I have witnessed many corners of the world but none so depraved as the deepest recesses of a man's mind. Hatred personified in varied acts of malace and vengeance on the borderline of deranged. the the practiced and simplistic ease of witch some men can simply massacre everyone in their path without a hint of remorse or guilt. the darkest parts of which I would hate to be the one to reveal to you.

Sadly that is just what I will be doing. The names Elliott, Sir Elliott D. Maxwell but you could simply refer to me as Elliott. I had found through my travels that Humanity is the most depraved and maniacal of all creatures to roam the earth. though I will nod deny the likelihood of their existence, though that is a topic for later discussion, as a species humans could be the closest thing to a Demon or Orc often found in our novels and literature. regardless of the reason we destroy everything in our wake, our greed knows no bounds and our hubris is impossible to comprehend. I simply am here to allow you to witness the world through a new set of eyes, a fresh view on the piss poor condition of humanity& the depravity of witch we fall and divide ourselves with. of ther the slightest note of difference the length of witch we would destroy one another for even the slightest of temporary gain, and the hight of the egos that radiate from the elated "" divinity"" the elites of the world display as they rule and lord over us as believing they art" holier than thou"

I'm getting ahead of myself let's start back at the beginning. It was a cold night where the fog settled on the ground lake a thin blanked wrapped tightly around you. clinging to the ground, draped over the concrete carpet as if a thin sheet wrapping around you in the frost of winters night. the Cresent moon hung low over the night sky, a lone story streetligh over the blackened spotless sky, a canopy of night drifted past by the milky white winds drifting through the lonely streets. A phantom in the distance loomed over the street, a wisper on her breath of some wordless mutters of heartless goodbyes.There was a breathless moment as a cloaked figure laid a swaddled bundle down on the ground in front of a old rotting orphanage. This sorry shack happened to be my home for the beginning years of my life. Most likely you'd feel sad and deeply moved by such a story, depressed for a sad child left to the whims of the world. You shouldn't be later I found who that cloaked person was, they were a real peice of shit.

A Miss Clara els Maxwell, my. *sigh* mother In technical speak was a real peice of work. After Some incessant search and investigation during my tater years I Found her grave. plastered in a backwater site dug out of the ground in the countless sprawling plains of dead and bygone hosts to the planes of immorality spread rampant throughout the steel jungles of modern life. left to rot among the roots of a almond tree, it was quite the final resting place for a woman who lived a life such as her's. her life was spent running from town yo town since she could think enough to run away. A sheltered Daughter to 2 overzealous parents from some thrashed out cult to worship some depraved owl thing. It was strange, good on her from getting out of it but sadly life never wanted to give her a break. I would love it to be a sad story of some good hearted woman lost to the horrors of the world but she was depraved in her own right. fleeing drom one place to another she soon embroiled herself in the crimes of the towns and city's she passed through. Wooing felons and rich men alike, a python ready to strangle you in your sleep and rob you blind. she was a snake among snakes, cracked out of her mind on pills running around doing whatever it took to get that next fix. I'm pretty sure she wound up dead in a drug bust gone bad, found an od sprawled out on the floor of a trap house in the slums. Anyway she droped me because she couldn't afford me and the pills so she chose the pills, can't say I blame her all that much, my life probably turned out better on my own instead of being a part of that mess.

My life was Definitely not a ray of sunshine but it was not the worst. I could of fought for my life through the wilds or struggled in the deserts of the undeveloped world. I delt with none of those things instead I survived in the pires of concrete and citys of neon lights and sprawling colors. a place that never sleeped, where blood and sin flowed like water from the tap & fell from the sky, rain on a sunny day clowding the skys and bleeding the lines of black and white to an indefinitely murky grey. Where hunger stares out from the eyes of carnivorous wolves, ready in wait in the fog. Humans were greater than any monster in the forest that lurked circling the weak of the pack. The killers of the wild pale in comparison to the blood I've seen shead by the hunters of the darkend alleys. Humans are the cruelest creatures i've witnessed to date and to survive amongst their number takes a will to seperate oneself from the rabble and integrety to not be swayed by the prying and wispers of the demons of man. Devils sit on ther sholders and lead them to become demons themselves. life can be difficult when you begin from nothing, but it is all the more fruitful and joyous when you claw yourself out from nothin aswell.