Time is meaningless when you cannot die. For so long I have lived that I do not remember my place of birth, or even my mother or father.

It was in the first century that I realized what I was. The power it afforded me, I must admit, was invigorating at first. I wreaked havoc on all that crossed me. There was nothing I could not do. This lasted the better part of my second century of life.

It was during this time that I learned of the bolash. They are vile beings whose only ambition is to feed on those around them. It is then that I realized my purpose. I was born to exterminate the bolash and their foul and afflicted offspring.

In my fight against the bolash I have found others like me. They too, were blessed as a lycan. But none were as old and experienced as I was and though I found that our bloodline can by continued through infection, I believe us to be different from the bolash. The bolash offspring are abominations of the bolash bloodline. They have neither the will nor discipline to completely control what they are. What more can be said about the loyalties and discipline of the bolash. They can not be trusted!

And as long as the bolash remains, the threat of spreading their disease unto the local inhabitants must be stopped. So we must fight! And of course the bolash run and hide. They fear us for one simple reason....while we are the natural evolution of the ..... predatorial species, they are an abomination of the natural order of things. They are vile beings; living off the blood of others and as such they should be eradicated.

My fight has been long and hard. No matter how many I kill, they appear to keep gaining in numbers. But it is when I found Tunaria that I realized that I had but one last chance to make a difference. Tunaria contains a lycan population greater than that of the bolash. And in numbers I have never encountered before.

But one bolash in particular plans to change that. We must persevere in this war. To lose will mean the end of my species and of all the natural species in all the planes. Even if that means the death of the non-infected, then so be it, we must prevail.

And we will prevail. It is our superiority that makes us better; on the battlefield, in life, and in death. When a lycan dies, it is taken back into the land and becomes one with life. When a bolash dies, it is the casting away of a curse! We cannot allow them to spread their disease to the inhabitants of this world!

Remember the lies of the bolash! Remember the mission! All bolash and their offspring must die!