Author Topic: The Historical Superpower RP.  (Read 43752 times)

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Offline Krakow Sam

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The Historical Superpower RP.
« on: February 05, 2007, 02:52:00 pm »
Prologue

A street corner. The rain had driven even the most determined thieves and vagabonds into the shelter of the brothels and taverns that dotted the dockyards, but nonetheless a figure moved purposefully through the sheets of rain. As it rounded the corner it stopped to admire the "Wanted" posters plastered across the moldering brickwork. The figure chuckled quietly and tore the paper off with a black-gloved hand. What remained on the wall read:

              ...ier
           ...r alive
         ... rd: 20 pounds

The figure continued down the dark streets for a while, seemingly moving at random, ducking into alleyways and asecending stairs. Anyone following would have had a difficult time of keeping up. At last the figure stopped, and decended a set of steps to a low doorway.
Rapping smartly on the door, the figure coughed impatiently as a hatch slid open at eye level and part of a face appeared on the other side.
"Password" it said, in a gravelly voice.
"Open the door now, Hake, or everyone will find out what exactly it was you were doing on the night of the fire in the slaughterhouse district" replied the stranger, in a theatrical baritone.
The face on the other side contorted, and a small yelp escaped Hake's lips.
"Oh... its you... Mister Rapier sir. I, I, I'll just be opening this door sir" he babbled desperately as he slid back the bolts and opened the creaking door.
The Black Rapier stepped inside and took off his hat, revealing a head of neatly cut blonde hair. The air inside the den was dense with sickly fumes. Striding through the hall, among the moans of the clientel, the Rapier scanned the room. His eye was caught by a figure sitting at a table in the corner, apprently not here for foreign intoxicants.
"Ah, Mr Quick" he said, as he sat down opposite him. "I'm glad to see youve once again kept your appointment". The man said nothing. He had a patch over one eye, and a huge scar across his entire face.
The Rapier reached inside his overcoat and drew out a black paper envelope with a red seal. "See to it that this reaches Black Harry".
The man nodded and watched the Rapier leave. As he watched him leave through the same door he came in, he took out a small pocketknife and neatly slit the seal. Tipping out the envelope revealed two items. A smaller black envelope with an identical seal, and a note reading, in a looping cursive "Your punctuality plays a poor second your curiosity once again I see. Deliver the second envelope to Black Harry, or I will see to it the whole town knows exactly why they call you Mr Quick. Yours, The Black Rapier".
Mr Quick's face flushed purple in the candlelight and he hastily stuffed both envelope and note into the pocket of his coat. On the street above, Percy Goodwine smiled and walked away, disappearing into the shadows.

It had all started with a letter.

"My Dear Percival,
It has been 5 years now since you rescued me from that burning carriage, and it is not a day goes by I do not pray for you. You brought joy to my life beyond measure, however, of late my heart has been nothing but sorrow.
I write to you now a desperate woman. My husband has fallen prey to the machinations of a group identifying themselves as Le Cercle D'or. He was snatched from me some 5 days ago, by a group of robed men, while we walked together among the grounds. He was able to deal one of them a mortal wound, allowing me to escape to safety, but they overpowered him and took him away to God knows where. The man he killed bore the only clue to the nature of the crime, a mark on his forearm in the shape of a circle.
Our attempts to contact and reason with the group have met with failure. They will accept no ransom for his life, although I am assured he is in good health. I write to you as my final hope. You must succeed where others have failed.

Yours in God,
Genevive"

Percival had found himself unable to refuse the heartfelt request of the young Countess of Geneva, and had scoured every library in the country for clues as to the nature of this Cercle D'or. What he could find was vague, but it suggested he would not be able to do it alone. What had started with one letter soon became five. There were only a few individuals in the country, nay the World, which would be worthy of assisting him in this task. Needless to say, he called in many a favour, but four such individuals were indeed located, and four identical letters drafted.

"Dear Sir,
The Black Rapier is pleased to invite you to the very first Rogue's Ball. Return this letter to the cellar of the townhouse of Admiral Horatio Pleasant on the night of his annual Maskerade ball, taking place from 6pm on the night of February 19th. Take care you are not seen, and come alone.

Your's Truly
The Rapier."

The letters were sent out that same day. One was slipped to the doorman at another maskerade balll. One was left with the Bounty Hunter's office. One was sent into the countryside on a black carrier pidgeon. The last had been left with Mr Quick.
The Ball would take place in 5 days. Percival had no doubt at all that the four would attend.


