Adagio Cantabile

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Adagio Cantabile
Tweet Topic Started: Mar 11 2007, 07:20 AM (350 Views)
xliunx	Mar 11 2007, 07:20 AM Post #1
Disciple Posts: 51 Group: Peon Member #12 Joined: March 8, 2007	In the year 1780, a stark, haphazard revolution ravaged the country of Inael, changing the face of the delicate country for several decades to come. A new leader of a murderously controlling caliber was immediately instated, and the magnanimous, utilitarian government of old ruthlessly demolished and forcibly rebuilt into an unforgiving, relentless militaristic regime that left derisive scars on its own people. Alliances were shattered, wars were started, and both friends and enemies of Inael felt its newfound, irrational wrath. Now in 1808, over 20 years later, the formerly infallible being of the Inaelian military regime is under attack. Small groups as well as separate individuals are attempting to penetrate and bring down the government, and maybe even the country as a whole. Though the attack was expected and generally prepared for, the insurgents are more adept than what was initially proposed. In order to crush these diminutive sects as quickly as possible, the Inaelian regime is now rousing their deadliest, most efficient officers to go put an end to the seemingly insignificant fall out and return things to the way they “should” be. Name: Age: Gender: Side taken: (the Insurgency or the Government) Occupation: Weapon(s): (No magic) Personality: Appearance: Brief History: (Optional) Extra:



-The Raging Zephyr-	Mar 11 2007, 11:17 PM Post #2
The Winds of Change Posts: 1,254 Group: Elite Member #11 Joined: March 7, 2007	I wouldn't mind a brief explanation behind what are character's world is like.



xliunx	Mar 11 2007, 11:29 PM Post #3
Disciple Posts: 51 Group: Peon Member #12 Joined: March 8, 2007	The world made up of several different countries with varying cultures and types of government. This way, each character can have their own reasons for what they do based on their country's separate history, customs, and alliances. Also, I'm not going to specify what exactly the countries are, because I prefer each player to create their own so that there will be cultural interactions to make things more interesting. As far as technology, it's like that of the 1800s. I don't expect everyone to be exactly historically accurate, but being around 100 or so years should be fine. Did that help? :)



-The Raging Zephyr-	Mar 15 2007, 05:32 AM Post #4
The Winds of Change Posts: 1,254 Group: Elite Member #11 Joined: March 7, 2007	Name: General Ivan Mikhailovich Serezhanov Age: 45 Gender: Male Side: The Insurgency Occupation: Military Infantry General Weapons: The Cross Guard- An ancient sword passed down from Ivan's father, Sergei Alexandrov. It bears the Red Star on its hilt. The Dragoon- A standard long pistol, normally issued to officers and cavalry. Personality: Ivan is a cold individual, caring more about winning battles than losing troops. In the motherland, a death out in the field of combat leaves less to remember than a sorrowful defeat. In person, he is a peaceable person with a playful personality. In spite of his heritage, he despises drinking, rathering to tell war stories and perform traditional dances. Appearance: Ivan is a giant at 6'2''. Telling the stories of all his battles, a scar rests upon his right cheek after a bloody encounter with the enemy general. With dark brown eyes and long, straight black hair, he seems to keep inside him the pain of all his years in service. He wears standard battle dress for a general, composing of a bright red and blue uniform with golden trim. Wearing leather boots and hat, he keeps himself away from the dangerous cold. History: Born into a family of eight, Ivan and his brothers joined the military service to honor their family. Ivan passed the highest of his officer's class, making him a high ranked lieutenant. Civil war broke out, killing most of his brothers, while Ivan himself made a reputation among the officers. He became general of the infantry forces, and has since been in the affairs of the military. He vows to die on the battlefield. Extra: Living in Aleksovesk, the capital city of the nation of Slaszavia, Ivan finds himself in the library reading about strategies of previous commanders. Lately, he's been brushing up on his artillery, what he considers the most important peace of battle. His strategy is simple. Let the enemy advance, while the first two ranks of soldiers fire at the army. Let the ranks cycle to the rear, while the next ranks come up to ready their fire. Once the enemy gets close enough, the training on close order drills comes into play as Ivan's forces turn into a wall of blades. Artillery will strike anything the enemy decides to leave back as they test the wall in close combat. If necessary, all troops have been trained to use the streamlined knives they carry as projectiles. This is useful during cavalry rushes, where Ivan considers cavalry units to be more of scouts and not soldiers. ((If there is anything that Ivan hates, it's Communism. He's a religous man, and he does not appreciate godless people. Anybody that doesn't believe in the righteousness of Ivan's God is an enemy of state. However, it is not his choosing whether or not his country is in alliance with Communists or not. He is a simple general, an instrument of war. To make everyone equal is to have nothing to stride for. To make everyone worship the state leads the government to create morals. For the government to regulate everything the people do is to take away individuality, the basis of life. And with the brevity of life, what is left? Ivan will find some way to ensure his countrymen's well-being.))



