[after a moment of fumbling to private, now that he doesn't have bruno's autoencrypt to do it for him--]
Bear in mind this is through what meager notes I've read.
My previous self was an archaeologist. During a trip to Algeria, my colleague, Herbert, led our expedition to a temple long buried underground. Inside of it was a fantastic artifact of immense power and mystery. I was unfortunate enough to be the one to discover it. I was caught in a cave-in, and it saved my life, though even now I know not how.
But it also doomed me.
What I did not know at the time was that this artifact, the Orb, came with a guardian. Some things are not meant for simple men, and judge our worthiness by devouring those too weak to deserve them. I was from that day forward a hunted man, pursued restlessly by the Orb's protector: the Shadow. It cut a swathe of destruction straight through to me, even as I was sent back to London to recover after my ordeal. Herbert and his men was never seen again. Men I had met only the day before were found dead, their skin flayed, their skulls cut through the middle.
[there's a marked hesitation here, he's unsure how much he wants to say about Castle Brennenburg, about Alexander. but no, it's too risky. too much of a lie to pretend he's not complicit. best to gloss over it. (also of note, the sudden disassociation.)]
He found he could not run forever. He had seen too much to even run anymore, and chose to forget. This was in a sense both my birth, and the beginning of my death. I tried to escape as best I could, finding out the sordid tale secondhand from my scattered diaries. But the Shadow is unstoppable, insatiable. My entrance to the City was my revival after the Shadow took what it considered its due.
And yet, it pursues me still. Even here, years and dimensions away.
private I AM SO SORRY FOR THE CANONSPAM :(
Bear in mind this is through what meager notes I've read.
My previous self was an archaeologist. During a trip to Algeria, my colleague, Herbert, led our expedition to a temple long buried underground. Inside of it was a fantastic artifact of immense power and mystery. I was unfortunate enough to be the one to discover it. I was caught in a cave-in, and it saved my life, though even now I know not how.
But it also doomed me.
What I did not know at the time was that this artifact, the Orb, came with a guardian. Some things are not meant for simple men, and judge our worthiness by devouring those too weak to deserve them. I was from that day forward a hunted man, pursued restlessly by the Orb's protector: the Shadow. It cut a swathe of destruction straight through to me, even as I was sent back to London to recover after my ordeal. Herbert and his men was never seen again. Men I had met only the day before were found dead, their skin flayed, their skulls cut through the middle.
[there's a marked hesitation here, he's unsure how much he wants to say about Castle Brennenburg, about Alexander. but no, it's too risky. too much of a lie to pretend he's not complicit. best to gloss over it. (also of note, the sudden disassociation.)]
He found he could not run forever. He had seen too much to even run anymore, and chose to forget. This was in a sense both my birth, and the beginning of my death. I tried to escape as best I could, finding out the sordid tale secondhand from my scattered diaries. But the Shadow is unstoppable, insatiable. My entrance to the City was my revival after the Shadow took what it considered its due.
And yet, it pursues me still. Even here, years and dimensions away.