Warning: What you are about to read is a diary of my character, belonging to the campaign of Milan di Codex Venator. This is in-game information understood and filtered by its judgment, therefore it is not to be considered accurate or official.
There is a risk of spoiler in case you haven't played season 2 of Codex Venator. Be careful if you are sensitive to spoiler.

Codex Venator

My name is Guido Trivulzio. Recent injuries, due to the accident of the imperial machinery built by the Della Torre family, force me to forcefully inoperate. I thank the Unnameable for allowing me to survive such a disaster. However, idleness is ill-suited to a Trivulzio and to me in particular. To avoid counting the seconds that separate me from the next hunt, between the warm sheets of my bed, I will retrace the strange events of recent times. The Dogma forgive me, because I will expose my thoughts without taking care of heresies, since this writing is not intended for any eye other than mine and that of the Unnameable.

My memories begin at the moment of awakening. Although I was still confused about having just returned to the world, I remember a crypt. I was with other noble hunters and some non-human inferior. A man, perhaps an Inquisitor, welcomed us and directed us towards our hunt. I was too weak and confused to ask questions. It seemed to me that I had my own body, as if my spirit had just entered it. However, my legs and arms knew what to do and what to look for.

My fingers lightly ran to the equipment that I knew was suitable for me, while my mind tried to recall as much information as possible from memory. In a short time I found myself next to other Noble Hunters, among whom another Trivulzio had been chosen as Head of hunting, directed towards a library owned by the Dogma.

If it had not been for our authority and the task we were called to perform, our presence would probably not have been tolerated in that place. As we walked in its corridors, in front of thousands of tomes, the monks looked at us as if we were intruders or disturbers of their quiet.

We were told how the floor had collapsed in the Lives of Saints section. Nobody, other than the monk who was taking care of the books a few meters from the fact, had noticed nothing. The father had even been taken for mad at first. A glance was enough, to me and to the other Noble Hunters, to realize that something smelled terribly. The well that had been created seemed to be dug by claws and only the section of floor above had actually collapsed. Father Martino, this is the name of the man who welcomed us on the scene, was immediately elusive to our questions. He had lost books and was obviously concerned that something might destroy the library. Looking at the room we noticed the absence of traces of any kind. No being with legs, claws, feet or other abominations seemed to have passed through this place. What force then could have caused that hole?

Thanks to the help of well placed ropes and nails, we managed to lower ourselves into the well. Although some of us, like myself, were weighed down by weapons and armor, we managed to reach the bottom without incapacitating damage. There we found many unexpected things, something I am afraid to say out loud. The scattered tomes were actually in front of us but, opening one, we found nothing that seemed to refer to the life of a saint. Strange symbols passed before our eyes before we closed the book and put it in a bag. The matter became stranger when we realized we were in a corridor. Since equipped with solid armor, I stood in front of the group and together we made our way forward with caution and prudence. We came to a large room, where two groups of people seemed to be fighting. There was a third figure, dark and monstrous, who fought with the two groups in unison. We tried to draw men's attention to speak, looking for the way of dialogue, but we were promptly attracted by those who dressed in white. At the same time we saw the help signal from another hunting team and we knew that the danger was near. Some of our group left immediately to answer the call, while I stayed to protect the people behind me.

After an initial surprise, we became aware of the little war expertise of our opponents. They were cultists, that was certain, but poorly equipped and unaccustomed to the struggle. We managed to be right about them without suffering losses. When the horror that was terrorizing everyone was defeated by the noble hunters who had joined the battle, we put what remained of the two fighting groups to flight. I rushed to one of the cultists in white and noticed a medallion, bearing a symbol that I didn't recognize.

A few hours later I found myself at home, with my sisters and my brothers Trivulzio, to discuss the matter. I learned with terrible apprehension the identity of the cultists in black, non-human beings who had symbols of a skeletal dragon on the body. What had we stopped? What shadows moved in the city of Milan?

Rest was a luxury that would not have been granted to us, as soon after we were summoned by the Imperial Siniscalco. The Trivulzio family sent a representative, of course, and we kept part of our doubts about the library's dogmatic activities for us. The Trivulzio chose to show the Dogma coat of arms, to my great pride.