Post by pataph on Dec 4, 2009 17:33:17 GMT -5
I was a bit daunted by the number of NPCs, so I thought I'd show something from a different RP (all text posted was written by me). Its a bit light on dialogue, so if it hasn't given you enough of an idea I could go back and do another.
For any unfamiliar with the setting: Francish is an obvious name for French people in space (I didn't choose it )
-------------------
Charles Witte, Cecilia Desmarais, and Robert Anders attended the hole for any clue of habitation, and aside from general signs of human passage, they were finding nothing. The crag was rumoured to be the great hiding place of Marcus Dupont, one of the most enigmatic musicians in Francish history, and the site was expected to contain countless treasures, the main reason the Museum of Dubhe had funded the expedition to an otherwise worthless alpine region.
The cave itself was not in any way high up the mountain, but it was located upon the almost vertical edge of it, overlooking the small farming communities that had resisted development so well. The expedition had decided that rather than embark upon such a dangerous climb, it would take a little-known route that wound around the gentler sides of the mountain. It had paid off in a way; they had found a decomposed ladder leading down into the cave, a mark that someone used the cave enough to build a way in, even if that person wasn’t Dupont.
The three researchers had left their helpers to watch the camp, located higher up along the winding route. It had been two days since their arrival, and results had been thin. Had there only been the ladder, they would’ve left, in search of other hideaways. However, a single discarded wine bottle from Dupont’s time was found shining in the torch light (quite possibly his, judging by the alcoholism he would develop in his later years). They knew this was the most likely place for a major find.
“I-I think I’ve found something.” Anders called to the others, examining an unnatural protrusion in the cave’s wall, perfectly bended to fool a casual observer. Both calmly made their ways to Anders, waiting to see it for themselves before allowing themselves to breathe a sigh of relief. Upon seeing it, they instantly agreed. “I’m off to base camp; I think it’s finally worth bringing the scanner down.” Anders enthused.
“Would you like help?” Witte asked, still enthralled by the discovery.
“No, it’s better if you two look for more. I’ll get someone at camp to help me lug it over.”
Without another word between them, Anders moved to the end of the cave, clipped himself to the safety line, and ascended the sturdy new ladder they had built yesterday.
Desmarais continued to examine the protrusion as Witte looked for new ones, and after ten minutes of fiddling with it, produced a small click from it. The wall gave way, opening into a short hall, empty save for a single door. Witte rushed over and both stepped inside, forgetting Anders entirely. Seeing no locks on the door, Desmarais didn’t hesitate to enter.
The room was ornately decorated with the Franc fashions of Dupont’s day, and piled with empty bottles and paper scrawls, and many neatly wrapped packages on shelves. Barely a second after entering, a player piano started a complicated piece. “I know this.” Desmarais smiled. “Yes, one of his early works, recovered from his notes, but never played in public in his lifetime.” Witte marvelled. Desmarais stepped up to the piano, watching the keys rise and fall with absolute precision.
Witte examined the window on the front of the device, elegantly displaying each note and the progression of notes that would soon follow, and noticed with alarm that the piece was about to stop mid-song.
“MOVE!” He screamed, shoving Desmarais to the ground.
“What the hell are you doi-“ The sentence fell dead in her mouth as moments before the music stopped, Witte began playing the piano, carrying the exact same piece on to its proper end. Desmarais was so perplexed by this that she didn’t even get off the floor, shifting instead to a sitting position where she watched the explorer play like a madman.
As the final notes played out the spell was broken and she stood to confront Witte, enraged by the confusion of the display as much as by the shove.
“Witte, give me one reason not to throw you into the canyon!”
He regained his breath from the intense performance, sweating profusely, even in the cool depths of the hidden room.
“Explosives, most likely. Planted to detonate unless the piece was played all the way through.” He gasped.
“Explosi-What? Why would a musician booby-trap a place like this?!”
“Perhaps for the same reason he built a hidden room in a cave in a mountain. Perhaps because he was renowned as the Paranoid Architect of the Nouveau Music movement!” He replied, pointing to the various packages stacked on the shelves, shining a torch into the gap behind one and finding a small wire leading back into the plaster. Desmarais narrowed her eyes in obvious frustration.
