Post by The First Inhabitant on Sept 29, 2011 13:05:56 GMT -6
Full Name: The First & Second Inhabitants
Nickname: The Inhabitants
Age: Over two hundred years old
Height: 6'8"
Weight: 225 lbs
Gender: Male (Twins)
Eye color: Empty eye sockets
Hair: None
Hmm.... I can imagine that you must be wondering as to how my brother and I came to be servants to the dragooned Baudeau Manor and why we call ourselves, The First and Second Inhabitants... I must agree, it a long tale, of corruption, malice, and murder but... I, unlike my twin brother, have always enjoyed telling our story so listen closely.
It began at about the turn of the century of the 1800s, the Manor then was a dazzlingly and rich plantation and my brother and I, we the heirs to our father's fortune. Our father, he was a wicked and hard man, and now that I reminisce about him, I rather admired him whilst I was alive. He was ruthless, cunning, and meticulously merciless. He overworked the slaves, cheated out of sales for a grander profit, and beat our mother to death but was found not guilty and some slave was charged instead. But, that's another story entirely.
Neither I, nor my brother, cared for we were as heartless and cold as our father, as his father was before him, and it was…. a sort of family tradition, if you like. We ruled over the plantation like the wealthy aristocracy we were, loved by the townspeople who lusted after our wealth, and were feared by them as well, for my father had the bank and the law wrapped around his finger and took pleasure in throwing his enemies int jail at a whim or cut off their finances.
Then came the time, as I recall, when the occurrences began; strange, unexplainable occurrences that drove our father to madness. Silverware would disappear, dogs would bark in terrorized fear well until morn’s light, crops died, and voices were heard throughout empty halls.
In a paranoia induced rage, my father stormed out of his quarters, with his revolver and a botte of shine, to the slave sheds and proceeded to murder several of them, accusing them all of witchcraft and voodoo, before he locked the remaining slaves in a shed and set it alight.
I agree that it had been a glorious sight…. The flames so high as a few dozen different screams of agony and death filled the air. It wasn't long after the massacre that father died. Suicide was what the townspeople thought, but my brother and I knew the truth. My father was correct of course; those pathetic slaves had been practicing the dark arts. Unbeknownst to them, they had opened something far grander and more malevolent than they had intended and father had been the first victim.
That’s when my brother and myself discovered that we were not alone as we had thought. With the slaves run off and dead, I was in the midst of planning the murder of my brother, as he was doing the same, when one unnaturally dark night, we heard It.
A voice, far more prominent and dominant then that to whose my father had heard, spoke to us and offered us a choice: to serve for eternity or to die. The voice, which I now know as my master, the Manor, was enticed by the blackness in our hearts and ensured that this was an exceptionally gracious offer; as rare as finding true good in any man of the world today.
Of course, my brother and I chose for obedient servitude and….
Well, as you may see, this is when the past meets the present; which is rather a fascinating thought since measurable time means little within the Manor. My twin brother and myself became, as we are now, reapers to guide the numerous pets that dwell within the Manor to their prey, and to do as our master instructs.
I must be honest with you, it pleases my master greatly to have you in attendance, and what pleases my master, please both my brother and I. Hot blood soaking into floorboards, splattered upon walls, bones hidden into corners…. There is not a better sight except, perhaps, when one our beloved pets delivers, as you might say, the "finishing blow".
Indeed, that is our story. It is a fairly uninteresting one by my personal standards, my brother may have a different opinion. My past may be insignificant but the present and the future… now that I enjoy. I hope you enjoy your stay while you here at Baudeau Manor, my master takes great care to see that all his guests are well taken cared of, and… I personally wish you a slow, torturous, agonizing death.
Farewell.
Sincerely,
The First Inhabitant
Nickname: The Inhabitants
Age: Over two hundred years old
Height: 6'8"
Weight: 225 lbs
Gender: Male (Twins)
Eye color: Empty eye sockets
Hair: None
Hmm.... I can imagine that you must be wondering as to how my brother and I came to be servants to the dragooned Baudeau Manor and why we call ourselves, The First and Second Inhabitants... I must agree, it a long tale, of corruption, malice, and murder but... I, unlike my twin brother, have always enjoyed telling our story so listen closely.
It began at about the turn of the century of the 1800s, the Manor then was a dazzlingly and rich plantation and my brother and I, we the heirs to our father's fortune. Our father, he was a wicked and hard man, and now that I reminisce about him, I rather admired him whilst I was alive. He was ruthless, cunning, and meticulously merciless. He overworked the slaves, cheated out of sales for a grander profit, and beat our mother to death but was found not guilty and some slave was charged instead. But, that's another story entirely.
Neither I, nor my brother, cared for we were as heartless and cold as our father, as his father was before him, and it was…. a sort of family tradition, if you like. We ruled over the plantation like the wealthy aristocracy we were, loved by the townspeople who lusted after our wealth, and were feared by them as well, for my father had the bank and the law wrapped around his finger and took pleasure in throwing his enemies int jail at a whim or cut off their finances.
Then came the time, as I recall, when the occurrences began; strange, unexplainable occurrences that drove our father to madness. Silverware would disappear, dogs would bark in terrorized fear well until morn’s light, crops died, and voices were heard throughout empty halls.
In a paranoia induced rage, my father stormed out of his quarters, with his revolver and a botte of shine, to the slave sheds and proceeded to murder several of them, accusing them all of witchcraft and voodoo, before he locked the remaining slaves in a shed and set it alight.
I agree that it had been a glorious sight…. The flames so high as a few dozen different screams of agony and death filled the air. It wasn't long after the massacre that father died. Suicide was what the townspeople thought, but my brother and I knew the truth. My father was correct of course; those pathetic slaves had been practicing the dark arts. Unbeknownst to them, they had opened something far grander and more malevolent than they had intended and father had been the first victim.
That’s when my brother and myself discovered that we were not alone as we had thought. With the slaves run off and dead, I was in the midst of planning the murder of my brother, as he was doing the same, when one unnaturally dark night, we heard It.
A voice, far more prominent and dominant then that to whose my father had heard, spoke to us and offered us a choice: to serve for eternity or to die. The voice, which I now know as my master, the Manor, was enticed by the blackness in our hearts and ensured that this was an exceptionally gracious offer; as rare as finding true good in any man of the world today.
Of course, my brother and I chose for obedient servitude and….
Well, as you may see, this is when the past meets the present; which is rather a fascinating thought since measurable time means little within the Manor. My twin brother and myself became, as we are now, reapers to guide the numerous pets that dwell within the Manor to their prey, and to do as our master instructs.
I must be honest with you, it pleases my master greatly to have you in attendance, and what pleases my master, please both my brother and I. Hot blood soaking into floorboards, splattered upon walls, bones hidden into corners…. There is not a better sight except, perhaps, when one our beloved pets delivers, as you might say, the "finishing blow".
Indeed, that is our story. It is a fairly uninteresting one by my personal standards, my brother may have a different opinion. My past may be insignificant but the present and the future… now that I enjoy. I hope you enjoy your stay while you here at Baudeau Manor, my master takes great care to see that all his guests are well taken cared of, and… I personally wish you a slow, torturous, agonizing death.
Farewell.
Sincerely,
The First Inhabitant