Duncan, Doncan, & Dunkin

The goblin, cunning guide or puppeteer, twirls us in a macabre dance through the serpentine sewers. Why? What nefarious game does he revel in?
 
UPPER SEWERS, DRAWBRIDGES, A TAINTED SPIDER'S WEB OF CONFUSION. The labyrinth, a swirling vortex of chaos, mirroring our tormented journey.
 
Deimos, the angelic figure, a tormentor, an accuser, a prosecutor of my abominable existence. THE HOLY, SO MISGUIDED. WHY CHASE ME, NOT THE CREATOR? DAMN THEM DAMN THEM DAMN THEM DAMN THEM.I SEEK SALVATION NOT DAMNATION
 
EMERGING FROM THE SEWERS, INTO THE NIGHT'S VICIOUS EMBRACE. Freedom, a venomous elixir, bitter and sweet.
 
EVERYONE DESPISES ME, EXCEPT PERHAPS ARMEN. Suspicion cloaks me, strangling like a shroud, the wretched offspring of loneliness.
 
CAMPING AT NIGHT, ARMEN, LIARA, AND I, HUNTING RABBITS FOR OUR MEAGER FEAST. Companionship, a fleeting glow in this tapestry of madness.
 
We encountered a man, Duncan Wallace, or was it Duncan, Duncan, and Dunkin? THEIR NAME, A TORTURED MELODY OF INSANITY, WHISPERING IN THE SHADOWS. A stranger adrift in a sea of enigma.
 
THEY HATE ME, THEIR LOATHING A SAVAGE FLAME, FEROCIOUS IN ITS CONSUMPTION OF THE FALLEN. I ponder, why this relentless obsession of the lesser fallen? WE ARE WORTHLESS, WE ARE FLEETING, WE ARE TEMPORARY? WHO AMONG THEM MOURNS AS THEY TROD UPON THE GRASS THAT IS BENEATH THEIR FEET?
 
Their sorrow for someone they did not know makes me think of Carrion. My psychopomp, my spirit guide. I held him, I felt his pain, I eased his suffering, I... mourned? FATHER SAYS YOU CANNOT MOURN THE LIVES OF THE FLEETING, OR YOU WILL BE DOOMED TO ETERNAL SORROW. How do I care? I hear Arhtist in my head sometimes. That tricky fragment morphing into his voice. I DONT UNDERSTAND. I WANT TO UNDERSTAND. BRING ME MEANING, BRING ME SUFFERING, BRING ME SORROW SO THAT I MAY UNDERSTAND.
 
CASS' MIRROR, A REFLECTION OF TRUTH, THEIR DREAD DEEPENING BECAUSE OF ME. A sinister revelation, a cascade of horror. PLEASE DON'T FEAR THE REVENANT. I BEG FOR UNDERSTANDING.
 
FIRST WATCH, YET MY GAZE PERVADES THEM FROM MY BEDROLL. THEY CANNOT FEEL MY EYES ON THEM, BUT THEY CANNOT ELUDE MY UNRELENTING OBSERVANCE. The night, a never-ending spiral of madness, a dance with lunacy and paranoia.