Tales from the London Below
When he stepped foot onto UC Berkeley’s campus in the fall of 1960, the idealistic young man that would one day become Doc Rosewood had no idea that he had just begun a journey that would cost him everything. The next several years passed in a blur as he pursued his undergraduate. Life was not all midnight cram sessions and term papers, as the young man made friends easily. It was through this ever increasing circle of friends that he became involved in the flower power movement.
Thus, he was doomed by those he loved.
As he progressed in his studies, so to did the war in Vietnam and the opposition to it. Attending Berkeley, the young man found himself in the epicenter of the flower power movement and was soon swept up by it. Test tubes and study groups were quickly replaced by hallucinogenic drugs and drum circles. As the years rolled by and the war continued to escalate, he eventually abandoned all pretext of continuing his studies, though he had once been a promising student, and moved to a commune.
Life progressed and the world continued to turn, until the day the young man received his draft notification. Terrified of dying for a cause he opposed, the young man wildly cast about for some way to escape his fate. Hearing rumors of a place called Rosewood Meadows, the young man left for the mountains of California with little more than a wish to be left along and enjoy peace, beauty and harmony.
Unfortunately for the young man, his wish was granted.
Beyond being greeted by a green eyed beauty, the young man remembers little of his time at Rosewood. Waking, he recalls a seemingly endless summer, filled with song, dance and laughter. He only remembers the loneliness, despair and terror in his dreams. He remembers the beauty and her “heaven” that opened doors in his mind and in his soul. It seems that others were there as well, but he can recall no specific faces or names. All he can remember for certain is dreamlike warmth, sunlight and song.
Until the day he woke cold and hungry. Looking about he saw an endless field of roses, devoid of person or feature as far as he could see. He began to walk and eventually came upon a woman. It was the green eyed beauty, but her beauty was now replaced by a terrible otherness and cold allure. She said her name Rosewood and the young man was now hers for all eternity. Seized by a primal terror, the youth plunged head long into the rose bushes. Heedless of the tearing thorns he fled further and further from the entity called Rosewood, though ever could he hear her whispered words, “You are mine little mortal. You shall never escape.”
Suddenly the youth found himself in a snow drift in the deep of night. Looking wildly about for enchantress, the young changeling caught sight of himself in a storefront window. The face that looked back at him was one he didn’t recognize. Everywhere around him neon lights blazed, music blared and strangely dressed people stared at his tattered clothes and shambling manner. Eventually he pieced together that he was in London and more than a decade had passed.
He was now a man out of time.
The next few years were a time of discovery, terror and wonder. He made his way to the London Below through a combination of luck and pity from his fellow Changelings. He took the name Rosewood, so he would never forget his beautiful captor and what she had stolen from him. His knowledge of biology and chemistry proved valuable to the community of the dispossessed, earning him the title “Doc.” His easy going manner, friendly nature and level head quickly earned him a place in the Spring Court.
Doc Rosewood now spends his days trying to help those like him and trying to “spread the love” as he did during the 60s.