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10th February, 1891Edit


It has been some months now since my babies and dear Duncan were taken from me. Although I still mourn their passing, I feel ready now to begin my search for that dreaded fiend. Tomorrow I will travel to Gorebridge, to visit their library. Hamish from the Gyre said they keep a copy of every newspaper there, with many years worth available to be read. I think George will be glad of the work too. Poor thing, I have been so depressed since, well these last few months, he has hardly been out of the paddock, let alone been put to work. Aye, the farm has suffered, I fear I shall have to sell it on.


11th February, 1891
Edit

I am having to stay over at Gorebridge; the reading of the newspapers here has taken longer than I originally anticipated and I do not much like the thought of riding back to Gowkshill in the dark. George is stabled up for the night so I know he is safe. Unfortunately I have found nothing of interest, save on article from some 20 years ago. Another family suffered a fate similar to my own, but there were no survivors. I do not know yet if that is a blessing in disguise.


2nd June, 1891
Edit

I have decided to sell the farm. Hamish seems keen to take on the animals, and for a fair price I will let him. All except for George. If I am to leave my home I am going to need some form of transport.


1st July, 1891
Edit

I have been on the road for 3 nights now. So far I have found nothing of this beast that I search for. But I have found some nonsensical scripts, talking about wolves that turn into men! What a farce, having Wolfmen walking around. Still, it is intriguing. Apparently they are afraid of Rye, Mistletoe and Wolfsbane. Perhaps that's where the name comes from. I hope not to have to test the theory.


3rd July, 1891Edit

I have decided to head south. After speaking to people in the nearby villages I have concluded that the more populated area's would be better to investigate in. Noone here knows anything of a man named Archie, save one in Peebles. So that is where I shall head to.


8th July, 1891Edit

Today I arrived in Peebles. I found more newspaper articles, similar to those in Gorebridge. There have been more attacks here though, the most recent just a year ago. I asked to innkeeper what he knew of these killings, and if he knew about a man named Archie who may be involved. He was quite rude for a fellow Scot, and told me to just leave the whole business. He would say no more than that, save a few choice words I care not to repeat. But as I was leaving the inn, someone followed me out and whispered that the Archie that I sought was last known to be heading for London, so that is where I will go.


12th July, 1891Edit

There have been more deaths in Selkirk, each the same as those in Peebles, Gorebridge and indeed my home. One paper mentioned similar deaths in Carlisle. It will feel strange to leave my beloved Scotland behind, but I must be brave, for Duncan.


25th July, 1891Edit

Carlisle has a most wonderful Library. I took a chance on visting it, I wasn't sure I'd find anything, but theres this section of books, the "occult" section, with books on demons, monsters and all kinds of witchery. There is a book called "The Grimoire" where, if spells and incantations are done properly they can summon forth a demon! I've no idea what that means, but if it's what I think it is I hope noone is senseless enough to do it and invoke the wrath the of God. I think I will start my own book of ghouls and goblins, but with methods of how to destroy them rather than bring them forth. But for now, I'll document my findings here.

I've learned more about the Wolfmen. Firstly, they are called "Werewolves", they still look human but do indeed turn into wolves during the full moon. Whilst in wolf form they are over 8ft tall, are incredibly strong and can jump rather long distances. But, like a wolf, they go on killing rampages whilst transformed - nothing is safe from these beasts. They devour their kills leaving almost no trace. However, once back in human form at day break, they have no knowledge of what occured the night before. The weaknesses I had previously read of are correct it seems. A simple sprig of mistletoe will prevent a Werewolf from entering through a door, an continuous circle will prevent the Werewolf entirely. Curiously, an elixir made from mistletoe can help combat the effects of changing. Silver will kill a Werewolf instantly if stabbed with it.

There are lesser forms of Werewolf called "Wolfmen". These are smaller and weaker creatures, although just as horrifying. These monsters have less control over their transformations. The full moon will still affect them to some degree, but sudden, unexpected pain can bring about a change. Their lust for wanton carnage is most disturbing. They seem to take fun in tearing the limbs from their victims, and leaving them rather than devouring them. Maybe it was one of these wolfmen that came into my home and savaged my family. Most definately the wounds on my dear Duncan's chest could have been from wolf claws, rather than a knife as first thought.


1st August, 1891Edit

I spent last night on the outskirts of a wood, too far from the nearest town to make it safely during daylight. Twas not a restful night, George would not settle and I was fearful of my surroundings. I was all too aware of the impending moon, especially when I heard wolves howling late in the night. And I had the most horrifying nightmare. I dreamt that Werewolves came after me, and were almost upon me, but I managed to throw a wooden torch at them, scaring them off. This is most bizarre, for when I awoke, my hands were charred, as if I had been handling fire and there was a pile of cold ash, as if from a fire. But I know I lit no fire, and certainly did not see any Werewolves.


15th August, 1891Edit

The Manchester library is wonderful! I feel I may remain here a good few days so I can further my research into the darkness of the world. Today I learned of an ancient evil, with a penchant for human blood. These demons, Vampyres, look human in every way, save for two fangs and long claw like fingernails. They have been around for centuries, and some say they are immortal - they live forever. Unless, of course you can exploit one of their weaknesses. They are susceptible to sunlight, so can only hunt at night and have unusually pale skin. They are also averse to garlic, holy water and the sign of the cross (no wonder, for they are abominations of God).

