Letter Bee

From Sick Man to Savior - An 1847 Nation RP

Announcement: Qing China is free now as well.

From Sick Man to Savior - An 1847 Nation RP

Announcement: The Japan Player has left on Discord, so Japan is free once more!

*✧･ﾟ:* ᴍᴏᴅᴇʀɴ ᴍᴀɢɪᴄ *:･ﾟ✧*

Name: Red Zeruel Chorister

Age: 21

Gender: Male

Species: Human (Witch)

Magic specialties:

Theurgy - Red’s quest for the divine, which would be heretical to many sects, allows him to work what he believes to be ‘miracles’, miracles from The One Deity. These miracles allow him to call forth magical energy/mana from the Universe itself to power his and others’ spells, as well as inscribe ‘Angelic Names’ into his weapons and armor to grant them the power to withstand physical force (including bullets) and Magic.

Not merely that, but he can also call on the ‘holy fires’ of the Divine to create flames that do not burn living flesh, but merely inflict pain on them while damaging their weapons and armor and (depending on their strength) magical items. Note that these ‘holy fires’ can and do inflict physical damage on the undead, demons, and those with Dark Magic flowing through their veins.

Angelology - Red ‘Invites’ Angels into this world, to temporarily ‘sojourn’ in it, or failing that, to lend the coven their blessings and powers through minor ‘miracles’. Note that while said miracles are more powerful than their Demonic equivalents, the difference is that Angels cannot be compelled to give information and blessings to a cause they themselves do not believe in, even if the caller themselves is pious.

Healing - Red can heal people through his touch, calling on the power of the divine to heal wounds and replenish blood, knit injuries together, and even regrow limbs, although the latter requires immense reserves of magical energy/mana.

Personality: Red tries to fit his own views of what a ‘paragon of virtue’ should be, to be kind and compassionate and pure-hearted; the last part is made more complicated by his strong attraction to both men and women, as well as his liking for the finer things in life, which conflict with his contradicting desire for asceticism. Nevertheless, he is diligent in his duties towards the coven and other people and also generous with both time and money. And of course, he is no coward in the face of combat even when faced with stiff opposition.

Appearance:


History: Red was born into the Brethren of the Free Spirits, an ancient heretical group dating from the Medieval Era which believed that The Church was corrupt and that “nothing is a sin except that which is thought to be a sin”, putting themselves morally above the Church hierarchy and thus free to consort with any supernatural they pleased, including ‘Witches’. Obviously, these resulted in fierce persecutions, but the Brethren managed to survive due to luck, fierce fighting, and finally, a measure of actual supernatural power they believed to be from God. In time, the Brethren merged with other occultists who wished to retain faith in an omnipotent, omnipresent, and omnibenevolent deity, such as those who followed the Christian Kabbalah.

Red was thus born in an unconventional, but still loving home, somewhere in the United States, close to New York City. His parents were members of the Brethren who dedicated their lives to protecting those neglected and marginalized by society from mundane and supernatural threats and also providing for them with charitable work. He himself was taught the various beliefs of the Brethren, as well as the art of combat, theurgy, and angiology. As for his natural power to heal, it should have been an occasion of joy when it manifested, but instead, it led to the destruction of his family and all he once knew.

For when he was sixteen, he saw a wounded bird, a pigeon which had survived being shot with an air gun long enough for him to arrive. Picking it up, the boy was going to rush to try and take it to the nearest veterinarian, but knew it was too late… Until a voice whispered to him, asking, “Would you ask The One for his benevolence, despite the price you might pay?”

Yes, was his thought, and a surge of warmth flowed through him and all of a sudden, the bird flew off from his arms, fully healed. Red rejoiced in that, and hurried to tell his parents of what had happened - He didn’t know that there were watchers in the woods.

For a month or so, life continued to be normal, until one day, his mother received a warning in her dreams, which caused her to go with Red to New York City in order to put him under the protection of the ‘coven’ there. They then heard the news that Red’s father had been hunted down and their house set on fire, presumably by Witch Hunters.

Grief came and went, and Red’s mother continued to raise her son until he was 20. Then, she went off to attempt to retrieve her husband’s body, and vanished too, leaving Red alone for the first time, adrift from both his ‘coven-mates’ and ‘The Church’ and self-tasked with protecting the people of New York City from dark threats…

From Sick Man to Savior - An 1847 Nation RP

Dier el-Bahari, January 12 1847

Sand and debris were being cleared out of the old necropolis, a site of the Ancient Egyptian civilization long forgotten by the current inhabitants of the land, who didn’t even claim to be its heirs. An old Coptic monastery, abandoned for at least several decades, had also been demolished in order to unearth ‘pagan’ artifacts on his orders, pagan artifacts that to a scion of the Enlightenment like him, were worth more than ‘current’ superstitions.

