Welcome to the thread! If you've decided to peruse, chances are you quite like pulp adventures or lost world genres! When modern man must face ancient myth and human greed on a daring adventure of treasures, exotic locales, and romance! Stories like Indiana Jones and King Solomon's Mines. Well you've come to the right place. I, and my esteemed adventuring colleague @Penny are looking for 3-4 daring souls to share in this adventure, having been recruited by an aging aristocrat who has funded a team to search for the city of life, where the Lunwaba, the Chameleon messenger of God is said to be located, deep within the Congo. World War One is but a memory and the roaring 20's are dying down, the economy is collapsing and gangsters roam the streets of America. Europe begins to mobilize and scheme, while Germany regains power with its new political state under the National Socialist German Workers' Party, better known as the Nazis. Will you dare to risk life and limb for the promise of treasure?
Premise
The date is December 26th, 1929. The esteemed Baron Thomas Carnock, aging war hero and the last of his line, has spent all of his time and resources plotting an expedition into the fabled City of Life, for his brother's sake. The famed archaeologist and younger of the two brothers, Bradley Carnock has been missing for nearly a dozen years. Last Thomas had heard of his only living family member, he had embarked on a voyage to the congo, leaving nothing behind but old maps and stories in books, with hastily sketched images of ancient iconography and strange creatures. Though Thomas had been a classicist scholar in his youth, he hadn't the imagination or the ardent passion of his younger brother until his disappearance. The Great War then erupted, destroying any chance Thomas had of finding his younger brother, breaking his heart. He used this time to plot his rescue, to hell with his age. It was a mission he fully intended to undertake, if not for being stricken with Polio not five years earlier. It didn't dampen his revolve however, spending his days in obsession and calling every expert across the world, the best money could buy, to go and follow his younger brother's course. To find him and the City of Life.
You find yourself in the Baron's estate. Sitting by a large fire in a banquet hall, with food and servants waiting upon you as you are awaiting the Baron for the details of why you have been summoned. Across the table and next to you, you see young men and women of different ethnicities and origins, who will go with you into the unknown. Even as the stock market crashes and the German Workers' Party blames the Jewish financers for the collapse of modern society, as the whispers of war begin to loom and America faces a food shortage, you are here to make your fortune, nay history! If you survive.
OOC Information
Standard Guild rules apply. Listen to the GM & Co-GM (Penny and I), do not harass anyone, do not godmod, or be rude. We're here to have fun!
This Roleplay is heavily inspired by such works as The Mummy, Indian Jones, and various other 19th to early 20th century works. While we're not sticklers for extreme accuracy, try to remember that and don't mention an iPod.
This is an +18 plus roleplay. The Guild rules state there can be no real public smut, however there will be horror and romance. Violence, curses, and decadent living will probably occur, so if you're squeamish, just keep that in mind.
We expect advanced posts, semi-frequently. If you do not have time for the roleplay, or are not used to writing and editing 3+ paragraphs, this might not be for you. It's easier and more respectable to admit that rather than lead us on and bring others down.
Your characters don't need to be heroes or famous, but they need to have a certain skillset that would be valuable for this mission. They also don't need to be acrobats or young, but they need to have others confident they can survive rough conditions.
We plan on going on many missions across the world, not only the Congo. So keep that in mind!
We are here to help! Let Penny or I know if you have any questions!
Above all, have fun and be yourself! And by that, we mean try to survive while pretending to not be you nearly 100 years ago!
Penny's Principles of Pulp
(This is intended as a series of suggestions rather than hard and fast rules.)
Pulp heroes act dramatically- Your heroes should transcend the gritty world they inhabit. Don't make the safe choice.
Don't be afraid to fail - Indiana Jones gets beat up, The bad guys get away with the idol, the zeppelin goes down in flames. Victory is all the sweeter for a little vinegar.
When in doubt, complicate things - If you don't know how what you should do in any given situation, set the building of fire.
Paint vibrantly - Pulp scenes never take place in dingy eastern European warehouses. Have that fist fight on a sinking cruise liner.
Height: Weight: Build: Eyes: Hair: Skin Tone: Tattoos/Scars/Piercings: Personal Style: At least 1 paragraph
Psychology
Trait * Trait * Trait * Trait
Sexuality: Relationship Status: Personality: At least 1 paragraph Habits: Minimal 2 Hobbies: At least 1 Fears: 3 real fears that make your character unhinged
Likes: 3 minimal
Dislikes: 3 minimal
History
A Memory: Minimum of 1 well developed paragraph of a memory History: Minimum of 2 paragraphs about your character's life up until this point.
Tattoos/Scars/Piercings: A large and jagged scar on the right leg, and a smattering of small scars across the face.
Personal Style: Benedict has always gone the distance, perhaps in vain, to compensate for the injuries he sustained in the Great War. He sports a pair of custom made sunglasses and a leather brimmed hat to conceal his face somewhat, and rarely is he seen wearing anything less than heavy canvas trousers. Though hardly conventional, Benedict does not flout fashion completely and wears a grey single breasted jacket. Of course whenever the opportunity presents itself, usually far from civilized society, he often makes a show of wearing his rather large wartime gun belt and Webley revolver.
Personality: While not solitary per say Benedict hardly covets the company of others. Deep seated insecurities stemming from his injuries have made him a man most would label a shut in, though he’s far from unwilling to go out when such is prudent or necessary. Hardly a warm person, Benedict has struggled with relationships throughout his life. That said, he is not cruel, brash, or even impertinent. Merely, he often acts with an excess of caution in his interactions with the world at large, a habit that has made many of his acquaintances question his ability to feel for anyone.
All this has led to Benedict seeking a life away from the bustling world at large. From pilot, to hired gun, and back, he has never worked closely with more than a handful of individuals. In truth the Benedict of today is a far cry from the young man he was. In his teens Benedict was boisterous and outgoing, perhaps in excess. Some of that boy remains in Benedict, for it’s unlikely he’d have started on a life of adventure if he’d truly wished to be forgotten by the world.
In many ways Benedict looks to recapture what he feels he’s lost by doing the one thing he was good at. Adventure, conflict, the confident boy lost for almost two decades has eluded him through it all, but thirty isn’t so old he’s ready to stop trying.
