Below are the 15 most recent journal entries recorded in saint_duncan's LiveJournal:

Tuesday, July 19th, 2005
12:15 am	Evidence file 19-35-99 The following is the result of a tapped telephone conversation. The tap was placed by Officer [withheld for officer's safety], in Finnegan's Pub, the South End of Boston. The call took place at a quarter past midnight. The first voice belongs to a Terrance Hapscombe, alleged money launderer and arms dealer. The second voice is unindentified, but may be one of the "Saints of South Boston," wanted for the execution of dozens of members of organized crime. [Click.] Hapscombe: "Hello?" Voice: "Evenin', Hapscombe. Do ya know who this is?" [There is a lengthy pause. In the background, a mildly rowdy bar can be heard.] Hapscombe: "The Saint. I thought I told you never to call me again." Voice: "Well tha's jus' too fuckin' bad, ain't it, sai? M'gonna need somethin' outta yer pub." Hapscombe: "What the hell do you mean, out of my pub? You know I don't keep anything here." Voice: "Tha's no' true, sai. I lef' somethin' there, an' I need it back." Hapscombe: "No. Absolutely not. You're talking about that fucking little statue, aren't you?" Voice: "Tha's righ'. Ya didn' throw it away, sai? I sure hope not. Tha's m'ticket back, an' I don' think ya wanna be tha one that ends up keepin' me here, do ya?" Hapscombe: "No. [His voice sounds shaken] No, I've got it right here. Just. . just come get it, all right?" Voice: "Nah, no good. Too many cops watchin' yer place. 'sides, they're listenin' righ' now." Hapscombe: "What? You don't think -- ?" Voice: "Wha, ya think tha cops're retarded? They know who they're dealin' wi'. Jus' meet me where ya met me las' time. An' bring tha' statue." Hapscombe: "Christ. You're going to be the death of me." [Click. Hapscombe has hung up.] Voice: "Ya have no idea, scumbag. . ." [Click.] The body of Terrance Hapscombe was found two days later, executed in the same style of the Saints of South Boston (two gunshots in the back of the head, two unidentified silver coins marked with "Rhy'din" over the eyes). Approximately six and a half yards away from Mr. Hapscombe's body, there was a scorch mark on the ground, circular in shape, approximately four feet in diameter. There was no residue of any chemicals, explosives, or incendiaries of any sort found on the ground. The case has been filed alongside the rest of the Saints' kills. Filing officers were [names withheld]. (Comment on this)
Sunday, January 30th, 2005
6:54 pm	. . . video journal. . . ::Duncan's sitting before the camera, looking exhausted.:: Had a vision. No' too happy one too. ::Shakes his head:: Cops're askin' afta me too. Thora an' Astrid are movin' in this weekend. Gotta make sure they're safe. ::Sighs, and seems to run out of steam. He stops the tape.:: (Comment on this)
Sunday, January 23rd, 2005
11:59 pm	. . . his vision. . . Duncan was sprinting down a Rhy'din street, the child Astrid in one arm, his revolver in the other hand. The baby was wailing, and the side of Duncan's face was bloodied. Behind them, dark things skittered and gave chase. Their claws could be heard scraping against the brick of the buildings around them and the asphalt of the street. Further down the street, a car was speeding towards Duncan and the child. Duncan whispered a prayer in thanks upon seeing the headlights, and then kissed Astrid's forehead. "C'mon, sai, s'time ta see yer mommy. C'mon, everythin's gonna be fine. Please stop cryin! Aw." Astrid began to calm down, but howled again when one of the shadows broke free of the building beside them and launched through the air at the pair. Duncan's revolver gave a sharp report, and the shadow went wheeling away; a shriek of pain followed it back towards the building. The car screeched to a halt, and Naomi's face peered out the window. "What the FUCK is going on?" Duncan just shoved the child through the open window, mindful of her head. He gives the child one last smile, and kisses her on the cheek. Now, he turned to regard Naomi in the harsh light of the street lamps. "Whateva happens, Nao, jus' get Astrid home ." He paused, then said, "An' tell Thora... tell 'er I love her." Naomi started to protest, but he just shoves off the side of the car, second revolver coming up to fire at two red eyes that were fast approaching. "Jus' GO!" The car speeds off, and runs over two of the shadows as they try to block it off. They both shriek at the fading lights of the vehicle, then turn to look at Duncan. "Tha's righ', ya rotten fucks. Come get some." Duncan pulls his rosary from under his shirt. It's white-hot and glowing, but doesn't seem to harm him in any way. The rosary flares brighter for a split second, and the street lamps around