I have only owned CKII and SOI for a short time. If you are looking for elegant, knowledgeable game play – this is not the AAR for you. I will be fumbling and bumbling my way along as I tell my tale. I have no idea of I can pull this off, but I bought SOI just so I could give this a try - so I am motivated.
This is meant to be a fiction within a fiction. Any resemblance to or accurate depiction of anything that happened in history will be by happy accident. This is meant to by a dark comedy of sorts, trying to merge many different fictions together with the game as the glue.
I will engage in what ever means necessary to tell the story as I envision it, allowing things that happen in the game to alter this so long as they don’t ruin it from my point of view. If you see outrageous stats or other items, then remember that there are otherworldly forces impacting the “reality” of what is going on in the game. So just deal with it.
The main character is possessed and hears voices. Readers are most welcome to be some of those voices and I will try to incorporate what is possible into the story.
The dark oak door reverberates, rattling against the latch as the knocking continues another moment and then the latch is turned and the door swings inward..
“What is it?”, says Professor Laban Shrewsbury, looking up from the book he had been reading.
“Professor, I think you need to see this.”, answers Stephen, his head assistant.
Shrewsbury looks carefully at his assistant, notices the urgency apparent on his face and considers. Young Stephen Blackadder is a credit to his family. While most of the Blackadders have come to one untidy end or another, Stephen was a scholars’s scholar and showed none of the conceited self-promotion that ran in the Blackadder line, and most strongly in his father the His grace Edmund Blackadder, the Earl of Northumbria.
With a sigh, Shrewsbury closes the book, an autobiography of one of the sometimes companions of Allan Quartermain, entitled “I win, Zulus” taking care to put a marker in to hold his place. There were clues in the text to the location of a hidden temple that was of interest to the professor and his fellows.
“What is it you think you have found, eh my boy?” he said as he leaned back in his chair, looked out the darkening window across the great quadrangle of Miskatonic University, and composed himself to listen.