--[[
	© 2013 CloudSixteen.com do not share, re-distribute or modify
	without permission of its author (kurozael@gmail.com).
--]]

ITEM = Clockwork.item:New("book_base");
ITEM.name = "Into the Night";
ITEM.model = "models/props_lab/bindergreenlabel.mdl";
ITEM.uniqueID = "book_itn";
ITEM.description = "A tattered green journal, the front page is torn up.";
ITEM.bookInformation = [[
<font color='red' size='4'>Author unknown.</font>

Let me begin by explaining how incredibly lucky and cursed you are to have found this, if you are one of us.
"If you are truely commited to something, what can harm you?" Peter I. Keep that quote with you, and you too
will see how it will both bless and haunt you. Those words will ring in your ears any time you find yourself
in trategy or adversity. You, yourself will speak those very words without knowing so. I find myself reciting
that quote like I'm caught in a trance. Sadly, it's a double edged sword. Your now cursed to have everyone around
you die, while you go on selfishly living your life, as if those you love are mere obstacles in your grand scheme.

[A page is torn out].

And to think I trusted the woman! She left me to die, albeit in a very biblical sense. I sat on the stairs of the
souveneir stand and wept bitterly. I could hear the common dispatch alarming our community of our all too well known
anti-citizen. The Archer had left us stranded in his wake. Oh how I loathe that man! 

The prattle of boots could be heard coming down the corridor staring me in the eyes, like a portal to hell, the shadows
seemed to spring out and take shape. With glaring yellow eyes, they pulsed into the "lounge" to detain a man that was
never there. The Archer had escaped again, and left so many innocent lives to be fed to the darkness. Screams, in
an octave so high would pierce the night, causing even grown men to weep. A splatter of blood was thrown to the window
like scarlet meat thrown to the butcher to be beheaded and gutted. The very thought of what was going on in that bar
made my stomach turn. Luckily for me, the demons had ignored me. Realizing how they had only momentarily stopped on their
way towards another anti-citizen hotspot, I quickly jumped up. Vaulting over the wall and clinging to the ladder in
one swift motion I climbed to a safe haven.

We were all fair game now, those hiding from inspection were murdered like dogs, and those who stayed were subject to the
same fate. Only those who broke the rules in the right ways, were spared their lives. I crept along the catwalks, another
illegal activity worthy of a punishment worse than a thousand deaths, whispering my all too familiar chant. I looked over the side
and saw the shadows withdraw from within the bar and escape back through the hellish portal carrying the spoils of a night's raid. 
The only person that remained crawled out begging for death. I could barely make out how he looked, however bad it was, the
horrible moaning he made was worse. I pushed back from the railing and crawled into an appartment, barring it with whatever I could
find. 

A sofa, a chair, a bookcase. Nothing would stop the permeating belch from outside. A banshee would flee in terror of such a noise.
There was no sleep to tbe had that night. Just a brief shutting of the eyes, until shaken awake by the blast of mind numbing pain
vocalized by that which was the tortured soul outside. It was enough. I acted mercifully that night, to save one man's suffering, 
and another a heart ache, I ended his screams. I'm haunted every night by those screams, and they're only amplified by the water 
given to us by the demons. I'll not drink water for days, until dehydrated and resusitated by a demon teasing me with my own 
semi-mortality.

I eagerly tossed this journal as far as I could throw it into the night. Seeing as that's where it all began. Into the night.

[The rest of the book is in unreadable marks, indicating the insanity of the propable author, if not authors].
]];

ITEM:Register();