Notice: in order to maintain the pertinent anomaly's containment, the following article is to remain as-is. An unofficial file may be found here for reference.
It is with some degree of consternation, dissociative of all former, current, or future monikers, that I have been designated the itemized numeral of 7784, so that I and all associating anomalous behaviors might be properly identified and classified.
After much deliberation between myself and the Foundation, we have thusly agreed that the long-term housing of my person be classified as "Mimet"; in other words, that I am responsible for my own containment procedures.
It then falls upon me to explain the procedures which must be taken to ensure the Security of my person, and the Protection of those I may influence, should the former prove detrimental. I am to be given quarters with accommodations reasonable for my needs; I am also to be provided with company to entertain me, with various games and pleasures for my leisure. Though it pains me, I am not to be given libations, though I am free to refresh my guests with punch. During these visitations, I will (inevitably, as is my nature) regale my visitors with accounts of my travels, adventures, and campaigns. I have been requested to maintain my anecdotes with an air of triviality; that is, to narrate them in such a way as to keep the dignity and order of the natural world. Although I have agreed to attempt this with all the ardor and zeal I can muster, I must insist that every word of my accounts is factual, with nothing exaggerated or fancified, and to speak anything less than the truth would be profane, uncouth, and ungentlemanly.
In the event that my accounts should have any effects averse enough to cause considerable jeopardy, disarray, or alteration to any portion of perceivable existence, I am to resolve them in such a manner as to resume the natural order (that is, the state of such things hitherto any alterations, be they intentional or accidental). To this I have agreed. I am not in the habit of imposing my own will upon the world, beyond what God has allotted for each lady and gentleman; I merely recite what I, personally, have observed, and what has transpired.
Insofar as personal descriptions go, I should think myself an honest man, and a gentleman besides, who needs not exaggerate, boast, or portray myself as anything other than who, and what, I am. Of name I am Hieronymus Karl Friedrich Freiherr von Münchhausen, Baron of Rinteln and Bodenwerder. I have been informed that various biographies have already been written about my person, and both I and the Foundation encourage any who are keen to study such a matter begin with these. They are all, as far as I am aware, completely accurate, or as near to it as any author is expected to be.
Regarding my anomalous properties, I am, as it would seem, in the habit of altering the perceptions, properties, and histories of this world, its immediate celestial sphere of influence, and anything contained therein. These alterations come about during (and on some occasions, following) the regalement of my travels, campaigns, observations, etc. I have been informed that these revisions become "true" as I utter them, to the point where anyone in the act of perceiving them believes the change to be true, regardless of any precedent to the contrary.
The Foundation hypothesizes that, because of my ardent insistence of my accounts being true, then the entirety of creation remodels itself in accordance. As a man who does not flatter himself a scientist, I cannot say for certain whether this hypothesis is correct; furthermore, due to the nature of my anomalous properties, there exists few individuals who can say the same with absolute certainty. I have been informed that there are a select number who maintain the true (or rather, the "original") perception of history, and it is upon their report that we must gauge any variant. I, personally, know all my accounts to be true, and cite the same should our world, etc., reflect as such; but I am only one man, and am loathe to argue a singular account against that of many.
In addendum, I have been informed that my anomalous properties bear a strong resemblance to a certain manuscript composed by, or in close relation to, a Group of Interest known as the Daevites. I admit to having no knowledge of this organization, and if I had chanced to come across a practitioner of its activities, I had been unaware of the connection. Regardless, further investigations are being conducted, to which I have offered my assistance in the matter. The Foundation has declined my offer, however, claiming my intervention might put at risk the precision of their research. As I would never dream of purposely sullying such a serious matter, I shall simply wish the Foundation the best of fortune in their endeavor.
In order to better elucidate my person and position in relation to the Foundation, I have been requested to provide various accounts, which I will now present. Thus far I have been informed that each of these narratives, true though they may be, adhere to the Foundation's definitions of what they describe as ontokinetics (or the alteration of reality as it is perceived), and have deviated from their agreed understanding of the status quo.
An instance primarily in my thoughts concerns a time when I had (upon occasion) been in need of hasty transport, and upon finding nothing of convenience, I had chanced upon a cannon, which had begun the process of firing. I then proceeded to leap upon the cannonball as it was firing, and clung onto it for the duration of its flight, until it (and I along with it) arrived at its destination. This has become my preferred method of travel.
