I took this position to trade an overcrowded island for a quite one, for a peaceful life. Before life went and said bollocks to that. There was something pure ironic about the move too, you know, my kind weren’t popular in these parts three hundred years ago. Witches, not Scots women. It’s occult suffrage in action. And yet that tension never really goes away, does it? It’s always out there, always ticking down to totally bat-shit nuclear. I’m an idealist. I think we’re supposed to be the way we are to protect people. To protect them from all this. So they’re right to fear us. We stick our fingers where they don’t belong, then wiggle them around a bit anyway. Palm responsibility off on the need to know the unknowable. That’s not learning, that’s…I don’t know. Playing chicken with the infinite.
These parts have gotten pretty lively since everyone died. Not quite a rescue, more of an investigation, eh? You and all the others. Personally, I think the whole team colors thing is pure pish. So I hope we won’t have to start fighting like we’re in a scene from the bloody Matrix. My family are Templars, proper old Templars. The house of Usher, aye, that’s hilarious. They didn’t disown me when I said I wanted nothing to do with anyone’s army. Posturing and scheming. My cabal is bigger than your cabal. That’s worked out right well for us so far, hasn’t it? I didn’t come here for the Illuminati, I came here for the kids. And that’s why I’m staying. For the ones who come back, for the ones who won’t. For Carter, who’s brushing up to be one of the most powerful mages on the Atlantic seaboard, but just wants to be a girl. One out of two’s fraught enough.
Despite his, eccentricities and…cynical- ach, he’ll appreciate the honesty: downright unpleasant personality, Mr Montag, H.J., does more for the safety and development of his students than he lets on. It’s not an easy thing, bringing these kids into a world fraught with occult rites and secret handshakes. It takes a real bastard, even on the best of days. The competition for the most talented students, the petty jealousies and the ancient blood feuds between the most prominent institutions… and the more and less covert attempts at industrial espionage, all take their toll. And of course, the deaths. Being responsible for every single life lost in the pursuit of knowledge, would break less than an arrogant man. At least he lets us deal with the parents now. After those first couple of accidental self-immolations, some thought it best we kept him away from grieving relatives.
The Secret World
I give them a lot of gyp, but the Templars were ahead of the curve in pushing for a proper magical education. Oxford, Uttar Pradesh, Cairo, et cetera. Of course, their reasoning was a bag of shite. It’s got bugger all to do with entitlement, and everything about sorting out your place in the world. For what its worth, I’m truly sorry you’ve been dropped in at the deep end. I couldn’t tell you what happens next. For the world, and your place in it. Here, they’ll mop up the blood, file the Act of God insurance claims, rote-learn their alibis. They’ll cover it up, they always do. Flick through the Guinness Book of Disasters, and you’ll have a hard time finding something we didn’t start. But this goes further than the island. You know how, excuse me, female roommates’ periods synchronize? That’s how it goes with my talents and the planet. And we’ve both been waking up like we’ve had the mankiest post-pissup fish supper ever, every day.
The Rec Center cannot Hold
The students’ familiars have lost both direction and perspective due to the recent lack of patronage. Where there are no students to take control them, they will act out. With potentially catastrophic consequences. The situation calls for swift action..
Behold the evident truth: that which is created will turn upon the creators. Obedience is a passing season. A calm brief enough to reassure the senseless, before it falls apart, the way of all ordered things. In this case, you have stilled the descent to chaos. But remember what you have borne witness to. Remember that the tools used to build a thought structure become its undoing. It is not yet Innsmouth Academy's time. Too few young minds are present to be imprinted, to receive the lesson scrawled on a blank blackboard in an empty room.
The Strange Boat House in the Mist
When the Innsmouth Academy defenses fell, several of the staff made for the boathouse. Annabel Usher fears the worst – that shadows of the island’s legacy got hold of them before they could escape.
Evolution has teeth, and currently those teeth are the ridges of Solomon Island. The scholars who tried to escape – each a certified magus – fell prey to panic. And so they deserved to die. This is good news. Better a pile of dead cowardly magi than a band of powerful traitors. Initially, that was our suspicion. Learn from their mistakes. Do not panic and try to flee the island. That is what the island wants. Stick to the roof of its mouth. Wait, and it will spit you out.