Habits: -Meticulous grooming, rarely will one stop an errant whisker on Benedict.
-Reading pulp magazines before bed.
Hobbies: -In the years since his last try at adventure Benedict has spent a great deal of time in his greenhouse. Exotic plants from his travels, more common fair, his collection is one of the few things he’s come to truly prize.
-Benedict has a talent for the Piano and often finds himself playing it in his study whenever time permits.
-One of the few things that draws Benedict from his Garden and home other than work is a weekly shooting club he attends. Not the best shot, nor the most sociable, Benedict frequents the range to keep himself proficient in a skill he feels will always be needed.
Fears:
• Being seen as disabled. • Dying alone. • Losing his ability to fly.
• Crowds. • Storms. • Deceivers, liars, all manner of dishonest folk. • Confined spaces.
________________________________________ ________________________________________ History
A Memory: Minimum of 1 well developed paragraph of a memory
History: Benedict was born in 1898 to a fairly middle class family. His father was an accountant for a local bank and the expectation was that Benedict was study his figures one day and join him. A particularly active boy it was often hard for Benedict to keep up with his lessons, but sure enough what he wouldn’t learn was beaten into him, often literally. Even so, compared to most Benedict led a privileged life. His schooling proceeded despite his best efforts and by the time the Great War broke out it looked like he’d be employed with his father long in a couple short years. Of course by 1916 it had become clear that even accountants sons wouldn’t be spared. With conscription a month away in parliament and his 18th birthday weeks past him Benedict decided he’d rather join of his own accord than be forced into the army.
In some ways Benedict did it to avoid what he saw as dying in the mud. Sure, pilots didn’t exactly have better luck, but when he volunteered to fly for the army he figured dying in the air would be the more exotic option. Training came and went and soon enough he was flying on the front lines of the war that would never really leave his mind. Combat came and went, men died, often ones he was close with, but the war raged on for another two years before Benedict first got a real taste of what had been the fate of so many.
During the Spring Offensive of 1918 Benedict was flying an observation plane, watching the carnage above and below as he had a dozen times before. Only this time he hadn’t kept his eyes on the horizon and let the observer do their job. Out of the sun came a single German fighter, and before he knew it the observer was dead with the engine. Benedict would manage to set the plane on a course away from the front by the time the damaged rudder sent him into a spin, but he’d never recall the impact.
When he awoke it was to red, his face peppered with shards of glass and his leg impaled on a strut that had been ejected from the aircraft alongside him. All alone in a muddy farmers field, unable to even properly see, Benedict faced his death with a sense of cruel irony, in the end he’d never even get to die the right way. How many times he slipped in and out of consciousness before the soldiers found him he couldn’t say, but against all the odds he’d survive. Though he’d often wish he hadn’t.
With the end of the Spring Offensive the end of the war was in sight, and Benedict heard of the armistice from a hospital bed. Somehow he’d avoided amputation, but he’d never stop fearing it. Somehow he still had his sight, but his face would always be a patchwork of little scars. He’d return home with to his father, but he’d never consider taking up the old man’s craft. Benedict would slowly retreat into himself, finding work here and there, but always looking to get away. The Great War had killed him in a sense, and he began to wonder if another war couldn’t making him anew as well, at least into something better than the worthless child who’d come back broken.
That urge would eventually lead him to America, and from there to China. American mercenaries had made names for themselves fighting for the various warlords in the region, but Benedict would find his war to be something else entirely. The chaos in China came as opportunity to some, and like the good imperialists their parents were the industrialists of America sought to get what they could out of the middle kingdom. Whether it be selling arms, disposing of political rivals, or outright robbing the Chinese of their ancient treasures, Benedict and a number like him, all with assumed names, kept busy on orders from an ocean away. It all came to a head in 1926, when the Kuomintang launched their great campaign to unify the country. In the midst of a real war Benedict and others looted burning cities across the country for the sake of trinkets to please wealthy men across the world, and they made themselves rich in doing so.
However, the jig was up by mid-1928. The Kuomintang and god knows who else all knew what had been happening, and now they sought to end it. James Wright would die in China with a dozen like him, and they’d all turn up back home with their old names in the spa of a few months. Benedict though, was done with home. He settled where the ship made port in the old colonies, the port of Vancouver. For a year he knew some peace, flying the occasional survey, playing his piano, tending to his garden, and yet he was yet to rest easy. Benedict hadn’t found what he wanted in China, and he silently resolved to find it elsewhere.
Name: Ellen Pelham, Countess of Yarborough Aliases: Elle Age: 36 Nationality: British Ethnicity: Slavic Current Residence: Brocklesby House, near Immingham, Lincolnshire, England. Gender: Female Education: Anthropology and Linguistic Anthropology Job: Relic Hunter Role: Tomb Raider/Relic Hunter
Appearance
Height: 5'7" Weight: 140 lbs Build: Athletic Eyes: Brown Hair: Brunette Skin Tone: Tan Tattoos/Scars/Piercings: She has some of all of those. Personal Style: Despite her noble stature, El is all about comfort. Raised by a single father who took pride and joy in bringing his daughter with him on his adventures Elle adopted from early on a very unlady like style of dress. Leather britches and shirts, as well as her dad's worn pilot jacket. Not color blind per se, but definitely color challenged El usually sticks to easy color combinations and clothing articles in solid colors. Whenever her stature and position as Countess demands it, she does clean up nicely with the help of a few trusted family maids. Still, she feels very uncomfortable it any spiffy, fluffy female get up and would look to get out of it as soon as possible. I mean, seriously, have you ever worn a corset?! It's a torture device more than a clothing article. Even if it does perk the boobs up rather nicely!
Psychology
Straightforward * Loyal * Compassioned * Focused
Sexuality: Elle has a distinct preference towards female companionship Relationship Status: Single Personality: The adopted daughter to the bachelor Earl of Yarborough, Ellen grew up to be a very adventurous and happy young girl. Even with her father’s constant attempts to spoil her rotten little El never forgot her first seven years spent in abject poverty in her home country. Knowing all too well what it meant to have nothing the little girl grew to respect what she’d been offered and given by her adoptive parent. Still as any child was capable of, she quickly put the harsh life she’d lived before meeting the Earl behind and embraced her new one full tilt. She enjoyed the home lessons she received from her dad and select tutors and quickly became fascinated with her new father’s passion – archeology.