Who was he, by the way? Well, the great Jean-Agustin Pierrot, friend of the new Sultan of Egypt and unofficial head of the ‘Egyptologist’ community which lived in this new country, providing specialist knowledge and intellectual credibility to the current regime in exchange for being allowed to sate their passion for the very distant past, for the ancient civilizations which were more fascinating than the current mundane ones.

Pierrot was different even from the others, though, in that he was believed to regard his own civilization as boring. Superior to others, certainly, but still boring. And what was surprising was that these allegations were completely true - His Egyptomania had advanced to the point where he genuinely believed the ancients to possess greater wisdom and greater happiness than the people of today, so burdened by their cares and their focus on worldly wealth.

Not that he’d voice it out loud, though.

Anyway, why was he clearing out this old necropolis, and the magnificent ancient pagan temple which showed signs of being defaced even in the ancient past? Well, he had a hypothesis - The defacements, which occurred in the time of Thutmose III, who, to the surprise of people who still thought that ‘Scripture’ was an accurate source of history, had occupied Palestine when the Israelites were supposed to have been -

His heresy was interrupted by a messenger, a soldier from the contingent of troops Sultan Sa’id had dispatched to guard the archeological dig site from the surge of malcontents which regarded all Westerners as ‘Kaffir’. As the somewhat portly, balding Frenchman turned to the soldier - A callow youth barely out of boyhood, by his reckoning, and asked in halting Arabic, “What is it?”, he waited for bad news.

Thankfully, it was nothing of the sort… If one were actually attached to the mundane world of politics. For the youth’s message, given in Turkish (which Pierrot understood better than Arabic) was:

“You are being asked to attend a feast with the Sultan in Alexandria; the British and French Ambassadors are also invited and so will those of the Dutch and Austrians and the Americans. They all want to hear about your hypothesis about a… Female Pharaoh?” said the youth.

For this was Pierrot’s intended contribution to Egyptology, to prove that the builder of the temple he was unearthing belonged to a Female King, one who was so offensive to her successor that he had her name cut out from her own temple. There were even proofs in the very interior of the building, of the name ’Hatshepsut’ being placed in cartouches - The symbol of a Pharaoh's special status - in chambers where no eye was intended to see and which thus were spared the vandalism.

“What game is your new Sultan playing?” he asked, “Shouldn’t he be sending an ambassador to Austria right now or playing soldier to quell rebels?”

The soldier revealed himself to be slightly more intelligent than expected when he said, “He has already sent Rifa’a al-Tahtawi as his ambassador to the Austrians, with instructions to convey Egypt’s peaceful intentions towards everybody, its commercial affinity with Britain, and its desire to emulate France’s culture... Or so I heard from my superiors.”

How pert, Pierrot thought. So this is what the new initiative to educate soldiers produces.

His next words were, “How could I refuse? Tell the Sultan I will begin packing up. In the meantime, I ask for more soldiers to be sent to protect this place - I heard that rebel activity is picking up even here…”

Typical, I am being used for a public relations exercise…

Letter Bee's Character Sheets

Second, Test Post for Egypt

Dier el-Bahari, January 12 1847

Sand and debris were being cleared out of the old necropolis, a site of the Ancient Egyptian civilization long forgotten by the current inhabitants of the land, who didn’t even claim to be its heirs. An old Coptic monastery, abandoned for at least several decades, had also been demolished in order to unearth ‘pagan’ artifacts on his orders, pagan artifacts that to a scion of the Enlightenment like him, were worth more than ‘current’ superstitions.

Who was he, by the way? Well, the great Jean-Agustin Pierrot, friend of the new Sultan of Egypt and unofficial head of the ‘Egyptologist’ community which lived in this new country, providing specialist knowledge and intellectual credibility to the current regime in exchange for being allowed to sate their passion for the very distant past, for the ancient civilizations which were more fascinating than the current mundane ones.

Pierrot was different even from the others, though, in that he was believed to regard his own civilization as boring. Superior to others, certainly, but still boring. And what was surprising was that these allegations were completely true - His Egyptomania had advanced to the point where he genuinely believed the ancients to possess greater wisdom and greater happiness than the people of today, so burdened by their cares and their focus on worldly wealth.

Not that he’d voice it out loud, though.