him explode. The shadows howl and shuffle back, giving him the moment he needs. Duncan sweeps his skalley cap off his head and confidently reloads his firearms. When they're set, he looks up and around; he is ringed by the shadows, their claws and eyes the only thing visible now that the street lamps are out. "An' shepherds we shall be, for thee m'Lord for thee. Power hath descended forth from thy hand, that our feet may carry out thy command." The shadows move forward, slowly. "And we shall flow a river forth to thee, and teeming with souls, shall it ever be. In nomini patris, et fillii, et spiritu sancti ." As soon as he finishes his prayer, the rosary glows brightly once more, and he begins firing. The shadows close in on him, and for each that falls, two more take its place. He's still firing when they reach him, and the claws tear his throat open. "Thora. . . your child's safe." All he sees before he falls to the ground is her face, radiant and glowing with a glow that is not from this world. Not such a bad way to go, he thinks. Current Music: "Minerva" -- Deftones (Comment on this)
Saturday, January 22nd, 2005
7:52 pm	. . .video journal. . . ::Duncan's looking healthier, and grinning like mad. He's wearing his old outfit -- jeans, Doc Martens, wifebeater, skalley cap. His big revolvers are in shoulder holsters.:: Spent tha nigh' a' Thora's again. No' in tha' way -- jus' slept on tha couch. It was nice. I been sensin' a change in tha wind -- maybe this is it. I dunno, it's eitha this 'r somethin' wi' m'work. ::He looks up thoughtfully:: Ah, hell. Maybe tha' *is* it. Well. . s'okay, 'cuz m'feelin' grand as hell wi' this girl. ::He grins at the camera, reaching for the power button:: Gotta go call 'er now. ::The recording ends.:: (Comment on this)
Wednesday, January 12th, 2005
2:05 pm	Video Journal... ::Duncan sits before the camera, looking gaunt and pale. He takes a deep breath before he begins speaking.:: I dunno if m'gonna make it ta see tha end of tha month. Whateva this sickness is tha' I go', it ain't goin' away. Keeps me col', an' even if m'around a buncha people, I feel alone an' sad. It's like steppin' outta tha winter storm an' not bein' able ta shake off tha snow. It's been gettin' ta me, drivin' me crazy. ::He looks into the camera, eyes somewhat frightened:: It was a Demon tha' gave it ta me, I found out. No' one a those horn-an'-wings kinda Demons. It was all shadow an' col'. ::He shakes his head:: I have a few ideas on gettin' rid a' this sickness, but dunno if they'll work. So, I gotta get a hold a' Thora an' talk ta her. Tell 'er wha' I am, wha' I do, an' ask 'er if it matters. ::His voice gets quiet:: I sure hope it don'. I like 'er a lot, an' I wouldn' mind bein' 'round 'er more. An' she deserves ta know wha' I do. She deserves ta know everythin' -- wha' bein' a Saint, a Gunslinga, workin' fer tha FBI all mean. The people I kill, tha things I do. I gotta open up again. Shuttin' m'self away from everyone once I realized I was in love wi' Rose. . . ::He shakes his head:: If I die from this, Thora's gotta know tha' I'll be back. I gotta tell 'er. ::He sighs, and slowly reaches up to the camera:: I gotta tell 'er 'fore it's too late. ::The recording stops.:: Current Music: "Boulevard of Broken Dreams" -- Green Day (Comment on this)
Saturday, January 1st, 2005
1:10 pm	Attack on Rhydin. ::The camera turns on, but instead of being Dun's room, the image is pointed at a Rhydin city street, from the rooftop of a building. There's a few forms shuffling around on the street. They are clearly the undead, and searching for a meal.:: So how's this fer a fuckin' New Year? ::Duncan's voice drifts into the camera from behind the viewfinder:: One a' these shits attacked tha Rose tha otha nigh', an' tore tha place up real good. Tough little shit, too. Pumped it fulla rounds, an' nothin' happened. Had some kinda regenerating shit. These two ain't so tough tho'. ::The camera wobbles as it's put on a tripod, and there's the sound of a small lever clicking. A moment later, there's a gunshot from beside the camera, and one of the zombies' heads bursts like a melon.:: OH! There we go. ::Another shot, and the second zombie loses most of its torso. As soon as the second one hits the ground, half-rotten dogs come from the alleyways to start feeding:: Well.. I don' wanna deal wi' these shits. . . m'gonna try m' "Final Solution," tho', real quick. . an' don' wanna tear up the camera. Gonna turn it off. Gotta bring Angelin 'er present anyways. ::The camera shuts off:: (Comment on this)
Sunday, December 26th, 2004
