Alright, a few disclaimers: I haven't written anything this long in a very long time, I just haven't gotten the will to write lately, and I can't quite understand why I do now. This is also a pre-first draft: I've just typed, and this is what came out, no editing at all.

Tell me what you think, I'll eventually edit it, make it nicer, and add it to my history.



Today I've finished a large portion of my manse, added some places here and there, expanded a bit, gave more life to areas that had none, and as usual, I'm quite tired.

I'm always tired though; I never sleep.

It's not that I don't actually sleep, when when I do, it's short, and plagued by dreams of things I'd rather not remember when I wake up. When I do wake up from wherever my head has fallen, be it the desk in my office, the spare bedroom above the tavern, or in one of the gardens, I always wake up drenched in sweat, and with a lingering memory of what I dreamed. Nothing ever fully comes to mind though, and I don't think about it until the next time I nod off.

The work today took quite a bit out of me. My fesix pack has significantly less gold than it did to start, and I'm back to where I started: just enough for some food, and the occasional trivial thing I decide to purchase from someone else's store. Physically, I'm not very tired, but mentaly... I just need to sleep.

But I dare not lay my head down, not even in my own home.

I recal that I walked up and down the streets, through the tradehall, fixing this and that. We manse owners have something that no one else can really understand, and only few os us will be able to concieve our full potential. We are mortal gods, if you will. We create, we labour, and we make something wonderful that no one could have fathomed. I took a simple room and made it elegant, I've added bits of detail where no one would have thought to look. This aethercity, as I call it, is a direct extension of my will. I touch a door and it flies open, I close my eyes and objects appear from nothing. I lay my hand upon the ground, and flowers spring from the "soil" that I've created.

Some others have managed this feat, have made it so that their home is as much an extension of their will as mine, though perhaps they will never have it be such a burden upon their mind. I've put so much of myself into the city that sometimes I feel as if I've been worn thin, that some part of me is being stretched.

I wonder if Karrah feels as I do...

My dear friend Karrah, whom I met so long ago I cannot remember, has just finished his pyramid. Discouraged by the attempts to advance within the sands of the skarch, Karrah has formed this extension of his will, and created something that he enjoys. Perhaps I'll have a conversation sometime, and warn him about just how it can be.

Nevertheless, I'm going to continue to expand. I will see my dreams realized, because as I cannot remember my past, I must build my future. Shikari once said to me, "Some things, Richter, are best left unknown, and perhaps the greatest gift to mortals who cannot remember their lives from before the Portal is simply that they have the opportunity to define themselves by their actions, not some distant past." I've taken this message to heart, and have tried to ignore what little of my past I remember. This is why I build, create, and desire to create the empire all mortals desire.

Taking a small manse box I purchased from Bob from my pack, I close my eyes and concentrate upon the blackness in front of me. This blackness is much different from the beautiful moonlight that I've synthesized for the city, it is a much more frightening creation. I suppose that I could shut it out if I really desired to do so, but I wanted to create a city, something open. The realm beyond what I have purchased and laboured for will stay that colour, and the aether bubble will continue to expand.

Grasping the box firmly, I project an image of two streets meeting up. A moment later, the aether box flashes and dissappears, and the blackness in front of me has been replaced with two streets meeting. Striding boldy into the middle of the road, I point my fingers at the street, and red brick materializes out of nowhere. I walk up to a blank wall, plunge my hand into it, and it ripples like water, but does not break. Simply concentrating here will do, and it takes but a moment for a door to come from nowhere. I'm not quite sure what will be beyond that; I'll leave it for another day.

Times like this are always exciting. Adding a large portion of my own world makes my very being tingle, as I feel each of the areas connect to me. I can do anything here that I wish: a thief could come, and I could seal him in a room without thinking, a friend could visit, and I can make it so they can instantly travel to where I am.

I think it's getting quite late, though it's always hard to tell here. Daytime does not exist, but it varies between various times of night. Not the terrible night, of Mother Night, but the beautiful cloudless night that some long for for months at a time. I think in Glomdoring, it would be just past midnight, and though I hardly have a regular cycle of sleeping, dreamweavers have become increasingly irritating, and I need the rest.

Heading back to my office, I look from side to side at the wonders I've created. Perhaps someday I will never feel the need to leave here. We will be able to rule from here, and we will...

The pen had slipped from my grasp for a moment, and as I write this, I still shake. The my shadow overcame me for but a moment, but I put it aside, as I always do. We define ourselves by what we do now, not what we have been. I repeat this to myself, in the hopes that I might someday believe it.

Before I lay my head down to sleep, I have the faint thought that perhaps I'm building this city for other reasons, but I have to tell myself that I do it for the one apparent, not for an alterior motive, not even known to myself. It is time to sleep, time for the nightmares to come again, and perhaps when I wake up, I'll be closer to understanding everything.

Ah, this is neat. Makes me want to write about Joli's life.

It's very good and defines a few things that I wasn't sure about when you create a manse. That's probably why I want to buy my own manse, rather than just add on to someone else's.

I have like ten people living there though, join the craze.

And I tried to show some of the reasoning behind what I do, because there's aaaaalways a reason, even if it appears otherwise.

Yeah.. I think that's what people fail to notice a lot about certain people's characters. Joli found a bit of her past that she wouldn't of found out any other way when she came from the portal. It changed her entire personality, so no.. she isn't suffering from permanent pms.

If anyone else has logs or memories from things in my past, do bring them up in a PM or something, because I'm taking this post, and whatever else I have, and I'm going to start (after a year) working on my history.