Author Topic: The Professeur's Journal - Lucille de Larose (Read 6189 times)

Paragonville · « **on:** May 05, 2013, 10:44:14 AM »

"Dream, Lucille. Dream for better times not yet come."

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ENTRY I

I can not decipher just how long I was set like a ship without a sail, adrift upon the sea known as the Land of Nightmares. From what I have heard, I had it easy in my time there, but the complete illogical events I bore witness to still toll heavily upon me. My thanks goes out, however, to the Nightmare, for opening my eyes to the unknown. To the Hidden World.

Objects do not simply cease existing. It is my belief that beyond our own, there are parallel worlds similar to our own. The fabric that seperates these worlds has been torn within the Land of Nightmares, leading me to believe that whatever disappears, simply appears on another world. Existence to non-existence is impossible, and makes no sense. It goes against all of the teachings of the University.

All this aside, I found myself in Barovia. With the assistance of good friend Schala, I have found my way home to Dementlieu. I can continue classes, now.

Paragonville · « **Reply #1 on:** May 06, 2013, 11:31:47 AM »

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Paragonville · « **Reply #2 on:** May 07, 2013, 01:16:46 AM »

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Paragonville · « **Reply #3 on:** May 07, 2013, 12:04:19 PM »

Mother and father have divorced. Father did not find comfort in my mother, and sought it with another. I had been gone for so long. Now? The only thing left is me. I wish things were diff

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DIRTY ROKUMESE WHORE.

Paragonville · « **Reply #4 on:** May 07, 2013, 11:26:16 PM »

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Paragonville · « **Reply #5 on:** May 08, 2013, 12:20:57 PM »

Test Log

Subject: Emily Corvus
Persona: Shy (Possible act, dream clashes with persona)
Action: Dream Survey

Dream:

Quote from: ladylena on April 27, 2013, 03:44:44 PM

Her bare feet stepped lightly over the boards that made the deck of her ship, her dress flowed behind her as she moved, despite there being no wind. The full moon was reflected on the perfectly still ocean waters, the stars shining brightly. Serene, peaceful. It didn't last. As she stepped towards the bow of the ship, lightening struck the water, dark black clouds quickly covered the moon, thunder roared as she continued to make her way to the bow. It was dark now, she could hardly see, yet there was a light, an eerie blue light guiding her towards the bow. Step after step she walked, never seeming any closer. Another bolt of lightening struck near the ship, oddly there was no wind.

At last, she made it towards that eerie blue light, only to be greeted by an horrid, furious, tormented scream. She looked around for the source. Was it Marco screaming at her? Was it her father? She couldn't tell. When the scream ended, it was her turn to cry out in terror. Yet, she found she had no voice. She looked down at her feet, her legs, her torso, her arms.. They were rotting, decaying. Flesh was falling from her bones. Oh it hurt! She tried to scream again, but no sound came. She could only watch in horror as the flesh fell from her bones. She stood there, a skeletal figure, as another of those wretched screams erupted. She watched in horror as a shadowy figure of a man stepped out from the blue light and pointed at her. She looked over herself once again to discover that her bones were turning to ash. Soon she was nothing but a pile of dust on the deck of her ship. The storm cleared, the moon once again shone overhead, the stars glistened in the sky as the shadowy figure continued to point at her.

Another scream from him, the ship started to sink into the water, the pile of dust that was her mixing with the ever still ocean water. Peace? She thought. No there would be no peace for her. She could feel the water filling her lungs, taking away her air, icy cold hands gripped at her feet, pulling her deeper into the ocean. Pulling her down to the very floor of the ocean. She couldn't breathe. Every gasp for air filled her lungs with salty water. Drowning. She was pulled beneath the sand, tossed against a wall. Where was she? She heard a voice, it called itself Davy Jones. She found herself curled up in the Locker, coughing, spewing up salt water and blood. Why was there blood? The voice called her out on the Mutiny she had committed. On the murder of her father, on the murder of Myra. In the back of her mind she could hear two overlapping voices screaming and laughing. She found herself praying to her King to be saved from this hell. No response came, just more screaming as the man called Davy Jones stepped closer and closer to her, cutlass in his hand. She couldn't move, paralyzed in fear, terrified of what he was going to do to her. He raised the cutlass to her neck and...

Paragonville · « **Reply #6 on:** May 08, 2013, 10:55:54 PM »

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Paragonville · « **Reply #7 on:** May 09, 2013, 07:28:56 AM »

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Paragonville · « **Reply #8 on:** May 10, 2013, 12:59:02 AM »

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Paragonville · « **Reply #9 on:** May 12, 2013, 12:08:46 AM »

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Paragonville · « **Reply #10 on:** May 15, 2013, 01:38:41 AM »

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Paragonville · « **Reply #11 on:** May 20, 2013, 10:52:30 AM »

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Paragonville · « **Reply #12 on:** June 25, 2013, 01:30:20 AM »

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Paragonville · « **Reply #13 on:** July 04, 2013, 10:20:23 PM »

Life went to hell.

So to hell with it.

Fired from House Moreau is like being let free from an insane asylum.

It's nice to not feel the chains on my wrists.

Or the coffee on my face.