xliunx	Mar 19 2007, 04:21 AM Post #5
Disciple Posts: 51 Group: Peon Member #12 Joined: March 8, 2007	Well, looks like it's just us two, Zeph. :lol: That's okay, it can still be fun with a minimal amount of people. (Hopefully. >_>) I'll probably be making some Inaelian gov. characters of my own to vary things. o_o Feel free to do the same if you wish. :D Might as well start, I guess... >_> ------------------------------------------------------------------ Name: Lento Dulce Age: 23 Gender: Female Side taken: Insurgency Occupation: Professional musician (Pianist) Weapon(s): Mastered the use of many explosives and various traps. In case of a close encounter, she uses a thin Cadenian blade, but her proficiency with this weapon is at best mediocre, since she only specializes in moves that result in a quick kill. Personality: Lento feels a deep sense of responsibility to her country and her family. Due to the miraculous survival of her family during the war, she feels very thankful and hence, a happier sort of person. Decisive and articulate, Lento communicates well with most people. She feels no remorse for what she does to the Inaelian regime because of her cultural and religious upbringing. Consequently her desire to avenge her people may make her rash and impulsive during an attack. Furthermore, the creativity she displays with her music is also manifested through the traps she sets. Though normally cheerful and pleasant even in difficult situations, when put in a bad mood she becomes rather caustic and unecessarily outspoken. Appearance: Having a petite, and somewhat curvy frame, Lento is roughly five feet four inches and has a smooth, rosy complexion. She has pale, blonde hair that is parted off-center and cascades down past her slender shoulders in loose, luxuriant curls. Her round, stunningly emerald eyes match her lively yet serene personality. Lento prefers to wear tasteful dresses that are usually some shade of green or some sort of pastel. During concerts, she wears her hair back in a simple ponytail and dons her infamous emerald and silver necklace. Brief History: Lento is a Cadenian bearing “Mirem’s pledge”. Those possessing the pledge, or in other words light flaxen hair and emerald eyes, are thought to be chosen by the diety Mirem to participate in the “naesh”, or elimination of enemies. At the time, the enemy who appeared to be the greatest threat to Cadenia was Inael, a country who had betrayed Cadenia’s trust and broke a vital alliance by starting a terribly disfiguring war. The time of “naesh” was fully recognized at the time of Lento’s birth, so due to this she has been trained in the arts of trapping and explosives since early childhood. If not for the pledge, Lento would have followed only the path of the musician, which her father had followed as well. Lento and her family both suffered through the terrible war and managed to survive it. The country on a whole, however, was severely weakened and began to topple towards a downward spiral. Currently, Cadenia seems beyond recovery, but at the very least it prays that its last few breaths may finally bring down Inael so that it may either rest in peace or make a slow but worthwhile revival. Extra: Lento finds any confection mint-flavored absolutely irresistible. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- At the touch and release of a single ivory key, the final note of the piece floated into the air where it slowly faded out as a polite applause overtook what remained of the music. Lento then stood and bowed accordingly as she heard the rest of the orchestra behind her do the same. With a small smile, the green eyed musician watched the crowd begin to disperse. Not yet popular enough to do her own solo concerts, Lento had been featured by one of the top Inaelian orchestras. Observing the petulant darkness pressing against the ornate windows of the concert hall, the petite young woman judged it to be around 10:00 PM. Exiting the stage with her fellow musicians, Lento chatted pleasantly with other orchestra members as they all headed towards the hall where the reception was being held. "Tonight went very well." Lento commented contentedly to the violinist Fintone Ottedo. "Very well compared to rehearsals, that's for sure." Fintone replied, her lustrous dark hair cascading down her shoulders as she undid her concert hairstyle. "You should consider joining our orchestra as a full time member. Not only do you get along better with everyone than our current pianist, but your playing has a certain spark to it." The violinist continued. "Oh, I'd love to, but I want to assure that I can make it on my own if ever there's a time when no orchestra will hire me." Lento fibbed convincingly. Though the green eyed musician longed to join such a skilled orchestra, she knew such a move would likely jeopardize her identity. Frowning inwardly and attempting to quash the wistful feeling, Lento continued to chatter with Fintone with a smile on her face as they reached the reception hall. The room was filled with airy laughter as figures donning various shades and hues swirled about from one social group to the next. Brightly colored drinks further decorated the already lavishly adorned hands of the dancing figures full of cheer and good spirits. Amongst the lively crowd, Lento nibbled daintily on a warm oeuvre while she half-listened to a fellow pianist drolly critique her performance. It was not that Lento did not respect her fellow musician's opinion, but rather that she felt an impeding, unsettling feeling that demanded her attention as well. Flooded with the sounds of clutter around her, the other half of Lento's mind contented itself with looking out the window with her peripheral vision. Perhaps someone is out there... The petite blond woman thought idly, but then turned the bulk of her attention back to the other pianist's critique so that she could improve. ((EDIT: Oh snap, I just realized I completely neglected to post my character's profile. >_> Well, it's been added as of now. )



