Author Topic: Memoirs of a Revolutionist  (Read 283 times)

Baldry

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Memoirs of a Revolutionist
« on: October 23, 2018, 01:15:32 PM »
Perhaps revolution is harder than originally thought. My time skulking around in dark alleys and only encountering fair fights had not prepared me for what I encountered in that rebellious crowd.

The day had started out as hoped, a grand crowd gathered to protest against Lord Weston and his unfathomable inability to negotiate basic worker rights, I can’t help but say it was a somewhat… merry time. I believe the communal spirit that had brought the people together had somewhat alleviated, at least for those with no vested interest other than general outrage, a lot of the tension on our side of the line. I know I for one got caught up in the warm food and seeing familiar faces. Most shockingly of all was the appearance of Mr. Mole. While I don’t for a moment believe his motives there were noble it was nice to see the criminal elements tuning in and taking an interest. I truly felt hopeful that this would be the moment to make a difference. Hah. I can’t believe I’m still so naive. No it would seem that if we are truly to rise up and take what the people deserve then we must act with purpose and planning. Alas hindsight is a cruel mistress and I can’t help think if what had followed had not happened then I would still be a silly boy with no plan besides hope.

As the day progressed the mood notably shifted, those who had been bantering but a minute before were now barking at the bastards beyond our reach. I heard a noise I had not quite heard for a time and knew then that a mounted division was making their way to our location. It seemed though I was not the only one to recognise this sound and anarchist agents and criminals alike began to reveal their arms, bloodshed was but minutes away. I was lost to tell the truth. The lack of organization on our side was just too apparent, we had numbers sure but the city guard were trained to deal with this sort of thing. Smart moves taken by many there but we had little chance without a plan.
 
At this point the mounted guard reared it’s ugly head. It was odd to see them here after so long. I briefly began to miss home but in my reminiscence they took place and began towards us. I don’t know what came over me but I feel great shame at my response. As they were making their way to us I was stricken with such a fear that I could not even withdraw my weapon. Be it the fleeting thought of my past life or the truly mighty fear those beasts can inspire in man I know not but I know I was more afraid than I had been in a long time. Thankfully those around me were not. I heard the first shot on our side ring out from the rooftops, I took a quick glance to where I believed it came from and saw a familiar outline but in the panic I could not say who or what it was. Thankfully they were a crack shot and first of mounted line fell. Twas here that chaos fell and both sides erupted in smoke, blood and death. I would entail more of the events but I know my mind was not focused on the matter at hand, just a scared little boy in over his head.

I saw Mr. Mole get struck by a bullet and went over to lend a quick hand, at this point feeling I’d be more helpful away from the fray but it would seem the fray was not done with me. Fate it would seem had conspired to strike a bullet through my chest and lung. Struck so quickly and cleanly I must say it’s quite an odd experience. You’d expect to hear it pass through, feel it as it rips through sinew, skin and soul but the first thing you feel is the hole on the other side. Then the blood as it begins to flow out of you, watching your life slip between your fingers you go to breath and find it is harder than anything you have done that day or any other. I had been involved in enough medical procedures to know I was going to die there. Another failed anarchist. I just remember screaming. Calling out to any of the faces I knew, I did not want to die. And evidently I did not. A doctor, I recognised from somewhere but had no time to think on what with the dying, came to my aid and helped me down an alley I believe I saw one Mr. Mole going down as well though I will not lie my recollection of this time grows hazey. I will return to this days entry later once I have had proper rest but I will note what I have learned from this experience:

- The revolution will not come without proper organization and planning
- That cowardice has no place on the battlefield and my resolve to end this bastard regime must strengthen.
- Being shot hurts and I should invest in better armour.

Plushiecompanioncube

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Re: Memoirs of a Revolutionist
« Reply #1 on: October 25, 2018, 05:08:12 PM »
Wahoo! These nutjobs are all about planning a revolution. Damn hard to do with the jays in golden epaulettes running around. You need to grow a bigger pair of cahonies though my friend. Ain't about your drokking armour but how you take it. Melodramatic stromm. Here I was beginning to like you too. Nevermind.

Baldry

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Re: Memoirs of a Revolutionist
« Reply #2 on: November 20, 2018, 06:36:23 PM »
Saturday 22nd August 2105

Nothing heals more than good rest, tis a shame that the revolution never rests.

Thinking back on the events of yesterday I am, miraculously, filled with more hope than dread. After being carried through the streets by some of the ever generous Mr. Moles’ men, the exact route I could never tell even if my life depended on it, I believe we passed through some of the city gates. God knows what miracle allowed us all safe passage but let us not be grateful for tiny miracles. I believe by now dark clouds had made their presence known, clearing the streets of innocent blood, but no ill omen were they for this eve’. No it seems we were fated to arrive at a local pub acting as a makeshift hospital for those who had been involved in the skirmish. I wish I had known of these people in a greater capacity prior to the events of yesterday but our paths have still crossed and it would seem we can still be of great help to each other.

During this time a lady, whose name I sadly did not catch in, came to my attention and put me under. Though my account of all that has happened since bullet ripping flesh has omitted my pain and phobia I must say as she came for me in that house of hope and sin with but a rag and unheard reassurances I may have acted against my best wishes. It didn’t help that there was some grim spectre of death watching from the corner but that may have been the delirium that comes with blood loss and chloroform. Thankfully I was too weak to hurt anyone or even myself and I awoke sometime later in a lady of the nights work place.

It would seem the place we had been brought to was Pinkie Browns located at the corner in St. Cornelius, a notably commendable area by all accounts. A place that has managed to put aside petty gang differences and has managed to come together as a community under one Alexander Cohan, a marvelous fellow who had shockingly heard of me though I could sadly not extend that same favour to him. I know for a fact I will be glossing over the many interpersonal issues and notable figures that were also there solely for the fact I was under quite some duress. I was pointed in the direction of Cohan by a wonderful fellow by the name of Richard Loveridge. A fellow brother to the cause who had been caught up in the maelstrom of revolution and had been driven here with the rest of us, quite an interesting fellow. I doubt I’d be able to pick him out of a crowd but his eyes have stuck with me, as if I had seen them before. Quite peculiar though I will not doubt his dedication to the cause and for now that is my focus.