Anyway, why was he clearing out this old necropolis, and the magnificent ancient pagan temple which showed signs of being defaced even in the ancient past? Well, he had a hypothesis - The defacements, which occurred in the time of Thutmose III, who, to the surprise of people who still thought that ‘Scripture’ was an accurate source of history, had occupied Palestine when the Israelites were supposed to have been -

His heresy was interrupted by a messenger, a soldier from the contingent of troops Sultan Sa’id had dispatched to guard the archeological dig site from the surge of malcontents which regarded all Westerners as ‘Kaffir’. As the somewhat portly, balding Frenchman turned to the soldier - A callow youth barely out of boyhood, by his reckoning, and asked in halting Arabic, “What is it?”, he waited for bad news.

Thankfully, it was nothing of the sort… If one were actually attached to the mundane world of politics. For the youth’s message, given in Turkish (which Pierrot understood better than Arabic) was:

“You are being asked to attend a feast with the Sultan in Alexandria; the British and French Ambassadors are also invited and so will those of the Dutch and Austrians and the Americans. They all want to hear about your hypothesis about a… Female Pharaoh?” said the youth.

For this was Pierrot’s intended contribution to Egyptology, to prove that the builder of the temple he was unearthing belonged to a Female King, one who was so offensive to her successor that he had her name cut out from her own temple. There were even proofs in the very interior of the building, of the name ’Hatshepsut’ being placed in cartouches - The symbol of a Pharaoh's special status - in chambers where no eye was intended to see and which thus were spared the vandalism.

“What game is your new Sultan playing?” he asked, “Shouldn’t he be sending an ambassador to Austria right now or playing soldier to quell rebels?”

The soldier revealed himself to be slightly more intelligent than expected when he said, “He has already sent Rifa’a al-Tahtawi as his ambassador to the Austrians, with instructions to convey Egypt’s peaceful intentions towards everybody, its commercial affinity with Britain, and its desire to emulate France’s culture... Or so I heard from my superiors.”

How pert, Pierrot thought. So this is what the new initiative to educate soldiers produces.

His next words were, “How could I refuse? Tell the Sultan I will begin packing up. In the meantime, I ask for more soldiers to be sent to protect this place - I heard that rebel activity is picking up even here…”

Typical, I am being used for a public relations exercise…

From Sick Man to Savior - An 1847 Nation RP

I made a minor edit to my IC post to correct 'Cairo' to 'Alexandria'.

From Sick Man to Savior - An 1847 Nation RP

@Jeddaven, Approved; this is well-written.

*✧･ﾟ:* ᴍᴏᴅᴇʀɴ ᴍᴀɢɪᴄ *:･ﾟ✧*

Name: Red Zeruel Chorister

Age: 21

Gender: Male

Species: Human (Witch)

Magic specialties:

Theurgy - Red’s quest for the divine, which would be heretical to many sects, allows him to work what he believes to be ‘miracles’, miracles from The One Deity. These miracles allow him to call forth magical energy/mana from the Universe itself to power his and others’ spells, as well as inscribe ‘Angelic Names’ into his weapons and armor to grant them the power to withstand physical force (including bullets) and Magic.

Not merely that, but he can also call on the ‘holy fires’ of the Divine to create flames that do not burn living flesh, but merely inflict pain on them while damaging their weapons and armor and (depending on their strength) magical items. Note that these ‘holy fires’ can and do inflict physical damage on the undead, demons, and those with Dark Magic flowing through their veins.

Angelology - Red ‘Invites’ Angels into this world, to temporarily ‘sojourn’ in it, or failing that, to lend the coven their blessings and powers through minor ‘miracles’. Note that while said miracles are more powerful than their Demonic equivalents, the difference is that Angels cannot be compelled to give information and blessings to a cause they themselves do not believe in, even if the caller themselves is pious.

Healing - Red can heal people through his touch, calling on the power of the divine to heal wounds and replenish blood, knit injuries together, and even regrow limbs, although the latter requires immense reserves of magical energy/mana.

Personality: Red tries to fit his own views of what a ‘paragon of virtue’ should be, to be kind and compassionate and pure-hearted; the last part is made more complicated by his strong attraction to both men and women, as well as his liking for the finer things in life, which conflict with his contradicting desire for asceticism. Nevertheless, he is diligent in his duties towards the coven and other people and also generous with both time and money. And of course, he is no coward in the face of combat even when faced with stiff opposition.

