And darkness and decay and death held dominion over all

[Pseudonym]

Virtue sits in his room at the temple, the longsword of Ghant Vodoun cradled in his large, scarred hands. He whispers to it, his voice barely audible.

Yes, patience. Today a trickle ... tomorrow a flood. Countless souls I will give you ... you shall feast on blood and death such as this world has seen not for decades ... share your secrets with me, let us journey together, let us show those fragile husks of man who walk this realm of light, let is show them those of the darkness hold power still ...

The muscular steel-clad bulk of one of the nameless Raven Guard suddenly filled the doorway to the room. His eyes lit upon the figure of Virtue sitting on the narrow cot, barely illuminated by a solitary candle. If he noticed the new lines etched upon Virtue's normally guileless and sunny countenance or a certain lassitude in his returned gaze, he did not comment nor give indication that he cared. The Raven Guard's voice was deep, sepulchral.

The Dread Priestess sends word you are to attend tonight's convocation. So she speaks, so we all obey.

Without waiting for acknowledgement, the Raven Guard turned and only the sound of his footsteps, ringing loudly along the corridor, remained of the man. Virtue turned his attention back to the sword.

I know, I know ... all in good time. Some we must suffer to live ... for now. They are tools, useful tools. We use them as needed and when the time comes that they be discarded ... then ... they are yours ...

[Pseudonym]

Why is it so much easier to hate than to love?

Is it something missing inside of me, or, more likely, is it something extra that I possess that others do not?

Some look upon a wealthy man and are inspired.
Some look upon a wife or lover and see their soul's companion.
Some look upon the child at play and see their legacy.

I ... I do not.

I look upon the wealth or power in the possession of another and I think only of ways to make it mine.
I look upon a woman of fair countenance and see someone who can fulfil my carnal needs.
I look upon the child and see *small inkblot where the quill has rested upon the parchment for a moment or two* a small person.

What makes someone truly happy? It is really quite simple. It is the determination of one's needs and the subsequent fulfillment of them.

I look around and see small people with their simple needs and their simple goals and their simple means of achieving them.

I have larger dreams. Loftier goals.

As such, there is only one path ... only one road that is open. I raise myself at the expense of others. Every degree of power I obtain opens up the possibility to obtain more power again. It is destiny's mandate that he who would be great must exercise his dominance over others, grasp all the power he can and always seek more.

Large dreams and lofty goals.

[Pseudonym]

Law and regulation and of course that which follows, order and community wide civility are undeniably useful tools.

The herder finds the flock of sheep far easier to control than a pack of wolves. Perhaps the flesh of the wolf tastes just as fine as that of the sheep but it is not worth the trouble? There is a balance to be found, to impose order and obligation and accountability onto the herd yet remain apart from the herd oneself. People desire nothing more than to be a member of the herd. Tell me where to go Sir, please take away my free will and capacity for independent thought Sir. Fulfil my basic needs Sir and I shall never question my place Sir. Let us huddle together and hopefully the wolves will let us pass unmolested. There is a certain safety in this anonymity. I shall be content with not having more than my fellow herdmember Sir as long as I don't have to suffer with less than my fellow herdmember Sir.

Is such a view a frustration to me? Not in the slightest. With so many content to be sheep ... the wolves can feast well.