Sam is basically right, he's just cranky.

Offline PatMan33

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Re: The Historical Superpower RP.
« Reply #1 on: February 05, 2007, 03:27:34 pm »
"Brothers and Sisters of the Wheel!" A commanding voice yelled "Tonight is a most glorious night indeed. It has been just over ten years since our great Lord Maximilian was murdered by the treacherous Sister Ridley. And it is on this night, the anniversary of her execution, that we bring forth another offering to the Brotherhood."

There was resounding cheer throughout the large hall. Under the blue marble ceiling were hundreds of people clothed in red, their faces shrouded in darkness. A tall man stood at an altar before the crowd and raised his hands for silence.

"Yes tonight we bring you a most foul man indeed. He is known to most as the Count of Geneva. A man of great wealth and power, a man who is true to his people." The man said "But he is a man who refuses to acknowledge fate, refuses to follow the one path laid out before him. And it is because of this that he finds himself here tonight in our loving arms."

There was a subtle laugh throughout the hall. A door opened up to the tall man's left and large wheel was rolled out, the Count of Geneva suspended in the middle. The wheel was placed onto the altar and turned so that the Count was facing the crowd.

"Tonight will mark the beginning of a glorious new endeavor. Unlike the ones before him, the Count's death will signify the true beginning of his time with the Brotherhood, not the end." The tall man said, picking up a golden dagger and walking around to the front of the altar. He smiled at the Count and turned to face the crowd.

"His heart will grant eternal life to the Brotherhood." The man said "His eyes will give the Brotherhood an unfettered view of the world. In his death he will become immortal. In his death the Brotherhood will become immortal."

The room became deathly silent and the Count began to struggle a little bit. A smile crept across the tall man's face as he turned to face the Count. He brought his lips up to the Count's ear and whispered.

"The Brotherhood thanks you for your kind donation..."

The tall man kissed the Count's forehead, the air seemed to be sucked out of the room in anticipation. There was a flash of gold and a dull thud, the Count's body went limp and blood trickled down onto the altar.

"And so it is done." The tall man said.

Without a word the attendants of the ceremony filed out of the hall. After they were gone two robed figures walked up to the tall man.

"Remove his eyes and his heart, send the body back to the Countess. Put it in her bed." The tall man said.

The two robed figured bowed deeply and rolled the Count out of the room. Alone in the hall, the tall man picked up the dagger and held it up to his face. He said a small incantation and then exited the room through a back door.
« Last Edit: February 05, 2007, 06:17:32 pm by PatMan33 »

Offline Yossitaru

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Re: The Historical Superpower RP.
« Reply #2 on: February 05, 2007, 04:10:40 pm »
The door to the bounty office opens and allows the cold rain pour in. A figure holding another figure appears. The held figure is tossed to the ground and slides up to the desk.

"I'm surprised he had a bounty of a pound. I found him sleeping in a tent in a field, away from his crew." the other figure said as he steps in, "If it can be called a crew, ten men who were planning mutiny. He's probably better off this way."

"Amazing, how did you ever track him down?" said the office attendant.

"Well, I saw his ship heading along the coast a ways north of the port. The fools were too close to the city and too close to their ship."

An officer comes in from another room and takes the bound man back to the other room to lock him up.

"Well, here's your money, DeCaith."

"Thank you. Any job offers this week?"

"No, at least not any directly saying so. This letter arrived here for you." The attendant pulls out the letter and slides it over.

DeCaith takes the letter and slides it into his front shirt pocket.

"Thank you, now I should get home before this rain gets any worse." DeCaith said as he turns around to leave.

Arriving home, DeCaith slides the envelope onto the desk with an oil lamp, he then lights the lamp. Hanging up his vest for it to dry, he sits at the desk to read the letter.

"Edward DeCaith" was written on the front of the envelope.

DeCaith opens it and reads it.

"A rogue's ball... the day of the Pleasant Masquerade... curious." he thought.

Returning the letter to it's envelope, he sets it on the side of the desk and takes the lamp to the kitchen. He starts eating some left over bread.
« Last Edit: February 05, 2007, 04:35:39 pm by Yossitaru »
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Offline Neoadept

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Re: The Historical Superpower RP.
« Reply #3 on: February 05, 2007, 06:07:02 pm »
Norman sat hunched over his desk, fiddling with the latest in a long line of projects that he used to occupy his spare time, which had become copious in recent years.  This latest device was what the young folks called a perpetual motion machine, and although it had been easy enough to accomplish by using kinetic magic to transfer energy at one hundred percent efficiency, building one that ran on something people still believed in was proving troublesome.  The energy just didn't like flowing in such a circular path.