Appearance:


History: Red was born into the Brethren of the Free Spirits, an ancient heretical group dating from the Medieval Era which believed that The Church was corrupt and that “nothing is a sin except that which is thought to be a sin”, putting themselves morally above the Church hierarchy and thus free to consort with any supernatural they pleased, including ‘Witches’. Obviously, these resulted in fierce persecutions, but the Brethren managed to survive due to luck, fierce fighting, and finally, a measure of actual supernatural power they believed to be from God. In time, the Brethren merged with other occultists who wished to retain faith in an omnipotent, omnipresent, and omnibenevolent deity, such as those who followed the Christian Kabbalah.

Red was thus born in an unconventional, but still loving home, somewhere in the United States, close to New York City. His parents were members of the Brethren who dedicated their lives to protecting those neglected and marginalized by society from mundane and supernatural threats and also providing for them with charitable work. He himself was taught the various beliefs of the Brethren, as well as the art of combat, theurgy, and angiology. As for his natural power to heal, it should have been an occasion of joy when it manifested, but instead, it led to the destruction of his family and all he once knew.

For when he was sixteen, he saw a wounded bird, a pigeon which had survived being shot with an air gun long enough for him to arrive. Picking it up, the boy was going to rush to try and take it to the nearest veterinarian, but knew it was too late… Until a voice whispered to him, asking, “Would you ask The One for his benevolence, despite the price you might pay?”

Yes, was his thought, and a surge of warmth flowed through him and all of a sudden, the bird flew off from his arms, fully healed. Red rejoiced in that, and hurried to tell his parents of what had happened - He didn’t know that there were watchers in the woods.

For a month or so, life continued to be normal, until one day, his mother received a warning in her dreams, which caused her to go with Red to New York City in order to put him under the protection of the ‘coven’ there. They then heard the news that Red’s father had been hunted down and their house set on fire, presumably by Witch Hunters.

Grief came and went, and Red’s mother continued to raise her son until he was 20. Then, she went off to attempt to retrieve her husband’s body, and vanished too, leaving Red alone for the first time, adrift from both his ‘coven-mates’ and ‘The Church’ and self-tasked with protecting the people of New York City from dark threats…

From Sick Man to Savior - An 1847 Nation RP

Sultan’s Palace, Alexandria, Egypt, January 1, 1847

Muhammad Ali was dying.

His years had been successful, Egypt was led to greatness and prosperity and even a measure of hegemony over the petty states of the Middle East under his reign. However, he had alienated many people not just with his brutality, which he could have gotten away with, even turned into a strength, but also with his defiance of tradition plus the demeaning concessions with which he had secured the vast majority of his dominions against the overwhelming power of Britain. And now, with his son Ibrahim dying from tuberculosis as well and his grandson Abbas already dead, some suspect by his own command, it was the former’s task to hold back the tide of discontent which was still simmering in the areas where opposition to the Sultanate remained strong.

As the former Pasha, now Sultan, of Egypt lay on his deathbed, surrounded by his doctors, caretakers, servants, and relations, he looked around uncomprehendingly at first, gripped by the increasing senility which had arrived with his advancing years. Then, a glint came into his eye as he looked at his son, sixteen-year-old Sa’id, who was now the next in line (once Ibrahim had died) after Abbas’ death through poison administered in his wine. Then he said in a raspy voice:

“Even before I die, send out an army to Syria across the Suez - The British will be obligated to allow our passage, lest any rebels threaten their precious canal, more worth to them than a dozen cities. This army will be composed of conscripts from Egypt itself and several battalions of Sudanese, in order to make the instructions forwarded to them easier. What are these commands? To take hostages among the leading families of each town and city, and burn out any rogue shaikh, Bedouin tribe, or discontented noble who want to bring back the backwardness and chaos of the past.”

The hard edge came back to his voice as he continued, “At the same time, another army is to be sent down to the Sudan, where the ungrateful natives of the region claim the right to revolt due to our ‘oppressions’. As if The Highest himself did not smile upon me and justify my actions! Similar instructions are to be given to this force - Take hostages and give punishment for any hint of revolt!”

He coughed, his death was near indeed. “As for the Sharif of Hedjaz… Heap him with high honors and a reminder that any rebellion in Arabia will open the gates to the return of the heretical followers of Ibn Wahhab and his ilk. Hint at a marriage between my son and heir,” Sa’id then looked at him with some surprise at being mentioned, “And one of his daughters, a purest Sayyida who carries the line of the Prophet - Peace Be Upon Him - himself.”

Sa’id’s eyes opened wide at that - His father was shooting high, indeed, if he was aiming for one of his son’s future brides (for their religion allowed for four wives) to come from such a family. No, Sa’id knew that any sons he would bear with his future wife could claim the dignity of the Caliphate itself, and thus usurp another of the Ottoman Sultan’s shrinking raft of titles. He bowed before his father, amazed at his wisdom.

