Adrian Poe
(The following is the diary/backstory of Adrian Poe, the Vampire: The Masquerade Tremere that I played in Charlottesville by Night.)
March 28, 1998
Hello, reader. You have in yours hands one man’s attempt to reconcile the legendary with the factual, the magical with the genuine. My name is Adrian Poe, and this is my research journal.
Now, unless you’re very easily satisfied, a bit more information would seem to be in order. I am performing this research as an extension of my previous historical thesis on the woman known only as Trianimi, which can be found on file at Standford University. It is my belief and my hypothesis that Trianimi did indeed exist, and that she was intimately involved with occult workings across the majority of Europe.
As my previous research has shown, Trianimi was a woman who lived in the 8th century AD. Her geneology and exact origins cannot be certain, but I have conclusively shown that she travelled throughout Europe, and was involved in a number of curious, even fantastic events. Wherever she appeared over the span of her life, which, it may be noted, was significantly longer than that of most people of the age, she trailed a wake of mysterious happenings and extrordinary associations.
It is because of this that I intend to trace Trianimi’s route from the earliest source of her appearance. As I write this, I am on a transatlantic flight en route to Dusseldorf, Germany. It seems appropriate to express my thanks to the Wenner-Gren Foundation for their generous research grant, without which I could not carry out my research.
On a personal note, I must confess that it is no coincidence that the occult background of an important, if practically unknown, occult figure is the focus of my research. Since my childhood, I have been utterly fascinated by the idea of magic. Much of my personal studies, as well as many of my curricular choices, have dealt with the history and myth of the world’s magic. I have even gone as far as to develop an understanding of certain magical systems, although, not surprisingly, without success. I now content myself to study the ancient esoterics of magic in a purely scientific fashion, which is seemingly the only perspective in which it can be considered with any degree of truth. Regrettably, I have come to realize that magic could never have existed.
I shall leave you with that for now, so as to preserve the precious space of this journal for its intended purpose.
March 31, 1998
I arrived in Dusseldorf this morning. My German is as abyssmal as I expected it to be. I am only thankful that my cab driver spoke a bit of English. Otherwise, I doubt if I would have ever reached my lodgings.
I commenced with locating my primary research sites without much success. The libraries here will be of little help before I get a better hold on the language. I think there is enough grant money to spare for an interpreter, at least on a limited basis.
Naturally, I have asked around about Trianimi to see if there was any local information available. I received the response that I expected (i.e. shrugs and expressions of puzzlement). I doubt very seriously anything but time in the library will reveal the answers I seek.
April 5, 1998
After much tedious translation, I have finally unearthed what I believe to be the location of Trianoma’s former home. I call her Trianoma now because what few references I have of her refer to her by this name. I find it likely that I have been calling her Trianimi erroneously, as the source used in my thesis was much less reliable than these historical accounts.
Unfortunately for me, the location is well out into the German countryside, away from any usable roads. I find it likely that walking will prove to be faster, anyway, what with my growing but limited command of German. I will set out for the site within the next day or so.
On a side note, I have yet to see the peculiar charm that many people have attributed to Germany. I have met with nothing but rude people, bad weather, and horrible food since my arrival. If Germany has a good side, I have yet to see it.
April 12, 1998
I arrived back from the site of Trianoma’s home two days ago. What I initially found there was nothing extrordinary; a few oddly shaped rocks at roughly right angles were all that appeared to remain of the dwelling that must have stood there over 11 centuries prior. Standing there in the middle of a formerly untold history was an extrordinary feeling. I’m beginning to appreciate what the scholars mean when they say that you don’t known science until you’ve done field work.
I spent two full days scouring the ruin for anything useful, without much luck. Then, when I was about to abandon my search, I discovered a worn, tattered piece of parchment beneath one of the stones of the foundation. Why it had not decayed to dust or faded into complete illegibility after so many centuries, I can only speculate, although my rudimentary carbon-dating revealed it to be of the appropriate age.
It has taken me several days to make out the words that appear on the parchment, both because of its disrepair as well as the obscurity of the dialect. From what I can work out, the writer appears to be discussing the necessity of organizing a secret society of some kind. There also appears to be a symbol of a diagonal grid surrounded by a square, a circle, and a diamond with a snake’s head at the bottom. I have not yet been able to determine it’s meaning.
This new piece of evidence leads me to believe that my hypothesis is correct. I will need to research the symbol further to determine where I should look next.
April 16, 1998
I have set some of my academic contacts to searching for the symbol I found on Trianoma’s parchment. I am hopeful that they will find something, because I’ve already exhausted countless libraries and sleepless hours searching to no avail. I am only thankful that my research has not been a total loss.