His house keeper, Martha, bustled up and tapped him on the shoulder.  "Mr. Marstems, a pigeon just arrived for you, do you want me to read it for you?"

"Martha, you've worked for me for the last twenty years, and you've never once called me Norman.  You know I don't like how impersonal 'Mr. Marstems' is."  He pushed his chair back and stood.  "And in that time I've never needed a letter read to me."  He picked up his cane, a heavy oak affair with a silver head, and made his way towards the back of the house where the carrier pigeons were kept, a necessary thing because he lived far from the cities.  As he moved he felt around in front of him with his cane, seeing as he could only see flows of energy if they were present, which meant the object had to be moving, and that he had Martha continually rearrange the furniture to keep him sharp.

He entered the visitors section of the pigeon room, held his hand out, and whistled softly.  The bird fluttered over and landed lightly on his outstretched hand.  After a moment he found the note strapped to the pigeons leg and carefully untied it before setting on a stand to the side.  He unrolled it and began to move his fingers carefully over the text, feeling the slight depressions left by the pen on the paper.  After reading it he shooed the bird out the window to return to wherever it came from.  He stuck the note in his pocket and walked towards his front door, calling out to Martha on the way.  "I'm going out."

"How long will you be?"

"Not sure, it depends on how much help these whipper-snappers need."  He grabbed the traveling bag he always kept by the door and opened it, pausing a moment for Martha's reply.

"I'll keep the house in order."

"Thank you, Martha."  He closed the door and went towards the stables he kept.
« Last Edit: February 05, 2007, 06:51:11 pm by neoadept »
Nefarious?  Nearly.  Ne’er-do-well?  Never!  Neither nearly names this narrator.  Naive and knowledgeable, notorious and inscrutable, this nascent Nero is known naturally as Neoadept.

Offline Mr. Consideration

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Re: The Historical Superpower RP.
« Reply #4 on: February 06, 2007, 07:56:09 am »
Johann leant back on an old wooden chair, propping it's back against the Tavern Wall, Idly juggling a knife, deep in thought. The fire by the side of the table where Johann sat alone was starting to dim, and the rain was beginning to drip through the roof, and the icy wind seemed to ignore the walls and chill those inside to the bone, paticularaly so close to the freezing North Sea. But, as an Englishman's Home was his castle, a Dutchman's home is his cheap tavern- and the Golden Field was just that. Johann had never encountered a establishment so far form it's namesake- a lump of rotting wood held up with spit and prayers in a vastly-overpopulated city. Johann wondered, as he often did. The Tavern was unsuprisingly empty; those few who had given thier lives to dirnk to such an extent to still be out had long since turned thier attention to the brothel across the street- and were no doubt spending what money they had on pleasurable company of all sorts.

The bartender, an old, balding, covetous and devious Frenchman, approached hesitantly.
"More drink, Mr. Vane?"
"I have had quite enough Horse Piss for one night, thank you."
"Ah right...well... Mrs. van Graf has told me you have a letter waiting for you in the Inn. Well, not nay more, 'cos I have it here, don't I?" The Bartender laughed nervously.
Johann nodded, expertly burying the knife somewhere in his clothes, he held out his hand. A Letter was placed in it. He glimsped at the address form whihc it had been sent, and a slight look of shock covered his otherwise stony features.
"And with that, I shall take my leave." Johann moved a definat yousle of brown hair from in front of his eyes and go up to leave.
A young maid approached hesitantly.
"Would Mr. Vane be requiring an escort? To keep...good company?"
"The Establishment you are looking for is across the road."
And, with that, Johann disappeared into the night.
"A Queer Gentleman, That Vane, a Queer Gentleman."
"Aye, Vanessa. A Queer Gentleman Indeed."

Ignoring the ignorant chatting of the plebs, Johann's mind reeled in thought. A thousand different situations shot threw this head- but he steadied himself. He must have his wits about him. He pulled his wide-brimmed 3-point-hat over his face, and walked deliberatley and purposefully towards a certain Town, and towards a certain Townhouse, whistling an sombre tune beneath a Blazing full moon..
« Last Edit: February 06, 2007, 08:20:17 am by Balthamael »
"Most people are other people. Their thoughts are someone elses opinions, their lives a mimicry, their passions a quotation." - Oscar Wilde

Yes, I am aware of the irony.

