Bartimaeus

The Queen's Hand

Graham Booke

---

Graham closed his eyes at Mr. Haji's warning. He very much liked keeping his eyesight in-tact. At his age, he was glad he did not require spectacles to assist his vision, something that went to the envy of some of his other aging peers. As they joined hands to form a circle and closed (or didn't) their eyes, the elderly man felt the environment change around them. He could feel the change in lighting through his eyelids, and the atmosphere was much different than that of the building they had just magically departed from.
Graham opened his eyes and looked around, releasing an amused hum. Interesting... he thought. He released the hands of the younger folk around him, and adjusted his bag again, though it has seemed to be un-disturbed by their sudden transportation.
The new environment was less warm, and less welcoming than the previous building, upon first impression. The floors were not as cushioned as the carpeted floors of the dormitory building, and the area was not quite as elegantly furnished as a mass-living quarters would be. The structure of the place, from what he could tell, seemed rigid. It resembled the inside of a manufacturing building, or a factory. And that's what he'd learn it was, from the words of the one who greeted them, Ms. Alice.
Graham listened intently to the briefing they were receiving-- apparently the city was being threatened by magic users life himself.. Seeing as the old man was quite out of the loop when it came to the magic world, he was expecting to learn new things, but perhaps more would be piled onto his plate than he expected. From here they were led into another room,the doors opening to reveal a woman surrounded by machinery lying around the room. And she had some info...apparently they were heading to the circus for their first mission.

How peculiar.. he thought as he heard the odd music emanate from the machinery around them. He'd always wanted to go to the circus, yet despite his age, he never enjoyed the experience.

Innocence Lost: Space Western Science Fantasy (Temporarily Open Again!)

@Araby264We are mostly active in our discord server, so if it looks kinda silent here, that’s where all the talkin’ is goin’ on.

Innocence Lost: Space Western Science Fantasy (Temporarily Open Again!)

Reisus

---

It wouldn't be an understatement to say Reisus was impressed. With Kelan's entrance that is. Though it would've been safer to tell them it was going to happen so they didn't accidentally get crushed, but nevertheless, bad-ass. In any case, it seemed Kelan was separating from the group shortly after joining them, as it seemed the Decoy team was doing its job. The commotion could be heard from inside the sheep, though advancing further into the bowels of the craft could potentially obscure such ruckus, considering there seemed to something else making its own array of distracting noises. And these noises were much less pleasant...

The partially muffled moans and wails of the damned permeated the air around him, assaulting his ears with unpleasant thoughts. Whatever was causing this, whoever was causing this, obviously had no problem with such distractions. Which was worrying, to say the least. And they wouldn't have to wait long before they found out the apparent source, as they traveled down the halls, ever-increasing amounts of blood and gore surrounding them as they did so.

And that's when they saw...something at the end of the hall. It was eerie, really. It seemed to float. Potentially magic, or technology. It was hard to tell due to the fact that it/their entire form was clad in a dark cloak, which revealed no facet of its body, barring the single, red, glowing eye. Which stared directly at them. Reisus doubted this was-

A blade, coated in shining light, shot forth from the hand of his concealed teammate, Stella.

...It seemed she was taking the initiative. Reisus didn't disapprove, as he doubted they were an ally, and he didn't really want to find out the hard way. This way at least assured they weren't caught off guard. Reisus wielded his coilgun in his right hand, placing the opposite hand on his chest, activating his Graviton Touch power to lighten his body. He then posed his left hand to the side of his body, preparing to use the thrusters on his armor to dodge any ranged attacks he saw coming, as he leveled his gun at the opponent, readying a interception shot if they tried anything.

The Queen's Hand

Graham Booke

---

"Would you like me to help you with that?" A young voice sounded.

"Why, how kind of you. But no thank you, I can carry it myself." said Graham, adjusting the decently sized bag he had shouldered as he left his quarters. The aid closed the door behind him. "I hope you don't mind. One must take a delicate hand when it comes to canvas.", he said as he patted the leather bag with a shaky hand.

"Of course, Sir. Now, if you will follow me right this way I can help you to the common room."

They proceeded to travel down the stairs to the common room, the younger man remaining close to the painter in case he needed assistance. "I've never abode in a building as large as this one...how very gracious of your employers to allow us to house here." he said, continuing the small-talk as they progressed down the stairs. He had only been living in this new building for a few days. Only a few days after the death of his beloved brother had he moved in here, and as such the pain still weighed down in his mind. But he had to look past it. Dwelling on what could not be changed would only make things worse, or so it was his philosophy.