Later in the evening I met with Cohan. He seemed more excited to talk with me than I him but we sadly only had time for a brief chat informing me that he was looking for people such as myself to take a “visit” to the Institute of Psychological Studies. A horrible place by all accounts but recently abandoned during whatever macabre experiments they have been conducting. He said he would be sending for us in the coming days. I had wished to talk to him more but the night had progressed further than I would’ve liked whilst I recovered. I stuck around a little longer and enjoyed the communal celebration whilst it lasted (Though made sure to not be too cruel to my still recovering body.) I departed around one having spent the evening in conversation with a delightfully proud fellow by the name of Titch and Richard.

It is now the afternoon of the day after and I find it remarkable I managed to make the prior days account at the time I did. Waking today I found myself in immense pain, obviously, and quickly got about my day so that it could end all the quicker. I made my way to the closet apothecary and indulged myself in some of the finer pain medication. The wonders of modern medicine are endless and shortly after popping one of these fine, fine pills I felt a bit closer to my true self. (I honestly feel I could be shot 12 times over and that the bullets would simply float through my body causing me no harm but I know I would be a fool to test such a theory.) I also made sure to procure some new armour in case I felt like getting shot at again.
Once feeling more myself I sent a courier to Cohan informing him that I would be taking as much rest as I needed before I could lend a hand next and then set about gathering some information on the inhabitants of St. Cornelius. Alas I learned nothing of great import and only gathered information on some of the gangs that I have kept in my personal log. Interestingly it seems that Cohan has only made himself a gang leader to actually earn respect among the other gangs. An understandable move and a respectable one, to embroil ones self truly in the criminal element can certainly bring danger but to reach lofty heights we wish to soar from... well it feels there is no way to get there without a little danger. When I had returned I received a knock on my door from a courier and a handwritten note from Cohan himself imploring me to visit the haberdashery at noon. He is persistent and I would be remiss to decline. As long as my body is able and willing it will perform its duties to the cause. Sunday will have to be a great day of rest and I hope I am up to any task set before us.

Monday 24th August 2105
I awoke at nine allowing myself a bit more rest than I am accustomed to on weekdays and set about preparing to travel down to Cohan’s haberdashery. Once there I was met with some faces I recognised from the prior night and brother Richard, it seems I was right to believe in his dedication to the cause. The only other face I truly knew was that of Mr. Moles. Honestly I was surprised to see the mans conviction to the cause but he was on the picket line same as me, perhaps I should stop doubting peoples motives towards our common goal. The strife that afflicts us afflicts us all equally and it is no true surprise to see men from all walks of life gravitate towards the freedom that all men are due in this life and the next. Four more people were there and I had the faintest sense of recognition towards them all, it seems they had all been at the picket line and Cohan had banded us all together for the task at hand. One stuck out to me in particular though. The doctor, Magnus, reminded me of someone from my past life. From before my families untimely demise. I can’t quite get rid of the feeling that I know this person for some reason but that reason is a secret to me and we cannot afford to distrust each other for vague hunches. As long as their dedication to the cause is strong then I mind not. The other three, Mouse, Karl and October, are a likable sort though I have not had much interaction with them they seem like they can handle themselves. I can’t help but feel sorry for October, so young and forced into this life. We truly live in a cruel world.


After a shortwhile Arthur bounded in with a palpable excitability for our tasks at hand. It is truly good to see a man with such vigour to the cause. He continues to move me with but the slightest of actions, a great man and one I am happy to face our monolithic foe with. He informed us all on the institute of psychological studies. Rumours of a weaponised gas and young folk being taken for experiments were our intel. They had gathered but one name, a Davy Morton, an orderly, who had been involved in the barbaric acts we were to be privy to the aftermath of.
We decided it best to split the group to gather whatever information before we delved into that house of sin. Myself, Mr Mole and Mouse made our way to Davy to see what information we could gather. Richard, ever wanting to take the cause to its most extreme, had offered up the idea of torture and we decided it best that his eyes were focused on where we must go then offering up his fact finding fists.
We found Davy at the Red Lion pub and after almost losing him to an ill played gamble we convinced him to give up some information though it would seem he was more reluctant to give the information for our sake. The man seemed genuinely terrified of what he saw and considering what we saw later I’m surprised the man was even coherent. Alas Davy knew little as it would seem the experiments raison d'etre was kept secret even from most that worked there! He let us know that the experiments had lasted two weeks and that their was six subjects. There was no way for them to know the time where they were, no windows or time pieces available in there. Davy seemed under the impression that the gas was used in an attempt to make some kind of super soldier though what the time has to do with that leads to more questions than answers. The main thing we learned from Davy was that we should not go there if we valued our sanity and safety. I wonder now, having seen what we saw, if I would’ve listened to him.

We made our way to the institute with what little knowledge we had accrued and found the rest of our motley crew. They had had similar luck and found only one way in and of that charnel house. Though not the busiest of areas we thought it best that Richard put on a bit of a show to distract as young October picked the lock. What a crew! From pickpockets and performers to professors and professional killers! We are a beautiful microcosm of mans absurdity and need to be free, to allow people to live the lives they wish un-oppressed! Oh I do wish to see the day that good friend Richard can perform to his hearts content and the youth like October do that need to learn from the streets.
I was thinking on this just before October was attacked by one of the subjects. We had made our way into the beasts lair and found but darkness. We had little light between us and made our way down, coming to a seemingly empty corridor proceeded and then in an instant it was on October. Myself and Mr. Mole had been covering the rear so the undeniable horror of it all afflicted us little but upon further inspection…Well I see little reason to record the extent that man had been warped here, suffice it to say that Davy was right. The subjec That persons visage will haunt me until my final days.
October had been quite critically bitten but it would seem there is an advantage to having a doctor on hand at all times. After Mouse quickly dispatched with the Magnus moved to deal with the wound. No one had moved to deal with the fire that had been caused by a broken kerosene lamp but it would deal with itself once it had nothing to burn. After this Mouse seemingly took charge, seeming to have to most military experience I have no doubt the rest of the party were happy with this and we proceeded on. We continued on through relatively unscathed offering mercy killings to all those poor souls who had been broken, twisted and abandoned by those who were meant to protect us. We  found one of doctors dead by their own hand, eyes removed. According to some files we found there the subjects had actually removed his own eyes and then left the pen there as a means for him to end it himself. I honestly do not wish to dwell on this place no longer than I have to.