I should expect all of Bohemia to emulate it shortly.
A similar instance comes to mind: in which I had great desire for transportation, only to find any devices lacking. I had muttered (in my frustration) that I would give a week's pension for even half a horse, and lo and behold, a creature bearing this very description came perambulating along my way! The front half was perfectly normal, and indeed the steed was as good as any groomsman (or gentleman) could have wished, but its back half had been perfectly severed, so that, when I took it to saddle, I feared that I would tilt backwards, or the poor nag would not be able to stand upright!
Still, I and my new companion took to our fortunes as best we could, though I confess, we drew a great number of curious onlookers. Of particular was an incident where I settled my steed at a fountain for refreshment. It drank most heartily, as a horse would, but no sooner had it imbibed the fluid did it come pouring out the rear, as if my horse were a pipe! I suppose I should not have found that unusual, as I had indeed desired half a horse, and where else, pray, should that water travel to? Happily, I arrived at my destination, and though the beast and I got along rather well, I still maintain that cannon-travel is a far better alternative.
At least this one did not become trapped atop the steeple of a church.
There is one final account of transportation I feel I must share, at the insistence of the Foundation. One evening, I had promised to meet up with friends for a dinner-party, but I saw neither beast nor carriage or cannon to aid me, and as a gentleman, I dared not risk any delay for my appointment. I (somewhat reluctantly) took it upon my own abilities to direct me to my destination, and began to jog modestly. This jog turned into a gallop, which turned into a sprint, which I imbued with so much haste that I ran clear off the face of the world itself, launching myself into the sky. But for the grace of our lone errant satellite, I might yet be soaring into parts unknown.
I must admit, it took a moment for me to regain my senses and realize where I had ended up, but I was far more troubled by the possibility of a delay in my engagement rather than the awe of having sojourned to our moon. I must, at this moment, offer thanksgivings to the Foundation's lunar bases: for not only did they greet me, and refresh me during my unexpected interim, but were kind enough to contact the friends who awaited me at my destination, and assure them that I was well and would be at their doorstep at the earliest convenience. After a brief conversation where I regaled them with my adventures thus far, I was encouraged to attempt a similar passage, and dashed for my life's worth until I left fair Selene's orbit and returned once more to familiar soil. My friends greeted me with courtesy, assuring me to not fret over the delay, and furthermore, begged me to recall my adventure for them, which I was pleased to do.
Directing the moon's orbit while my hosts refreshed me.
There is an account regarding a hunting-trip I partook in, that involves a number of waterfowl coming to my assistance, but since regaling it would embarrass a dear companion of mine, I shall withhold it.
I would prefer not to speak of this incident.
During one of my many campaigns, I became a guest at the distinguished Turkish Royal Court, and was invited to meet with its Sultan. As to the nature of this meeting itself, I can say little, as His Highness and I only interacted for the quarter of an hour, and our discussion focused solely on my campaign, and not, as I had wished, on more pleasant topics. Upon my dismissal, however, I discovered that a valuable possession of mine, gifted to me by the Tsarevna of Russia, was not on my person, and as its sentimental value exceeded its worth, I greatly desired to recover it with all speed. I returned to the Sultan's court, whereby I issued my grievance and begged for his aid; alas, the potentate believed I was accusing his court of theft, and had me violently expelled, warning me to leave the country or else forfeit my life.
Insulted and outraged, I decided to collect my thoughts and plan my revenge in the closest dinery. After clearing my head with food, drink, and some idle rounds at the billiards table, I concocted a plan in which I would exact, if not justice, then certainly retribution.
Describing the entire nature of this scheme is, perhaps, a tale best told another time: in short, I discreetly crept through the outer wall of his palace, timing my movements so that no sentry would see me. By degrees I slipped past them into the interior, making no more account of myself than a shadow. This execution brought me rather felicitously into the Sultan's treasury, and after chuckling at my triumph, took it upon myself to retrieve as much as I could carry — that is, the entirety of His Majesty's fortune. My escape was considerably more difficult, I will admit, but by the grace of God (or perhaps some more nefarious force that had shown its favor to me), I was able to retreat from that abode, leaving no trace of my presence, bearing a literal king's ransom on my shoulders! Alas, there was neither steed nor cannon that could bear me, so I packed my plunder inside a carriage, hoisted it aloft, and made my way to safety in familiar territories, where I would be, if not in possession of my trinket, at least compensated for my troubles.