Offline Tesla

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Re: The Historical Superpower RP.
« Reply #5 on: February 06, 2007, 10:13:11 am »
Zero sat at the side of a hall after a good hour of dancing, he was happy enough now just watching the couples twirl elegantly around, as if caught in a current. He now had his hood pulled tight over his head. He had hair to keep his head scalp warm but he needed to make sure no one noticed his distinct lack of ears.

He looked very ear in the hall, with a small black hood emerging from his suit drooped over his head, with his constantly smiling face, and if one looked closely enough, they would notice the shadow cast from the mask replaces where his eyes would be, making them look not only empty, but also like black pools of water.

His thoughts were interrupted by the appearance of a servant.

"Mr Oscar Silverstone?" He said questioningly, that was Zero's alias, not many people knew that.

"That's me." He replied in a curious voice, with absolutely no recognizable accent whatsoever.

"A letter for you sir." He handed Zero the letter and left.

After quickly reading the letter, Zero's curiosity took the better of him, trick or no, he was definetly going to go.
No way dude, you're trolling me.

Offline Krakow Sam

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Re: The Historical Superpower RP.
« Reply #6 on: February 06, 2007, 12:20:47 pm »
Five days passed.

As the guests arrived in their opulent costumes, Percy Goodwine slipped quietly away and strode down the servant's corridor to the wine cellar that Admiral Pleasant's Butler had been kind enough to let him use.
Percy reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a strip of black cloth with two holes cut neatly into the middle. A moment later The Black Rapier sat down to wait. The clock struck. Tt was a quarter to six.
Sam is basically right, he's just cranky.

Offline Tesla

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Re: The Historical Superpower RP.
« Reply #7 on: February 06, 2007, 01:10:26 pm »
Zero arrived through the door silently, even the sound of the door opening wasn't heard, it was as if everything Zero touched became silent. It looked (and sounded) extremely creepy.

Zero opened a wooden box he had tucked into his cloaks pocket, and retrieved a wonderfully carved ebony mask, he tied it around his face with a silk ribbon and suddenly you could hear the sound of his heavy breathing.

"Greetings. I believe I was invited to this interesting get-together."

He stood and waited for a reply.
No way dude, you're trolling me.

Offline Neoadept

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Re: The Historical Superpower RP.
« Reply #8 on: February 06, 2007, 01:14:06 pm »
Norman saddled up his horse, an old mare that he had gotten as a gift from his master in the order that was smart enough to follow the road on its own and had the odd habit of not aging.  Before getting on he reached into his traveling bag and pulled out a blue silk scarf, which tied around his head over his eyes.  It had started as a courtesy so others would know he was blind, but it had grown into a habit so ingrained that he would no more go out without his blindfold than he would without clothes.

He got on and kicked gently into her flanks, setting her at a slow trot.  An hour latter he sensed someone on the road ahead of him and slowwed to a stop next to them.  "Ho, traveler.  What are you doing so far into the country side?"
Nefarious?  Nearly.  Ne’er-do-well?  Never!  Neither nearly names this narrator.  Naive and knowledgeable, notorious and inscrutable, this nascent Nero is known naturally as Neoadept.

Offline Yossitaru

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Re: The Historical Superpower RP.
« Reply #9 on: February 06, 2007, 04:28:18 pm »
Putting on his vest, Edward slides a short sword into the hidden sheath stitched into the back inside. Taking the letter from the desk and sliding it into his shirt pocket, he heads outside. It was still light.

"Too early for the 'party'." he thinks, "Might as well take a peek at this month's guests..."

Coming up to the Pleasant Mansion, Edward leans against a wall of a building adjacent from the mansion. The guests were arriving in droves. Most already have their masks over their faces, but others have their masks in their hands. Laughing and having fun already, the party appears to be a blast even before it started. But that was a standard with Pleasant Masquerades.
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Offline MetallicDragon

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Re: The Historical Superpower RP.
« Reply #10 on: February 06, 2007, 05:08:07 pm »
Gif was on his way in the middle of nowhere, having become lost on his way.