We left the lab with a body, some gas and plenty of files. Once returned to Arthurs myself and the Doctor proceeded to cut open the body and perform an autopsy. It was as fascinating as it was appalling . It appeared the z-gas had destroyed the organs of the man but had kept the brain alive! A truly revolutionary scientific achievement I’m sure considering the speed and focus the people we deal with moved at. This sadly raises too many questions. Davy may be right, these men may just be getting destroyed as a new form of unstoppable killing machine but they aren’t all that unstoppable. Is it possible whoever is behind this wishes for the brain to be the only functioning organ in an attempt to control people without needing to care for them? A new slave class of non-functioning humans?! I hope whatever it is we can stop it.

When we had arrived earlier we had advised Cohan to send Mayer to see if there was anything we had missed, after the autopsy, around 5, I saw a frantic Mayer return desperately seeking Cohan. It would seem something was amiss. He quickly asked if I had any means of getting in contact with the rest of my crew and this put me on edge. When I probed he was reluctant and went seeking Cohan, understandable as it may be I was still concerned. Four hours passed before most of the crew returned but it was thankfully not too late. Notably Richard was absent as he was seemingly nowhere. When Mayer and his gang had got to the institute it seemed that another gang had gone there to destroy what remaining evidence there was. They had tracked them to the Marquis de Granby in one of the finer areas of town. We had to act fast, utilising Cohan’s haberdashery we quickly threw together some disguises and proceeded in a hansom to the aforementioned pub. Mouse had chosen their own route though and while I did not see them for the rest of the night it would seem their gambit very nearly paid off.

We had but one potential name this time; Harcroft. Thankfully it was all we needed. Myself, Magnus and Mr. Mole proceeded into the pub as Karl valiantly stood watch. Making contact with Mayer’s men we quickly saw the four who had been at the institute. Oh what finery Harcroft wore! It has been awhile since I saw good clothes and I couldn’t help being somewhat jealous but thankfully Cohans clothes did the trick and we did not seem out of place. Ruminating on it now I can not but think we are truly blessed in some way. The pure luck I have personally encountered is truly bizzare (I was shot and yet live after all!). We had waited for the man we believed to be Harcroft to abscond to the toilet and once he had me and Mr Mole made our move. Hoping that the drink had allowed him to take leave of his senses we had hoped to make a show of being his old friend and get in with him and his cronies. We very nearly lost him. It would seem that while Mr. Moles social graces are suited for discouraged men my years of pissing about with these types must have given me a more believable air, that or I just looked the part. Lord knows but it worked! Harcroft seemed like he wanted to believe he knew me and led me to his table and his compatriots.

He introduced me to his friends Robert Foster, Andy Boothroyd and Callum. Whilst Callum was quite an attractive chap I was receiving a lot of… welcome attention from young Foster and certainly look forward to seeing him again. They said they had been working for Smedlington house and that if I wished to find them again to find them there. Not much could I get from them though as the night was late at that point, I bid them adieu and met up with my compatriots before departing to the St. George. Once there mouse informed us that he has met up with Richard and sent him off to follow the hansom! It is joyous to see friend Mouse taking the initiative and seeking out lost members to make sure they are fully utilised! I personally went of to Cohans just to make them aware as soon as humanly possible, though the hour was late my affiliation and information got me in, not with with Cohan himself but a good man by the name of Joseph who passed on my information. Once leaving I bumped into Richard dressed head to toe in some of the finest clothes I had seen all day. For all I knew he had been with us all night dressed like that! Truly dedicated is this man, I have a lot to learn from him.

Baldry

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Re: Memoirs of a Revolutionist
« Reply #3 on: January 08, 2019, 06:02:23 PM »
Friday 26th of August 2105
I have not been diligent in my recording of these past days as I have found myself enamoured with the young Robert Foster. He has truly captured my heart these past days and I am to meet with him tomorrow. Thankfully this has not fully distracted me from my duties and this has infact allowed us an oppurtunity that my cohorts have taken advantage of tonight but I am getting ahead of myself.

On Wednesday I ventured onto Cohan’s haberdashery to see if he had gathered any more information to assist us with our activities but alas it was for naught as he could tell me more than we already knew at this time. Good man Cohan did ask me to assist him with teaching in the local area and to help develop a curriculum for local children. I am incredibly flattered by this offer and look forward to finding the time to actually work on a new curriculum but for the time being I will have to settle for reusing some of my previous works. During this time Mouse came by and appeared to engage in some odd jobs. We briefly spoke and he is a delightful if somewhat morose fellow although I can not say he is the most appealing to look at but who am I to judge.

Shortly after we all gathered at the St. George inn and began planning. With the information we gathered we decided it would be best if myself and Richard made our way to Smedlington house and gathered some information about the local area and to see how accessible the homestead would be for some of our more… criminal activities. We planned to use some of Cohans fine clothes (which I must say are simply exquisite, I may have to commission something when finances permit) and we took advantage of the fact the haberdashery actually delivered to the area.

