Ruby in the Smoke [1800's RP -- Limited amount of spots. First come, first serve.]

Welcome to 1800’s New Orleans, the pumping heart of jazz, and obscure voodoo magic. Full of spiritual hauntings and tall tales of witch craft. This is the city that keeps moving till all hours of the night, and into the early mornings. It is a city of class, elegance, and a secret undertone of danger lurking around corners, voodoo shops, palm readings, and dark arts magicians.

Five people, called the Protectors, gather in a restaurant to discuss one thing: The Ruby. The Ruby was forged by four great mages over a thousand years ago, all containing a different power. They have passed this Ruby down from generation to generation. There had never been a problem before this, the Ruby had been kept hidden for over a thousand years. There had been tales told, but no one had ever seen it. Until just a few weeks ago, one broke into the sacred temple and stole the Ruby right from its place. Of course, there was a battle and one of the mages was smart, and decided to change the Ruby’s form before the intruder could grab it.

What is this form, you may ask? It is the form of a young seventeen year old girl. Normally wearing a black cape and a jewel encrusted choker with a red ruby droplet hanging off of it. The mage who did this, also altered the mind of a young man to believe the Ruby is his little sister.

But, while this meeting of the five Protectors is taking place, another one is happening just around the corner... A meeting of some of the best Dark Arts magicians are joining together to try and steal the Ruby...

So choose your side, your power [up to 3 powers max], and choose wisely and let the games begin.

Rules:

Don’t be a Mary-Sue please
Don’t pull a Houdini that’s mean
Please respect the other RPers
Yeah you know the rest.
Try to vary your powers and roles...
This is set in the 1800's no belly shirts and tight jeans....

ROLES:

The Ruby: Mercy [me]

The Ruby’s ‘Older Brother’: Danny

Protectors [5]: Allen, Christina Langley [Alexis], Brandon

Dark Arts Magicians [5]: Nergal+Durge [Murdoch], Skye, Capri

Name: Mercedes [Mercy]
Nickname: Mercenary [Given to me by May], Magic [Given by Bianca], The G [Faith], Muffin Man Killer [Nate], Muffin [Cuppycake!]
Age: 17
Gender: Female
Looks: intense forest green eyes long eyelashes. Sun kissed brown hair, pin straight, comes a little past my shoulders.
Body Type: Curvy, thin. Hourglass
Clothing: Simple pale pink dress [no patterns: sort of like this: http://www.old-picture.com/daguerreotypes/pictures/Woman-1800s.jpg ]
Jewelry: Simple jewel encrusted choker with a red droplet hanging off of it.
Personality: Simple minded, sweet and innocent. Isn't totally oblivious though to most things. Loves to sing and write poetry. Extremely blunt.
Height/Weight: 5’5 + 117 pounds
Power: Unlimited, but cannot open it up without the permission of another... Like a genie, yet I have to serve whoever gets ahold of me. Although, I can see spirits and talk to them.

Save a place for me in the Dark Arts magicians, please and thank you

PLACES CAN'T BE SAVED. RAUGHR.

Save a place in the Protector's slot for your favorite Mercy

Please.

ooc -- spots have been saved thank you for joining guys I think this could work really well

Name: Nergal
Title: The Great Necromancer
Gender: Male
Age: ???
Appearance: He stands about six feet tall and is of a lean, only slightly muscular build. His shoulders narrow down to his waist to cut a triangle shaped torso, and his legs are quite thin. He appears to be in his early forties, but rumors claim that he has lived far longer than that. His face has only slight wrinkles on it, most of it being relatively smooth, and he sports a mess of dark grey hair and a small goatee beard. Only one of his black eyes are visible, the other being constantly covered by a black ribboned turban that ends in a tail that stretches down his back. He wears a black full-body robe with golden trimming and a blue sash around his waist, his body being covered by a long black cloak. The cloak is covered on the shoulders by a full-chest red pauldron-like layer of material, also with golden, spiked trimming that also flare up as a collar around his neck. He wears a concealed dagger, but he rarely requires its usage.