As a grown up Elle is a very straightforward no nonsense kind of person. She gets to the point fast and hard when necessary, but she is never heedlessly harsh or disrespectful. She is very loyal to those she loves and considers family or friends and can be very protective of those individuals. The harsher life of her early childhood and the consequent benevolence she enjoyed in the house of her adoptive parent all served to make El into a very compassioned individual. Sometimes she is empathic to the point of actual physical mimicry of others’ pains and sorrow. As a result she is very caring and will offer any aid she is capable of to help sooth a person’s ailment.
In her profession and occupation Ellen is very driven and focused. She holds herself to higher standards than everybody else as she believes one should never stop improving. For if you stop bettering yourself, you inevitably begin stagnating. And El is not one to sit still. She is a very active individual and whenever she is not on the hunt for the next ancient location, she is training her body and mind.
Elle is also a bit of a flirt. She’ll never lead the ladies on, but has learned that her roguish outlook is quite appealing to them and is not opposed to a bit of playful flirtation. However when it comes to romance and serious commitment, she is as dedicated and serious as she is with everything else in her life. Habits: - Sticks her tongue out a fraction whenever she’s concentrating on a task - Runs the tops of her nails when she is lost in thought Hobbies: Rock balancing Fears:
Fear of falling – Elle doesn’t have fear of heights per se, but rather an almost uncontrollable fear of falling. It doesn’t make her job easy in certain circumstances.
Fear of puppets – an episode in Elle’s past, before she met the Earl made her terribly and irreversibly scared of any dolls and puppets, to the point of hysteria. It was hard on the Earl razing a young daughter he wanted to lavish attention without being able to buy her all the new dolls and whatnot.
Fear of chickens – yes, you read right. Elle becomes positively a madwoman if faced with the feathered birds.
Likes:
Meditating
Reading and writing
Dancing
Hiking
Horses and riding
Massages – giving and receiving them
Cuddling up near the fireplace
Dislikes:
Smoking
Excessive drinking
Rudeness
Any dish with dill in it
Riding sideways
Needless violence
Hypocrites
History
A Memory: Elle woke up screaming in the huge soft bed, sweat plastering her long, mahogany hair to her pretty little girl face. Not soon after a soft wheezing could be heard from the corridor accompanied by hasty footfalls. Little El held her breath in fright for a moment before she remembered where she was. She released a sigh of relief just as the door opened slightly and the Earl poked his head in. “Elle, are you alright, baby girl?” The man asked, entering the room carefully. The little girl he’d adopted was still a bit bashful around him. Especially at times like this and he knew to tiptoe around her, until she settled down and became more comfortable. “I had a nightmare.” Elle sniffled and without hesitation snuggled up to the Earl, seeking comfort and protection. Richard held his breath in surprise and utter delight. It was the first time his adoptive daughter had sought his embrace so freely and without reservation. If he didn’t already love the little girl to bits, he would have fallen in love completely at this innocent gesture. “Was it a monster?” He inquired quietly, embracing the girl gently, sifting his fingers through her damp hair to calm her down. Her small head shook ‘no’ against him. “Your mum and dad?” The Earl asked, his voice catching on the emotion behind the question. Elle just shook with renewed sobs. Richard hugged the girl a little more tightly and started talking slowly and quietly, telling his daughter the story of the lost continent Atlantis. “El…” A voice called out at her. “El, baby girl…” At the familiar endearment Elle shook herself free of the memory and focused her dark gaze on her dad, Richard Pelham, Earl of Yarborough. “What is it, da?” She asked with a bright smile, her soul still warmed by the sweet childhood memory. The Earl grinned in response to his daughter’s happy countenance. “I asked you to tell me more about this Baron Carnock and his offer…”
Ellen was working an angle. She was on the hunt for information regarding a very controversial find. One almost shrouded in the mist of conspiracy theories. Word had reached her of a relic that was found in the rainforests of British Honduras. According to rumors it was a skull. But not just any skull. It was a skull made entirely out of crystal. From what she'd heard it's craftsmanship was near flawless. But apparently as soon as it was discovered, the skull had vanished into thin air. Everyone within the relevant circles of people was tight-lipped about it. But Elle had her sources and more importantly, she knew how and with what to entice each and every one of them. This one in particular!
Viscountess Hailsham, the young widow to the elderly Viscount Hailsham, had inherited her husband's vast network of contacts and informants. And the little minx was putting it to a far better use than the late Viscount. Even if the old badger hadn't left the dainty young lass filthy rich on her inheritance, she would have been well enough off on the proceeds from her information trafficking.
Fortunately for Elle, the Viscountess demanded a whole different form of recompense from her. Not that El couldn't afford the lady's fees. She could and with change to spare. But this way was so much more fun, the rogue relic hunter thought with her face buried in...
"Phone call for you, milady!" The almost disinterested announcement was followed by an obligatory clearing of the throat.
Elle squeezed her eyes in frustration while Viscountess Hailsham complained irritably. "I'm busy, Pennyworth!" She rolled her eyes for emphases and waited for the butler to excuse himself. When he didn't she peaked curiously at him.
"It is not for you, milady. Tis for the Countess. On behalf of Baron Thomas Carnock." Pennyworth added pointedly, still completely disinterested in the position he'd caught his mistress in. It wasn't the first time and he knew it certainly wouldn't be the last.
History: Richard Pelham, Earl of Yarborough, was the last of his line and due to certain personal proclivities unable to produce an heir to continue his family line. With his parents no longer on this earth he had no one to nag him to take up a wife and sire the next generation of Yarborough nobility. He also didn’t care much for continuing the family line. Sure enough he cared for the people and lands in his earldom. He took his responsibilities as an Earl quite seriously. But he could not and would not betray himself and lay with a woman only to beget an heir. Thus, the Earl threw himself in his work, even hampered by his health as he was, suffering from asthma from a very young age. He never allowed this to trample his spirit of adventure.