While along his way, he became lost in memories of his former master. He never knew his real name, always referring to him as "Master" or "Sir". While never too strict, he would punish him if he got too out of line. Such was the time, while fetching the master's mail, he had spotted a mysterious and unmarked letter. Curiosity had gotten the better of him, and he had delicately opened the mysterious letter. It was from some sort of secret magical order, one which his master apparently belonged to. He barely had time to read the first sentence, though, before he ran into his master, who had been most furious for reading his mail. He remembers the long hours of cleaning with no supper he had suffered for that.

He also remembered another time, when his master had received a mysterious visitor whom his master had called Norman. He arrived quite suddenly one day, and said he had to discuss some important "things" with him about "you-know-what". Once again curiosity had gotten the better of him, as he eavesdropped on his master conversing with this mysterious "Norman". Only able of hearing snippets of conversation, something about what he presumed the same secret order of mages he had read about in the letter.When they had stopped talking, he quickly returned to feigning work. He only caught a quick yet unforgettable glimpse of the face of the mysterious stranger named Norman, who was wearing a blue scarf over his eyes.

He was suddenly awoken him from his reverie by a gruff voice calling out to him.

"Ho, traveler.  What are you doing so far into the country side?"

"What? Oh, hello. I'm on my way to...", Gif responded. He wasn't really heading anywhere in particular, being lost and all. "Er, actually I'm quite lost and..."

It was then that he noticed the blue scarf worn by the man. The very same scarf the strange stranger wore that one day at his old residence.

"Excuse me for asking, but you don't happen to be named Norman, do you?"

He responded affirmatively, asking how he knew his name.

"You once visited my former master and discussed..." he wondered about whether to reveal he had been eavesdropping, but decided against it, "...and discussed something of importance with him."

"Yes, I remember that..." responded Norman.

Offline Krakow Sam

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Re: The Historical Superpower RP.
« Reply #11 on: February 06, 2007, 05:14:07 pm »
"Ah, Mister Silverstone" said the Rapier, nodding theatrically. His tone of voice made it clear he knew Oscar Silverstone was just an alias. "I am glad you could make it, although you are somewhat early. Still, no matter. Take a seat while the other guests arive. Help yourself to some wine if you wish." He finished casting a hand over the small table in front of him, on which stood an open bottle and five glasses.
Sam is basically right, he's just cranky.

Offline PatMan33

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Re: The Historical Superpower RP.
« Reply #12 on: February 06, 2007, 05:30:36 pm »
"Come in." Came the tall man's voice from the other side of a door. A woman and a man, both clad in blue, entered a large circular chamber.

"My Lord." They both said at once, bowing.

"My Lord, we come with the items that you have requested." The woman said.

"Yes my Lord, the eyes and heart of the Count." The man said.

The box was placed on the floor and the two bowed, then exited.

"... yes, a most generous donation my dear Count... most generous indeed." The tall man said with a grin.

He carried the box over to a table covered in odd-shaped tools and set it down. The man picked up a strange crystal with a dial in it and headed into a dark corner of the room. In the darkness the crystal could be heard scraping against metal and a dial was turned. The sound of thousands of tiny mechanical parts, all working in unison filled the room.

"Wonderful..." The tall man said quietly "Once you are complete the Brotherhood will be invincible. Until then... let me teach you your place."

The dial was turned again and there was a flash of energy; a tinny, synthetic voice spilled out of the darkness.

"/Awaiting input/"

Offline Neoadept

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Re: The Historical Superpower RP.
« Reply #13 on: February 06, 2007, 06:11:32 pm »
"Yes, I remember that...  Your name i Gif, isn't it?"  The boy nodded.  A thought occurred to Norman.  Whoever had called him was looking for powerful individuals, and this boy could be of use.  "Since I knew your master, a good man who I was sorry to hear had passed, and you don't seem to have anywhere to go, perhaps you would join me.  Something a great deal more interesting than wondering the country side may come of it."  He paused a moment, and added as though in afterthought, "would you, by chance, have learned any magic?"
Nefarious?  Nearly.  Ne’er-do-well?  Never!  Neither nearly names this narrator.  Naive and knowledgeable, notorious and inscrutable, this nascent Nero is known naturally as Neoadept.

Offline MetallicDragon

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Re: The Historical Superpower RP.
« Reply #14 on: February 06, 2007, 06:47:45 pm »
"Why yes, I have in fact!" responded Gif. "Of course... I was unable to completely finish my training... but I am quite adept if I do say so myself. And yes, that sounds great, I mean, I'll be happy to join you."

This is perfect, Gif thought, the perfect opportunity to hone his skills and go on an adventure, like one of the many ones he had read about in his books.