11:04 pm	... his video journal ... ::Duncan sits before the camera, eyes cold and hard.:: S'about tha' time, I think. Time ta clean house again. Too many scumbags crowdin' m'streets. There's one I've go' m'eye on, an' m'waitin' fer him ta trip up fer jus' one second. If he's meant ta live, tha Lord kin let him change 'is ways. Oth'awise, he's a dead man. ::And the camera cuts out abruptly:: (Comment on this)
Monday, December 13th, 2004
7:52 pm	. . his video journal. . ::The camera turns on, and Duncan is sitting outside, stetson pulled down over his eyes. After a few moments he sighs and pulls the hat up, looking off to the side of the camera:: Naomi an' I saved a buncha slaves tha otha nigh'. Like six of 'em. Came real close ta bangin' Nao too, ta be honest. I dunno. I know I shouldn', but she's pretty flirty, an' good-lookin', an' I been so frustrated ova Angelin an' Rose. . . ::Duncan shakes his head, and leans back in his seat:: I made Seamus' defribillator thing go off tha otha nigh'. He saw tha bracelet Rose gave me. . . flipped out some. Then Rose was sayin' somethin' ta me 'bout bein' healthy, an' neva leavin'. I don' think she gets tha fact tha' I'm more likely ta die th'n Seamus is. Heart condition a' his no'-withstandin'. ::Duncan pops a cigarello in his mouth, takes a deep puff, and sighs the smoke out of his lungs:: I jus' dunno wha' ta do. I'm bein' more productive th'n eva 'fore, since I go' this Weiss thing ta guide me ta tha real big assholes, but. . s'like when I do betta a' m'work, I do shitty a' m'personal life. Wonderful. ::Duncan gives one more shake of his head:: Tha' Dakota betta watch out. If he messes Angelin 'round at all, I'm gonna be there ta tell 'er he's a piece a' shit. ::Shrugs:: Maybe s'no' m'place ta say, but m'sick a' always holdin' everythin' in. ::He snorts a little:: Me holdin' shit inside. Soun's crazy, don' it? ::Chuckling at himself briefly, Duncan taps the power button on the camera.:: Current Music: Stay Positive -- The Streets (Comment on this)
Tuesday, December 7th, 2004
1:18 am	. . late at night. . ::The video begins, and Duncan sits in front of the camera. His stetson is missing, and his face is flushed with anger.:: Naomi went a bit far t'nigh'. Sayin' I go' no future, I can't have nobody, 'cause all I do is hurt 'em. Wha' tha fuck does she know? M'no' like 'er. M'no' some kind'a fucked up in tha head little girl tha's go' no faith in nothin' no' more. ::He looks away from the camera for a second, frowning:: . . but then 'gain. . I decided ta start stayin' a li'l more aloof when m'aroun' Angelin an' Rose. I go' feelin's fer both a' them, but it's no' gonna happen wi' eitha. So. . ::Dun shrugs:: . . fuck it. S'all bullshit, ain't it? Tha flirtin', tha bein' friendly, tha helpin' otha's out. I look out fer so many people, 'r try ta . . who looks out fer me? Nobody, tha's who. 'cept tha Lord, but he's no' settin' me up on any dates, is he? ::Duncan, frustrated and irritated, just slaps the "Off" button on the camera, and the video ends.:: (Comment on this)
Monday, December 6th, 2004
1:15 am	. . . video journal. . . ::Duncan sits before the camera, clearing his throat:: So I figgered, foun' this camera, maybe I shoul' get some things off m'chest, righ'? Dunno, feel kind'a goofy. Um. ::He scratches his head, and takes his stetson off:: Lessee. . tol' Rose I love 'er. She asked me to, an' I couldn' say no ta tha'. She gave me this bracelet -- ::he lifts his wrist into the view of the camera, showing a small bracelet made of thin wire and a strand of red hair:: -- she 'ad it made, wi' a strand a' her hair. 'ow sweet is tha'? ::He smiles dreamily for a few moments, then sighs:: Too bad tha's a dead-end, huh? But the way she was talkin' 'bout Angelin. . ::Pause:: . . tha' kid D'kota *is* kind of a piece a' shit. I don' even think 'e treats 'er tha' well, but maybe tha's jus' me bein' jealous. ::His voice drops a little, and so do his eyes:: Maybe tha's why I b'n actin' tha dick ta Seamus? Say true, Dun, there ya go there. ::he sighs, and glares at the camera:: Aw, this was a stupid fuckin' idea. ::His hand comes up, blocking the view, and the video ends:: (Comment on this)
Monday, November 29th, 2004
