I used to count, but I stopped at two thousand.

Gravicius is the mailed and bloodied right hand of Dominus. And I thought the Templar were meant to be spiritual men of deepest humanity. You noticed the sarcasm in my tone, right?

Had to smuggle a fellow out of Theopolis once. Got a bit too friendly with Gravicius' wife, he did. Every Blackguard was out on the streets looking for him, so I had to think lateral-like. We took to the drains and didn't pop our heads above the pavement until we sniffed the sea. A grubby bloody job it was, but worth it for the coin he paid.

Trust me. The Sewers is the only way you'll sneak up on General Iron-arse. And you'll need a key to get in there. Have a chat to Clarissa about that.

I tried to penetrate the Solaris Temple in the north-east. Almost got myself killed by the bloody Ribbons that guard the place. Bizarre floating tapestries they are, creatures of cloth and thaumaturgy. Fortunately, a few legionnaires got in the way. While the Ribbons eviscerated them, I ran... straight into Gravicius.

He dragged me over the bridge, to the Lunaris Temple in the west, and put me in Piety's "tender care". Didn't say a single word to me the whole time. I was nothing but a spoil of war to him.

Piety's a genius sculpting mere human clay into "divine" Gemlings. At least, that's what she told me when she opened me up and buried a Virtue Gem in my entrails.

Malachai did the same in the name of the Emperor, centuries ago. Chitus' Gemlings still rule Sarn. We call them the Undying now.

Vanja: I'd heard of the Beast before coming here. Piety talked about it. I suppose she saw no point in keeping secrets from the people she was planning to murder.

Petarus: I'm so sorry, Vanja.

Vanja: God, it's not your fault, Petarus! Piety used to say that the Beast was the source of her power, how she managed to turn poor men and women into those... things. She kept using a phrase... what was it?

Petarus: Universal transmogrification. I heard her assistants talk about it, too.

Vanja: The power to change the world into anything you like.

Petarus: Bloody scary power in the hands of someone like Piety.

Vanja: Bloody scary power, full stop!

Piety dies amongst her abominations, her warped dream taunting her, maddeningly out of reach. As a poet, I'm fond of that creed of justice.

Here, the executioner needs recompense.

It was Malachai who reached out to me, who wrapped me in Nightmare... made me his slave.

He has shown me greatness beyond imagining, so much that I thought my mind would shatter under its weight. And although my mind remains intact, my dreams were not so fortunate.

Malachai is in the Beast's black core right now, harnessing all that the Beast is, and will be. He will destroy this world and forge it anew in the divine image of Nightmare.

Yet as powerful as Malachai has become, he's neither unreachable nor invulnerable. He sacrificed much to become the Beast's prime servant, both in spirit and in flesh, yet three vital organs remain.

His heart, lungs and entrails, keepsakes of humanity lost. They will be our tickets into Malachai's private, little show.

Venture deeper, deep into nightmare's abattoir. I'll follow when I'm able. You find me those organs and I'll get us into the Black Core.

Good! Two down, one to go.

You know, prior to meeting Maligaro, Shavronne and Doedre, I rather admired them. Their work, their accomplishments... sheer genius! As it turns out, genius is something better appreciated from afar.

So let's remove this one, last genius from the vicinity, shall we?

With Dominus away in Wraeclast, someone had to keep the wheels of oppression turning. Avarius was only too happy to take the job. He'd had plenty of practice already, of course.

It was Avarius who led some of the largest and most crippling raids upon the Ngamakanui and the Ngakuramakoi. It was on his orders that men, women and children were shackled and shipped like cattle to Theopolis.

And it was Avarius who spent five thousand Karui lives building his Templar Courts and his Chamber of Innocence. Who had wives and daughters scrub their husbands' and fathers' blood from the stones so as to preserve their 'purity'.

When you meet Avarius, feel free to exact a little extra vengeance in the name of Karui suffering.