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 Posted: Fri Apr 25, 2008 11:00 am
Ok, the idea behind this thread is to give some insight into the full fleshed out thought that goes into both Roan's plotting and my own work behind the scenes.
Essentially, this will be a collection of documents one MAY find in Roan's rooms, house, offices, etc etc etc. Maybe it's a document she left laying around. Maybe its an email that was let open on the system. Maybe it was a missive you read upside down over her desk when she was last reaming you out...
It should also be noted this will be in no particular order, not everything will have dates, on the basis that I can add to it ad hoc, in any order, as I recall things or come across my own notes. I hope this will provide an interesting insight, and a few 'oooooohhh' moments when relaisations about my plans become cealr smile Prehaps even clues to my next moves will reveal themselves, who knows?
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Posted: Fri Apr 25, 2008 11:35 am
[Foundation headed invite to one of its many patrons, returned with 'Your gracious offer is most cordially accepted. Please send the Lady my regards' inscribed in hand written letters on the back.]
Dear Lord Sutheny-Wortherfield,
You are cordially invited to the 89th annual DeSeer Foundation dinner and ball, celebrating the wonderful work the Foundation has achieved in the last year, with the aid of its sponsors and patrons.
Her Ladyship personally begs your patronage in honour of the efforts you kindly showed in the unfortunate events in Durem this spring. It would be the Foundations' great honour if you would present awards for bravery at the event, as well as joining her Ladyship in her speech for those who lost their lives.
Her Ladyship greatly looks forward to your reply, and expresses her desire to talk with you again of less formal affairs.
Your faithful servant,
Jan Hendrek
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Posted: Fri Apr 25, 2008 11:46 am
[Journal, Undated]
I seem to have forgotten something important... I can feel the information in my head, and though I can recall certain details when necessary, someone has put a fog over the actual events, denying me emotional connection. The b*****d god tells me its his doing, yet I dont comprehend why.
I feel I have lost something, and though my trust in this entity that has so sapped my life is minimal, I do not believe whatever he has done was for HIS gain, but rather for mine. My fatigue seems great enough SOMETHING must have happened to warrant it. Though I wonder what it is... I have decided not to force the issue or reopen the closed memories as yet.
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Posted: Fri Apr 25, 2008 12:05 pm
[Hand-written journal account, though the medium appears to be blood. Date obscured by a large blood spot, which soaks through the page]
This one is the most violent. I didnt expect this, but watching him stroke his victims already dead leg like a lover.... while his claws rip said leg to shreds unconsciously..., I realise it HAD to be this way.
Jan is bringing down another meal to go with these three as his feeding is so vehement, and I relaise I still dream of falling because of exactly these moments. His back is still bleeding, which is unusual, and its HIM I use to detail my thoughts, not the dead around me. The first is really quiet horrifically mauled - I can see the fish white flesh of the muscles at the back of her neck form here in front of her, the rend on her throat is so large. I feel he will refuse sustenance for some time after he comes back to his senses. I must make sure someone follows him wherever he goes. My work here is far form done. One hopes the lessons learned from the tertiary project will hold true.
He is almost done with this one, and Jan has brought the next in. He is struggling, but it is in vain. He's already targetted and... yes. A nasty wound. It would seem THIS one dies slowly. I wonder what demons my new effort ALREADY hides that should cause such aggression? It's time I injected the implant.
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Posted: Sat Apr 26, 2008 7:08 am
[Yellowed document found among Roan's momento's. Written in a heavy cyrillic script, the document appears to be on old vellum, the ink pressed hard into it by a quill pen]
They have renamed the place Santon. It is 3 miles south. I am told it is inhabited. I wonder if the wind still bites as cold at Baggy Point? I wonder if I will ever go to see. All the Earls lie dead, and the past is a different country.
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Posted: Sat Apr 26, 2008 7:26 am
[Email found on Jan's workstation during one of the Lady's fits of temper elsewhere in the house. The addendum was found to have been sent internally on the DeSeer network.]
To: Jan Hendrek
From: Lady Roan DeSeer
Subject: This is beginning to vex me...
----Original Message----
To: Raoul Sinestra
From: Lady Roan DeSeer
Subject: A gift from our mutual acquaintance
To my Lord Raoul,
As it pains me to occasionally do, I fear I must inform your lordship of the unfortunate events last saturday when myself and a group of our mutual friends were accosted upon leaving our preferred venue by a group of gentlemen known to us both.
Sab and his companions proferred missives with regards to a World War 2 relic to both myself and our guests and Im afraid that we had to be quite abrupt with them when their tone turned rather insistant.
As I am currently due to be engaged elsewhere on Foundation business and unable to see your good self in person on the matter, I hope you will excuse me asking you to handle this matter for me, and please trace the origins of the object proferred.
Your faithful servant,
Lady Roan DeSeer
To: Lady Roan DeSeer
From: Raoul Sinestra
Subject: Regarding your request
My Lady,
Please find yoru humble servant most apologetic in his missive as I am afraid that my offices will not be able to handle your request. Though I have had delivered the sample you took from the meeting with Sab, as you know my offices are frequently concerned with matters of state and government which do not always leave time for my preferred personal work.
Hoping to find you as always in good health,
Your ever loving friend,
Raoul.
-----------------End Message---------------------------
Get hold of him Jan and CREMATE him. The Sabbat were wandering about with SVT-40's. I want to know WHY my enemies are carrying WW2 guns, and Russian ones at that. I am NOT dealing with the remnants of Stalin's last brigade AGAIN. I dont care WHAT he's doing, go in there yourself if you have to and warn him I'll make a new anarch state if he doesnt trace this. Its important.