We set off later that day proceeded through quite undisturbed, I am somewhat worried that using this tactic might eventually lead them back to Cohan but for now it is the best we have. Myself and Richard departed from the delivery driver at a nearby park and arranged to meet him later on. We quickly changed into our disguises and proceed. I was to play the part of Richards manservant and good friend Richard was a foreign lord looking into purchasing a local home. Approaching the house it would seem to the uninitiated, such as myself, to be quite a daunting task. The homes were back to back in a sense with the walls which were close to eight foot high. I honestly found it a disgusting waste of space. All the homes in this area had enough unused space to provide ample room for many that find themselves without homes, a truly appalling display of wealth!
Moving closer to Smedlington house I noticed their fascinating coat of arms, a flaming badger, alas I am no where nearly well enough versed in heraldry to understand what the Smedlingtons were trying to achieve but it did seem that they had plastered it over the previous coat of arms, it may be worth looking into the previous owners but that was work for another time. Walking through this area I saw a sight I had not seen in quite awhile, actual policemen patrolling the streets! A clearly pointless and symbolic gesture to be sure but another clear waste, what petty crimes could potentially happen here are nothing compared to what goes on beyond this areas walls. The Smedlingtons gates were opened and I suggested that we venture in under the guise of the lost and seeking direction, taking only a few steps onto their property a fine fellow from their guard house appeared and approached but with no malice or concern. We briefly chatted and I learned that while they are new money, they seem to be seeking some form of legitimacy, it would seem that money does not simply buy the respect they seek and to even mention them being new money would bring their disdain. Richard played the impudent lord masterfully and we departed with little attention. Before leaving I decided it might be nice to treat ourselves and we went for a lovely meal, I feel it is necessary to take time in ones day to truly enjoy one of the fine things the world has to offer, so that we can remember what we fight for. Whilst there Richard invited me to the fighting pits the day after to watch him engage in the pugilistic arts. We returned to the St. Georges inn later on and told our brothers what we had learned.

Waking Thursday I cannot say I was not somewhat excited to meet with young Robert but I never expected to become as enamored with him as I have, he has now come to permeate my mind and rests there as an ever ethereal concept. Both so close to what we seek and, hopefully, potentially, close to me. I do not wish him to come to any harm and yet I fear the path I walk will lead him away from me and yet there is nothing that will draw me from my cause. If only so I can hope to save souls like Roberts from ever living these dreadful lives we are all forced to suffer with. Oh poor sweet Robert I do fear what will happen to you in coming days.
I proceeded with my day as planned, meeting up with my brothers in arms and we attempted to formulate a plan. Sadly not many options presented themselves at the time and I began to feel quite concerned about our fledgling rebellion and its chances of success. We came up with the idea to attempt to get one or more of us a job at the Smedlington house, I would broach the topic with Robert and see if there was anything available for someone with Octobers skill set. Alas nothing more developed from our meeting so we went our separate ways. I proceeded over to Cohans to see if he had gathered any more information that might help us but he had nothing new.
Disheartened I made may way to the address Richard had provided and looked forward to watching Richard show off his fighting chops. I had no doubt he could punch having heard the story of him flooring a horse in one single punch but I looked forward to seeing him against another person. We met briefly before proceeding inside and we conspired to bet on him to win, a thing I was already planning to do, and split the profit. The interior was not too busy but I imagine Thursday afternoon is not particularly prime time for its usual crowd. I made the bet and seated myself and prepared for Richards work. A magnificent display to be sure! The mighty brute, though bigger in stature, stood no chance against Richard. I did not expect him to be so quick and yet he ducked and weaved around every herculean blow his opposition threw at him, biding his time, before delivering a perfect blow to the louts head, felling him in one, it was a magnificent sight to behold.

After we had met up again and split the winnings we proceeded with the plan for the evening. I was meeting Robert and Richard was to watch and follow him back to wherever it is he might stay and potentially extract him if he potentially knew something he wouldn’t share. We went via Richards accommodation so that he could grab a change of clothes to blend in and so that we had a way of contacting him in case others means failed. From there we made our way to the Marquis de Granbe for my rendezvous, I felt almost as nervous as I did that fateful day I was shot, young Robert had bewitched with the most enchanting spell, at times I wish he had not.
We had a beautiful time despite my mission, slight touches of one another, shared glimpses that say everything you both want to but can’t where you are. I am most glad Richard is accepting of this, it is a shame people such as myself and Robert are still subject to judgement. I look forward to the day all people can be free to express themselves how they want.
I broached the topic of work for October and this seemed to make Robert quite apprehensive but I reassured him I was simply concerned for my friend and wished purely to help but that I had not come with ulterior motives. We began to talk about his work and he told me what positions his colleagues held, it seemed my buddy Harcroft was the gentleman’s gentleman for the Smedlingtons and that they all lived in the house, so much for Richard following him home I remember thinking at the time. It was towards the end of our evening when Robert gave me an in. He revealed that tomorrow night he would be free as the Smedlingtons would be making there way to a fight near the Docks of Wapping, most of the staff would have the evening off and he would like to meet up. It was the perfect opportunity, I could have kissed him there and then. I would send for the rest of our group first thing in the morning and arrange for us to meet and plan our break-in!
After a tender goodbye with sweet Robert I stopped RIchard and informed of what I learned, we would regroup with the others tomorrow. I did genuinely feel bad leading Robert on and exploiting him like this but now I know what I plan to do I feel even worse but there must be necessary sacrifices at times and if he gets in the way of the revolution then I will dearly miss him and carry his memory with me always.

Now I find myself at the end of Friday and uncertain of what will happen in the coming days though I am uncertain it will not be good. I rose early today and as quickly as I could sent for all my compatriots to join me at the George as soon as they could, while some took their time getting to me they eventually all trickled in. I informed them of what I knew in the rather quiet George and implored them that we had to act now rather than waiting for another opportunity, we had to be people of action. The people agreed and we decided it was best to send Richard and Mouse into the house with Mr. Mole prepared to collect them at a prearranged location. Meanwhile Magnus and Karl were to take position opposite the docks and see if there was anything to learn from afar, it was too short notice to get an invite to an event of such a calibre, even Mr. Mole would’ve had a hard time with such little time. October it seemed had other plans which considering the suddenness of how events had transpired I can not blame her for not being able to drop them, a shame as she would’ve been a good aid to Richard and Mouse. I was to proceed with my date to keep up appearances and hopefully not arouse suspicion. At this moment in time I know not if their mission has been a success but I can only hope they got out before Robert and his pals returned. After the teams had gone their separate ways I was left to my own devices before I had to even think of meeting Robert. I decided to spend the free time I had available with some of the classes Cohan had set up. They children were enthusiastic to learn which is always a joy to see. They do not seem to be the best when it comes to comprehending the values of art and literature, understandably as this world does not celebrate them as it should, but I will work on this with them. Their maths on the other hand is quite commendable and only a few of the kids needed some proper help with it.