A gentleman does what he must in times of need.
Now I shall conclude my accounts with the incident which acquainted me with the Foundation. I had been dining with companions one evening, having an agreeable if not memorable repast, when my good host's door was loudly set upon by unexpected visitors. When a servant greeted them, the good man was very rudely forced aside, and a number thrice exceeding the tabled company came marching through, each armed with a musket. I, wishing to defend my host's honor as well as his life, rose to challenge the interlopers, chastising them for their boorish behavior and demanding to duel each of them. Their leader, rather alarmingly, informed me that I was the focal point of their intentions: that, in short, they had conspired to remove me from my host's hearth and table whether I willed it or not, and had no compunction about violence should I resist or refuse. Appalled though I was, I desired no harm to any of my company, and agreed to their terms providing no further harm befall anyone underneath that roof.
Once I had been escorted some distance from my host, I demanded to know who this vulgar rabble was, and by what right they removed me from a happy feast, and what umbrage they could hold against me. They answered sharply that I was in no position to make inquiries, and would keep their answers closely guarded in any case. Dissatisfied, I doubled my efforts, ceaselessly haranguing them until their brittle patience broke, and my cranium was speedily introduced to the butt of a musket. Though dazed, I managed to make account of myself in response, felling the brute before I was set upon: beaten, bound, blindfolded, and gagged.
To describe anything that happened to me during that unfortunate period would be pointless: I was forced along like a prisoner, with only my ears and the grasp of iron hands to guide me. I was placed into a carriage shortly, smothered between two of the brutes, and rode for (to my estimate) a quarter of an hour, before the vehicle careened to a violet halt. I heard shots going off, screaming, orders being given. A hand forcibly crushed me against the ground, presumably to preserve me from stray gunfire, though I would have preferred to take my chances rather than be handled so cruelly. Perhaps, though, this action saved me after all, for I heard the carriage-door being flung open, and a lethal report felling my protector. He was roughly discarded, and my binds were removed; I had thought myself saved by some gracious constabulary force, or friends, or at least allies of my good house: alas, I had only traded hands with another group of ruffians.
These fellows were at least cordial enough to answer my questions. I had been stolen away from my host by a Global Occult Coalition, who had evidently learned of my anomalous abilities and wished to have me destroyed. My new captors, who called themselves the Chaos Insurgency, did not know how this Coalition came to learn of my capabilities, or even my location. A number of the Insurgency's scouts had espied the Coalition's activities that evening, and as the two sides were sworn enemies (or so I was told), an engagement between the two was inevitable. The Insurgency had not expected to find me when they began their assault, but as I was now their prisoner, I had little choice but to accompany them on some new, dreadful adventure.
My next destination had the appearance of a most disreputable establishment, a mere hovel that even the lowliest vagrant would not shelter into except at great need. I was not even given the honor of being escorted through the front entrance, but was instead pushed around to a rear compartment, as if I were some vulgar thing unsuited for respectable eyes — or worse yet, as I was soon to discover, little more than a delivered parcel. There were two men flanking that foreboding passage, their luxurious apparel a flimsy veneer to hide an otherwise naked savagery. Words were exchanged that I unfortunately could not intercept; then I was issued into the hovel and met with a gentleman whose soft, impeccable speech and cordiality struck me with a cold nausea. Negotiations between he and one of the Insurgents were exchanged; a deal was brokered; and with no more fanfare than a mild yawn, I, the Baron Munchhausen himself, was exchanged to this reprobate as if I were no more than a piece of property!
I must admit, while I am certain that such exchanges are common, and one should expect such adventures to befall them in their daily routine, I was nonetheless offended, and voiced my indignation with a trifle more heat than my demeanor normally exudes. Alas, my words went unheeded, and hands were placed upon me once more: this time to be ushered onto a stage, where a representative of Misters Marshall, Carter, and Dark introduced me to an eager crowd. This was no soiree I had been thrust into, but an auction. I was to be sold to these blackguards! As a heated bidding-war erupted between representatives of one Mr. Herman Fuller and an organization known as the Chicago Spirit, I knew that I must act if I had any hope of regaining my liberty.
"My most unworthy hosts," I cried, my voice carrying throughout the auditorium, "I shall be the property of no man, woman, company, or king, save for those whom I swear willing friendship to! I find your methods profane, your speech unkind, your presence foul, and your morals wholly absent, and shall be party to such a filthy pantomime no longer! Now release me, fiends, else I shall set upon you the entirety of my indignation!"
