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Fractured Voyage RPG

July 2020

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[ Within an hour or so of the ship being restored, this goes up. Harry writes quickly, particularly when he feels it's urgent. ]

I do not deserve it, but I humbly beg Forgiveness of each of you, for subjecting you to the Horrors of my own Guilt made manifest in that most dreadful of Nightmares.

I am sorriest in particular for what I, possessed by a Nightmare Soul, perpetuated against Mr. Dorian Gray and Miss Trixie, and I do not know what manner of Amends I may make. Mr. Gray was tortured terribly at my hands in the Pursuit of Scientific Inquiry, which in no way excuses my Crimes and indeed only renders them all the more Reprehensible. I treated Miss Trixie in a cold, High-Handed manner that she did not deserve, for she was only attempting to come to my Aid. It is She I have to thank for restoring me to my Senses, and I believe all should be grateful to her for that.

To everyone I owe some manner of Explanation.

My brother and I were students of one Dr. Robert Knox, notorious in Edinburgh for his association with the infamous Murderers, Burke and Hare. My brother always believed him Innocent of any Complicity, and perhaps he was, but I think I always harboured a certain Dread that one day my own Passion for Knowledge would overtake my Morals, just as may or may not have occurred with Knox.

Before I woke here, in this Dream-world, I was in the last extremity of the Arctic expedition, and there I committed certain Deeds that I regret to this very Moment. I permitted myself to be coerced into desecrating a Body at the behest of a Villain of the highest degree—the purpose being to prepare the poor man's flesh for Consumption—after which I engineered my own Death so as to also encompass that Villain's Destruction as well. When the Tuunbaq attacked us last week, I believed it was a Punishment for which I had been waiting all along. I dare say that it has been apparent to all that I have not been well since then—since some time before then, perhaps. In the depths of my Guilt and Self-Recrimination, I believed I had become that which I feared—a Beast on the order of the one who destroyed me, a Monster without Humanity.

Whilst I still have much to Repent, I believe I see Matters more clearly now. I am sorry—most deeply sorry—for not having sought Help before, and for inflicting the Events of the last Three Days upon you all.

If there are any Questions you would like to ask, I am at your disposal.

Sincerely and with great regret,
HDS Goodsir
Surgeon, HMS Terror

[ After writing this, Harry resists the natural urge to hole up in the sick bay again and instead ventures out into the galley, ready for anyone who wants to talk to him. He is also fully expecting Dorian Gray to beat him within an inch of his life, and while he'd prefer if that didn't happen, he can't really blame the man. He just hopes that someone will be around to at least stop him from getting murdered outright. ]
I realize that some might have questions about the nature of England I inadvertently sent us to. I shall happily answer any questions one might have about my world, it's magic, my magic or anything of the sort.

But before that, I have much more interesting news. I was going to the Captain's library to try and find a book on the mechanics of ships (Capt. Crozier and Messers. Jopson and Goodsir, please give me recommendations if you have them) when I found new books in the library! Most of them seem to be after my time and a few seem quite salacious but two of them are quite familiar to me. One is a children's book from my England and the other is a book on magic I wrote myself!

The appearance of my book is notable as all copies aside from one were destroyed in my world (and I doubt this is that one copy). If we all agree with Ms. Persson's theory that this is a dream, then perhaps our unconscious mind created the books, rooms, fruit, et cetera. Which leads me to wonder: what marvels could be made if we turned our conscious minds to creation?

J.S.
Didnt reelize you culd rite on these things. Just thot it was a book. Fuckin world is full of surprizes.

Anyon got a smoke?


((Trixie's barely literate, bad at being social, but she's in desperate need of some nicotine. She'll be pacing around the dining area if people want to run into her.))
Quiet!

Listen.

Do you hear it too?

Everyone inside, close and latch the hatches.

Don't scream. Don't run. Remain calm.

((Crozier hears the footsteps of the tuunbaq stalking around above them. He's doing the smart thing by writing an entry instead of shouting. We call that growth.))