Finally the time came to meet with Robert but it would seem he had company. Boothroyd had decided to come with Robert, I could tell Robert was disappointed in this unfortunate turn of events but at least it meant Boothroyd wasn’t at the house, a shame but a rectifiable one. Whilst Boothroyd was at the bar we planned to get him absolutely smashed, so much so that he wouldn’t pay us any mind. The plan actually went well and just when we thought we’d got him, as if fate itself conspired against us, Callum walked in. Of all the luck, Callum was mighty enthusiastic about getting to know me, which is flattering as it means Robert must be mentioning me quite a bit. We had no chance of getting rid of Callum and settled in for the evening. It was during this time I realised that if my name has been passing so frequently between Roberts lips then it could jeopardize the revolution if it some how came back to me. There are benefits to not sharing your last name with many but if the name Peter started coming up too much, well it was only a matter of time. I knew that I would either have to cancel things with Robert or…end his life. If only it was so easy. With Roberts ties to the Smedlingtons I can not simply give up a good in with one of our few leads. I think at this time my best course of action is the most reckless. I will reveal to Robert my affiliation with the anarchists, let him make his own mind about his future. If he takes it badly….Then…Then I’ll have Richard deal with it. He’s dedicated enough to understand why. Me and Robert caught a quick moment in the hallway while Callum was in the gents and Boothroyd still dazed, he asked to meet me Sunday. He wanted to come to mine or at least try get to know about me more, I had, with good reason, not discussed myself too much. It would seem Robert would get his wish though I do not think he will like the result.

I bid them adieu shortly after and now I find myself hear, apprehensive about what must be done with Robert but hopeful for Richard and Mouse’s mission. These are dark days, I wish there was an easier way.

Saturday 27th of 2105 August
Yesterday I did not expect that today could make me feel worse than I felt last night but the world seems intent on proving me wrong every step of the way.

I woke and before my day could truly begin I received a message from some scruffy looking message boy on behalf of Mouse informing me that he had some concerns and wished for us to all gather at the St. George around two. I decided this was a good excuse to stay in until closer to the time so that I could spend some time working on a curriculum for Cohan’s children. I have high hopes for many of them and do hope the world will not chew them up and spit them out but the world is cruel but I know that hope will do nothing for these kids. Action is what is needed for their to be a good future for these children. I also picked up a paper to find the front line informing me the Smedlington house had burned down, I could only assume this is where Mouse’s concern stemmed from but at least he was alive enough to meet.   

I arrived somewhat late as it turned out the market was on and I got somewhat distracted by what was on offer. The bustling of the streets, the sweet scent of fresh confectioneries, the glory of the communal human spirit! This is what it’s about, people living their lives doing what they want to! While perusing the stalls I came across what I recognised to be police whistles. Considering we may be operating in areas where the police are if we can find someone who knows the right signals we might be able to distract the police with little more than a whistle.

Walking into the St. George the mood was palpable, I was happy to see them all there alive but Mouse wasted no time cutting to the chase. A private investigator he had hired had discovered that there may be another investigator looking for our group, or at the very least certain members. It seems the Smedlington’s Phillip has been kidnapped and is not on some grand tour as the papers say and this investigator is looking for Phillip but our recent activities might lead them to us. With this knowledge it was raised that maybe we should find somewhere secluded for our current discourse. Mouse took us to an old hideaway of his I believe and there we were going to make a plan when things reached a fever pitch with our group. Mouse accused Richard of being an unprofessional killer! A child killer on top of that! Richard of course denied the allegations and asked for evidence and this led to them fighting, threatening to tear this group apart before any real action has been achieved! I beseeched them to both look for reason if Mouse had no evidence to present then we had no reason to not trust Richard. I always knew Richard was willing to go the extra mile but it seems this has alienated him from the rest of the group. A shame but all he can do is prove with actions his willingness to the cause. They thankfully calmed down enough to allow us proceed along though I am not sure at current what the others plan of action. We learnt of a tory MP by the name of Hastings. He seemed to have some involvement with ‘Spectoral Investigations & Eliminations’ and of a house that may be worth visiting but I have my own troubles haunting me. Thankfully after tomorrow I will be able to fully devote myself to the cause without getting distracted…Or getting distracted when the time is right but to be hopeful I know now is folly. Whatever happens will happen.

I told Mouse of my plans before mentioning it to Richard, he was confused to say the least but accepted that I was going to do it but that I should inform the group. He raised his concerns about Richard again to me and I told him simply that while Richard might be dangerous at least he’s on our side and only dangerous to those we need him to be, he’s a worthwhile tool and has so far to my knowledge jeopardized our cause but we should be cautious about when we use him. I unceremoniously informed the rest of the group before telling Richard but they were all too distracted by the evidence they had gathered from the Smedlington house to pay it much attention.  Richard was concerned I asked him due to his recent allegations but I put his mind to rest and told him it was simply because I trusted him and his dedication.

It is now late and I think of Sunday and what will come. I do hope our group does not fracture but I feel we stand on the knifes edge, threatening to tip over into oblivion unless we take the right steps in the foreseeable future. Right this second it is now out of our hands and I feel fate will act accordingly. I hope no matter what it all ends up worth it in the end. 
« Last Edit: January 08, 2019, 06:08:04 PM by Baldry »

Baldry

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Re: Memoirs of a Revolutionist
« Reply #4 on: February 05, 2019, 02:58:20 PM »
Monday 29th of August 2105
The past twenty-four hours have been interesting to say the least. It is currently 11:00am, the sky is a glorious grey, permeated only by the slightest hint of the heavens threatening to break through. Fair Robert has just left and is running late for work. Any other day and I would be happy. To think this time yesterday I was a man addled with fear at what his day may bring.