Witte began carefully examining loose items in the room, each time replacing it exactly as it was before. “Careful, then” Desmarais warned “we don’t want the mountain dropping on our heads”.
Witte’s attention quickly fell upon a chest which he soundlessly opened despite its age. It was filled with papers, and the top held a script of immeasurable significance. “We have it!” He exclaimed with glee “The very symphony which started the Nouveau Music movement, which inspired an age of Francish culture that would impact every civilisation it came into contact with!”
“I-I-I oh, of wow.” Desmarais stumbled incoherently. “A copy that Dupont didn’t destroy...” She was truly speechless. Dupont had ruined his vast fortunes by tracking down every last copy of it in existence, and his success had firmly rooted his dramatic life in the hearts of many.
“I need to go back to the camp, if we want to examine this treasure in any detail we must first have any traps disarmed. We need specialists up here as soon as possible” Witte said, briskly approaching the mouth of the cave. The moment before he clipped onto the safety line, he felt a blade thrust into his back, closely followed by a boot. He tumbled down the mountain and faded from consciousness.
Witte reflected on the events of the year or so since that day, preparing for the first exploration of the new world. The farmers had somehow managed to find him broken among the pigs and mud that slopped at the feet of the mountain, and even more miraculously managed to get him to a hospital before the avalanche destroyed half of their town a day later. Upon contacting the museum of Dubhe, it immediately came to light that Desmarais was behind the avalanche which had destroyed the camp and so much else. Later expeditions would find the secret room stripped bare. She was clearly not alone. Six months ago, as Witte hid his survival from any beyond the head of the museum and the farmers he lived with; the symphony was broadcast by Viktor von Kaus. As the only living being outside Desmarais’ circles who had seen the documents, he was able to alert the academic community, leading to the seizure of the von Kaus family vault, soon found to contain all of the artefacts of the cave. While the von Kaus family escaped any serious repercussions beyond the return of the items to the museum, Desmarais was never seen since handing over the relics.
Witte took a deep breath as he closed his bags, and quieted his new fear with uncontrollable curiosity. He would see a world untarnished by human hands for so long, and ripe with artefacts and mysteries. He would relish it.
For any unfamiliar with the setting: Francish is an obvious name for French people in space (I didn't choose it )
-------------------
Charles Witte, Cecilia Desmarais, and Robert Anders attended the hole for any clue of habitation, and aside from general signs of human passage, they were finding nothing. The crag was rumoured to be the great hiding place of Marcus Dupont, one of the most enigmatic musicians in Francish history, and the site was expected to contain countless treasures, the main reason the Museum of Dubhe had funded the expedition to an otherwise worthless alpine region.
The cave itself was not in any way high up the mountain, but it was located upon the almost vertical edge of it, overlooking the small farming communities that had resisted development so well. The expedition had decided that rather than embark upon such a dangerous climb, it would take a little-known route that wound around the gentler sides of the mountain. It had paid off in a way; they had found a decomposed ladder leading down into the cave, a mark that someone used the cave enough to build a way in, even if that person wasn’t Dupont.
The three researchers had left their helpers to watch the camp, located higher up along the winding route. It had been two days since their arrival, and results had been thin. Had there only been the ladder, they would’ve left, in search of other hideaways. However, a single discarded wine bottle from Dupont’s time was found shining in the torch light (quite possibly his, judging by the alcoholism he would develop in his later years). They knew this was the most likely place for a major find.
“I-I think I’ve found something.” Anders called to the others, examining an unnatural protrusion in the cave’s wall, perfectly bended to fool a casual observer. Both calmly made their ways to Anders, waiting to see it for themselves before allowing themselves to breathe a sigh of relief. Upon seeing it, they instantly agreed. “I’m off to base camp; I think it’s finally worth bringing the scanner down.” Anders enthused.
“Would you like help?” Witte asked, still enthralled by the discovery.
“No, it’s better if you two look for more. I’ll get someone at camp to help me lug it over.”
Without another word between them, Anders moved to the end of the cave, clipped himself to the safety line, and ascended the sturdy new ladder they had built yesterday.