When the Earl was twenty-nine years old he ventured into one of the smaller Eastern European countries that were none the less teaming with ancient history. It was there that he met the daughter he never dared dream of having. The girl had just lost her parents to poverty and famine and had not Richard taken her in, she would have probably suffered the same fate soon after. Thus began the new life of little Elena Docheva as Ellen Pelham, Countess of Yarborough.
The Earl doted on his adoptive daughter, the bond between the two of them solidifying with every single day. Little El received everything she’d been missing in her earlier life. Opportunities on top of the basics like food, clothes and shelter. Richard spared no coin to give his daughter the education she wanted and deserved. And Elle was a bright child and took to her lessons with hunger and fiery enthusiasm. She was a healthy and active child and while the Earl regretted not being able to join in on her physical fun, he made sure Elle had tutors in all sorts of physical disciplines the child found interesting, like riding, swimming, fencing and even eastern martial arts.
The Earl and his daughter grew closer and closer with the passing of time and Elle always travelled with Richard whenever he would venture out of his home country to his next adventure. So when the time came for El to receive her formal education, she already had a good amount of practical experience her peers in school lacked. The fact that she was nobility, even if adopted, helped grease the wheels of the patriarchal educational machine and Elle sailed through her higher education but still expending twice the effort any of the other students put in.
Even with her formal education in Anthropology and Linguistic Anthropology El was never really accepted by her male peers as a serious scientist and scholar, but they could not deny her her field work as she did not need their approval or funding to conduct that. Thus she became known as a Relic Hunter and Tomb raider more than an archeologist or anthropologist, regardless of the fact that her findings always found their way into museums whereas the findings of her esteemed colleagues tended to find their way more often than not into the hands of their filthy rich backers. Even more so when their discoveries originated in small and poor countries that didn’t have the political clout to fight for their historical heritage and were hungry for the bribe money.
Ellen didn’t mind her reputation if it meant history would not be lost in the private vaults of greedy old geezers who knew nothing of culture and ancient history but liked the status that came with owning treasures from long lost civilizations. To deny them their satisfaction El was prepared to undertake even to most dangerous and risky of adventures.
Name: Lakshmi Opal Datta Aliases: Formerly Lakshmi Bhatt when she was married. Was affectionately called Opal by her father before his passing. Age: 27 Nationality: British Ethnicity: Indian Current Residence: Currently settled in a quaint apartment in the London Borough of Newham, England. Gender: Female Education: Graduated with a Bachelor's in Nursing from the Victoria University of Manchester. Job: Started as an aspiring nurse, formerly a bored housewife, now a slightly less bored nurse for a small doctor's office. Role: Nurse / Risk-Taker i.e. that one person who will do all that crazy jumping around kickin down bad guyz
Appearance
Height: 165 cm Weight: 49.9 kilo Build: Pint-sized, toned Eyes: Hazel Hair: Black Skin Tone: Dark Olive Tattoos/Scars/Piercings: Has various Henna markings on her left hand, upper right arm, and both feet. There's an oddly shaped burn scar on her left shoulder blade. Personal Style: Preferring the finer things in life, Lakshmi is very used to gorgeous and rather expensive clothing. She usually calls them 'simple' garbs, but even those who know nothing of fashion know that anything she wears is probably worth more than anything they have in their houses. Simplicity is usually her aim, preferring using her curves to bring out the beauty in the garments.
She likes to look elegant at all times, her waist-length raven hair usually in a low, loose ponytail tied by a girlish white ribbon. Her round, upturned hazel eyes are likely her most striking feature, closely followed by her plump lips usually sporting a shade of red lipstick. Her 'adventuring' outfit consists of a short sleeved beige romper with a white collar, accompanied by a pair of brown mid-length boots. She'll usually try to wear more form fitting clothing on the trek, as the last thing she wants is to get caught on something.
Psychology
Sharp-tongued ♢ Polite ♢ Fearless ♢ Thrill-seeker
Sexuality: Heterosexual Relationship Status: Widowed Personality: Lakshmi tends to give the impression of a graceful, exotic, submissive woman. Indeed, as soon as she opens her mouth, people are confronted with that image changing for better or for worse. While she always remembers to remain perfectly polite, sarcasm is her first language with English and Hindi a close second. She tries her damnest to prove herself, often getting irritated whenever her skills are in doubt (not that she can entirely blame them; her short stature leaves much to be desired). Ever the optimist, she looks for the silver lining even in the worst of situations. She knows to keep an open mind, although has a bad habit of 'act first, think second'. But hey, better to take a priceless vase and smash it over an intruder's head rather than freeze and yell for a man to save her, right?
She loves danger and the rush that accompanies it, an adrenaline junkie at her core. Whether it's climbing a mountain or scaling a building, if she thinks she can, she will. Despite her devil-may-care attitude, she tends to get offended when her abilities are in doubt. Her head is always thinking of what's happening in front of her, the future forever a mystery. She gets anxious if she thinks too hard on what she doesn't know and is determined to expand her horizons as a result.
Habits:
Has a tendency to keep one hand behind her back. Said hand is usually playing with the ends of her hair. Bites her index finger when she's nervous about something or trying to think. Either can't or won't remember people's names, instead using pet names for everyone. She'll learn their actual names eventually.
Hobbies:
Rock climbing, the view of a conquered mountain makes it all worth it. śastra-vidyā, specifically Platha--the art of unarmed combat, having learned it from her father. Studying several languages. Is fluent in English and Hindi, dabbles in Spanish, Italian, and French (strictly entry level though the three being similar has helped).
Fears:
Getting buried alive does not seem like fun.
Ironically dying of catching some disease despite her profession.
Leaving the world with no one to remember her is probably the reason she takes so many risks in the first place. If she dies, she'll go out with a bang.
Likes:
Seeing the world
Adrenaline rushes
Stargazing
Dislikes:
Doing nothing and getting bored
People who don't take her seriously
People who don't believe in her skills
History
A Memory:
Whether it was the sound of glass hitting the floor, a woman's scream, or the multiple shouts, Lakshmi was awake.