When I awoke yesterday I was greeted by a note posted under my door, by one of Mouses’ children undoubtedly, telling me to meet them at an address that later turned out to be the practice of good friend Magnus. I set off once I had prepared myself for the day ahead and along the way was met with the news that would shape the rest of my day. According to the papers new information had been gathered regarding the Smedlington house fire and its victims. Mouses’ suspicions had been on the ball regarding Richard. It seemed that another child within the house had been chocked to death before the fire even started. I had to do everything within my power to stop from throwing up there and then. To think I had drank and eat with a child killer! A man I called friend and ally! Had the revolution blinded me to the deficiencies of my compatriots?! I would’ve trusted that man with my life, can I still say the same for those I am with? What secrets are we hiding. With paper in hand I rushed off the Magnus’ practice to inform Mouse and make a plan.

Upon arriving I was greeted to an injured Karl and a pervasive sense of unease. When I inquired as to Karl’s injuries Magnus’ claimed they were sell inflicted, this seemed to stir Karl who seemed to believe they were not but I know who I’ll trust in this situation any day. I informed Mouse of the new news regarding Richard and we arranged to meet later at Cohen’s to try and do something about it. In the meantime I made my own inquiries, I went to Richards abode and the pits he used to fight at but to no avail, wheresoever he had gone it was not somewhere I was to find him. With no luck I went to Cohens’ slightly ahead of time and informed him of Richard and our investigation into Hudson house, which had taken a slight pause with the recent revelation regarding Richard. He took the news as well as one can when presented with the horrific. In this time Magnus and Mouse made their way in and we planned. Magnus and I were to head to the library to do some investigating into the history of Hudson house while Mouse would make his way to Richard. While at the time I was happy to not potentially confront Richard as I thought on it I could not let his slight to the cause slide and arranged to meet with Magnus after visiting Richards.

Arriving there for the second time that day Mouse made quick work of the door and we proceeded in.
After my experience with the lab and the subjects I honestly thought my days of facing the base level of depravity to which man can sink were safely behind me but I now know that it lurks behind every door, every man, woman and child I meet. When I think on Richard now I wonder if he was ever a man. To step into his home you would not assume anything lived there, you would not assume anything could or would want to either. One is reminded of death simply stepping into that dark room, it is the feeling one has when they step into a graveyard. The truth that nothing around will ever live again. A gray, effervescent, sense of pointlessness threatening to drag you into the ground and undo you. Richard was only ever the facade of a man, within was nothing of value.
The only remotely furnished room was his bedroom, covered in penny dreadfuls like he was some ravenous junkie for low-art trash. He had a wardrobe which drew me to it and upon opening it I found his mask I had seen one evening. It was the same one Mouse spoke of after the Smedlington house job. In this I saw myself. In Richard I see what I could become without values. This road we all walk can be dangerous but if we lose sight of that which is most important to us then we will become empty, hollow, murderers. Deluded purely by our self-righteousness we must make sure our actions work for the people not just ourselves. I inspected his wardrobe further to be greeted by some decimated rats, their beady eyes still watching in the shadows as they rested in their viscera, there in their dried blood I found his journal. Mouse has it now and for that I am grateful. Reading that journal turned my stomach once more that day. Richard seems further gone that we could have ever expected and we must put a stop to him at once. This world is a most cruel place but to inflict more unto it is crueler still. Richards end will be a mercy.

I left Mouse to deal with the house and went on to Magnus at the library. We spent some good time there and learned of that the house was once that of an ambassadors and it seemed many years ago a terrible accident happened there, something known as the fatal vespers. A most atrocious affair that ended with the death of nearly one-hundred people. An unforeseeable accident by the looks of it but a terrible thing all the same. The number seemed to ring a bell but my mind was not focused.

The time was growing late and I had one last thing to do. See Robert. I had been dreading this all day but by this time it was the only thing keeping me going. The only light in this dark day and even then the darkness threatened to take this light too. I knew I had to tell him the truth. With all that transpired I could not have him doubting my care and, even worse, potentiality revealing our group of terrorists with his involvement to me. I arrived at the Grambe to find him dressed the best I had ever seen him. I was somewhat embarrassed to arrive as I did but sweet, adoring, Robert was understanding and we sat and drank. We were merry and this brief isle of respite in this most trying day was a glory to behold.
I invited him to mine and in the hansom I made my move. If he was to reject me then I was to don Richards mask and end Robert there. Another victim of a deranged mad man. But he didn’t. He accepted who I was with a simple answer. A kiss. When our lips met I knew there was no lie in Robert. His mind, body and soul accepted who I was and cared for me all the more. The truth had set us free and our love could blossom. I told him that I knew who did what happened at the Smedlingtons and he said that he was happy I was the one trying to deal with it. He trusted that if I was involved then it was probably worth fighting for and in the right hands. He trusts me so and it is beautiful.
We spent the night together a tangled mess of limbs and passion. If only all days could be like this.

I do hope that Roberts acceptance is a good omen for the rest of the day. May the truths we have set us free and light us on to better days.

Tuesday 30th August 2105
There are no good omens. Only treachery and the dead.

Baldry

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Re: Memoirs of a Revolutionist
« Reply #5 on: February 19, 2019, 04:32:48 PM »
Tuesday cont...

The past two days have been too trying. It would seem that even Magnus can not be trusted. I do not know if the new members of our volatile group can be trusted. I do not know if Karl could ever be trusted not to turn on us all as simply as the wind changes. Mouse and Mr. Mole are the only two with any modicum of sense to not try and destroy us.

When I awoke with Robert I could never have anticipated the actions of the Doctor. I would never have even assumed they were capable and yet time and time again the people I work with seek to destroy us from the inside. Their fickle needs threatening to destroy the future of the people! I know it is presumptuous to assume people would care as I do but this damn Doctor can not be trusted even with their closest friend! If I was more of a pessimist I would fear what will follow when I next wake but I cannot possible imagine things getting too out of control. Magnus will most likely die. Regrettable to say the least but Karl will never let her live. I do not know what Mouse wants but he is not a bad man. I genuinely believe if he could he would try help and save her but Karl is not one for debate. If it was up to me we would still let the Doctor continue but in a limited and observable capacity. To kill any healer, as ill-informed as some of their actions may have been, is to do damage to the community they operate within. No. Too many people die as it is, we must avoid deaths wherever possible.

Potentially I am tired. All this business with the Doctor, saving October, planning our attack, scouting, working on bombs we have not given ourselves a chance to rest. It is possible the fight that erupted in our group earlier is an isolated event. I pray it is.