Personality: He is selfish and power hungry, and over confident almost to a fault. But do not underestimate him; he is cunning as well, and a master of strategy and coercion. He could manipulate you and you wouldn't even know it. He has no concern for life, human or otherwise, and only views others in relation to himself, as tools to be used and discarded when they break.

Power: He is extremely accomplished in using Dark Magic, able to direct devastating amounts of energy at a target, be it anything from simple balls of dark energy or small orbs that sap the life from the target to blocking out the sun with massive waves of dark energy or temporarily creating a sub-dimension out of that same Dark Energy. Such spells sap his life-force, however, and he does tire...eventually. No one knows how long he has been alive, but some whisper that he has been around for centuries, learning the secret to immortality, or close to it. He is also able to create "Morphs," puppets that are created in the guise of humans, a mockery of life. They think and obey, but do not feel or imagine or hope or dream. They differ in appearance, but all share the same perfectly carved features- as if from marble- and brilliant golden eyes.

Other: He always travels with an entourage of several of his Morphs and his right hand man, his bodyguard, Durge, who he found as a child.


Durge:

Name: Durge
Age: 20
Gender: Male
Appearance: About half a foot shorter than Nergal, he is Nergals personal bodyguard and right hand. He has dark, dark red hair and wears pitch black assassins tunic and breeches, along with a dark cloak that stretches to his ankles. His tunic is sleeveless, revealing a mysterious tattoo on his rather muscular arm. His features are rugged and serious, and his face never loses its impassive, emotionless mask.

Weapons/abilities: He is able to blend into the shadows almost seamlessly- an ability given him by Nergal- and uses two long, curved red knives that are tipped in a deadly poison.
Personality: He is serious, reserved, merciless and almost never speaks. No one knows what his innermost thoughts are.
Other: Is Nergals right hand man and bodyguard. No one knows anything of his past save he and Nergal, and Nergal is not the kind to share information readily. Durge just never speaks.


Roles:

Nergal: Dark Magician
Durge: Nerals bodyguard.

That ok?

I want to join, but I'm not really sure which role I should be. Mercy, pick one, and I'll be happy with whatever role you choose.

Murdoch: Perfect!

Danny: o.o i'unno... are you sure??? I don't wanna pick one and you be all *grawrgrawr* lol!

I'll join. I'll compose a bio for the role play and post it later, I'm just saving my role.
Is it possible for me to be a Dark Arts Magician?

Yes ma'am Skye

Yup. I honestly don't care. I'm good with any and all roles! Pick!

Ok, I'mma put you as my ''brother'' is that cool

Sure. I'll post my bio in a second. Question though. Am I the person who tried to steal you as a gem? Or was I created only because you were? And do I have powers?

you can have powers, and you are a boy who's mind was altered into thinking i'm your little sister and you were given powers to protect me

Heh...heheh...heheheh....HAHAHAHAHA! You Fools cannot hope to match the power of The Great Necromancer! I will crush you beneath my heel like the worms that you are! I shall control the power of the Ruby! I shall use its power to summon a force the likes of which you ignorant cretins can't even begin to imagine! MWAHAHAHAHA!

XD

Uh...Nadya's just a crazy bitch as of right now.
Bitch be off her rocker.

Name: Daniel McKarthy (goes by Danny)
Age: 23
Gender: Male
Eyes: Green
Hair: Light brown, messy. Partially covers eyes
Body Type: Define and muscular. A bit too thin since I don't always get my hands on food.
Height: 6'3"
Face: Facial hair
Clothing: A simple white tunic. Its dirty and tattered but still wearable. Large cotton trousers that's held up by rope around my waist. Bare feet, and a black cloak.
Personality: Doesn't speak to much unless spoken too. A bit jittery and nervous. He's caring and loving, though he sometimes goes over board, which may turn into greed and over protection.
Power: Control of earth and water through movement.

