This I tolerate too much--the desires of others.  No longer Finder the underling.  This age of the rebirth of myself, was already delayed by the foolish Demoness NightRose. Too often did the DemonBard do her bidding, and for what at the end?  A knife in me back!  For this I trust few, for this I bow down to no one who does nae have respect for the DemonBard.  For this is the age of Finder the Bard Mage, of his noble rebirth into the StormReaver Clan.  And this is the new life after immortality, into the depths of me clan, the Necropolis.  Respect now lingers on me lips for I serve only whom I chose to; I bow only in respect, for they shall bow down to ye god, Finder one day.  My rise is near, and it shall never set.  This is the age of Finder, this is the end of me foes.  Soon the new darkness shall fall over the land--not of Xvim, not of Shayanna and not of Geabrielle.   No, not of anyone but Finder.  The darkness is so profound that it transforms into the never-dying darksun.

'Tis  me last page of me last tome.  It brings a tear to ye immortal eyes everytime ye read it...