Sitting up, the young lady swung her legs off the bed, trying to listen carefully. Something was happening in the manor, her heart racing as she would stand. Carefully approaching the door, she could hear multiple footsteps outside. Realizing they would likely come bursting through at any second, she immediately turned around, ducking underneath the bed as she heard the doorknob turn. Carefully shifting herself quietly to get a better look, she watched as three pairs of boots stomped into the room.
She didn't quite recognize the dialect they spoke, but their intentions were clear when she caught her name in between some words she recognized. Slowly, the three split from one another. Great, it would be a manner of minutes before she would get discovered. The room was large enough, sure, but there were only so many places to hide. Biting her finger, she tried to think of what she could do, though her heart raced as one of the men approached the bed. The other two were turned away--if she chose to, she could probably take the closest one down. But what about the other two? Sure, she had practice fighting, but it was very different from using it against people who actually wanted to bring her harm.
The sound of a gun rang through the walls, and Lakshmi decided it was now or never. Inhaling quietly, she used her elbows to drag herself closer to the edge of the bed, her mind made up. As soon as she saw the man begin to bend, she shoved his foot away. As he toppled over she scrambled to get out from under the bed, managing to get to her feet as the other two noticed what was going on.
Without waiting to see if the one she knocked over would get up, she raised her leg, stomping down on his groin. He let out a howl of pain as the other two attempted to converge, and at this point, Lakshmi sprung into action. Sweeping her leg down behind the second man's knee, he toppled over once her knee came back up and connected to his jaw. Turning to the third, she noticed his hesitation, and took full advantage. Rushing forward, she spun around, a high kick to his shoulder. As he staggered she drew her open palm back and thrust it forward and up, connecting with his chin. She could hear something crack as took a step back, watching the last man fall to the ground.
Her knees were now shaking, but she managed to keep herself up. She did it. She took them down! By herself! Never in her life had she felt so alive, so much so that despite the situation, she actually found herself grinning. Biting her lip, it dawned on her that there were probably more in the rest of the manor. The thought alone revitalized her, and without a moment's hesitation, Lakshmi would run out of the room, eager to see exactly what she was capable of.
History:
Since she was a child, Lakshmi was told that women should be seen and not heard. Since she was a child, she determined that phrase was bullshit.
Her parents were convinced a demon had possessed their child, as in her youth Lakshmi was rebellious, loud, and had an unfounded vendetta against being told what to do. Her mother was a self-proclaimed free spirit who liked to do as she pleased, her father a martial artist who enjoyed play fighting more than scolding his daughter, so realistically her destructive nature was due to a lack of discipline. Age and maturity would eventually mellow her out, reducing her to a quieter teen, though she never did give up her quips and remarks.
She doesn't remember much of the place she was born, though she was aware her paternal grandfather had a hand in traditional medicine, specifically those called Siddha. Her family's money had come from their practice, but the family was uprooted when her grandfather squandered it all on an affair with a younger woman who plucked every cent she could take. The scandal was considered huge in their community, with Lakshmi's parents deciding to start over in another country entirely, choosing Great Britain as her father had an uncle who could help them until they got on their feet. Lakshmi's mother loathed their living conditions but put no effort into working. Luckily for her, her husband was more than willing to work for his family, however modest, and became a factory worker.
When she did hit the age of eighteen, she wasn't surprised her mother would marry her off to some rich man in order for her family to regain the wealth she had wanted. Lakshmi's husband's willingness to marry her came from lust, mostly, though he was less than pleased at her rather outspoken and sarcastic nature compared to the more submissive women of her culture. Most men would likely beat their wives' smart mouths, but this man was shocked when she would beat him back--having learned much from her father.
Their marriage was cut short when his parents' manor was robbed one weekend, with her husband's life taken in the scuffle. She found herself unable to mourn, but life went on. Her father eventually passed away after suffering an accident in the factory he worked in. As a result, Lakshmi decided to study medicine in an effort to live up to his wishes for her. Additionally, her mother hoped she could find another husband in college and was shocked when she ended up graduating with no intention of getting married to anyone. After a falling out between the two, Lakshmi took whatever she could get her hands on and moved out on her own. She found a job shortly after, and used that job for her little adventures: traveling, discovering the thrill of climbing up mountains and cliff-diving, all that good stuff. But it never seemed to be enough, she wanted something grand, something better.
And then that letter came.
It was a surprise; Lakshmi had long since lost contact with her family, more concerned with satiating her boredom by throwing herself into her work. There was also the matter of being unaware of the Baron, almost believing it to be a scam. It was only after the courier's insistence that she realized what it entailed. She had hesitated for all of a minute before throwing several belongings into a bag, withdrawing funds from the bank, and hopping on the first train she could get to.
Name: Lysandra Maria von Brennenburg Aliases: Nicknamed Lys (pronounced Lees) by her father and her close friends Age: 25 Nationality: Austro-Prussian Ethnicity: Prussian Current Residence: She splits her time between London and her Family's estate in Prussia, Brennenburg. Gender: Female Education: Formally educated in History, with her Father giving her less formal lessons on climbing, shooting, general survival and other techniques applicable to explorers Job: Explorer Role: Scholar, Financier, Adventuress
Appearance
Height: 5'6" (167 cm~) Weight: 130 lbs (59 kg~) Build: Slender, yet noticeably fit Eyes: Icy Blue Hair: Black Skin Tone: Pale white, tends to burn rather than tan Tattoos/Scars/Piercings: Both ears pierced, typically wears small studs in them. Personal Style: Lysandra gives off the impression of someone who cares about their appearance. Physically, she is naturally slender, however she has put much time into building her athleticism up and it shows. Her hair is pitch black like a raven's feather, with slight waves that get more intense the further down they get. She wears it slightly past her shoulders, down when she's in public and up in a functional ponytail when she is on a trek. Lys' features are sharp and her neutral expression is one that could be interpreted as disdainful. Despite this, she is considered conventionally attractive by most metrics. She has high-placed cheekbones and a thin, slightly upturned nose. Her lips form a slight pout neutrally, and her chin tapers off into a fine point. When she smiles her mouth gives off a warm, friendly glow. Her english is infected with a heavy german accent, but other than that she is eloquent and possesses a commanding voice, though she is not too skilled at singing.