Paragonville · « **Reply #14 on:** July 06, 2013, 12:05:24 AM »

Well, there's that. The Port's gone down the drain, and here I am looking at the remains. There's nothing left for me, not a drop. It all went down the drain. So, here I am asking myself: "Why? Why did it go so very wrong?" That's when I realized that if there's anyone to blame, it's everyone. Myself included. I can't punish them. That's not my place. I can punish myself, though. I'll start with this bottle of cheap whiskey from Paridon. Sourange bourbon next. If I'm not passed out or dead? We'll see what happens.

Only an idiot can believe in justice. There is no justice.

No justice for Althea.

Cheers, Althea. I'll miss you. More than you likely know.

Paragonville · « **Reply #15 on:** July 09, 2013, 09:58:05 AM »

Paragonville · « **Reply #16 on:** June 08, 2014, 08:59:11 PM »

The Society of Helping Hands

The Society of Helping Hands, or as they'd be called now, the Cult of Xannath.

What is Xannath? This writhing sea serpent in the Baie de Pernault, whom feeds of nobles too stupid. Throwing themselves at the prospect of making a name for themselves in some humanitarian organization. Sheep to the slaughter. It is time to do as I do best, and that is to dig for information. We'll start in the libraries.

-Contact this woman, Solange de Sauvre. It seems she shares an interest in this cult as well.-

Paragonville · « **Reply #17 on:** June 10, 2014, 08:41:16 AM »

Ga�tan Langlais

Providing a possible lead in regards to the origins of this story of his. Its connection to the cult is clear.

Paragonville · « **Reply #18 on:** June 12, 2014, 12:06:03 PM »

Marquis LeMarc

Their gall is shocking. The spread of this cult will only grow as the notion that this "Society of Helping Hands" is a new, fashionable trend. Someone in the government must see something is brewing by now. But then again, perhaps they too are ignorant. Something must be done, and soon, or the state of the Republic may fall into the grasping tendrils of this watery menace.

I intend to make a copy of these last pages of my journal.

To whoever reads this, and should I fail, know that the Society of Helping Hands is no "club". Nor humanitarian society. It is a cult, that uses mind magic to control its followers by the whims of something in the sea. I know, it sounds foolish. But should they not be stopped, all is lost.

Paragonville · « **Reply #19 on:** June 15, 2014, 06:11:53 PM »

[youtube=425,350]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q3Kvu6Kgp88[/youtube]

Non, je ne regrette rien

Paragonville · « **Reply #20 on:** June 15, 2014, 10:18:21 PM »

Upon looking into the archives of the Universite de Dementlieu, where a great deal of arcane knowledge is kept, I noticed something quite peculiar.
Of all the varieties of magic, mind magic and psionics were the least documented on. Psionics weren't even present. All I found were simple spells. Should I be surpised?

Likely not.

I know there are workings in my homeland, and people who would do anything to make sure their ability to control would not be countered.
Unfortunately, this may be leading me towards what I hope it wouldn't.

Paragonville · « **Reply #21 on:** June 23, 2014, 08:53:54 AM »

Aboleth

The creatures' species has a name. And soon, we sail to destroy it. Will we survive the ordeal? I'd like to think so. I'd like to hope so.

Being lauded a hero is a fond concept, but an even fonder concept is dulling the pain after Xannath's mental assault on my mind. I am happy I resisted. Of course, those of weaker will in our group submitted, and we were forced to subdue them.

I need a glass of absinthe and a long nap.

Paragonville · « **Reply #22 on:** July 02, 2014, 03:50:07 PM »

[youtube=425,350]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uV5Sd9QZwwM[/youtube]

In these times of trouble, I have come to but one conclusion as to the nature of the world.

That there are forces beyond mortal comprehension, whose intents step over those of gods. Timeless minds seeing foes not in men, governments, or civilization itself. But in time itself, the only comparable concept one might place upon something which can not truly die.

We have spat upon the faces of beings beyond us all, and invite their pitiless eyes upon the denizens of this world. Eyes who see only the right to control, minds so advanced that we appear lesser than the cockroach in the cellar.

What have we done, and what can we hope to do?

Is existence in the face of the inevitable meaningless? Or should men seek to elevate themselves to the status of those beyond, so that we might find meaning?

Paragonville · « **Reply #23 on:** July 05, 2014, 10:01:43 PM »

I have stared into the abyss.

What I saw, I shall never forget, nor will I ever recover. I have seen a place where the laws do not apply. Where beings so horrible, so malevolent, writhe and teem in chaos.

What I saw was the end. Inevitability.

I know what I must do, but how to do so is beyond me.

But -they- might have what I need.

Paragonville · « **Reply #24 on:** July 29, 2014, 04:45:35 PM »

[youtube=425,350]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mEXAW4VQqr8[/youtube]

Imagine a world without needless pain. A world without war, without famine. A world where men and women are equals. Race, creed, philosophy no longer matter.

These differences are what partition us away from each other, these feeble self imposed views of what is normal. Creations of the curse we call individuality.

Men are incapable of ruling themselves, thinking for themselves. Feeling for themselves.

To rise above the inevitable, we must become one. Hand me your chains, and I shall hand you your freedom.

If only it were that simple.