20 March 1837 - Major Scotty MacBurns

I am afraid that I have not been able to update my pathetic excuse for a diary until now because of all the work that I have had to do as a military major.  Since I am writing in this diary of mine so late, I am recording much from memory, and as such may jumble a few events accordingly.

20 March 1837: The Note

An interesting note arrived for me when I had returned from the day's duties in the form of the crows Tarot card.  The note claimed that they (whomever "they" are, or "I" as they referred to themselves in the note) would be able to allow us to take out our revenge on that son of a gun Gaedren Lamm, who nearly killed me with that east-end "happy drug", opium.  Oh, he will pay!  Apparently, that beast has also wronged whoever sent this note.  I have decided to meet at the designated point a little early tonight, so as to familiarize myself with the meeting room.  I'll see if this person can help myself and these other wronged ones catch that slippery little fish and wring his neck!

The meeting place turned out to be some old, gypsy fortune-teller's abode.  The only other person in the room when I arrived was a gypsy boy who looked to be around 18 years old and relatively simple; possibly the fortune-teller's son... or even the fortune-teller himself!  Neither of the above seemed likely as he seemed unfamiliar with the room himself.  How does this secret host expect us to catch and dispose of a man as slippery as Lamm with nothing more than myself and peasants?!  Ah well, I eventually made introductions and discovered this other gypsy to be of the magic kind, respectable enough and of the name Nastasie Dementiev.  I believe a female doctor entered next.  I made introductions while I settled in with a glass of that wine under the table and a piece of that slightly stale bread.  The doctor goes by the name of Dr. Cross.  Very respectable, seeing as there are few females in the medical business.  That ragtag Lieutenant Forrester entered next (finally another soldier) closely followed by an old chinese man and a little chinese girl (as if we need more incapable fighters to take down Lamm).  These two go by the names Dr. Xian Ming and Mei-Mei Wu-Shi.  Our host appeared to be late at this point, seeing as the last three to enter arrived right on time.  So this was to be the force wronged by Gaedren and assembled to kill Gaedren; an old medicine man, a little girl, a magical gypsy peasant, a medical doctor, and two (if I don't say so myself) elite soldiers.  Seems pretty pathetic if you ask me.  Arriving late, (as seems to be the current fashion) was none other than Lady Wordsworth of Japanese descent.  Great, now we've got a pretty lady who's probably afraid to get a shoe slightly damp to help us; another worthless bag of bones!  Our host finally arrived and described to us her predicament (Lamm slew her son and stole her precious Tarot deck, which she eventually retrieved) and told us she knew where the beast hid.  After a little thought, we all eventually agreed to seek revenge for her and ourselves.  We were pointed towards the Isle of Dogs to seek out that monster.  But, before we began to formulate a plan, our host presented a Tarot reading for us.  The old gypsy did some boring hibbity jibbity and said that some bad stuff and some good stuff would happen.  Ah well, I don't really believe that has much meaning anyway.  Without another word, she was off.  The Lieutenant and Nastasie were off at once without any kind of plan, though I tried to reason with the Lt., he simply rushed of, leaving me to protect the helpless lot.  Arggh!  Sometimes I wonder if that Lt. has any brains in that head of his.  Well, the remaining group and I semi-formulated a plan and headed towards the Isle of Dogs to aid the Lt. and Mr. Dementiev (they seem like trouble if you ask me).

Major Scotty MacBurns

Signing off:

20 March 1837

16 May 1837 - Nastasie Dementiev

The Necromancer has struck again! I do not know who is more foul - he or the Regent. One of Lady Wordsworth's servants came to her begging for aid, as her child had fallen ill. Some of us accompanied Dr Cross to their abode, where an Indian doctor was working on herbal remedies. The poor young girl was unconscious in her bed, with sores covering much of her body. Dr Cross summarily dismissed us all, except the mother, while she examined the patient. After an inordinate amount of time she and the mother emerged with word that it was an unidentifiable disease, and there was little she had been able to do.

A bit timidly, I asked Dr Cross if I might be able to attempt to help. She looked dubious, but agreed to accompany me back in to the patient. Lady Wordsworth immediately began talking to the mother to distract her from our re-entrance to her daughter's room. Looking more closely at the girl, I realized that her sores appeared exactly like the ones on the dead bodies on the Direption. Suspecting magic at work, I dove even further into the corners of my knowledge to remember seeing other adepts heal people. As Dr Cross directed me, I let the energies flow through me and into the child. Never having attempted this before, I was pleasantly surprised to see the child's eyes open and her sores begin to disappear. Even more amazing was the look on Dr Cross' face - as if she had just witnessed something she had never before imagined. The joy on the mother's face was well worth witnessing too.

With the girl awake, she related how she had found a box on the riverbank, filled with coins. She had been spending them throughout the East End. Dr Cross convinced her to trade this box of coins for a greater amount of (untainted) money, and examined them later - they were magically diseased, as we suspected. The Necromancer at work, and presently his magical plague will be spreading throughout the East End, probably providing him with an army of bodies to do his unholy work. And if I remember some of my teachings, he quite possibly could raise those bodies to form a real army, much like the stories from my native Transylvania. We should consult with someone from the church for assistance - I must remember to mention that to Lady Wordsworth.