Desmarais continued to examine the protrusion as Witte looked for new ones, and after ten minutes of fiddling with it, produced a small click from it. The wall gave way, opening into a short hall, empty save for a single door. Witte rushed over and both stepped inside, forgetting Anders entirely. Seeing no locks on the door, Desmarais didn’t hesitate to enter.
The room was ornately decorated with the Franc fashions of Dupont’s day, and piled with empty bottles and paper scrawls, and many neatly wrapped packages on shelves. Barely a second after entering, a player piano started a complicated piece. “I know this.” Desmarais smiled. “Yes, one of his early works, recovered from his notes, but never played in public in his lifetime.” Witte marvelled. Desmarais stepped up to the piano, watching the keys rise and fall with absolute precision.
Witte examined the window on the front of the device, elegantly displaying each note and the progression of notes that would soon follow, and noticed with alarm that the piece was about to stop mid-song.
“MOVE!” He screamed, shoving Desmarais to the ground.
“What the hell are you doi-“ The sentence fell dead in her mouth as moments before the music stopped, Witte began playing the piano, carrying the exact same piece on to its proper end. Desmarais was so perplexed by this that she didn’t even get off the floor, shifting instead to a sitting position where she watched the explorer play like a madman.
As the final notes played out the spell was broken and she stood to confront Witte, enraged by the confusion of the display as much as by the shove.
“Witte, give me one reason not to throw you into the canyon!”
He regained his breath from the intense performance, sweating profusely, even in the cool depths of the hidden room.
“Explosives, most likely. Planted to detonate unless the piece was played all the way through.” He gasped.
“Explosi-What? Why would a musician booby-trap a place like this?!”
“Perhaps for the same reason he built a hidden room in a cave in a mountain. Perhaps because he was renowned as the Paranoid Architect of the Nouveau Music movement!” He replied, pointing to the various packages stacked on the shelves, shining a torch into the gap behind one and finding a small wire leading back into the plaster. Desmarais narrowed her eyes in obvious frustration.
Witte began carefully examining loose items in the room, each time replacing it exactly as it was before. “Careful, then” Desmarais warned “we don’t want the mountain dropping on our heads”.
Witte’s attention quickly fell upon a chest which he soundlessly opened despite its age. It was filled with papers, and the top held a script of immeasurable significance. “We have it!” He exclaimed with glee “The very symphony which started the Nouveau Music movement, which inspired an age of Francish culture that would impact every civilisation it came into contact with!”
“I-I-I oh, of wow.” Desmarais stumbled incoherently. “A copy that Dupont didn’t destroy...” She was truly speechless. Dupont had ruined his vast fortunes by tracking down every last copy of it in existence, and his success had firmly rooted his dramatic life in the hearts of many.
“I need to go back to the camp, if we want to examine this treasure in any detail we must first have any traps disarmed. We need specialists up here as soon as possible” Witte said, briskly approaching the mouth of the cave. The moment before he clipped onto the safety line, he felt a blade thrust into his back, closely followed by a boot. He tumbled down the mountain and faded from consciousness.
Witte reflected on the events of the year or so since that day, preparing for the first exploration of the new world. The farmers had somehow managed to find him broken among the pigs and mud that slopped at the feet of the mountain, and even more miraculously managed to get him to a hospital before the avalanche destroyed half of their town a day later. Upon contacting the museum of Dubhe, it immediately came to light that Desmarais was behind the avalanche which had destroyed the camp and so much else. Later expeditions would find the secret room stripped bare. She was clearly not alone. Six months ago, as Witte hid his survival from any beyond the head of the museum and the farmers he lived with; the symphony was broadcast by Viktor von Kaus. As the only living being outside Desmarais’ circles who had seen the documents, he was able to alert the academic community, leading to the seizure of the von Kaus family vault, soon found to contain all of the artefacts of the cave. While the von Kaus family escaped any serious repercussions beyond the return of the items to the museum, Desmarais was never seen since handing over the relics.
Witte took a deep breath as he closed his bags, and quieted his new fear with uncontrollable curiosity. He would see a world untarnished by human hands for so long, and ripe with artefacts and mysteries. He would relish it.