Thanks Danny!!! Guys I know we need ore people but do you think this is enough to start?

Thanks Mercy
I think I'll do another form of Nadya for this one...

Name: Nadya Perrum
Title: She is commonly referred to as 'Nadya the Mad'
Gender: Female
Age: She appears to be within her mid twenties, although her specific age is undetermined.
Appearance: Although Nadya changes her appearance often, the following description is her natural figure and will be the 'default' until I've described a new appearance. Nadya stands at 5'7" and weighs an even 108. She has a very bony figure, with her hips jutting out from her body frame and her arms, stomach and legs containing little to no fat. Her figure reminds many of a starved peasant or sickly woman. Her skin color is slightly darkened, although she is not very 'tanned' per say. Straight, dark brown hair that is often mistake for black lands right at the middle of her rib cage. It is parted in the middle and normally styled in this.She has thin eyebrows and long eyelashes that hang above dark brown eyes that are, like her hair, often mistaken for black.
Scars are scratched into her skin from her feet up. A long, red scar slices right from the top of her right ear to the right corner of her mouth. She has a little larger than average lips, and an average nose.
Nadya carries with her a set of daggers that she uses rarely to attack. She prefers to use her powers, as she finds it a much better way of torture. She wears many layers when she is not around mortals. She covers herself with a black hooded cloak, with many black and red layers underneath. If she must shift into that of a normal woman, she prefers to wear this dress with her black cloak over.

Power: Nadya is highly skilled in Dark Arts Magic, as she comes from a long line of dark arts magicians. She is commonly referred to as 'mad,' 'crazy,' and 'insane.' She herself will not say how long she has been alive or studying, but it is rumored that she has been alive for hundreds of years. She tends to use her magic to shift her appearance to others, whether that be their greatest fear or their own mother. She can avaporate and create illusions to her opponents. Although she is able to do limitless things with her magic, she finds the best results with playing with their minds. Nadya uses a common wand to advance her magic, although when she does not have it she is weakened. It is rumored that the wand contains the souls of her ancestors that speak to her through it, instructing her on battle.

Other: Nadya, in a modern day society, be diagnosed with something along the lines of schizophrenia. She speaks of people in the room and tends to speak to corners of a room or go into mad fits of laughter, rage, or paranoia. No one particularly knows what this is caused by or is about, but some say it she can see the dead. Others say it's nothing but her families ancestors. As you can see, they are the main route of her powers. They are the only deceased she can see, and only when the wand is gripped between her hand.


That okay?
I attempted to loosely base her on my own idea of Bellatrix Lestrange. Hehe, just the mind. ^__^

Hmm...I need to go now, sorry. If you want to start, just make sure it doesn't go *too* far...please and thank you

Also, Skye, make sure there is some kind of drawback to your power so it isn't too godmoddy XD

Well, I was sort of going for if her want is out of her possession, she can barely do anything for more than a minute without having to rest for five.
ahah, same for you, bud ^__^

Oh, my abilities have weaknesses, don't worry. It's finding them that's the problem. I was thinking, since they each use two different types of magic, have them opposites? So, Nergal can cast far more powerful spells without an artifact, but he tires out faster than your character and requires more concentration. On the flipside, your character (with the wand) can't cast as destructive spells as Nergal but can last longer (so she could outlast him) and if Nergal casts too big a spell, it could kill him (If you want, I could send you the fine details of my power and you could say in the RP that your spies gathered the different pieces of intel and you pieced it together, lol). See you later, and Skye, if you want my characters power details, send me a message with yours

ooc - look, we'll just post when we can. I'll start.

bic -

I stood in the foyer of my house, opening the windows, humming a bit as the cool night air swept through the sticky, heated house. The wind ruffles the pure white curtains and I fix my dress gently. I walk into the living room, looking at a family photo placed on the mantle. I smile lightly, looking back towards the stairs and I ran to them, "Danny! Will you take me down to the Quarter?" I ask, my voice echoing through the empty house.