Yesterday, I discovered a regional history book with an account of a secret gathering. I have given more precise measurements of the parchment’s age and there can be no doubt that the two dates fall very closely together. Unfortunately, I cannot yet conclude that this is anything more than an astounding coincidence, but I am hopeful that further investigation will tie them together.
April 21, 1998
My investigation of the alleged gathering site has revealed no clues. I’m not surprised; it was unlikely that such a temporary event could leave any traces after more than a millenium. Still, it was worth a look.
Regrettably, I haven’t had any better luck with my other sources. My contacts have asked for further patience and my libraries have run dry of anything useful or interesting. All I can do now is wait and hope that the symbol turns out to have substance. If it doesn’t, I will have reached a dead end.
May 4, 1998
As it turns out, hounding my colleagues for information has paid off. It seems that the symbol I found matches one discovered in some Transylvanian ruins of approximately the same age. This comes as very welcome news, since I was about to give up on this entire venue of investigation. Just to be safe, I think I’ll spend a bit more time in Germany to make sure there’s nothing I’ve missed.
May 15, 1998
As I expected, Dusseldorf has no further information to offer regarding Trianoma or her mysterious order. I have taken note of everything relevant and packed my bags. Hopefully Romania will prove to be a more pleasant site for research.
May 22, 1998
I arrived in Brasov, Transylvania today. The countryside isn’t quite as grim as they portray in the Dracula movies, although the Carpathians are a bit daunting up close. The village that I’ll be travelling to is apparently quite pleasant this time of year. I think Romania will turn out to be a nice change of pace.
May 28, 1998
My evaluation of the ruins is nearly complete. The local people tell tales of an evil sorcerer who once lived here long ago until the peasants rose up and burnt him alive within the structure. I’d like to believe them, but most of their stories are too fanciful to trust. If there is any truth to the folklore, I suspect it must be hidden within centuries of embellishment.
The ruins themselves are uninteresting for the most part, although the symbol from Trianoma’s parchment is clearly etched into one of the stones. That there could be a connection this far from Germany suggests that, if this Order did indeed exist, its influence likely spanned across many countries.
I don’t think there’s much more for me to do here. I’ll take what information I’ve collected and return to Brasov within the next day or so.
June 3, 1998
The libraries in Brasov are thankfully well-organized, and thus the record I was looking for took only a few days to find and translate. Apparently the structure, which had an almost tower-like configuration, was occupied by a Hungarian lord named Dorjan Ambrus in the late 12th century. According to the record, a village uprising ended in his death and the destruction of the estate. It seems the villagers were correct after all.
To say that this information pleases me would be a massive understatement. Not only does the symbol in the ruined tower indicate a connection across country borders, but it also suggests that the Order must have lasted for at least four centuries! This is obviously a momentous find, and a solid piece of evidence for my hypothesis.
June 11, 1998
Today, while knee-deep in research, I was approached by a peculiar man. He introduced himself simply as “a patron of scholars, such as” myself. Quite off my guard, I inquired as to his business. It was then that he laid a book in front of me. He told me, “Use this to find what you seek, but please return it to me in a fortnight.” With that he quickly departed, leaving me confused but curious.
For the moment, I’m not even sure in what language the book is written. Still, this could be a break-through. I will set to the task of deciphering the book immediately.
June 20, 1998
I have hardly slept in the past week. The book given to me by the strange informant is no less than Dorjan Ambrus’ journal! Unfortunately, it is written in an ancient Hungarian dialect, and translation is going slowly. What I have found, however, spurs my curiosity to no end. In the journal, Dorjan hints at the inner workings of the “Order of Hermes Thrice-great”. It seems clear that the journal was not intended to be a procedural guide of any sort, as Dorjan offers very few details.
One particularly interesting entry gives the details of a great meeting intended to “[up]root the betrayers among our brethren.” I’m still a bit confused concerning the dating system of the book’s entries, but I believe the time frame of this meeting to be the late 12th century, around the time of Dorjan’s death. This corroborates with the end of the book, lending it even more credibility. I must wonder, however, if these “betrayers” had something to do with his untimely demise.
Needless to say, I am now convinced that the Order of Hermes did in fact exist, and that Trianoma was likely its founder.
June 23, 1998
My research appears to be bearing real fruit. I received a call this morning from one of my university contacts. One of the names mentioned in the text, Aldon Behr, is also cited in references to a Lithuanian blood cult almost half a century later. My suspicions are growing, since Aldon is mentioned not as an associate but as one of the betrayers to the Order.
My translation of the text is still incomplete. I doubt I will have it finished before I meet with my mysterious informant again, and so I will be sure to make a copy for myself.
July 5, 1998
Yesterday was my scheduled redezvous date with the informant. I showed up on the outskirts of Brasov after sunset, where and when he had told me to be. I felt uneasy about the whole meeting, but I knew I had to go. I had a million questions. Could this man be a member of the Order? One of its betrayers? How did he come to possess such a rare book?
