Excerpts from the journals of Ulric Thorsson
(Discovered along with his body at the excavation of a Viking burial mound 
on Michipicoten Island, Lake Superior, Canada, in 1858.)

	I feel my long days are drawing to a close. My soul grows weary at the 
never-ending cycle of blood and ashes. It is time for rest, for although 
Valhalla's doors will ever be closed to me, I yearn to quit the realm of 
mortals.

	That my days should end here, in this strange land of shallow lakes and 
tall trees, I will ever regret. I long to see the mountains of home, 
tall, snow-capped, the midnight sun setting them afire. But Erikkson has 
made his intentions plain. Until we navigate this entire stretch of 
water, there is no hope of braving the open sea. He still clings to the 
hope that across this vast land we may yet discover the path around the 
world. I blame myself for this, for had it not been for my journeys to 
the island of Atlantis, I may never have learned of their philosophies, 
nor returned to relay them to my own people. Of course, on hearing of 
the Phoenicians boast of covering the world in their ships, my people 
had to attempt the impossible: namely crossing this strange land and 
returning home.

	.......I am mindful of just how far I have come since my birth in 
Goteborg. I have charted my history, numbered my summers according to 
the rules and laws of the Atlanteans. This will be my two thousandth and 
seventy first year. I have travelled the known world; ate goat in tents 
on the edge of the Sand Sea; fished off the myriad islands in the warm 
waters of the Aegean; marvelled at the immense tombs of the Pharaohs. I 
have stood in awe at the mighty halls of Atlantis, watched them crumble 
before me as Thor smote the earth with a mighty hammer-blow, barely 
survived as the waters rushed to swallow the entire island.
	I have dwelt amongst the beautiful Mayans for a thousand years, seen 
them grow into a powerful, knowledgeable people, while their human 
sacrifices to their "Great White God" served my purposes well. I have 
wept bitter tears at their decline, stagnation induced by my own undying 
presence. It was then I vowed to return home, to lead my own people to 
the glorious land, to aid these wondrous, gentle people.
	I set sail, nearly seventeen hundred years old, across the great ocean 
that divided Atlantis and the Pillars of Hercules. Although the journey 
was arduous, in less than a year I was once again on the shores of 
Europe. But much had changed. Europe was seething with people, and 
others of my kind sought me out to slay me. My crew from that distant 
continent were slain, my passage to my homeland blocked by fierce 
tribesmen from the high mountains north of Iberia. They were commanded 
by one almost as powerful as I, and I had to flee south, across the 
mouth of the Mediterranean, to the northern edge of the untravelled 
land. From there I journeyed east, through Libya, Egypt and Syria, 
witnessing the decline of the Egyptian empire, and, as I turned west, 
the halcyon days of the Greeks, and the birth of the Roman empire. 
Finally, after three hundred years, I returned to my people, to find 
them grown in stature, strength and fearlessness. I returned to my 
former occupation of stone mason, but the horror of the bloodlust, and 
the weariness of constant battles for survival persuaded me to embark on 
the voyage back to the land of the Maya.
	Three years have passed since then, and now there is one more task I 
must perform before I leave this world. Foolishly, in an attempt at 
companionship after these long years, I made Olaf Magnusson like me, 
hoping to pass on the knowledge and wisdom of Atlantis and the Maya. But 
he is beyond control, slaughtering any mortal he can when the bloodlust 
is upon him. I am fortunate that I did not change him when we were at 
sea, but waited until landfall. Thus, his thirst is slaked with the 
blood of the Algonquin, and not that of our crew. I can only hope that 
when I teach him of the power to be gained from the blood of one's sire, 
the temptation will prove irresistible. Although it will mean my own 
destruction, I cannot allow the evil within him to roam free.
	I sense him. He intends to catch me unawares, as if a cloak of darkness 
will hide him from me! He is a fool, but dangerous beyond compare. I 
only hope this journal is destroyed when my trap is spru.......


Journal entry ends.





Other relevant info:-

	Ulric was born in Goteborg, Sweden, in 2043 BC. A giant at 5'7" he 
became a fierce warrior and exceptional craftsman in stone and bronze. 
At the age of 31, he was Embraced by a Phoenician 2nd gen. vampire, 
posing as a trader en route to the lands of the Celts. The Phoenician 
taught him much about his powers, but little on how to conduct himself 
in mortal society. Thus, Ulric Embraced much of the local populace, 
carrying out raiding parties to the east and south to supply him with 
mortal blood. Eventually, vampires came to dominate tribal culture, but 
due to the isolation imposed by the local terrain, the vampires turned 
on themselves, fighting horrendous battles that may have been the 
origins of the stories of Ragnarok. With the last of his Childer slain
, Ulric exiled himself, concealing his passage as he went to explore the 
world. As he journeyed, he changed from warrior to sage, absorbing 
knowledge as he passed through each culture. When Atlantis was 
destroyed, Ulric escaped east to the jungles of South America. 
Worshipped as a God, along with other escapees from Atlantis, he cared 
for and nurtured the emerging Mayan culture into one of the most 
mathematically advanced societies in the immediate post-destruction era. 
However, his presence as the Great White God eventually led to this 
civilisations downfall, as power-hungry priests arose, demanding more 
and more blood from the general populace to feed their god. With the 
Mayan society on the brink of collapse, Ulric destroyed the priests, and 
set sail e ast for Europe. He left no vampires in South America.
	Eventually, after three hundred years of journeying, fighting off 
attempt after attempt at diablerie, he returned to Sweden, hoping to 
slot himself back into society. But, ill at ease with the new savage ways 
of his people, he agreed to guide Wulf Erikkson west towards the land of 
the Maya. There far to the north, his Childe, Olaf Magnusson staked him, 
with the intention of consuming him, but Ulric succeeded in destroying 
Magnusson by means of a device he liberated from Atlantis. The device, 
however, was destroyed.
	Ulric was buried at Michipicoten Island, the stake still in place. He 
was dug up in 1858, and has since been reacquainting himself with both 
the Americas and Europe. On Vampires and other weirdness.

	Ulric despises both the Camarilla and the Sabbat, seeing them as 
squabbling gangs of childish thugs. He has no time for the "traditions", 
most of which developed during his enforced period of rest. Strictly, he 
is Caitiff, thus feels greatest empathy for those Kindred who choose to 
have nothing whatsoever to do with modern Vampire society. He has been 
known to preach on the peace to be reached if an acceptance of one's 
condition is achieved, though he himself will admit that (once someone 
has told him ab out it) he is still a long way from Golconda.
	He has even greater contempt for Mages, dabblers (as he sees it) in 
powers that were at their height 4000 years ago in Atlantis. Contrarily, 
he has profound respect for the Garou, who he considers to be the most 
noble, and dangerous of adversaries. 

	He currently uses the alias Richard Thorn.