Diary of Stuff (Volume I)
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I feel as his name is Morgoth, the Great Pursuer, as he
chases me through realms unseen, seeking to deliver me unto
his dungeons of night, under the ground that swells and
buckles and cries in the infirm halls of Mordatha.
Illundriel, Alevarta, and Finniven stand at my side, as we
scatter back his demon forces and send him into hiding,
only for him to return unbeknownst and unawares as we
naively celebrate peace and mirth into our lives.
The future is a blackened knot of twisting rope (...hope)
as we try to unravel it thread by thread.
The path is clear, but only deceptively so, for it is
fraught with peril and queasiness, as the one who is named
Mordoth (also known as Morgoth) is ever upon the beatened
Carry forth the Light Illuminating, so that the hounds of
death and carrion stay their distance, and their yipping
and braying are kept in the silence.
This I have seen in my dreams...