What I saw on my arrival was enough to confirm even my wildest apprehensions. My informant lay dead on the spot, his body bathed in a pool of his own blood. I stared in abject horror at the scene for many long moments, my mind reeling. Then, without thinking, I ran. I clutched the journal tightly to my chest and sprinted off into the night. I feared for my safety. I feared that whoever it was that killed him would also surely want to kill me for knowing too much.
I didn’t stop running until my legs were about to give out beneath me. My lungs burned. I had ran. I had ran like a coward without looking back. It was only then, in that moment, that I realized what I’d gotten myself into. The Order of Hermes must still exist, and they didn’t want anyone to know.
As I write this, I am en route to Lithuania. Frightened though I am, I suspect the Order doesn’t know of me yet, or they would have already killed me. I will continue my research elsewhere and keep a sharp eye over my shoulder. If the Order is out there, I have to know.
July 10, 1998
I arrived in Vilnius early this morning. I’ve kept an eye out but have yet to see anyone suspicious. I can only hope that my immediate departure threw the Order off my trail.
Asking around about the blood cult revealed little usable information. Myths about the cult feature such cliche elements as vampires and demons. I highly suspect that my recent luck with folklore fact will not continue. This is going to require a lot more work to uncover.
July 17, 1998
As it turns out, the Lithuanian libraries aren’t nearly as organized as their Romanian counterparts. I’ve had quite a time searching for facts about the blood cult, with very little success. It seems that most of the books of the time were burned and rewritten by the Inquisition, and so accounts of the cult are shoddy at best. What’s more, most of the entries I have found occur some years after the disappearance of Aldon Behr, and are thus of little use to me. What was this man doing in Lithuania, and where did he vanish to when the fires swept through Europe?
July 23, 1998
I’ve met with a bit more luck in uncovering the workings of the cult. A local book collector agreed to let me peruse his collection, where I found several texts detailing the cult’s practices. The rituals themselves appear to bear curious similarities to classic alchemy, at least in theory. Naturally, the ordeals were quite grotesque (after all, they did call it a blood cult). Apparently, however, many of the rituals did deal with the drinking of blood for the promise of immortality, so it seems at least some of the folklore is true one again.
August 2, 1998
Here is where it happened. I’m sitting in a 13th-century monastery as I write this, the same monastery where the cult gathered to practice its heinous rituals. It’s hard to believe that such a nice church was once used for such practices, or that its walls were bathed in blood after the cult’s rather gruesome demise. Still, history is history, and anything that helps to advance my research is quite welcome.
I have proceeded to the surrounding woodlands where it was said that the cult leader lived, but the exact location eludes me. I’ll search for another day or two.
August 14, 1998
I have been unable to locate the cult leader’s dwelling despite my best efforts. It seems quite peculiar, considering the source was very specific. I can only conclude that the dwelling itself must have been entirely removed at some point. Whatever the case, a week of lost work has forced me to abandon the search.
Further inquiry into the cult has revealed a dark undertone. According to several texts, the rituals were not mere blood-letting. It is said that the cult leaders themselves drank of the cultists, and that the cultists tasted of the cult leaders as well. The final day of the cult was marked by a suicidal fanaticism that would humble any such modern-day occurrence. Studying the cult has been chilling work, but it stands as a fascinating anthropological study nonetheless.
August 23, 1998
I received a call today from one of my good friends and colleagues back at Stanford. After doing some digging, she claims that the name Aldon Behr appears in Italian Inquisitional records. Italy seems as good a place to go as any, seeing as my investigation is drying up here.
On a somewhat darker note, I’ve noticed some suspicious-looking individuals that seem to be taking special interest in me. Whenever I go out at night, I feel almost certain that I’m being followed, even though nobody is there. Perhaps I’m just being paranoid, but, just to be safe, I think I’ll conduct all of my research during daylight hours from now on.
August 31, 1998
It seems that my welcome in Lithuania has been spent. I returned to my room this evening to find that it had been ransacked. They seemed to be interested solely in my research materials. Trianoma’s parchment and Aldon Behr’s journal are both missing, as well as all of my research notes. I am thankful that I had taken this research journal with me today, or it and all of my findings might have been lost as well.
I am currently on my way out of Lithuania as quickly as possible. I only pray that the Order doesn’t find out where I’m going too quickly.
September 4, 1998
I arrived in Vienna without incident. I’ve been paranoid ever since the robbery, always keeping a close eye out. I refuse to leave this journal out of my immediate possession even for a moment. If I were to lose it, all of the evidence from my research would be lost. I spent the day making copies of it just in case. I’ll mail a few of them to my trusted colleagues back in the states; if anything happens to me, they’ll know what to do.
