The archives

Sanitas Alionis: Logs 337, 1007, 1275, 2217, 5738, 5798, 7525, 8545, 8557, 8789

Arcus 7525

It's hard to say what came over me and I can hardly recollect the last few hours perhaps even days. I awoke with several empty whiskey bottles and dead bodies sprawled across the roof. Not too far from the scene was my gory nine iron and a phonograph playing a solemn, French song about life in a city I will never truly know. I turned the bodies over one by one and they vaguely resembled those who had forsaken me to this infernal prison. I must have conjured them and destroyed them in the same evening. But... with a nine iron? I imagined far worse fates for them. I even have a journal devoted to dark and creative ideas on how I might actually one day make them pay for their corruption and impertinence.

Arcus 337

At first glance the endless bloodshed seems to be an act to satisfy some destructive instinct within The Entity. This seems to me a reductionist distortion of something more sophisticated, something more intricate, something even sacred. Beyond the horror, the shedding of blood and the very real appearance of death puts us in touch with life and can be an intoxicating and highly addictive experience on the deepest and most archaic levels. When our blood, or our life-force is offered to The Entity, it can be seen as a gift that is soon returned to us so that the horror may continue again and again. The world constantly churns with life and death, and death and life — the circulation of blood through an Old One from heart to body to kidney back to the heart again to be purified and begin anew.

Arcus 1007

A new doorway has opened. For how long? I'm not sure nor have I ever been right even with my best guesses. Through the door of my study and into a lost and forgotten realm. Moss-grown, stone homes with doorways barricaded with wagons, planks of wood and decaying corpses tangled in barbed wire. I walk by the homes gazing at the residual memories of soldiers killing villagers with swords for no other reason than the thrill of it. I can't make out which era or Terra world this realm is from. I search the realm for hints of how one may open an actual doorway back home. Somewhere in these memories and forgotten realms is the answer to my salvation. But... which ones... which ones indeed...

Arcus 2217

I have uncovered to my amazement and bewilderment memories of Claudette that are unlike any of those I've previously experienced. One might even say they should not belong to her... and yet... they are hers. I surmise these memories may belong to another Claudette from another Terra world, suggesting that this Old One may have clear preferences at the cosmic buffet for certain souls. It will take more samples of these memories to know if they are in fact from another Claudette or if, and it is possible, I am having troubles deciphering between her actual memories and her creative musings.

Arcus 8557

I tremble as I scribble this down. Squid-like creatures difficult to describe attempt to penetrate my tower, trying to destroy my study and tools to explore and manifest. I held them off for as long as I could, then, taking the Auris and other valuables, I rushed through a doorway and hid in a lost realm. When I returned, the tower was upside-down, my study completely ransacked, the creatures lay dead on the floor with black, putrid blood leaking out of them, and the smell of decaying fish was everywhere. What are these creatures and who is sending them if not this brutish monster of an Old One. I spent hours cursing and throwing these fetid carcasses out of my window and back into the abyss.

Arcus 5738

An odd impulse caused me to climb to the roof and light a single candle in the pitch blackness of it all. When the candle extinguished, I thrust myself off the roof and plunged to my certain death but somehow ended up back in my bed as though I was waking up from a nightmare. I don't know what I was thinking but what this has shown me is... death is not an escape.

Arcus 1275

I have often wondered if those trapped here have ever paused to reflect upon the inexplicable significance of this world that defies not only time and space but death. A world made of memories that is neither consistent or constant. Something akin to a collective dream made of the collective memories and beliefs of its inhabitants. Sometimes I wonder if not all worlds were like this in some respect and that reality is what we in fact dream it to be or believe it to be.

Arcus 8545

I was woken mid-slumber by a delirium of shrieks and destruction so that I rushed to the closest window to see only the endless Black Fog swirling outside. Things in the Fog were coming to life and dying simultaneously as though The Entity were sick or in some kind of shock. Creatures roared and fought and tore each other apart somewhere in the raging abyss and it was both entertaining and unsettling. I grabbed a nine iron and held it at the ready, waiting for some apparition to attack me. But within moments it was all over, and I couldn't sleep, and so I took the edge off with a little whiskey and golf on the roof, the whole while cursing this blasted Old One and hoping what I had just experienced was nothing more than cosmic indigestion.

Arcus 8789

There are dead bodies in my study and I have no recollection of the last few days. The bodies have been flayed from head to toe and the faces have been beaten to an unrecognisable pulp. I dragged them to the window and thrust them out into the abyss wondering who they were and why they were in my tower. Did I manifest them? Did I create them for company? Or did they come from somewhere else? Had I been the one who butchered them? Had I lost myself so deeply in a memory that I became someone else for a short time? Perhaps they are not my creations but apparitions from the Fog sent by The Entity like the creatures I hear lurking about in the Fog now and then.

Arcus 5798

Incidents don't make sense anymore. Nothing does. Everything is a chaotic blur of unreal apparitions and jumbled memories. I can barely recognise my own thoughts or distinguish my memories from those I've been studying. Last night I relived the most horrific murders in my collection with a strange kind of... pleasure... When I had had enough, I looked in the mirror and did not see myself but dozens of faces morphing in and out of each other. Every possible face except my own. I thrust my fist into the mirror and my hand split and blood was everywhere. What cruel fate has befallen me that I should lose myself in the darkness while trying to escape its deadly grasp. The Auris will either be my salvation or my downfall.