"Yes Sir. Very gracious." the aid said as he remembered his wallet. He brought his attention back to his surroundings as they drew close to the common room. "Here you are Sir. Right over there is where your presence is requested."

Graham looked over to the middle of the common room as he made his last step down the stairs. A group was now forming there. He had aimed to come a few minutes early, but seeing as he was not used to living in a home with more than a single group of steps, he seemed to misjudge his time of arrival. At least he wasn't late, though. "Thank you, young man." he spoke as he shouldered the bag more correctly again, and made his way towards the center of the common room.

The first person he noticed was potentially the oldest present man, besides himself, who adorned bright shades of various colors, and a turban upon his head. His tone seemed light-hearted, and he was being very friendly to everyone, despite the bad news that they would be late. Then the man asked that they all joined hands in prayer. Graham was never a god-fearing man, but he was never one to make rude gestures, or seem rude due to lack of gesture, either. He approached closer, making his place among the others. He lightly held out his unsteady hand to one of the people there, a young blonde woman who a moment ago had blurted out. She seemed on edge. Perhaps the hand of an elderly man could calm her spirit, Graham thought. He left his other hand free to join with others.

Then there was a question: "What kind of game are you playing here?"

"Now, now. Who doesn't like games? I know I sure do." Graham said with a friendly smile.

The Queen's Hand

Graham Booke

Color Code: Olivedrab

Graham Booke

---

Gender: Male
Age: 67
Country of Origin: England
Bio:
From a young age, Graham loved art. He grew up in a middle-class household, and whatever money he made in his low-paying job as a child was spent on art supplies. He had a natural aptitude for the craft. He tried to go to art classes as he reached his teen years, but he never had enough money for them, as they were quite expensive. When he eventually had enough money to go to one class though, he discovered they were too slow for him.
As he grew to his middle-age years, he often sold his paintings for decent amounts of money, as they were impressive, especially for someone with no formal training in painting. He used his gains to move into a home of his own- a small, pretty undecorated one, but a home of his own nonetheless.
However, as he grew older, reaching his early fifties, he developed a rough case of essential tremors, which severely reduced his ability to draw and paint. He went for years without even being able to paint a picture of a simple flowerpot. Eventually, Graham's only brother grew grimly ill. Graham wished so much to leave him a painting that he would remember even into the afterlife. So he tried once again.
Graham's passion shined through, and the aging man's hand steeled itself, becoming as steady as the day he began indulging in his passion. He drew the lines perfectly, he shaded every piece correctly as he imagined the likeness of the real image. When he finished, the painting itself seemed to come to life- almost as if one could touch the image upon it, and hold it. And that he did. The flowerpot weighed into his hands from the surface of the painting, startling the old man to some degree. He dropped the plant and it shattered on the floor. And he stared for easily half an hour.
Some days later, his brother had passed. But not without seeing the rare, beautiful flower his brother had brought for him to his bedside.

Some more days later, Graham was met by an old friend as he answered the door- he had been telling this friend of what he had seen over the past couple of days. "I want to tell you about an organization you may want to know about", the friend said.

- - -

Ability: Living Art

• Description: Mr. Booke has the ability to bring works of art to life. Whether they are his or not, he can tear objects or creatures from paintings and drawings, even if the creatures may not be real, and control them or give them wills of their own.
• Restrictions: This ability is obviously limited by the works of art available to Mr. Booke. The works of art must be photo-realistic, or close to it. Hence, it usually takes significant amounts of time for him to prepare to use this power. Additionally, people may destroy his paintings to stop him from using them. And finally, he is simply a mundane old man, and just as fragile.

Department: Support

The Queen's Hand

Graham Booke

Color Code: Olivedrab

Graham Booke

---

Gender: Male
Age: 67
Country of Origin: England
Bio:
From a young age, Graham loved art. He grew up in a middle-class household, and whatever money he made in his low-paying job as a child was spent on art supplies. He had a natural aptitude for the craft. He tried to go to art classes as he reached his teen years, but he never had enough money for them, as they were quite expensive. When he eventually had enough money to go to one class though, he discovered they were too slow for him.
As he grew to his middle-age years, he often sold his paintings for decent amounts of money, as they were impressive, especially for someone with no formal training in painting. He used his gains to move into a home of his own- a small, pretty undecorated one, but a home of his own nonetheless.
However, as he grew older, reaching his early fifties, he developed a rough case of essential tremors, which severely reduced his ability to draw and paint. He went for years without even being able to paint a picture of a simple flowerpot. Eventually, Graham's only brother grew grimly ill. Graham wished so much to leave him a painting that he would remember even into the afterlife. So he tried once again.
Graham's passion shined through, and the aging man's hand steeled itself, becoming as steady as the day he began indulging in his passion. He drew the lines perfectly, he shaded every piece correctly as he imagined the likeness of the real image. When he finished, the painting itself seemed to come to life- almost as if one could touch the image upon it, and hold it. And that he did. The flowerpot weighed into his hands from the surface of the painting, startling the old man to some degree. He dropped the plant and it shattered on the floor. And he stared for easily half an hour.
Some days later, his brother had passed. But not without seeing the rare, beautiful flower his brother had brought for him to his bedside.