Monday started out… interestingly. I met with Violet and Rose Brocklesby. A charming enough pair, Violet I must say is one of the most stunning individuals I have ever laid eyes on, i’m honestly concerned that she may be too beautiful if that is possible. Perhaps it is that I’m not used to being interested in such an individual. Rose shares quite a lot of similarities with Violet bar a burn on her face. Rose was the first problem I encountered that day. The name Brocklesby has at one time associated with the Witch of the East End. A killer of sorts but the agreeable kind, she, apparently, only went after those like those we now seek to bring down. “At least this murderer comes with a lab” I remember thinking to myself hah! The needs of the revolution must come first as always. Mouse laid out quite a good plan but wished us to launch it as soon as humanely possible to make sure October was alive. In his inquiries he believed he had tracked Richard and October to Hudson house and that the longer we waited the more likely it was she would die. I agreed but we needed time to work on explosives and get everything prepared! I wish we could have charged in there but to do so would risk death, or worse. Mouse was not happy about it but there was nothing we could do bar a suicide mission.

Once away I checked in with Cohen to see if he knew of any good targets within the printworks. He had some quite delicious targets around Hudson House that would be quite good at causing a diversion. The printworks, the Times and a diplomats house on the other side. If we had more time then I would make sure we got the times but if we are to have any chance of saving young October than we must make this one exception. I did not have time now to scout out the locations as I wished to do some homework on Rose before I accused her of something that may not have been her. Equipped with the knowledge I made my way to hers to work on the bombs and pry into her past.
Magnus had other plans for us.

Upon arriving I met with Rose and we received a note from Magnus telling us she was at Karls’ place. We quickly made our way there hoping to expedite whatever was troubling her so she could help us with the bombs. On the way there I spoke with Rose on the matter of her killings. She seemed upfront and honest which in hindsight is quite refreshing. I do believe she is truly dedicated to harming the rich and I have no problem with anyone that way inclined. So long as they do not seek to harm those who do not deserve it then they will always be an ally. Which brings me to Magnus.
She was erratic when we found her outside of Karls. She was a mess, making no sense. She said that she’d left her bag in Karls’ place and that she couldn’t work without it. I feel like such a fool looking back. I knew something was wrong. It clearly wasn’t about her bag but with no reason to question it all we could do was help. We actually broke into Karls’ for her. Once open she barged in with the bloodlust of a crazed, malnourished, pitiful rat scavenging for even the tiniest morsel. I was concerned we would have to restrain her she was so crazed. When it became evident that her bag wasn’t there she became more crazed! At this point Violet appeared with her bag. I then, foolishly, believed this ridiculous farce we found ourselves to finally be over but no! The Doctor was having non of it, now in desperate need of her journal. Fool! Fool! Oh this wretch before me. If I had known I would not have let her out of my sight but instead we sent her off to Karl and Mouse with Violet in tow but the revolution called. Myself and Rose returned to hers to work on some bombs while there was still some day left. We managed two before fatigue set in and we rested there for the evening.

And then it was today. Fucking Tuesday. Mouse sent for us at his hovel and we made our way there only to be confronted by some truth about Magnus. She had poisoned Karl with something by the name of Wake. It was why he was as he was when I last saw him at his.
SHE HAD BEEN EXPERIMENTING ON HER FRIEND.
I was sickened, I still am. My mind started racing at the possibilities! What if she had been responsible for Richards actions?! We knew not how long she had been active! Anyone of us could have been her plaything. I, sadly, was not my best. I just wanted the truth from Magnus but she would not yield anything. Mouse seemed like he had a plan but I was in no mood for one. It seemed he knew more about what was going on than the rest of us and if it wasn’t for the arguing we may have got somewhere but I was still too appalled. Thankfully Rose and Mouse’ infernal bickering gave me something to focus on (If one did not know any better you would believe they were either married or truly wanted the other dead). I trust Mouse to do the right thing, whatever it may have been. I left Mouse, Violet and Mr. Mole to deal with the Magnus problem while I took Rose out of the situation and got on with the actual plan.

It was easy enough, left some bombs at diplomats home for easy retrieval, scouted some locations. In all honesty the business with the Doctor was on my mind most of the time. I’m now at home hoping to catch up on some of the rest before the mission proper and still I am here. I know Mouse will do what he believes to be right and I trust him well enough to know he is a good man capable of making the right choice. I just wish I knew what it was. Maybe I’m not as good a man as I thought. I can not wait to put this behind us all, start developing and fostering trust among those that are actually worthy of trust… And yet will I be able to trust any that join us? I trusted Richard and he was a murderer. I trusted Magnus and she experiments on those she calls friend. I would trust Rose and Violet but how can I so soon when it seems my trust has been so misguided before? It’s only a matter of time before Mouse reveals he eats babies and Mr. Mole is secretly a Tory MP. In many ways Karl is the only trustworthy one and he is only trustworthy in way a gun is, only when you’re the one pulling the trigger. It’s no use writing about it. Only tomorrow will tell. I am not the most religious of men but I pray for us all.

Baldry

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Re: Memoirs of a Revolutionist
« Reply #6 on: March 05, 2019, 03:35:01 PM »
IDIOT. FOOL. WRETCH. CAN’T PLAN ANYTHING. ALL THAT HAPPENS IS WE FAIL AND PEOPLE DIE AND THIS TIME IT’LL BE ALL YOUR FAULT. STOP LETTING PEOPLE DIE.

I have been reticent in my writing these past two weeks. I could say I was too busy but writing here I would only be lying to myself, I threw myself into my work, I chose to keep busy. Tried to stop thinking about Karl and Mouse. We did more damage to ourselves than any that deserved it. Regrettable. I should never have got to know these people too well. It obscures one from the mission. Too much melodrama. We need to be a well oiled machine. We need to fight so that those unlike us can live good lives while there’s still a chance to live it. It’s not about us, it’s about them. People like Robert. Innocent people who never asked for anything more than to be loved and to be happy, screaming out for a freedom they don’t know they are without. Perhaps that’s why I let the Doctor live. Another lost innocent. Maybe I hoped to just save one person with this revolution, so at the inevitable end I can look back and say “At least they made it” and know it’ll be true. I hope that’s true. The truth is everyday I walk this path I see more value in a monster than a man. I can hide behind my hope for a better future but the darkness just keeps coming and hope does nothing to abate it.

