This case was once the property of Captain Rudolph Montague, Lord Rochester, latterly of the 24th Light Dragoons –missing in action Neuve la Chapelle, September 1916. The case itself is somewhat battered and the sharkskin covering is stained with water and what appears to be mud and blood.

The case is not standard military issue – on the inside of the lid is the makers trademark – Bootles of Saville Row, as well as a royal cipher showing the manufacturers to be gentleman’s outfitters, “By Appointment”.
The case and the (now missing) binoculars were a gift to Captain Montague from his father on the occasion of his embarkation for the Western front in 1915.

Regimental history records that the company commanded by the Captain suffered almost 80% casualties during a futile and badly co-ordinated assault on German positions on the 14th September 1916. (If survivors of the regiment can be traced they will cite Montague’s cowardice, drunkenness and incompetence as the major cause of his company’s annihilation.)

Montague was listed as Missing in Action following the assault- like so many others on the Western front his body was never recovered.

Study Time
Close examination of the case reveals that on one side the stitching of the sharkskin is crude –certainly not to the standard one would expect from a Saville Row Gentleman’s outfitters. The stitching can be gently removed, and the sharkskin cover will be found to lift slightly, although it is still apparently glued to the case itself. Scientific examination of the glue will reveal it is a dried paste made of powdered army issue biscuits and water. Soaking the case in water for 24 hours will lift the sharkskin free of the brass case. (3 x Dex x 3 rolls will be required to remove the sharkskin cover in one piece –failure means that the sharkskin tears and some of the information of the case is lost.

The brass case will be found to be incised with miniscule writing, and the sharkskin itself will be seen to be covered in minute script.

It will take 1D10 hours to read and piece together the events described in the text –the writing is crabbed and tiny, written with the nub of a pencil, or incised with a nail into the brass case, by the flickering light of a dug out candle, whilst the author cringed from the fury of the incessant artillery barrages of the Western Front, as well as other, darker horrors. Good lighting and magnification as well as transcription aids will reduce the time taken to decipher and understand the contents of the hidden message.

The secret message forms a diary- cum- confession of Captain Montague’s cowardice in the face of the enemy, his desertion from his doomed Company; his hiding in No mans land for 48 hours after the attack, and his eventual meeting and joining with an international band of deserters and renegades.

(Keepers are recommended to study Paul Fussell’s “The Great War and Modern Memory” for details of the remarkable trench myth of the band of men of all nations who deserted, hid out and scavenged for survival in No mans land until they were ultimately hunted down and exterminated by the authorities.)

The diary details Montague’s life in the secret dug outs between the lines, and his slow descent into brigandage, atavism, and ultimately cannibalism.

He describes how the “tribe” dared not risk raids for food and supplies on the front line trenches unaided – they relied on help and support from what Montague describes as “the others”.

Montague’s diary is unambiguous in the terror “the others” instilled in the author –once they had been summoned from their underground lairs, Montague records his terror at hearing their snuffling meepings and gibberings in the darkness.

Who or what “the others” may have been is open to speculation, although Montague incised a study of one of them in the brass of the binoculars case – the dog like features, cloven hooves and long claws are perhaps an expression of the personal devils of cowardice and self loathing which were driving Montague rather than an accurate representation of something hitherto unknown to science.

It is obvious that Montague can hardly bring himself to write of the dreadful cost demanded by “the others” as the price of their aid - but ultimately he confesses that in the bitter winter of 1917 when starvation and exposure had driven the band beyond desperation, they too joined with “the others” and took their share of human flesh.

The final paragraphs are truly dreadful to read, as Montague describes how the entire band ceased hunting for supplies, and began hunting men. Montague describes with loathing and self disgust how he himself led ambushes on lonely sentries, or stranded patrols caught out in No mans land at night.

Montague confesses that he had now sunk so low he found himself preferring the taste of human flesh- preferably warm, but “even long dead casualties of the shelling, bloated and green, were not to be disdained.”

It will be noted that towards the end of the confession Montague’s handwriting and vocabulary deteriorates, along with his spelling. It is almost as if the author himself was degenerating – certainly it is to be hoped that Montague’s last entry “noe mor reknize miself” is a reflection of his despair at his deeds rather than a response to catching sight of his own reflection in water filled shell hole.

SAN LOSS – 1/1D4 – For reading the horrifying descent of a young Gentleman into degenerate and inhuman cannibalism and savagery

SPELLS – Summon Ghoul –if the spell is cast in the ruins of the church of the Sacred Heart destroyed by artillery just outside Neuve La Chapelle in January 1918 there is a 50% chance that the ghoul summoned will be Montague himself –although how degenerate and debased he has become will be the keeper’s decision.