This hastily written entry is dotted with blots of ink.
"I refuse to continue wasting my time with these stitchwork grotesqueries! What work is spent in granting the rotting corpse the feeblest spark of life is later tripled in repairs. Truly, they come apart at the seams.
The sight of them in the corridors has come to disgust me. They hold nothing of the subject's vitality, intelligence, coordination. Only a brute obedience. Flesh has too gentle a grasp upon the essence, that much is clear.
Little wonder the fools at Brackenbury were willing to pawn these sorry specimens off so cheaply! Madiccho, the stench!"
- Galvino's Workshop: On a shelf in the dining room, southeastern corner.