16th August, 1891Edit

Today was again spent in the Manchester library. I found nothing specific, except a fascinating section on demonic possession. Apparently, there is a hierarchy - not all demons have the same powers and abilities, and some are more important than others. And fascinatingly, it appears that a simple incantation (a spell as it were) is enough to remove one of the lesser demons from its human host. The stronger ones however, need a bit more. And it sounds painful - all of the pcitures show tortured souls screaming in pain whilst a man of the cloth pulls the demon from their body. The really nasty ones, are twisted. They impersonate God's messengers - the Angels - telling people to do dispicable deeds in the name of the Lord, and are incredibly difficult to remove. They require the most strenuous of exorcisms and can often kill the host in the process. The poor souls, but at least they won't be destined for the depths of Hell. Possession by an actual Angel is also possible, but it's detection seems more intricate. There are no outward signs like black eyes, and only the holyest of men can tell when someone is possessed by an Angel. There may be hundreds of people walking around, not knowing that they are not their own person. I must say a prayer for them.


17th August, 1891Edit

More demonic research today. Most demons, including the higher level demons, are susceptible to Cold Iron - that is iron dipped in holy water. So another weapon to add to my imaginary arsenal.


18th August, 1891Edit

Today will be my last in Manchester. I feel I am being watched. In the morning I will leave for London. The library assistant here was most helpful in directing me to a place more suited to my needs.

21st August, 1891Edit

If I was being followed, I am no more. Early last night I spotted man in the distance. He was quite far away to begin with, but seemed to constantly advance despite George's speed. Finally after a good few hours he lept out of the trees at me. He must have knocked me out for I don't remember anything else. But when I awoke in the morning he was gone and George was stood quite some distance away. Again there was a pile of ash and my hands felt strange, like that night three weeks ago. It feels as though something strange has happened to me, but I do not know what.

30th August, 1891Edit

I have arrived in London, secured lodgings and discovered the library. I have decided to make a book of all my findings about the occult. That way, it will be easier for me to find the information I need to despatch of these atrocities before they do the same to me.


4th March, 1892Edit

Oh my, last night has shook me up something terrible. I was on my way to see Mr Woo at the Limehouse, when I stumbled across a poor soul lying in the street with his neck torn out. There was more blood than when slaughtering a cow. I went over to see if there was anything I could, although what I could do for someone in that state I do not know. As I got closer I heard a loud hissing coming from an alleyway nearby. I thought it strange for a snake to be in London, but how wrong I was. For it was not a snake that I have ever seen before. This was well over my height, but had the features of a woman - she, it, still had a forked tongue but a ladies face. She must have knocked me to the gound for I do not remeber what happened next. Needless to say though when I awoke there was that now familiar ash pile, tingling fingertips and drowsiness. The snake woman was gone, and so was the man. I can only assume he was taken away and they fancied me homeless.


I returned to my lodgings to find a letter waiting for me. Well, more of a message than a letter. It was from a Wilson Thomas, whom I have never heard of, requesting a meeting Thursday hence. It seems I have another reason to stay in London, although how I am to afford it escapes me. The money I earned from selling my farm is all but gone. If only Duncan were here...


10th March, 1892Edit

Well it seems I am to be a "Ripper". I have not quite discovered entirely what a "Ripper" is, but I am sure given time I will learn. I went to Hyde Park today, for that meeting I was summoned to, to find that I was not the only one. I arrived early, so as to get a good view and earmark anyone that might look suspicious and to generally be prepared for anything. I took a seat on a bench, having tethered George near some grass nearby, and was quite amusingly watching this man who thought himself quite tough start a fight with 13 sailors. I couldn't help but chuckle to myself when he was rescued by a much smaller companion. Well I say companion, turns out they were here for the meeting too, as was the Reverend sat with me on the bench. We four, and three others had been assembled to become part of a much larger group, the Rippers, to fight the demons that walk the night. Well I leapt at the chance, this is what I have been researching for! A few of the others were more skeptical, but once these two brutes had molested a gypsy woman and her guide the men took after them like there was no tomorrow! After hearing two gunshots I presume the beasts were felled. What they wanted with the gypsy woman I can't determine, although she did ramble at us a fair bit. But anyhow, here I am now, in lodgings paid for by my new employer, with George in a nice stall, and new means for finding the evil I seek.







Well, after the events of the past few weeks I at least have an answer to one of my questions. I am a demon. All the times I've blacked out and not remembered things is because a demon has taken possession of my body and used it for its own ill gotten gains. It all makes sense now; the charred hands, the piles of ash, even the looks on my new companions faces when I awoke next to that giant jar with the faces inside. It wasn't me they saw do those things, it was the DEMON. I must get rid of it somehow.


Good news, I may not be a demon after all! I've been reading some books, and they say that it is not only demons that take possession of a soul, but angels too. I hope I have an angel and not a demon. But the only way to find out is to go through an exorcism, only the holiest of holy men can tell whether or not you have an angel, and even then he may not be right.


After enduring many different, arduous exorcisms in an attempt to remove a demon, all being unsuccessful, Morag concludes that she has indeed been touched by an angel, and has nothing to fear anymore.

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