11:33 pm	...his third journey... The taheen are brutal. I'll give them that. They're fast, too. I have a hole in my lung to prove that, say thankya. I can feel the life flowing from me.. but it's okay. The children are safe. I'm going home. . and . . I think Angelin was here. I don't know why -- it should have been Rose. I was trying to warn her. . but. . maybe time moves differently here. We'll have to see. . . Lord, just a memo. . dying hurts. ---------- . . . Ugh. . . what the hell is this? Dark. Hard to breathe. And some kind of weight on me. Where.. oh. . OH FUCK! ---------- Memo number two, Lord: I don't like waking up in a coffin. In the ground. Six feet in the ground. Guess this makes me back home -- oh shit. Is that the Pru? . . Boston? ---------- It isn't my Boston. Well.. close enough, except here Gore won in 2000, did pretty much the same shit Bush did, and Rhydin was discovered in the 1980's. Kind of. . weirded the place a little. Upper Crust is still there, though. Was nice to have a slice of their pizza again. But after that, I bought tickets for -- get this -- the red-eye to Rhydin. Only it isn't exactly a plane. More like a little box that's going to get zapped to the place. Lord, this is weird. But . . six more hours, and I'm home. My *real* home. ---------- Plane-shifting sucks. ---------- I'm standing before the Rose, but for some reason I can't bring myself to go in yet. I look insane, for the most part -- I was brought back to Boston in my clothes from the Mid-World, apparently. Look like a cowboy, or bandit, or something. And I still have the stetson on -- kind of growing fond of it... Wait, what am I stalling for? Oh. Brid. Shit. ---------- I checked everywhere. She must have left. Well... maybe that's for the better. I didn't want to show up, say, "Hey, I'm still alive," then turn around and give her the "It's not going to work" routine. Shit, I'm such a crappy person. There's nothing left to do now -- just ... go to Rose. ---------- To THE Rose. Shit. (Comment on this)
Wednesday, November 24th, 2004
9:39 pm	..his conversation with a Gunslinger.. (The two men sit before a campfire, quietly chewing on venison steaks. Duncan's body has become far more lean and muscled, and his eyes show a slightly feral intelligence to them that wasn't there before. He speaks quietly, though, to Patrick DeStille, his Gunslinger mentor.) Duncan: "S'odd, ya know? Feel so focused, but there's somethin' tha' keeps gnawin' at me." Patrick: "Say true? What bothers you, sai?" Duncan: "I'm goin' home soon. I know tha'. But when I get there. . there's this girl." (To this, Patrick gives a small smile.) "I love her. But then again, she's got someone. An' I'm s'posed ta have someone too. And it's no' like I kin come home, an' blurt out 'I don' love ya' ta her a' firs' sight. . " (Duncan just gives up trying to wrap his mind around it, and puts his food down. Meanwhile, Patrick silently places a blanket with something wrapped into it beside Duncan.) Patrick: "These are for you. They have found a new Gunslinger." (Duncan stares at Patrick, stunned.) Duncan: "Ya would call me so?" Patrick: "Say true." (A brief moment passes, and Duncan takes the blanket, and wraps Patrick in an one-armed hug. Patrick murmurs in his ear.) Patrick: "My time in this world grows short, as well, but I do not pass to a world of wonder, such as yours. I pass into the clearing at the end of the path. I am sick inside, my student, and I feel the taheen in the pass must fall to your irons, not mine. Save those children, and return home." (Duncan nods and whispers a quiet thank you, before raising a hand and making the sign of the cross before Patrick.) Duncan: "Tha Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures, he leadeth me beside still waters. He restores my soul. He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; Thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: Thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever. In nomini patris, et filii, et spiritu sancti. Goodbye, my friend. My teacher." (And with this, Duncan straps the weapons of a Gunslinger to his hips, and starts striding towards the mountain pass, to strike down the taheen, save the lives of countless children, and be passed into his home of Rhydin.) Duncan: "I only hope m' message reaches someone. . ." (Comment on this)
Tuesday, November 23rd, 2004
1:03 pm	..he begins to have hope.. The Gunslinger, Patrick, sure knows how to train someone. I have not slept in days. So far, that is all he has required of me. I don't know why -- maybe to get used to it. It's getting hard to wrap my mind around things, with exhaustion setting in. . . there was something I thought of yesterday. Something about a warning. . Rose? ----------- I started training with the "tools of the trade," as the Gunslinger calls them. These guns feel fucking huge compared to the semiautomatics I was using. Well, they ARE huge, and heavy, that's probably why. And no lightweight metals or polymers for these babies. Even the grips are solid -- they're some kind of wood. Sandalwood, I think he said. I suppose I should go back to practicing. Using them feels good, as heavy as they are. . . ----------- I do not aim with my hand; those who aim with their hand have forgotten the face of their father. I aim with my eye. I do not shoot with my hand ; those who shoot with their hand have forgotten the face of their father. I shoot with my mind. I do not kill with my gun; those who kill with their gun have forgotten the face of their father. I kill with my heart. ----------- And shepherds we shall be, for thee my Lord, for thee. Power hath descended forth from thy hand, that our feet may swiftly carry out thy command. And we shall flow a river forth to thee, and teeming with souls shall it ever be. . . in nomini patris. Et fillii. Et spiritu sancti. . . ----------- ..he says I am ready. I believe it. Lord, thy servant has returned. (Comment on this)