For social functions she can usually be found in flowing dresses, preferably black ones involving fur. For more active clothes, she typically wears custom tailored Imperial Army trousers in grey, along with a field jacket in light blue. Underneath that she wears a white undershirt. Her boots are custom made to her specifications, made out of dark brown leather and reaching about mid-shin.
Psychology
Curious * Fearless * Resourceful * Driven
Sexuality: Bisexual Relationship Status: Single Personality: Lysandra loves to adventure. It's in her blood. Her father taught her to be curious and always look for hidden meanings where none appear. Normalcy bores her to a fault and she hates staying in one place for long. Civilisation causes her to become restless and irritable. However Lys finds that she can distract herself with parties, which she views as a type of adventure, the guests themselves a mystery of sorts to be unraveled. She thinks very highly of her father, who taught her most of what she knows. One thing that gets under her skin is failure. Failing at anything that she puts her mind to is highly demoralising for her. On the flip side, she cannot stand quitters, to her quitting is out of the question. She is impressed by anyone who has put considerable time into one or two talents, as she herself is prone to spreading her time out among various skills as opposed to just one or two. The thing that drives her to hunt for treasures, isn't necessarily the artifacts themselves (though she does possess more than a passing interest in their history and significance) it is the journey that truly captures her heart. Finally, despite her bad case of resting bitch face, she is usually quite cordial to anyone she meets. Habits:
Chews her hair while thinking
Adores tasting alcohol, though she has trouble holding it
Hobbies:
Fencing
Climbing
Drawing
Fears:
Dogs
Disappointing her father
Being abandoned/left behind
Likes:
Trying new drinks
Meeting new people
Hiking
Challenges
Climbing
Dusk
Dislikes:
Being bossed around
The barking of dogs
People who think less of her because she is a woman
Arrogance
History
A Memory:
Lysandra peered out of the frost-coated window and into the horizon. Trees were all that stared back, that and the soft morning sun. Her Father, Konrad von Brennenburg, called her name to get her attention. She was 10, it was August 1914. The Great War had only just begun, yet the distant sound of guns rumbled like thunder in the distance. Young Lys turned back to her father. He was preparing for an expedition. She wouldn't understand for many years, but the Kaiser himself had personally requested his expertise on this trip. It didn't make it any better for her now. Her mother was back in Austria taking care of family business and now that her father was leaving, she would be alone. She had begged and cried for him to stay, but there was no way he could refuse the Kaiser himself, not with the outset of war. Even now she felt her eyes growing wet with tears. She wiped her eyes with her sleeve and hugged her father around the waist silently.
She watched from the frosty window as the motorcar containing her father pulled away. Though she did not know it at the time, it would be months until she would see him again. Until she would see either of her parents again. Though her family's estate was far from empty, with it's fair share of servants. Lysandra had never felt more alone. The echo-y halls and rooms felt huge and barren without her father's presence. Even though he was a quiet, patient man who never liked to raise his voice, the old estate felt noticeably warmer when he was there.
History: Lysandra von Brennenburg is her father's daughter. In some ways she has always lived in her father's shadow, but it's hard not to when your father is as well-known as hers. He has trekked the world over and made so many discoveries that they are too numerous to list here, the Kaiser himself as well as the Habsburgs had commissioned him to search for certain objects in the past and in his lifetime he had nearly doubled the family's previous modest fortune into one that would have them set comfortably for many generations. Of course this biography isn't about him, so you might be wondering why it opens with a paragraph on him. Well dear reader, it is impossible to properly introduce our heroine without mentioning her father, for he (whether intentionally or not) shaped her like clay in his own image.
Indeed, Konrad raised his daughter with a love for exploration and she took to it like a fish to water. Her education was mostly private, the finest tutors taught her the classics as well as French and English. The parts the tutors did not cover, her father did. He taught her fencing, hiking, climbing, shooting, riding, orienteering, swimming, and most other outdoor activities he enjoyed. She was his greatest student. After her private education she studied at the University of Berlin, where she received a history degree at her father's suggestion. For the next year or so she traveled, taking care of business for the family in a troubled post-war Europe. At 22 she went on her first minor excursion with her father to the Middle East. It was a huge success and one of Lys' fondest memories. However her father was aging, and it was to be his last time in the field. He was not one to sit and decay however, and still loved to send Lysandra out on expeditions of his own design after treasure he had discerned the location of.
Which brings us to the present day. Konrad had been a lifelong friend of Bradley Carnock and always wondered what had happened to the man since the outset of the Great War. So when he caught wind of Thomas' plan to send a party in search of his fate, he gladly sent his protégé and daughter Lysandra, as well as funds to assist in efforts to locate the missing archaeologist. Of course Lysandra was overjoyed at the chance to help her father as well as take on her first real challenge away from the guiding hand of her father.
Name: Lucian DuBois Aliases: le Chacal (Jackal) Age: 36 Nationality: French Ethnicity: French Current Residence: Ajaccio, Corsica, France Gender: Male Education: Uncompleted colonial studies at the University of Lyon Job: Soldier of Fortune, expedition guide Role: Pathfinder and guide, African survival expert
Appearance
Height: 5’09” Weight: 157 lbs. Build: Mesomorph, defined musculature and broad shouldered. Eyes: Green Hair: Dark brown Skin Tone: Caucasian with a defined tan Tattoos/Scars/Piercings: Missing half of his left pinky finger, a trio of scars across his torso from blade and shrapnel wounds, a bullet wound in his right calf. Personal Style: A man of practical tastes, Lucian prefers clothing of Earth tones that correspond to the climate. Flannel shirts, cotton trousers, fur lined coats, khaki safari suits, and great coats have all found their way on his person. One thing that remains constant on his figure is a light blue scarf and a chord necklace with a tooth or claw from the first of any predator he has taken down while in the African wilderness.