I'll be back from Germany in 3 days. Have a portfolio ready for me and send me the updates on the Project. Release any funds my team claimed this month - they earned it. I want my team on forced vacation. Tell them to get their heads down - this one is going to explode at some point and I'll need them alert.
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Posted: Sat Apr 26, 2008 8:23 am
[Letter found on roan's desk three nights after Iden's Embrace, as yet unsigned, dated for the following day]
To my dear sirs,
Hoping this missive finds you in good health, I must once again try upon your noble hearts to again look into affairs of my household and make some adjustments.
As you both no doubt know from the unrequited effort of perusing the records of my forebears, my family is one that is often subject to change both in our financial states, and in our holdings, and it is with regards to the former AND latter I fear to trouble your offices once again. So sorry my dear dear friends!
Firstly, let me pray ask you to keep as ever any correspondance private and reveal only what must be told to any outside parties who need contacting.
On now then to my requests. I know the family purchased some land near Santon many many generations ago. I would deeply appreciate a copy of any documents relating to this, and would also ask if you office could dispatch a party to ensure the lands are still vacant and photograph the areas, as I may wish to establisha new building for the Foundation on this land.
I am also assured our holdings in the US continue to grow, and ask that United Amalgamanted Consolidated Holdings and Sons be added into any of the current unoccupied units to continue their work on my behalf. UACH are a scientific based organisation, working on the development of surgical instruments which has helped many third world countries in the last decade. You will find the details of their offices enclosed.
Secondly, with regards to the families finances and my own will and testamony, I would like to ensure the agreed accounts for each of my adoptive sons has been confirmed, and that my will has been adjusted accordingly. In kindness, I also require that Iden DeSeer be added as you have so competantly handled with each of my previous adoptions. I have included all documents necessary to fulfilling this request, as well as the specialist documents pertaining to the traits I have bestowed on this son as well as my others.
Iden will be recieving his investature within the week, but as always, please do not preface any documentation with his new title until after my own death.
I apologise for my usual vagueity, and know you both will handle this matter discreetly and personally as always - have you not done it enough times before now already? Thank you in advance my kind friends, and I hope that both Mrs Hawkins and Mr Hawkers' fine young son are doing well. I do hope to hear from you both again in the future, and see you before the next Foundation event!
Yours in deepest gratitude,
Lady Roan DeSeer.
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Posted: Mon May 05, 2008 5:08 am
[Found in a folder on Roan's desk, full of sketches, half images, symbols and heavily underscored words. The images apear to correspond with this prime account, as if Roan was trying to pull it all together. From the age of the other papers included, various bits were written over the course of a decade, this account added to as each bit became clearer]
It is a warzone. Bullets, explosions... men flung into the air from mines under the groud. These devices are sensitive... more sensitive than anything Ive seen before. What time frame?! Keep seeing the letters PGM. What does it mean?
Again. It is definitely a warzone. I still dont understand the letters, but this time, I see a group of men. THey are in khaki coloured cammo, scaling a cliff face. On the other side, squat buildings and great metal drums fill a shallow well in the ground. Overhead, there are planes - sleek, dark coloured, and fast. They are different from what I have seen, but no hugely so. Prehaps this will occur soon? PGM again... is this my clue?
The landscape is clearer, as are the men. The Gulf war has just begun, and watching the television, I recognise it now. The men I see are scaling the cliff. They are after the building in the wallow below. They blend almost perfectly with the scenery. I am there with them. The man in the lead waves his men forward, each inching slowly up the graded cliff face, and I can see the enemy below, looking for the team I follow, but not seeing them. A raised fist stops their movement, and I see the men below looking frustrated.
For twenty minutes my team stays stationary, barely even breathing. One of the men below speaks into a radio, then the men leave. My team again resumes its ascent, but I lose sight of them in a blaze of headaches, pain, more ******** symbols and sickness on waking once again.
Its been a month, but it came again. The same as before, but this time... I see my team almost to the crest, the leader inidcating they shoudl stay put while he inches his way onto the lip. Scrub bushes protect them from sight from below but... I cover my ears as something roars overhead, low, noisy... they dont seem to hear it, but my eardrums are ringing... and then it happens. The ridge explodes in a shower of earth, debris, blood and broken bodies. The ground under my feet heaves like an earthquake, and vision is obscured. A raven flies through the dust in front of me and I follow it to teh crest. Amazingly, the team leader is still alive. With his camo in tatters, I can see him better now. He is lean, dark haired, pale skinned. British. Somehow, I just know. He is angry. I can see his fury as he looks back down where his men were, grief staining his features briefly, followed by hard determination.
The buildings are slightly obscured by the dusty debris from behind the ridge, but I can see him settling down, see the gun he is carrying. I cant see what is written on the barrels, but...
He will disobey his orders. When I START dreaming AGAIN this time I know it to start with. The team has been sent in to take down one target. One figure. A shadowy male form I feel I should know... Regardless. His men are dead. It is his fault, inside his head. The enemy will pay for each of his friends.
I watch it all again, then see the shot tonight. Whatever was in the barrels goes up like a bonfire, a second explosion piercing the air as the buildings simpy vanish in a wave of flame. When I turn back to look at the man Ive been following, he is stood on teh ridge, arms spread at his sides. BArdbed wire bites into his eyes, wrists, ankles, his mouth is an open screaming maw though no sound comes out. Two ravens land on his outstretched arms, and I see myself. I have my fangs in his neck, and then... another blinding series of visions, a pair of eyes, a white haired monster, ravens everywhere... and AGAIN I wake up throwing up.
PGM - Precision Guided Munitions. The US miltary is developing something new. Better.
1991. Second Gulf War. PGM. Thunderbolt. Desert Storm. Tornado.
1993. Reading. Bar.
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