Saturday, November 20th, 2004
8:45 pm	..he wakes in the strangest of places.. I can feel again. Hunger. Pain. Thirst. Despair. Maybe I should have stayed dead? -------------- The sun here burns hot and fierce at times, cold and wan at others. I can see no vegetation save patches of frightening purple grass. No animals, except the ones that scream their deaths in the middle of the night. I have no supplies. No guns. Not even a knife. If I don't find shelter soon. . . -------------- Calla Stormwell. That is where I find myself. The people here do not trust me, though they do not seem surprised a man wandered in from the desert mountains, despite my utter ignorance of where I am -- or when. There is one other stranger in this village, however, and after I eat tonight I think it will be time to meet the one all the townsfolk speak of with immense reverence and fear. Patrick DeStille. A Gunslinger. -------------- ... the Lord provides in strange ways, it seems. Last night I finally found my rosary. It is the same one Dulcinea gave me. I do not know how I know that, but I do. The Gunslinger handed it to me before I could even introduce myself to him, and told me, "Hile, Duncan MacNamara of Boston. We meet at last." He says he is to teach me what the Saints already started. And so, tomorrow my training begins. . . (Comment on this)
Thursday, November 18th, 2004
12:00 pm	. . his words whisper on a breeze. . . . in nomini patris, et fillii, et spiritu sancti.  How many times have I uttered those words? I can't even begin to remember. Countless times, probably hundreds. Well.. now I've met the ones behind those words. How? Because I died. The crooked politician wasn't the one who did it. Just some lowly security guard. He wasn't even aiming -- his finger just twitched when I shot him, and his gun launched a bullet into my gut. At least gutshots are slow -- gave me time to finish the politician, do the prayer, and say goodbye to Dulcinea. She brought me Here, after. The poor girl is so sad. I bet Rose and Seamus are too. . and Angelin. Brid. Oh, man. Things must be bad back home. I only wish I could tell them. . . Anyways, once I got Here, things began happening that made me weep. I was met by the Son himself. Jesus Christ. The Lord. He was... beautiful. Just looking at him made me weep. The love radiating from him was palpable. He stepped before me, and said, "My Son. You have returned to me. Come, embrace your Lord." And I did. My cares were swept away, and I felt the light of His love fill me. My words cannot do what it felt like justice. After the embrace, He did something that startled me. He said to me, "Now, as you have served My Father and I on earth, so shall I serve you here in heaven," and he began to wash my feet. It was strange, to have such a . . physical moment happen in a place that I assumed would be free of physical experiences. When He was done, I couldn't help it. I fell to my knees and began weeping again. He told me to rejoice, for it was time to meet the Father. And we went to see Him. . . . that is when things. . . no. Maybe I shouldn't speak of that. . . I have to. Yes, I know I do. The Father spoke to me. His voice was like existence itself, if that makes any sense. But that's not important, just the meaning of it all. . I'm not done. When I died in Boston, I was sent to Rhydin. . because I was needed. When I died in Rhydin, I came Here, but only because I was owed an explanation. From Here. . I go to where I'm needed. When I die there. . Rhydin again, possibly, I'm not sure. But I know my future. It's not to wander the planes forever. Seven times. That's how many times I will return to Rhydin. At least, I think I'll return to Rhydin. But seven times. After that, I come back to Heaven for good. I've been to Rhydin once.. so I guess I've got six left to go. But. . when I get to Heaven again. . I have a bad feeling. I don't think that I get to skip The Judgement, so. . I'll have to be careful. No more slip-ups, like I almost did with Morgan. No innocents shall suffer. That I promise. Then again, what if this is all the frightened nightmare of someone in the throes of death. . . ? I must have faith. . I must have strength. . ( ...oh no... ) (Comment on this)