[center][h2][color=D8BFD8]Jonathan B. Jangles[/color][/h2][/center]


[center][h3][color=D8BFD8][i]"Oh gibbering abyss and endless maelstrom..."[/i][/color][/h3][/center]

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Crumpling up the sheet Jonathan threw the balled up wad into his wastebasket in his study that also doubled as his bedroom. Furnished with a few bookshelves and a large desk lit by an antique lamp, his bed was a Murphy bed that could be pulled down. It wasn't much but it was all he had left after his manor in London burnt after the townsfolk discovered where all the orphans were disappearing to.

It was a time in the past he never wished to revisit but he kept much of his research on animation of the dead as he owed his undeath to his research. While the manor burnt he took the concoction he had used on the children and by some miracle it worked.

Yet he knew that forces beyond his comprehension had something to do with it as he didn't believe whatever happened was gods work.