I've been up all night it seems looking through these archives. These old shelves of logs and maps and charts in this ship. My god I was so right about this Leon Wickit. If this plan he has does fall through I am prepared. I will remain vigilant. The Code he has made has practical application. There are also a few more fiends I have found under the concealment and quarry of Wickit. This Blind Quinn. Witch Doc. Dongo. The Teacher. Sesley Briggs, too. All subservient puppets to this man.
I had a dream I was in his cell. It was raining on an island. The Isle. A sword. The Blade of Samael he called it. The head of some accursed horror mistaken as a demon. Head severed and mounted upon a blade melded from the same cursed black-green rock upon the Isle. I know now why he must be stopped. I know. I know.
On the bright side I had a boxing match with this were-wolf chap who called himself J. Seems to be some sort of vampire hunter. It was a good fight.