Action. No time for inner-monologues. I can sit here and wax philosophical till I’m blue in the face but it’ll be another thing left truly unresolved. Get to the end of it all and just hope whatever you’ve done was worth it in the end.

Baldry

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Re: Memoirs of a Revolutionist
« Reply #7 on: March 26, 2019, 01:19:08 PM »
Saturday 25th of September 2105
Days have passed since the events at Blackfriars and things have been calm for the most part. We have been chasing ghosts, in more ways than one. We have been embroiled in the noble pursuit of research and we have been on the cusp of what we needed proper for some days now, chasing names through reams and reams of paper, inquiring with the now mad, I have felt…lost.
During these days I have known what it is we seek but not how to find it but that has changed now, our searches have come to fruition.

Lord Hastings.

A bastard of a MP, most recently whipping up fervour for the reintroduction of public hangings, a foolish and sadistic move, his has been a name at the periphery of this entire masquerade. We were already putting the pieces together but dear, sweet, Robert has expedited matters by getting me actual correspondence between Hastings and Reginald Smedlington regarding the kidnapped Phillip and the code five project. I had hypothesized that all these experiments were to be a means of controlling the lower class, making us machine-like, automaton, existing for no other reason than servitude. We must get into the Hastings house but the district it lies in is too fine an area for even Cohan’s deliveries.

Of course Roberts letter was just the icing on the cake. The original reason I picked up the pen today was regarding my thoughts on Rose and Magnus. Now what I consider an example of what benefits Magnus offers our revolution, Rose fears. They had gone to talk with a man named Hobson, a day or so before I had already chatted with him, I believe it was chat that lead to the events Rose and Magnus encountered (note to self: begin leaving different names when visiting places). By their account, they arrived to see Hobson being taken away, upon finding a good area to ambush the orderlies the pair did so. During the ensuing fight Magnus accessed this demo monst thing within her and destroyed everything in her sight bar Rose and Hobson, allowing ample distraction and chaos for Rose to escape with Hobson. To me, other than the loss of innocents, this was a success. Rose believes quite the contrary and approached me after this entire ordeal saying we should do away with Magnus but I believe Rose to be only interested in her own survival, her sisters as well but I believe that obvious to any who meets them. Understandable, though I fear it clouds her judgement of the bigger picture. Would they really have gotten out of there without this beast? They both may have lost there lives and Hobson would’ve died too. Another lost innocent. Living a life of lies, believing it all to be true. Plato’s cave born again for the modern man. No more! No, the chaos the beast unleashed was just if I meant Hastings squirming in his finery somewhere. They’ll see the disappearance of Hobson, they’ll connect it with Blackfriars. They’ll know someone’s coming for them and I hope, even if for one second, those clothes stop feeling so fine and they feel naked. And as they’re squirming to get comfy again the shadows around them move, not like people but eyes. Thousands upon thousands blinking in the dark, watching them squirm, naked as the day they were born. No money to protect them, nothing to stop the flames rising up, taking them and melting skin from bone, as thousands of eyes watch in the dark.      

No. It is my belief we should operate as a unit. After the death of Mouse there was a vote to no longer kill one another (The fact we had to should’ve been a sign one of us would try again). Rose will see reason, she’s good like that. I would ever so love to chat to this monster though, to see if it could be bought on side and properly utilised.

Baldry

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Re: Memoirs of a Revolutionist
« Reply #8 on: April 16, 2019, 03:57:40 PM »
Monday 25th August 2105

I got quite drunk last night. The last time I woke with pain like this I had been shot. The coalescence of simple pain induced memories and my current stresses has made me nostalgic in a way, perhaps for what one would call a simpler time, though it was never such a thing. Even looking back through my notes I experience the most delicate mix of amusement and sorrow, humbling pages of the fool I am. To say it has been only a few weeks it feels closer to a year and I am still as green as the boy with a bullet through his lung. I wonder if I treat our current problems as I would then.

The Hastings issue harps at my mind constantly. Simply, how do we deal with those who are so far above us? Whose forefathers, long before we ever had a chance to know what they were doing, had already built their empires and put in place their systems of control. They have had years to get where they are where we have only a month to bring it all down…And yet we still have time for curry? For fight pits? For poorly thought-out plans? For Robert?

I know I have been letting the stress get to me; I have snapped at those I should call ally, rushed foolishly to the next lead with no forethought, planted bombs in the homes of those I trust are acting for themselves, and through that, for the cause and yet simply can not be trusted. I am beginning to see people as pawns and yet I worry, constantly, about those I fight with. Their allegiance, their well-being, their use. I fear I am becoming more like those we fight, slipping, slowly, down ever deeper, into to same practices as those we fight. Lord Hastings would never even deign to entertain those operating under him, for goals even he believes to be worth, to have the free time every person is due and yet as the time of their plans approaches would it not be best for us to do the same?

To do away with our frivolities, just for a short period, and focus on the task at hand. Would it not be at this time be the more apt thing to do? Lest we lose and have all we have done be for naught? Let those dead have died for nothing? No. That would be the worst outcome and not one I hope any of us would want.
I can justify choosing to live, I can understand what it means to want to spend time with someone you care about, or doing something you love, following your hearts own song; but as time slowly closes in on us is it right for us to keep doing so, especially when we know what’s happening? If we don’t act then the people of London will suffer for it and that simply cannot be allowed to happen. We are morally obligated to act against the atrocities we know they will commit…And yet, if we don’t make time for the simple things, is any of this worth it? We could fail. All hung, another anarchist cell brought to justice. And as we wait in our dingy cells what will we lament more, the time not spent planning, or the time not spent doing what we wanted?

I know not what any of this writing is for, the musings of a man more alcohol and anxiety then radical and revolutionary, but I think in these times it good to write how one feels. If only so they can understand themselves a bit better. My head feels clearer, hopefully our planning session later leads to fruition.