Some more days later, Graham was met by an old friend as he answered the door- he had been telling this friend of what he had seen over the past couple of days. "I want to tell you about an organization you may want to know about", the friend said.

- - -

Ability: Living Art

• Description: Mr. Booke has the ability to bring works of art to life. Whether they are his or not, he can tear objects or creatures from paintings and drawings, even if the creatures may not be real, and control them or give them wills of their own.
• Restrictions: This ability is obviously limited by the works of art available to Mr. Booke. The works of art must be photo-realistic, or close to it. Hence, it usually takes significant amounts of time for him to prepare to use this power. Additionally, people may destroy his paintings to stop him from using them. And finally, he is simply a mundane old man, and just as fragile.

Department: Support

The Queen's Hand (Victorian-Era Superheroes)

Wow, this got a lot of interest. 19 people I think I counted. How many are you accepting? @Sazama

EDIT: I'll PM you some of my thoughts.

Royal Rumble!

---

It was time to begin. He placed his hands on his chest, the symbol on the back of his suit sending out crackling black energy. The energy traveled through his body and to the dirt below him as his teammates advanced towards the other side of the field. Soon, patches of ground around the flag's "bunker" would seem to melt and flow into themselves, slowly growing in heat and emitting a soft light as they converted into boiling magma. After the pools formed, each one would have a short cone of rocky earth rise from the ground around them, protecting them from the wind and snow.

Aram admired his handiwork, which looked like a field of mini-volcanoes. "Nice and toasty over here.." he said to himself. This array would keep this area warm, warding off the effects of the cold, and give him a reliable way to deal with the ice-abuser if he needed to fight her on their turf. As for the artillery- a shell exploded nearby, chipping off a small piece of rocky stone from one of the volcanoes- he'd have to figure something out for her.

He dusted off his gloves(even though they were perfectly clean), but he wasn't done yet. He would make a shield for himself, pulling some material from the earth and transmuting it into thick steel, then strapping it to his left arm. He left his hands unburdened though, as he would approach with his allies until they reached the pillars on their side of the field. Here there were fewer volcanoes than farther back, but still a couple. Here he would set a trap for his enemies. He got to work transmuting, a drop of sweat forming on his brow.

"Let's beat feet. We wouldn't want to keep our new friends waiting, would we?" he said with a smirk.

Innocence Lost: Space Western Science Fantasy (Temporarily Open Again!)

Reisus

---

Reisus felt a pair of eyes on his back. He turned towards the sound of Stella's voice as she addressed him.

"Not quite." he said shortly, examining Stella with a hint of curiosity. She acted much like a human, but wasn't. She still had the mind of a younger person, he assumed, and someone had made a body to fit. When you think about it, she had great potential to be a super soldier.

This is where the one they called Eldrid interrupted.

"As long as you don't blow the mission and have the entire regime called down on us, I don't care who is coming along. More than us few will be pushing it, though." the older man responded. "And I won't be needing any flight enchantments." he said as he opened a compartment on the forearm of his torso suit. He tapped in a few commands, re-calibrating it since it had been out of use for a couple days. He snapped the panel shut afterwards, all the while listening to the in-part breifing Stella provided. It sounded simple enough.

Reisus thought shortly over Stella's question. "I assume you're pretty good at throwing those knives of yours, and I don't want to take one to the back; so you can take point. I'll be close behind. And if you have any fancy magic that I need to know not to get in the way of, it wouldn't be unwise to warn me of it." his words not quite curt, but his tone was serious.

He hoped what the kids had gone through during their forced training would be enough to keep them alive. But if he had to, he would take a bullet for any one of them. He felt he owed his life to them, after all. "I'm ready."

Step Up, Get Knocked Out

Wanted to say I'm very sorry for lack of posting. School, as well as other things in my life, have been much more busy than I've expected or want them to be. Haven't had very much free time.. ;-;

I can concede if you want, I'm not sure when I'll have the time to put out semi-frequent posts for this along with my other RP commitments(which tbh are also really slow too) at the moment..