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A quick explanation is due for those who are not players of Crucible, those tourists and wanderers who have happened in here to see what lurks about. In the Crucible game, the Storyteller asks his players to write a Journal each month of what the character did, felt, saw, etc., at the last gathering (we have one formal game, or gathering, once a month). These Journals have proven to be wonderful insights into the souls of the characters. Through these Journals the Storyteller and Narrator have got to feel as that character felt; yearn, hate, fear, love, suspect, ponder, laugh... as that character did. We love the Journals. Here ye shall find snippets, excerpts, tiny quotes and even entire works from the in-character Journals turned into the Storyteller every month. On this first page you will find some of the more brief snippets. At the bottom of this page, you will find links to some of the larger passages (or full Journals, in some cases). I shall be editting ever-so-slightly. This will mainly consist of spellchecking, taking out blatant references that would point out exactly who you are, etc. If nothing from your Journal winds up here, don't take it personally; you know how much I procrastinate. Also, some Journals are way cool, but because of writing style or what's being said, I can't edit it enough to disguise the writer and still keep the writing. So, without further yammering from me, here they are... (this part of the page was last updated: 5:55 AM 2/7/03) |
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It's amazing, how much one's perceptions can change in a single night. I have been at once both a fool and a coward, but now I see. I cannot fear death, or refuse to associate with it, because I am no longer who I was as a mortal. I am a monster. I am surrounded by monsters in a thin candy shell of humanity, and they strive to keep themselves from going too far to either extreme, either truly monstrous or wholly human. To be human, to us, means weakness, stupidity, but to be a monster out of control can mean the same. Only between these, where the human sides of us battle for dominance over our monstrous counterparts can we find both power and wisdom. I am listening to a crazy man. I know he's crazy. This is a bad sign. But what he SAID makes sense... So for now I'll listen to the crazy man. He's dangerous, and underestimated, that alone could make him a useful, if risky, ally. I shouldn't have gone, I shouldn't have gone, I shouldn't have gone. All I got were more dead-ends and frustrations, empty smiles and congratulations, lies and embarassment. I shouldn't have gone. I chased him out to the alley at the side of the building and asked him why he was leaving so soon. He stuttered a few words when I noticed movement of his hands. He was pulling out a crossbow with his right hand and a stake with his left. He was a hunter! I had taken two steps back and was about to call out when he must have shot me. I awoke behind the building, only to see that another had also been shot. Everything was a blur; I am not sure now who was even there. All I know is that they finally brought this hunter to the ground and he was barely breathing (I think I also saw someone else with a stake in their chest, as well, but am a little uncertain of it now). I was so angry with the hunter and all the others that, as I felt his barely noticeable pulse in his veins, I took his life! Something animalistic had come through me and I could not stop myself. I am so ashamed of what I had done. I needed to know if there were others, yet now I could not. All right, if I didn't feel the center of attention I do now. They are getting bolder, closer even. So close. I told Luis. As long as Sabrina (sigh....) was at the party he wasn't worried. Sabrina was here tonight. She is so radiant. Just to be one that she loves would be bliss. I would be her daughter if I could. I also met Sebastion her childe. How lucky he is. To have a sire such as herself. The tide of impudence within the city of Crucible swells to unacceptable levels. Repeatedly, I heard those who were merely acknowleged speak ill of their betters, openly and without discretion. O' course, before t'night I thought I'd give almos' anythin' t'hear fear in his voice jus' once. I was wrong, an' I never wanta hear it again. In the event that an unpleasant outside force causes undue influence on a party, it is a host's obligation to ensure that its guests are affected as lightly as possible. This is going along with the historic and traditional duties of the host. People who choose to take it upon themselves to invite another to a gathering of theirs are obligating themselves to look after that person's well-being. The responsibility of being a host ought not to be a light undertaking, as it so often appears to be in this city. What will follow is a protracted period of damage control as we attempt to find and erase the memories of the hunters, certain police, and recover the journal which initially briefed the hunters about the masquerade. I will eat their hearts while they watch. I will have them beaten into torpor with their own severed limbs; then revive them and repeat. I will set them loose, handicapped and bleeding, outside of my domain, where the Lupines will hunt them and destroy them utterly. I will taint their herds with poisons and psychotropic agents so that they go mad with sickness of the body and mind. I will have them encased in concrete and thrown from a boat fifty miles off the coast. I will diablerize their useless Prince, and force them to drink from his blood, so that they all may see the filth they have become. I will cut their bodies open, and allow the wounds to heal over my hands, so that I may vivisect them with my own flesh. That gorgeous tory the tremere brought back was a piece of work. What I wouldn't do to get a piece of that action. Too bad she was so shell shocked she didn't know what she was doing. |
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Now here's the "library", as it were, of longer Journal tidbits (sometimes complete Journals!). The library was last updated: 8:03 AM 10/22/01 |
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