Chapter 19 -- Two Years in an English Suburban Limbo - Birmingham (2031) -- B.E.Z
>> Hand printed via the discipline technique Shadow Script in crisp Gothic lettering, but in the colloquial English of the middle 21st Century. <<
- I am unsure exactly what the date is, though it is definitely Autumn of 2031 C.E.
- Two years in the Pax Britannica, what a laugh, aimless English urban sprawl is more like it. Scotland was supposed to be a new beginning, an opportunity to move forward in my goals as an aspiring Abyss Mystic, instead I have spent the last two years fighting street-battles against the loathsome and tasteless hordes of the English Sabbat. That would not be so bad, save for the fact that my goals have taken third position in a struggle of importance between the obvious, if impotent, goal of defeating the English Sabbat or the supposedly secret, but more likely irrelevant struggle to stop Augustus Giovanni from tearing away the Shroud between the world of the living and the world of the Dead, and thus preventing the inevitable cataclysm that is the end of the world as I know it.
- To posterity I do not wish to offer simply feelings of acerbic frustration, nor do I see a point to indulging in meandering nihilistic remembrances. Rather, I seek to clarify my feelings and thoughts before a metaphorical and thus, literary mirror -- this journal.
- To fairly sum up the last two years is no easy thing, but then, I was never given to a want for lesser challenges. As of two years ago, I had become a known, if negligible quantity within the Camarilla contingent of Scotland. I had joined my fortunes to the Ventrue Archon Brian O'Reilly after he had shared his discovery of Augustus Giovanni's mad plan to rip away the Shroud and rejoin the world of the living to that of the dead. I do not pretend to understand how the master of Clan Giovanni came to the conclusion that he should need or want to destroy the world, when as a member of the Third Generation, it is his for the taking. Equally, I find it hard to believe that such a thing is even possible, but then I am reminded of Lasombra's castle plucked from the crown of Sicily and transported in total to some nameless region of the Abyss, presumably by his diablerist childe Gratiano.