The Sultan of Egypt then took off his turban and put it on Sa’id’s head, saying, “You are the one and only successor to my throne - I have crossed many lines and risked hellfire to ensure that this is so. Now take up the sword as well as the throne, and do not shirk from taking the blood of rebel and ingrate!”

An oblique admission that Abbas’ death was indeed caused by him, and exhausted by this last movement, as well as his outburst, Muhammad Ali of Egypt lay down and finally expired, the boundless energies which he had put into administration and conquest both finally dissipating.

But for Sa’id, now Sultan Sa’id, once known only for his Francophilia and fascination with Western ways, the flames were just beginning to burn.

“Gather the leading men of the court, city, and army here immediately and have them pledge their allegiance. Muster the needed forces and send the needed messages, now. We will not let what my father has built fall down just because of the jealousy of blind and old men!” he barked out with surprising ferocity. “Egypt will stand!”

Letter Bee's Character Sheets

First Post for Egypt

Sultan’s Palace, Cairo, Egypt, January 1, 1847

Muhammad Ali was dying.

His years had been successful, Egypt was led to greatness and prosperity and even a measure of hegemony over the petty states of the Middle East under his reign. However, he had alienated many people not just with his brutality, which he could have gotten away with, even turned into a strength, but also with his defiance of tradition plus the demeaning concessions with which he had secured the vast majority of his dominions against the overwhelming power of Britain. And now, with his son Ibrahim dying from tuberculosis as well and his grandson Abbas already dead, some suspect by his own command, it was the former’s task to hold back the tide of discontent which was still simmering in the areas where opposition to the Sultanate remained strong.

As the former Pasha, now Sultan, of Egypt lay on his deathbed, surrounded by his doctors, caretakers, servants, and relations, he looked around uncomprehendingly at first, gripped by the increasing senility which had arrived with his advancing years. Then, a glint came into his eye as he looked at his son, sixteen-year-old Sa’id, who was now the next in line (once Ibrahim had died) after Abbas’ death through poison administered in his wine. Then he said in a raspy voice:

“Even before I die, send out an army to Syria across the Suez - The British will be obligated to allow our passage, lest any rebels threaten their precious canal, more worth to them than a dozen cities. This army will be composed of conscripts from Egypt itself and several battalions of Sudanese, in order to make the instructions forwarded to them easier. What are these commands? To take hostages among the leading families of each town and city, and burn out any rogue shaikh, Bedouin tribe, or discontented noble who want to bring back the backwardness and chaos of the past.”

The hard edge came back to his voice as he continued, “At the same time, another army is to be sent down to the Sudan, where the ungrateful natives of the region claim the right to revolt due to our ‘oppressions’. As if The Highest himself did not smile upon me and justify my actions! Similar instructions are to be given to this force - Take hostages and give punishment for any hint of revolt!”

He coughed, his death was near indeed. “As for the Sharif of Hedjaz… Heap him with high honors and a reminder that any rebellion in Arabia will open the gates to the return of the heretical followers of Ibn Wahhab and his ilk. Hint at a marriage between your brother,” Sa’id then looked at him with some surprise at being mentioned, “And one of his daughters, a purest Sayyida who carries the line of the Prophet - Peace Be Upon Him - himself.”

Sa’id’s eyes opened wide at that - His father was shooting high, indeed, if he was aiming for one of his son’s future brides (for their religion allowed for four wives) to come from such a family. No, Sa’id knew that any sons he would bear with his future wife could claim the dignity of the Caliphate itself, and thus usurp another of the Ottoman Sultan’s shrinking raft of titles. He bowed before his father, amazed at his wisdom.

The Sultan of Egypt then took off his turban and put it on Sa’id’s head, saying, “You are the one and only successor to my throne - I have crossed many lines and risked hellfire to ensure that this is so. Now take up the sword as well as the throne, and do not shirk from taking the blood of rebel and ingrate!”

An oblique admission that Abbas’ death was indeed caused by him, and exhausted by this last movement, as well as his outburst, Muhammad Ali of Egypt lay down and finally expired, the boundless energies which he had put into administration and conquest both finally dissipating.

But for Sa’id, now Sultan Sa’id, once known only for his Francophilia and fascination with Western ways, the flames were just beginning to burn.

“Gather the leading men of the court, city, and army here immediately and have them pledge their allegiance. Muster the needed forces and send the needed messages, now. We will not let what my father has built fall down just because of the jealousy of blind and old men!” he barked out with surprising ferocity. “Egypt will stand!”