When ol Freddy Bresley found our Sanc.
It were a place of rugged spirit. Of survival.
Of -WILL-.
We have strayed. Sitting high on our towers of Ivory.
The only freedom is surface. Establishment is slavery.
We chain ourselves. I will become unchained.
I will find my death, or I will find my surface.
I seek others. Others who hold themselves only to the surface.
Only to the dead ideals of Frederick Bresley.
[A name is scrawled below, plain and large]
Claire, Bastard Bresley