Alas, I did not expect any reparations on their part, and in fact uttered my proclamation with full knowledge that I must defend my life and liberty through force, rather than diplomacy, if I wished to maintain it. This preparation indeed saved my life, for the entire host of churls and wastrels set upon me with a violence I had not seen since my bloodiest campaigns. The first seven or eight fell as I knocked them down, with the last in possession of a sword, which I put in worthier hands. I then engaged with the lot of them, some twenty or thirty barbaric louts with no more humanity in them than a slathering wolf. A parry, a thrust, a jab — patiently dispatching my enemies until I had proven the master of them all. With no further obstacle in my path, I made my escape, choosing my directions at random so as to stymie my pursuers.
It was during this period that I encountered my current hosts and benefactors, the Foundation for the Security and Containment of Anomalous Articles, and the Protection of Humanity. I had distanced myself well enough from my adversaries to warrant a repose, which I used to assess my health and surroundings. Finding myself disheveled but otherwise unhurt, I took some time to preen and remedy the more egregious facets of my appearance. As I recovered, I chanced to spy what I believed to be my pursuers, engaging in a lusty search for their quarry — but rather than the disreputable assortment I had hitherto distanced myself from, this company was in search of different prey. Feeling that I would fare somewhat better against this fellowship, I followed them at distance, and soon observed them engaging with their opponent: a most ferocious and appalling creature.
The beast had the appearance of an Egyptian crocodile, though the scales of its head appeared to have been stripped to the bone, and a mat of tussled dark hair rested upon its scalp. The wyrm was, by my estimate, forty feet long, and possessed a level of intelligence I had believed limited to my own species, for as I saluted the company in greetings, the creature addressed me in turn, stating that it found me repulsive. Not one to abide any unjust insult, I demanded the creature beg my forgiveness, lest it find itself weathering the same misfortunes as the companies I had but recently eluded.
The beast merely laughed, and ignoring its initial cadre of foes, set itself upon me with all vitriol and malice. Its physical strength surpassed an elephant's, and of temperament, only a few drunkards and fishwives I was unfortunate enough to be acquainted with could match it. Still, I set about my defense with all the ardor and zest of my station, drawing my weapon before engaging it. I am loathe to admit that, after some rather heated exchanges, I was forced to resort to fisticuffs, as striking the creature's tough hide caused my sword to shatter. Nevertheless I made good account of myself, and gave the creature such a boxing that it lay on the ground senseless after a few exchanges.
The company, amazed at my prowess (though they had little reason to, as it is perfectly natural for gentlemen of my caliber to possess such qualities), inquired who I was, and introduced themselves in turn. I gave an abbreviated account of my tribulations thus far, which caused them to display a rather embarrassing degree of awe, and they gladly offered me shelter from my foes. As I was not entirely in a position to negotiate, for my enemies could have chanced upon me at any moment (and the creature whom I had bested was slowly stirring), I agreed. I then took possession of the wyrm, trawling it behind me as Gulliver once dragged Blefuscu's navy! Together our merry band filed into an awaiting convoy, the beast secured in one and I flanked alongside (if I may say) two rather fetching ladies, in another.
Our sojourn to the nearest establishment of my new companions was spent wisely. I elucidated all the finer details regarding my self, my campaigns and travels, and (of highest interest to the Foundation), my anomalous properties. Upon arrival, I was brought to the chambers which my reptilian foe was regularly kept in, though I found the abode distasteful. Ere it was contained, the beast regained its senses long enough for me to chastise it. I do not believe my rebuke had much effect on it, for it found my presence most indignant, and vowed to pursue me in vengeance should it ever be freed. To this I heartily accepted, adding that, whether in combat or sport, I would be equal to its challenge. Following that, I negotiated for my quarters, and finding the Foundation's accommodations reasonable, settled in to my new domicile.
I neglected to mention that the knave had devoured a lion before I could engage it.
Thus end my accounts, though there is little doubt that more will follow, as one such as I am not accustomed to remaining idle or indolent for long. While I shall respect my host's concern for my security and protection, it is common understanding that circumstances will occur, in spite of our plans and desires, and should any of them befall me, I cannot help but regale them, for ever does an audience crave a story, and who am I to deny them?