(Do you have any ideas of how for us to start getting the action off? )

Kier wasn't sleeping, he was instead, writing, as he always did. By his bed, which he never really used, were almost a hundred, leather bound books. Some decrepite and old, and worn, like they were centuries old. But the one in his hand was knew, and he was writing it, in a very old style of script. The wind picked up through the open window, blowing some of the some of the other journals open, revealing the same style script. Apparently, he had written it all himself.

"Dear Conrad,
Today has been a strange day... the tar in my body is indeed chewing away at me. Not even my powers can halt the spread of it, and my body is beggining to show signs of death. I cough up what little blood I drink, and my bile is mixed with some of my spectral blood... clearly if nothing is done, I will die.

Too bad the last 30 years have not risen my strength to stop this damnable smoking... whenever I let go, my body goes into seizures, and my thirst burns at my insides. Maybe this is how the humans beat us... to them, 20 years of suffering chews them out quickly, but... to me, well... nothing has ever been the same.

I met a woman today, she was young, and pretty, not like the plastic creatures that smell like toxins from the bowels of the earth. She smiled at me, and I found myself... polite. Strange I know, I'm still wondering how I could have actually acted within bounds of morality. "

Kier paused to cough, but it was must stronger then last coughs, and blood and bile splattered all over his hands. Cursing softly, he stood, knocking his journal off the bed, as he stumbled weakly to the sink cleaning his hands and then his face....
Returning to the bed, he looked out the window onto the street. "It's her...' He whispered seeing the girl- no Alice, that what was her name, walking down the street.