As the Head Conservator of the Goddess of Knowledge (After Brother Proof said NO to doing it), it is my job to organize and compile 'The Heretic Collection' at the Museum of Knowledge. This has been a difficult experience, especially with the first few journals. I have had to do much more than I had originally thought was needed to edit and combine the journals with accompanying letters and papers. Please bear with me, as these first few books are rife with stains and gibberish.

V.L.

Xxx?

I don't know what day it is. I think it's been a week since I left home and grabbed my chest. I miss my wife. [Puke stain] [Gibberish and spilled ink for three pages]

??

then I punched the idiot in the face. [Coffee stain?] I got drunk last night and threw myself in the river. Woke up sober on the shore. Wet and penniless.

[water stains, ink splotches]

Got stabbed to death last night at a bar. I don't remember what one. Woke up in a garbage heap.

??

What day is it? Woke up with the biggest hangover yet. I'm going to the big temple today.

- - -

They have some nice stuff on display here! Max took a swig from his flask of rot-gut. Nice armor, high level craftsmanship. Several beautiful swords. I can't wait to see the rest of the place. Max spent the next several hours admiring the temple's architecture, relics, and wall hangings. As he walked the tour guide went on explaining each piece, and talking about how great Maximilian was to have as a god. The longer he walked, the more Max drank. The more he drank, the worse his mood got, until finally the tour was over.

I've seen the entire thing. Burp. I wonder how hard it would be to sneak in and steal something? It's not like the gods are going to notice that something is gone...

Much later that evening, a very drunk Maxwell walked into the temple. “'scuse me, good sir,” he said to a statue in the main room, “where's the alter thingy?” The statue didn't answer. He took a hammer out of his bag, and smacked the statue in the face. The statue's head exploded into bits, and he ran in a random direction. Never had a head do that before...

His random choice of directions carried him past worried priests and guards, as he yelled “the bugger went that way!” they ran past him towards the noise. When he stopped, panting, he looked up and saw a sword. This one hadn't been on the tour. It was a dark crimson red, and looked to be covered in flowing blood. He smiled as he took it down from it's stand, and made his way out a side door.

???

What the hell did I do last night? I have a sword sticking out of my leg. Stupid thing hurts like hell. Into the chest it goes. I apparently need more booze in my flask. This thing never ran out before...Better buy a keg.

[several pages of puke stains]

???

Ugh. Pain. Sleep now.

???

My whole body hurts. Some lucky bastard stole the 'holy blade of war' from the temple last week. Good on them! I might go look at the description. Meh.

?An addendum?

Apparently I stole the blade. Who knew? Good on me. Maybe I should keep it up? Naw. That would be stupid.

[random doodles of genitalia]

??

Whore house? Why the hell am I in a whore house? Did I cheat on my wife?

?Another addendum?

Poison doesn't do the trick. Talked to one of the whores. Apparently I was to drunk to participate last night. Thank the...no fuck them.

[mud and dirt soiled most of the pages]

travel. Driking too... ...horses are good company... ...kicked me. Asshole... ...three days before..?som place... ...bar is good. Good food, clean beds. I like it here, wherever here is. A good nights sleep, and touring the area in the morning.

[Beer stains this time, 14 pages ruined]

...there's a death cult in the next city over. I'm going to pay them a visit when I get there. Maybe they can cure my “issue”. I hope so.

??

The “Circlet of Dysher, god of Healing” is on display this week at his temple. I wonder if it would work?

- - -

Maxwell walked in with the rest of the morning crowd. He studied the building, the angle of the walls, the precise arch of the ceiling. Beautiful place. I like the glass work. He followed the tour guide, and listened to the speech. Eventually they made their way to the head alter, where the Circlet was on public display, under heavy guard. I can't get to it today. I will have to wait a few nights for security to get lax, then try my hand.

- - -

??

Still haven't checked the date. Don't care. Winter hasn't come and gone yet, so meh. Going to stay sober until I can try the circlet. If it doesn't work, then it's off to see the death cult.

??

Dreams are weird when you're sober. Really really weird. I dreampt about my wife. She was waving at me. Maybe telling me something? I don't know.

Grrrr... I'm drinking tonight.

??

I think it's been two...three? days. I'm going tonight.

- - -

Maxwell slipped on his ring of stealth, and followed a worker into the temple. He lay down under a pew, and waited for night to fall. Hours passed, and the shakes started to set in. He flashed back to the fight with the demon that almost killed him. The smell of blood and fire. The smoke and screams as Lt. John went down, burned to a crisp by lightning. Pushing Tristan out of the way of the barbed tail, and it slamming through his chest, barely missing his heart. Living just long enough to see the thing die.

He jerked from the memory, hitting the pew with his head. And that's why I drink. He shook his head to try and clear it to no avail. The first moon was up, time to go.

Max crawled from his hiding spot, and slowly walked towards the still displayed circlet. A few steps, then listen. A couple more, listen. Baby steps. Baby steps. Listen, look, listen again. No one around. He stepped up to the alter, and cast Magic Detection. The circlet glowed like a sun. He canceled the spell, lifted the circlet, and placed it upon his head. His body relaxed. And nothing else.

Maxwell took off the circlet, and replaced it on the stand. He fished around in his pocket, removed some coins, and left them beside the stand. No one stopped him on his way out.

Several minutes later, he walked into a bar, ordered three pitchers of beer, and got blindingly drunk. In the morning, he woke up in a ditch, severe stab woulds and blood stains on his clothing, his body was fine, and he was sober.