The doctors have told me the amnesia will pass, that it is merely the result of nervous tension. Perfectly normal after the events that transpired in the woods that day, or so they tell me. But what I told them is not the truth, no far from it. Here is what actuallyhappened that day my I pursued my lifelong ambition and cursed my bloodline.

To reach across the damp and forboding Moor, and discover the secrets hidden within the Brackwater Woods, that has always been my dream. Wreathed in the miasma of sepulcharous tombs and rotting stone is an atelier where a man cna create life in whatever form he wills. This place is guarded by an army of trees, their unwholesome contours bursting forth from the earth like ancient gnarled hands. They remain transfixed, grasping and clawing at the night sky, as though to pull it towards the earth as a death shroud over a dessicated corpse. Or so the story goes.

I wandered for days as though in a dream, fragments of disconnected memories and tatters of dreams racing frantically through my mind. Somehow on one of my midnight wanderings, I had found this legendary atelier. I stumbled inside, feverish with excitement, posessed by the most curious of impulses. I know not what form took shape before my rattled conciousness, but it started out human enough. Very soon though, as my subconcious worked inhuman features began to emerge. Bit by bit a grotesque thing came into being, born of my own subconsious volition. A gibbering nightmare formed before me, but it was not until the beast finally began to move on it's own that I fainted.

I awoke much later, judging from the wide bands of sunlight poking through the slats of the window. Of my nightmarish creation I found no traces, not even the large quantities of spare clay that had remained unused by me. I began to wonder if it had all been a mere dream, for it certianly seemd to be an ordinary aetlier. As I scoured the area, something began nagging at my brain, some small fact I had overlooked. A terrible revelation brewed like a storm at the edge of my awareness. However, it wasn't for another few precious minutes that my dazed mind put it together. The sheer force of it took me like a thunderclap, and it as that blow that cost me my sanity, for now I realize the hideous implications of the empty studio.

My God! What had I done? What horrors had I unleashed upon the world? There had once been enough clay there to create an army of those beasts, an alternate race to challenge man for the domination of this world. Now there was none. The aweful hideousness of the truth was too much to bear, and I sank down amidst the sepulcharous tombs as mutterings and low moans beneath the rising wind began to fill the underbrush around me.

What happend after that point is a mystery even to me. The next thing I recalled was coming to in the middle of a mental facility. The doctors approached only warily when they realized I had come to. They toldl me I had been gone more than three weeks, and I had been given up as dead.I told them I had been chased my an animal in the woods, and I couldn't remember much. A lie as you may recall. As soon as they left me in piece I began plotting my escape from the mental facility. I knew I was not safe here, not safe anywhere, for while I told the doctors my lie, the real memories came back, and I knew I was being mercilously hunted.

I soon realized my futile escape attempts were far to late to avail me, as the screams of other patients began to fill the hospital. I knew what was coming, exactly what dark fate would be bestowed on me. How did I know, you ask? The real memories had come creeping back to me, the complete records of that time I had spent uncounsious in the creater's studio. While I had slept my dark sleep of horror, my creation had fulfilled my own ambition, crafting followers in it's own image!