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Fractured Voyage RPG

July 2020

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[ the post goes up late Thursday, into the evening hours. and MAN is Strange so thankful for this magical journal system. He really doesn't want to have to write this multiple times. ]

One of our new visitors is an enchanter of some sort. He has cursed me and trapped Sabriel.

Francis, McGonagall, I shall need your help. I cannot save Sabriel alone. Likewise, I will need to help of any new magicians who might have arrived with the visitors. As I cannot tell the new magicians this myself, I am relying on the rest of the ship's crew to pass on this message as I cannot myself. Please meet me at my room—the proper one, not my cursed apartment.

Persson, Sheehan, I have a question of you. How can one dream up an item they had back home? Does it work the same as the communal dream of Goodsir and Jopson's rooms or can I do this by myself? I know the item's properties perfectly as I created it myself, I simply need it here. Do not come to me in person, simply respond with your journal.

As for the rest of the ship, I need a mirror and something dead—flowers, perhaps? Please leave them outside my door if you have them. There is a spell I can still cast, a spell to see what my enemy is doing. I do not know who my enemy is but the enchanter hurt Sabriel. Undoubtedly he is my enemy and undoubtedly he is on this ship.

Stay safe.
[ 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. ]
Strange, your bird is a menace! It is constantly staring, and I swear it is conspiring with that damned creature. It often returns from its treks into Hell itself with tufts of fur in its beak. The two creatures are either the same, or they are plotting something.

Get rid of it.

...

If any are still going out on deck, I would advise to mind your distance from the bird if you haven't already.
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.
Back in the place before, in the city Una and I had been in, we arrived to apartments that were already laid out for us. They had some possessions from home, our names on mailboxes, and we had assigned roommates. It was as if the dream had planned our arrival. The city was so strangely generic that it was easy to mold around anyone who arrived.

But this place exists already, and it is only now beginning to give us a glimpse of home. Or, in my case, work. My door's open for anyone who might need an ear.

[Readable]Sometimes I'm not so sure this isn't a shared delusion

Private to Strange

How are you feeling?
The Second Sight Dream )

Has anyone else remained in possession of their own thoughts? If you have, make yourself known here and to each other. London is a large place and I haven't seen any of you since Terror changed. 

I've located Mrs. Strange and conversed with her on the subject of her husband. There may be a way to track him down yet, but I haven't figured out the workings of the magic.  

And yes, I'm perfectly aware of how ridiculous that sounds coming from a man like myself.
Messrs. Mason and Gowda have informed Captain Crozier and myself that they are carriers of an Illness endemic to their native era. It is an Affliction that may be spread by certain Bodily Fluids, such as Blood or Sputum, but cannot be casually transmitted via the Air or simple contact. We are satisfied that they present no immediate Danger, but in the event of injury to either man, the following Precautions must be taken:

Firstly: summon me at once.

Secondly: do not touch any blood or other fluids. Oilcloth gloves and coats may be used as protection against Direct Contact.

Thirdly: we have reserved the Gin stores for cleaning, in the event. Several Bottles are available on each deck and are marked for Hygiene only. Please refrain from consuming them.

Please bring any Concerns to Captain Crozier and myself.

—Harry D. S. Goodsir
Assistant Surgeon
Surgeon
Assistant Surgeon, HMS Terror and Erebus
[Shaun is bundled up for the outdoors, and he's looking slightly shook.]

So.

Uh.

I found Jonathan Strange.

He's definitely dead. I think I'm going to need some help recovering him. Maybe... only come if you have a strong stomach. He's not in one piece.

[Video ends.]

one

May. 7th, 2020 05:40 pm
kingsroads: (hrrmph)
[personal profile] kingsroads
There is a new door near the ship's cabins. I do not know how it got there, only that there it is. That door leads to an apartment I let in Venice. I know this is no replica, that this is no dream, because of the darkness around the apartment. That darkness is a fairy's curse—one that should have arrived when I did and prevents me from returning home to England. Why would I dream up my own curse?

As none of you are magicians, the darkness should not harm you. If any of you are magicians, that is a fact you should have told me earlier and you should keep away from it.

Do not eat or drink anything you may find in the apartment as any food or drink that remains is most likely poisonous. They are herbal poisons, nothing magical, but please do not give Mister Goodsir work that can be avoided.

As the tuunbaq has not let up in it's kidnapping of new arrivals, I shall be leaving the ship to challenge the fiend within the hour. Likewise, on a personal note, I wish to stop it before it finds a way to torment me further.

[ There's a series of scribbled out words, like Strange was attempting to start a paragraph before giving up on showing some feelings entirely. ]

It cannot

I refuse to let it

If I lose


I will communicate with you as long as possible, though I suspect the chill will soon prevent that from happening. Please do not follow me. I wish to see no one on this ship be hurt.

Jonathan Strange
I thought the winters at Ashecliffe were cold, but they were never "instant frozen limbs" cold. At least it seems we won't get hurricanes out here.

My name is Dr. Lester Sheehan. I'm a psychologist, a doctor of the mind, rather than the body. I know how to treat minor wounds, but anything more than that is probably better left to a professional.

Private to Crozier [Yes, people. You can do private messages!]

I'd like to help keep watch, and I can scrape ice, as needed. I can also assist your doctor in basic things. I was an Army man, a soldier, so I can use a gun if needed.
[Why not try out this journal magic?]

Since this place has seen fit to provide us with an easier method of communicating messages to the entire ship, I thought it best to take advantage. Breakfast is served in the galley. I will not provide food for every meal, but there is fresh bread and I even managed to mix together a rudimentary jam from the dried fruit. The tins contain food that can be heated, but I would warn you against using it more than you need to. We should rely mostly on the dried foods.

[Why? Well, because of reasons that Jopson never really understood but knew were bad.]