I performed a Tarot Reading for our assemblage after this. Dark days are still coming, but there are hopes of light in there as well. Immediately after the reading Lady Wordsworth received a request from the head of the Duelling School for assistance. Duelling School - the Black Fox perhaps? I may get to see the beautiful Victoria again! But between the plots on her and this vile Necromancer, we must tread carefully from here on out.

13 May 1837 - Nastasie Dementiev

She is safe, thank the heavens! At least we are pretty sure of it. The execution was set for yesterday. The treacherous Regent had made a public spectacle of it all - the killing of her own daughter. She must know! None of Lady Wordsworth's charms worked on people of import, so it fell on me to improvise at the last moments. Calling upon the furthest inklings of knowledge I have gleaned these past few years, I somehow managed to apport the headsman's axe into hiding, then immediately crafted an illusion that I manipulated to the best of my meagre abilities. He believed he still had the axe in hand. Out of nowhere the Black Fox arrived to save the queen, but I twisted the illusion so that the headsman, and many in the crowd, believed the both the Black Fox and "Trinia" were killed there. Meanwhile the real, and very living, Black Fox spirited off the beautiful Victoria into the mass of London. My companions suspect I did something, but none of them have questioned me about it. They are confused over the multiple images that appeared there, but all of them are relieved that she escaped, and that the future of England is still alive. Where she, and the Black Fox, might be we do not know. What we do know is that our fates our destined to intertwine again.

7 May 1837 - Nastasie Dementiev

Oh, woe are we! I may be out of quarantine and have a new lead on the necromancer, but the soon-to-be queen has been arrested and is to be put to death, unknown to Londoners that she is their Queen! She slipped away somehow, or was spirited away, with an illusion of herself left behind. The Major then informed us that she had been captured. My efforts to mentally contact her were fruitless, as someone had blocked her whereabouts. We must find some way to save her!

But to fill in some back events - Dr Cross released me from quarantine two days past. She reasoned that I had not shown any symptoms yet, and therefore would not be a threat to the populace now. I met my friend Rats, who passed on some information concerning the dumping of bodies in a Jewish cemetery, and those bodies being dragged down into a mausoleum there. Certainly sounds promising! Then, more ominously, he also told me that the footman at Lady Wordsworth's had been talking to the police.

I quickly made my way there, and informed the Lady of this. She and the Lieutenant interrogated the footman, but to no avail. Then we discovered that the queen was gone. Too late had we uncovered the mole within the household! And now to the only task that truly matters in the near term - finding a way to rescue the beautiful damsel in distress before they remove her lovely head. If we don't succeed, all of England is doomed, and I fear for my heart as well.

3 May 1837 - Nastasie Dementiev

At last I can update my journal at a leisurely pace. I have little else to do at the moment, which I will explain for the nonce. But first I will catch up my story from whence I last left off.

I did manage to locate the Lieutenant (diligently searching for the assassin), and coaxed him into accompanying me to Lady Wordsworth's house. He was dubious, but gave me the benefit of the doubt. A reasonable thing for him to do, given all that we have been through together in the last month. He is the one person in our little assemblage I would trust with my life, although Dr Cross has proven herself trustworthy as well. I could tell it was all the Lt could do upon meeting "Trinia" to restrain himself from attacking us all. Once he realised that we were telling him the truth, he quickly bent the knee to the rightful sovereign of the land. Discussions led to her Royal Highness drafting a letter to send to her supporters in the north, which the Lt would post outside of the city (as one of the few who could traverse the boundaries without being searched).

As her Beautifulness, I mean her Royal Highness, left to craft the letter, the rest of our group headed towards the docks, where the Direption was due to arrive. (What a terrible name for a ship - the Direption, a word which means to plunder, despoil or snatch away!) This was the ship upon which the Necromancer was to make his return to London. What arrived was a ghost ship. Failing to slow down or heed any harbour hails (we found this out later), the city watch lit up the night sky with cannon fire, breaking the ship in two and sending it to a watery grave. Before it went down, however, I trod upon the wind to examine the ship, looking for my brother or this foul fiend who had taken him away. All that I found was death - everyone on board had died of some terrible disease, except for one man I found drowned, with what Dr Cross later identified as a medical mask on his face. That, and a coffer of dark wood, within which were ledgers detailing a most horrific crime. All of the passengers on board were listed as "specimens", the ship was deeded to a group called B7, and the owner was R. Davaulis - most likely the necromancer himself. Now we have a name we can research - but still no trace of him.

As a precaution against spreading this disease, Dr Cross has quarantined me in Madame Zellara's old residence, and the Lieutenant, who also went to the ship, has been sent from the city with his mission. How long she will hold me here is unknown - I certainly do not want to pass along any contagion to these already suffering residents of this city. This gives me time to ponder and reflect, and to perfect my art of reading tarot.