September 10, 1998
I’m beginning to think that Vienna was a dead end. It was a simple enough matter to locate the Inquisitional record stating, “On July 27th in the year of Our Lord 1284, the heretic Aldon Behr was burned at the stake for the crime of witchcraft.” However, that is as far as the record goes. There are no further accounts, no place of residence, nothing whatsoever. The conclusion seems to be that Aldon was only here for a short while before he was executed.
I will continue to look, but without any leads the situation is quite grim.
September 18, 1998
I was approached last night during my research by a tall, darkly-dressed man. He seemed pleasant enough, although I was already too paranoid to trust him. He addressed me politely and introduced himself as Draco Salvatore. Then, in a very business-like manner, he told me to abandon my research and return home if I valued my life.
Looking back, I regret what I did next. I rose to my feet in a caffeine-driven rage and shared my best explitives. And while I was insulting him, his heritage, and the Order, Draco regarded me with a quiet calm. At last my rage ended, and I stood huffing at him; my countenance must have been even more haggard than it usually is. Then he rose, repeated his message, and strode away with an air of perfect cool.
I don’t know what I’m going to do. I cannot bring myself to abandon my research. Not after all the work I’ve done. Not after all that I’ve discovered. My life may be at risk, but I won’t stop. Not until I have the answers I seek.
September 26, 1998
I’ve done it! After a week of feverish research, I’ve finally discovered what I believe to be an actual ritual location of the Order of Hermes. Everything seems to fit. I may be paranoid and sleep-deprived, but I haven’t lost my mind completely yet. There is still much to find out.
I have arrived at the ritual location. I can see what appears to be dried blood on the floor. There are half-burnt candles lying about the room. I can discern no pattern. I can’t be sure how recen…
They are here! I heard people coming down the steps and hid. I am now concealed in full sight of real-life Hermetics working a ritual! I can only pray that I’m not found.
There are five, no, six of them, five figures in black robes and one half-naked woman bound and gagged. They have placed her in the center of the circle. I can hear chanting now. It’s too low to make out, but I think it’s Latin. One of the five robed figures appears to be in charge. They’ve taken off the woman’s gag, and she’s cursing quite loudly in Italian. She keeps using the word, “Tremeer.”
It’s been awhile now. The ritual seems to have reached some sort of climax. He’s got a knife. Oh my God… they’ve removed her heart! I can’t believe what I’m seeing. The five of them are… feasting on it. The hoods of their robes. One of them is Draco Salvatore! I…
September ??, 1998
I don’t want to die. These are likely the last words I shall ever write in this journal. The fiends discovered me observing their ritual. I still don’t remember exactly what happened. Salvatore just looked at me and… it’s all blank. I have the vague impression that several days have passed and that I’ve been unconscious for most of it. I’m not sure where I am. The door is locked and there are no windows. I can’t hear anything. I don’t even know if it’s day or night. Why they allowed me to keep my journal, I don’t know. They must have read it. I suppose it’s no threat to them if it never leaves this damned room. If anyone finds this journal, please, I implore you, get it to my family. They have to know what happened to me.
?????, 1998
It’s been three, maybe four days since my last entry. I was beginning to wonder if they’d just leave me down here to die of starvation; if it weren’t for a drip in the ceiling, I’d be dead of dehydration already. In fact, I was contemplating suicide when Draco Salvatore walked nonchalantly through the door. “You are quite resourceful,” he told me, “and tenacious. Your thirst for knowledge is admirable.” Despairing though I was, I almost laughed; look where my “thirst for knowledge” had gotten me. “I’m going to offer you a choice,” he continued. “You can either die down here or become one of us. You may have one night to decide.” At that, he departed, and I was left alone with my thoughts once more.
When I consider the situation, what choice do I have? Perhaps if I agree to become one of the Order, they will spare me long enough to get my journal beyond these walls. I’m not exactly fond of the idea of eating hearts, but anything is better than death. When Salvatore returns, I will accept his offer.
October 24, 1998
This will be the last entry in my journal. I think it appropriate to disclose what I now know to be the truth, even if these words will never be read by human eyes. On accepting Draco’s generous offer, I was brought from the dungeon into a ritual hall filled with all manner of wonders. Had I the opportunity, I could have spent my mortal lifetime studying any one of the items there.
I was taken promptly the ritual circle and, for a moment, dreaded that Draco wished to eat my heart just like that woman’s. This, it turns out, was not the case. Amidst an elaborate ritual display, I died and was reborn as a one of the Tremere, the last survivors of the Order of Hermes. I am heartened to know that, in the end, my research was indeed correct.
Now, with all eternity before me, I realize that my quest for magic was destined to end like this. Draco has promised to teach me all I ever wished to know of the art which has been my life’s pursuit, and I am eager to learn.
Sanguis est vita
Sanguis est vis
Sanguis est meus