His hair and beard are kept somewhat in check, but practicality trumps any sense of high fashion that consume other men. His green eyes are stern and unwavering, exalting a sense of severity and danger that have dissuaded more hot headed counterparts on more than one occasion. Most of his pear-shaped face and somewhat gaunt cheeks are concealed by the wiry beard he keeps thick, although with a disciplined trim, and his complexion is unmarred by scarring and pox, save for those earned in combat. He is a man who seldom smiles nor seems particularly concerned about hardships. He is a man who looks like he emerged from the wilds and tamed it.
Psychology
Pragmatic * Unwavering * Dependable * Reserved
Sexuality: Heterosexual Relationship Status: Single Personality: A calm and collected individual, Lucian has always been a man who speaks sparingly and had never been one for gossip. More content to sit in a corner and observe than be the center of attention, he is a studious man who judges people on their dispositions rather than their words, being an individual who ultimately is a cooperative but not necessarily trusting with others, only stepping in when foolishness could lead to unwanted consequences.
Lucian has never been an easily shaken man, handling stressful and dangerous situations with a calm, collected manner that seem at odds with the chaos around him. From heavy shelling at Verdun to hostile tribesmen or being stalked by leopards, very few things seem to elicit a strong reaction from the Frenchman. That isn’t to say he is not capable of moments of ferocity and levity in generous measure, but ultimately he is a considerate and thoughtful man that always seems to have a plan and carries himself with a relaxed confidence that is reassuring to those around him.
A collector of handguns and revolvers from across the globe, as well as maps and flags and coins, Lucian has amassed a small, but impressive collection in his homestead in Corsica, often traveling with his model 1892 Lebel revolver and it is rare for him to return home after months-long expeditions without something to show for it. He drinks wines and fine liquors on occasion, preferring the ritual of the occasion rather than pursuing intoxication, and while not a regular smoker, Lucian does smoke to relax and to take the edge off of stress.
Habits: * Social drinker and smoker * Flips pencils, cartridges, coins, or other similar objects between his fingers when concentrating or passing time * Chews finger nails to keep them short. Clippers aren’t always available *Covers his mouth with a closed hand and open thumb when deep in thought. * Cleans guns and sharpens knives daily, regardless of cleanliness or edge * Boils his water prior to cooking, washing and drinking
Hobbies: * Sustenance hunter, he harvests his kills, unless they are predators that pose a threat to himself or others * Avid outdoorsman * Recreational swimmer * Enjoys weekly bonfires when possible * Reading * Studying languages and cultures of regions of interest
Fears: 3 real fears that make your character unhinged
Gas, his experiences during the Great War have left him mentally scarred when he encounters mysterious smoke or strong scents, causing him to recoil and attempt to vacate the area if possible
Contracting a crippling illness, after a particularly brutal bought of malaria and seeing the aftermath of the Spanish Flu and other jungle diseases, Lucian is rightfully health conscious and practices caution around those who appear to be ill and he takes pains to avoid leeches and mosquitos
Being burned alive, another fear brought about from experiences during the war, nothing seemed quite as horrific as watching men slowly die in agony after being immolated
Likes:
Learning about other cultures
The outdoors
Cooking up game
The beach and salty sea air
Wildlife watching
Practicing marksmanship skills
Traveling by ship
Finding a mentally invigorating book
Dislikes:
Crowds
The cold and snow
Leopards
Poor manners and willful ignorance
Bragarts
Putting up with wet socks
People prone to overindulgence
History
A Memory:
French Equatorial Africa, the Savanna, August 23, 1925… The sun was just beginning its descent into the foliage to the West, setting itself to slumber after another long day scorching the central African colony with unforgiving heat. The winter rains that would offer relief to the lands wouldn’t come for another two months at the earliest, and it was increasingly apparent that the group of men that Lucian DuBois was guiding across the savanna and jungles of French Equatorial Africa on a hunting expedition had not anticipated the climate to be so formidable. They had recently shot a buffalo that was sickly and trailing behind the herd that Lucian had decided to put out of its suffering and convinced the men that its patchy fur and molted, pale skin was because it was a fighter and was protecting the herd by looking for danger. The men seemed happy, and the buffalo didn’t have to suffer being eaten alive by predators and instead took an expertly placed shot in the lung that claimed it promptly. Lucian didn’t mention that buffalo skulls and horns were so thick that they were effectively bulletproof and the animals were far more dangerous than anything with claws were in Africa. If they bungled a shot on a healthy one, there was a good chance any one of them would have been gored. A pity.
Pink, sweaty, and in a couple of instances, grossly overweight, the men had spent the better part of three days complaining endlessly and being demanding, only relenting on not being offered bigger portions of the rations of water when Lucian and his partner, an indigenous man named Samuel, helpfully pointed out that if they consumed all of the water before reaching the next settlement, they would likely perish from thirst, or the horses would, and then they would have to try and traverse the next 120 kilometers on foot in lion country. This point finally stuck as a pride of lions helpfully demonstrated the crushing power of their jaws on the hind leg of an impala, making the red-faced men somehow go pale.
And so, despite the constant bickering and attempt to throw around their names and titles like they meant anything to Lucian and Samuel, who had the misfortune of having been the brunt of bigotry that was far too common of the homelanders that seemed to forget that African men like Samuel had served with the Foreign Legion and fought and died with courage that none of these men would ever understand so that the Kaiser didn’t rule over their fat-asses. To Samuel’s credit, he didn’t rise to the bait or visibly seem to care what a bunch of ignorant, woefully unprepared white men thought of him, although his face did seem to light up at the prospect of them crossing lion territory on foot. Like Lucian, Samuel took the small pleasures where they could. Both men sat on a boulder on the edge of camp, keeping an eye on the parched grass and shrubs for movement while sharing a cigarette.
Samuel pointed ahead, half consumed and flickering a pale orange with wispy tendrils catching the breeze. “There.”
