Oh secret keeper of my most profane most fucked up thoughts.

The date is June 6th, 1666.

I have a new favorite food, King Blood. Some dark 9th Arthur rolled upon me with two dozen of his strongest idiots, and I just wasted those

dudes. For the first time, one of my conquered foughs actually dropped some pretty good loot, a bejeweled sword he called

scalabre.

This puppy is throbbing with more hoaling power than the shroud of fucking Turin.

I'm half tempted to yeat it into the stranglemyer, but...

Well... into the strangle, but well, maybe one day I'll find the use for it.

Oh, and I got a nose piercing at them all.

Finally, my exterior reflects the obsidian block emptiness of my soul. Doing a poetry reading at the warehouse tonight, wish me luck. The Oh, Oh, Oh, The irony of Dracula being a goth kid.

Well, it started, so way wait, Dad, you know it started somewhere, right?

Yeah, I know.

Goth, goth, goth came from somewhere, it didn't just.

He like invented it.

Like vampire culture led to goth right you get that right well I get that

okay as established by Lady Godwin in the last episode the year is 18 something so that was a journal entry from a while ago.

Not that you guys know that because you haven't found his journal yet.

I'm looking for it.

Keep an eye out. You guys actually haven't been looking for it.

You've passed it a few times and I've had to move it from place to place.

You all are standing now at the edge of the spine bridge where you have just

offed a few guards and many many many many many rats before a incredible acrobatic maneuver that saved Brother Philo.

...