Really really, what a pity. As you can see for yourself dear readers, I am losing my touch. The hounds have yet to ease their pursuit on all beings with two legs. Perhaps, those that seek shelter in other avatars of knowledge have already slayed the hounds who pounded on their gates. Yet we have not.

No sight of them. Nor sound. Not the least movement from those cunning ones at all. The scouts sent out have yet to return as well, and I fear the worst for them. We shall have to be sure and stedfast to pull through this moment of weakness, and hope that, by doing our best and paying attention to the process instead of the result, we would have what we wish for.

But I digress.

These hounds. They have drained the very ounce of life out of me, like the inccubi or succubi, whichever way you prefer to see it. The dark side of this tomes is perhaps lost, the mad ramblings have given way.

The Fool, that begins his journey with but a small bundle on his shoulder, has perhaps met The One, the one that he knows instinctively without, he would never be complete. And so, the Death that was once promised to him had come. He was resurrected. A new chapter. A new beginning. Once again, a new hand is dealt to him. And now the cards laid covered, its contents unknown as he goes through the rites again.

Cryptic, yes I know. But I know you are equipped with the faculties to deal with it.

Au Revoir.

Your servant
Aristocrat