30 April 1837 - Nastasie Dementiev

I have met the future queen. Even more emphatically, I have tackled and pinned her to the ground. Under different circumstances here in London I am sure that I would now be dead, but it was all in the cause of saving her life. (Under different circumstances in Romania, we would probably now be wed...) It is rather a shame that she is so high-born as to be above my class, as she is rather appealing to the eye, if extremely haughty. But perhaps I should start from a few days ago...

My search for information on this necromancer continues to unveil clues. I had discovered that he is overseas on a trip to Bavaria, and that his ship is due back to London somewhere around today. This being the best lead we have had on him yet, I gathered my companion group together to tell them about it, and to start making plans on what to do, if any of them would choose to help when the ship arrived. I knew the Lt would, although he was the only one of the group not to appear.

As we were convening a Brigadier come in looking specifically for the Major and "his friends". The rumoured assassin, Trinia, had been spotted at a tenement in the Shingles, and he requested that we extract her before the mobs got there. We were to then hand her over to selected guardsmen if we succeeded. The Major, naturally, accepted the assignment, and we pledged to accompany and assist.

Finding the tenement building was easy - getting past the old Jewish guard-lady was a bit more challenging, but we convinced her to let us in. No one answered at the door of Trinia's flat, so I appealed to the next door person to let us hire his flat for an hour. He was more than eager to take our money, and quickly set himself off to the pub. Opening the window of his flat, I used my ability to walk on air to exit and approach Trinia's place from the outside. Just as I did so, we noticed a female on the opposite building's roof, moving away from us - and I noticed Trinia's window open. Immediately deducing that this might be her attempting to escape, we made pursuit. Due to my wind-walking ability, I was faster than my companions, and reached the fleeing damsel first. By some miracle I successfully grabbed and pinned her to the roof, preventing her escape until the rest could arrive and apprise her of her situation.

Much to our astonishment, this Trinia turned out to be none other than Her Royal Highness Victoria herself! She had taken on the artist image, and a maid in the castle was illusioned to appear as the princess. She was somewhat vague on the why of it all, but it is very suspicious that the Regent would have a bounty out on her daughter's own head. We promised to take her to a safe location, and not to turn her in to the guardsmen. Thus it was back to Lady Wordsworth's with the future queen in tow, using my knowledge of the Shingles to avoid detection on the journey. The Major went off to lead the rest of the guard astray. Now I must go find the Lt, and bring him in to assist. I hope to have him meet his future monarch tomorrow.

And, amidst all of this, we still need to meet the boat when it arrives. Will this craziness never end?

25 April 1837 - Nastasie Dementiev

Chaos, madness, conspiracy, death. What a wonderfully terrible place to call home! I long for the fresh air of the mountains, and the simple "honesty" of the gypsies - so much easier to deal with than this cesspool they call London.

The King is dead. Rumours are that he was poisoned, and did not die of natural causes. Of course, no medical examination of the King has been released to the public to confirm this, although it is widely public knowledge that the King had insulted the Regent several months back. In the newspaper yesterday was a story of a guard at the palace confessing to help a painter by the name of Trinia poison the King. The authorities then allowed him to commit suicide before anyone else could ascertain if he was telling the truth. Something is rotten here, and we are not in Denmark!

The Acadamae has been found. It is in Constantinople, and surrounded by a force screen of some type, so there is no communication with anyone inside it. This still leaves me as one of the few wizards left in the city. And the government knows it, as the Ministry of War summoned me to their aid. Well, attempted aid - they wanted to see if I could mentally contact the Duke of Wellington. In my studies, I never made it to the subjects on mind-to-mind contact - so much more I still need to learn! I believe that my companion Dr. Ming might be able to show me a few pointers down that path. He has attempted to hide his abilities, but I recognize the signs of another adept, no matter what he says.

My sources finally told me that the Necromancer who bought my brother was expelled from the Acadamae, and that he was a surgeon prior to becoming an adept. Not much to go on, but anything is better than nothing. At least I can be confident he is not in Constantinople, which makes the odds of finding him here more likely.

Our band of companions went after Mei Mei's sister at the brothel House of Clouds. This was one of 5 ships at Eel's End, a despicable part of the city, but one which obviously serves a purpose, judging from the number of clients to be seen. On our way there we rescued a noble who had been cornered by some street thugs. The noble had, or course, less than noble reasons for being there, and he went on his way with no more than a word of thanks.

After searching the House of Clouds, we stepped the quest up and confronted the King of Spiders himself, in his lair. The Lt played knifies with a few of the King's henchmen, and won the Lady Wordsworth the right to Mei Mei's sister. The King instead gave her Mei Mei, captured wandering around, and refused to give up our prize. Combat ensued, and my little burst of air took out the King himself, quickly ending the melee. We then discovered that the girl we were after had been taken the previous week by the Red Mantis, a group of Chinese assassins. We departed with Dr. Ming gaining a pet dragon, Lady Wordsworth gaining a pet boy, and all of us gaining more confidence in each other, but precious little closer to either of our missing relatives.