“I see her.” Lucian confirmed, his Winchester resting on his thigh, watching as the grass subtly shifted and the telltale iridescent orbs of a lioness stalked ever so patiently towards one of the fat men, who was boasting about something or other that was probably about a new car or pretty serving girl who served him on the side for a paltry bit of money. It was all meaningless babble of a man who might as well have been from the moon. Lucian took the offered cigarette back and took a heavy drag on it before handing it back to Samuel, taking the safety off of the lever-action rifle, his preferred arm in the African continent since its designed sealed it tightly from debris that would have stopped a Lebel rifle or Chauchat dead ages ago. There wasn’t much that the beefy American 30-06 cartridge couldn’t put down with authority, and Americans were always so eager to sell their cowboy culture abroad to a number of buyers. Even the damned Germans profited from American sales up until they pissed off the massive war machine that had done an admirably frustrating job of trying to maintain neutrality up until around when the Russians called it quits during the Great War. It was funny how the world worked at times; one player leaves, another takes his place. The question was who would take the place of the fat Frenchman when the lioness made off with a big enough meal to maybe support the pride for a week.
“The others would be more compliant if we let her take one.” Samuel pointed out dryly. Even after years of working with the man, Lucian had a hard time telling when his African counterpart was being sarcastic or dead serious.
“Yes, that is true. However, dead men don’t pay very well.” Lucian said, offering a rare half-smile to his friend as he shouldered the rifle, gaining a sight picture almost instantly after years of practice with the weapon. He found the lioness easily enough, who was now only a few dangerously close meters to the backs of the men, and about to leave her cover, where escape for a human being in their physical prime would have been impossible, let alone for the gluttonous masses that were under his care. He lined the sight up behind the lioness’ leg, where her heart and lung would be, and as she crouched low, preparing to leap, his finger began to squeeze the trigger.
The rifle barked once.
Alarmed, the men of the camp were startled and looked around, eyes finding Lucian. He pointed forward. The lioness lay motionless, almost within spitting distance of the closest men. Even in the fading evening light, he could make out the horrified realizations across their faces, and then the sudden relief and the laughter that came with it. He offered a half-hearted wave to the men. They waved back.
“You’re no fun.” Samuel grumbled.
Lucian simply reached out for the cigarette, contented with his choice in doing the job he was paid to do. Near-death experiences tended to net considerable bonuses, after all.
History:
Born in the outskirts of Lyon, France in 1893 to an upper middle class family to Bernard and Emmy DuBois, and he was the middle child of seven siblings, being the junior to Hector and Nancy and the senior to Edgard, Soren, and Slaina. A promising student in his youth, Lucian worked as a cobbler for his father on weekends and evenings when not attending school, and he was already a proficient hunter in his own right by the time he was 14, spending time out in the woods with his father, harvesting red deer and boar, as well as terminating wolves for a bounty put out by farmers. He was a quiet, studious boy that seemed to prefer solitude to the company of other children, something that began to change when he attended secondary school in anticipation of university where he made a small handful of close friends, most of whom would join him in enrolling in the University of Lyon in 1911 when he was 18 years old.
At university, Lucian majored in colonial affairs, learning about the territories and people of France’s empire and he began to dream of a wider world, his imagination fully enraptured by wild and incredible things that he could only begin to imagine and strongly desired to experience for himself. Anything had to be more romantic and good for the mind than the boring tedium of the French countryside and city life that he’d known his whole life. A wanderlust filled the young man, and like so many others, when the call to arms came out in 1914 when France and England declared war on the German Empire, Lucian quickly dropped out of university to take up arms and serve his homeland, much like his great-grandfather, who had been an officer under Napoleon decades before.
Lucian enlisted in the 12th Infantry Division, quickly discovering that the adventure the war promised was nothing he could have ever prepared for. For years in the trenches, he had watched the French countryside become torn asunder by endless shelling, bombings, minefields, and the endless munitions spat from the muzzles of rifles and machine-guns. The entire ordeal was detestable, and Lucian learned to hate the long and brutal winters, the perpetually muddy trenches where rifles became inoperable, and worst of all the damnable mustard gas attacks that the Germans had launched against them early in the war, causing blistering of skin and suffocation in such mass quantities he could not help but help picture him and his fellow soldiers and cattle being lead to slaughter.
Instead of giving into despair, Lucian threw himself into combat with a fury at the audacity of the Kaiser’s men and soon found himself a decorated and oftentimes wounded trench raider, being issued a Chauchat for marching fire against the enemy and in Verdun, he was commended after holding his position against a relentless assault, emptying nearly eight magazines into the advancing German ranks before mud rendered the weapon inoperable and continuing to fight with a Lebel revolver, a sidearm that has since been his constant companion throughout life, and with a spade when the Germans entered the trenches.
After the war, Lucian returned to Lyon, acclimatizing himself to civilian life once more and working again for his father as a cobbler. This lasted for a bit longer than a year when the memories of wanting to explore began to stir again and the ignorance of those who didn’t fight began to grate on him. Fortune found him by chance when he caught wind of a wealthy entrepreneur preparing an expedition to French Equatorial Africa for a prospecting venture. Signing on using his military experience of surviving harsh conditions, his experience as a hunter and soldier to handle hostile tribesmen and wildlife, and his education in matters of the region to make himself an assured asset to the expedition. It wasn’t a day after putting his name in that a courier came to the home and handed him the job offer. And so on a sleepy January 1920 morning, Lucian began a career as a guide and wilderness survival expert for the French colony.
For the next 9 years, Lucian earned himself a reputation for being a hardy and dependable sort, a crack shot with his Winchester Model 1895 lever action rifle and Lebel revolver, and he became a freelancer and soldier of fortune of sorts, taking jobs from the governor’s office when expeditions weren’t available to deal with hostilities of the two-legged variety. Already an accomplished hunter, Lucian found plenty more exciting game than the wolves of France to contend with, and a large part of his job was keeping predators from snacking on his clients. Having reached a place in life away from the mundanity of city life and pursuing his passions, Lucian has reached a point of contentment and pleasure away from the troubles of Europe and testing himself as a man against one of the last true frontiers of the world.
And so on a balmy Mediterranean November 1929 afternoon sitting on a balcony with a glass of scotch in his hand in his home base of Corsica, a courier arrived much like they had after the Great War with an offer from one Baron Carnock. And so, the man who became known as le Chacal answered his summons for yet another life-changing bit of fortune.