Our parents had gone out for the night, and Danny was up in his room somewhere.

A night breeze billows across the street, picking up loose bits of rubbish; newspapers, bits of plastic wrapping and scraps of cardboard. The dust and dirt and rubbish is carried across the way, before settling in an alleyway where a homeless man, his beard scraggy and unkempt stirs in his sleep beneath his patchy and ragged blanket. The cawing of seagulls can be heard coming from the docks just down the way, and the sound of late night working can be heard alongside the other usual nighttime sounds; hawkers crying their wares, music coming from open and smashed pub windows, whistles from policemen chasing down felons, the clatter of feet on cobbles as people attempt to escape muggers and the silent screams they turn into. The sound of New Orleans.

This isn't the high end of town, obviously; it's the seedy underbelly, the working areas where the labourers and the poor work and live, away from the people they might infect with their crude ways, at least that's how the upper classes would consider it. The United States of America is filled with hypocrisy like that; land of the free? A fallacy, a fevered dream of a collection of deluded fools with power. America, where you can be enslaved for having the wrong tone of skin. America, where your wealth dictates your standing in life. America, where the Labourers work and sacrifice daily to make a living and the rich cruise life on their inheritance. America, the Land of the Free. No place like it.

A figure walks down the street, cloak eerily still in the cool breeze, a figure that appears cloaked in the darkness itself. The casual observer would not be able to tell where the shadows gave way to the man...a philosopher would say that they never did.
The man is tall, and has his hood over his head, completely obscuring it from view, save for a single scarf-like trail of material leading from his hood down the front of his cloak. Two figures, similarly cloaked but a little shorter, trail him, hoods obscuring their features as well. Footpads and cutthroats alike steer clear of the trio; the group exudes an aura of darkness and danger, and even the most desperate urchin finds himself paralyzed with the growing sense of dread as they walk past.

A group of four urchins, however, manage to overcome the warning of danger. They haven't eaten in two weeks, and they are hungry. All they know is that someone so richly dressed must have coin on them...any risk is worth a meal after two weeks of eating rats, boots, piss and shit. The leader takes a step forwards, followed by the rest of the group, almost revealing themselves into the lantern light of the street, when the leader stops short, staggers and falls to his knees. The others give a start, save one, who jerks and collapses to the floor at the same time as the leader.

The other two look at each other nervously when something sprouts from the chest of one of them; a dagger. The youths eyes glaze over, and something pushes him from the daggers blade. The second youth takes a step backwards, but it is already too late. He feels something slide across his neck, dampness, then the ground is coming to meet him and everything goes black.
A single shadow shifts in the alleys, and the lead figure glances over at it.
Another band of Urchins seeking to make me their newest victim, Nergal thinks to himself. That makes three bands in the last hour...still. No one is going to miss a few gangs of parentless, homeless ruffians from the docks, and the taste of the defiance in their Essence is sweet.

Durge materializes beside him seemingly from nowhere, but Nergal doesn't so much as flinch. The man has a tendency to do that. Durge says nothing, and neither does Nergal; they both know what Durge has done, and neither feel sorry or repentant. It was done, simple as. "The Angel of Death" they call him, the best assassin in New Orleans and probably the entire western hemisphere. Nergal raised him from a baby for that specific purpose. Durge never says anything, and only he and Nergal know his real name. Everyone else calls him by his nickname, his title, and it is fitting. No thoughts, no feelings...just the desire to kill. The perfect killer. Stealthy, skilled and ruthless, without regrets or doubts. Nergals masterpiece.

They turn a corner, the group of four, Nergal and his two companions in their cloaks and Durge in his normal assassin gear. No one else troubles them, and they come to their destination soon after; a run-down pub, a scumhole where no self-respecting man would be caught dead or alive, an establishment full of cheap booze, troublemaking men and cheap and ugly whores. The last place anyone would look for a secret meeting of some of the most powerful people in the world...and that makes it the perfect place for such a meeting. Opening the door, he steps inside.