-The Raging Zephyr-	Mar 19 2007, 08:06 AM Post #6
The Winds of Change Posts: 1,254 Group: Elite Member #11 Joined: March 7, 2007	Within the confines of the musty room, bottles of vodka were strewn about as the officers clutched thick cards in one hand and cigarettes in the other. Taking another swig and another drag, each man's breath was a vile stench capable of suffocating. Their play continued, each man taking his tricks, and again more rounds of betting. Laughing as the rounds bids were contemplated, one of the officers rose from his chair and addressed the his companions. "Gentlemen," he stated with exultation, "It has come to my humble attention that our statesmen have finally made themselves useful." "Whazzat," one of the men drawled, "They've finally given us tobbacco rations on the field?" "On the contrary," the host retorted, "The state still has all the control over what our men recieve. Instead, I bring great news that we are being used on the front again to help our new alliance of Inael with some pressing matters." "The communists?" "Yes, them. We've been asked to enforce strict military strength to influence some revolutionaries, to tell them to go back where they belong. In such agreement, I do pray that we recieve some collateral in the very least." "Are you suggesting we steal from our allies," inqueried the youngest of the officers. "Steal, no. Make our stay worth our while as well as theirs? Of course." A bearded gentleman, hair soiled from smoke, responded, "Ivan wouldn't approve of even occupying the area. You know he hates communists." All eyes directed themselves to the host, each pupil probing the man for an answer. In defence, he riposted, answering, "Ivan is a hindrance. For a man that loves his people so much, it's ironic that he shuns what's best for them. I'm sure we can handle him, however. Accidents do occur." Creaking on its weathered hinges, the wooden door opened, dissipating the smog that polluted the air. Dwarfing the officers, a man in dressed in brilliantly coloured garments entered the room and closed the door behind him. His grey skin and discoloured scar tissue manifested itself in the brown lighting sloughed by the oil lamps. Imposing himself over the host, he retaliated to the snide remark. "Accidents. I'm sure my father could attest to that." Quivering, the host responded, "Whatever do you mean, comrade Ivan?" "You know exactly what I mean," Ivan lashed back, glaring at the man. "My father didn't just suffer from sudden death." "Sergei was a great man. You aren't proposing that one of us murdered him, are you?" "I have had my conniptions with you. He helped to put down a bloody revolution, one that killed six of my brothers as well. Looking at your financial statements, I have doubts that many of the purchases made were authorized by the state. I don't believe that there were many gold mining operations around the field at that time, so why do I find purchases of sodium cyanide on your forms?" "In theory, I bought a mining tool to kill your father," the host summarized. "What brings you to believe that I purposely murdered him?" "I overheard your conversation. I know you will look for some way to kill me inconspicuously, and you will likely lavish yourself as the new general of all the infantry. I know of your schemes to aid the communists, I know of each and every letter you send to the Inaelian regime, looking for some way to further your reputation among their ranks. I know your brother, whom you aided in the war, was killed by my forces as his revolutionaries left themselves open to attack at Fort Krasnoyarsk. I educate myself on each and every little action of yours." The host stood gaping. His mouth then formed itself as he chuckled, then bellowed out a laugh. Joined by his coterie, they filled the room with hysterical laughter. Wiping a tear from his eye, the host spiritedly replied, "What a great show of your investigative talents, comrade. I might have thought the Secret Police had trained you. Comrade Ivan, you never refuse to entertain." Ivan, flustered by the response, shakely replied, "You make this into a joke." "Come on, comrade, sit down and have a drink. I'll swear upon my death bed that it isn't laced." "Never will I share in your sinful recreation," Ivan retorted. "I'll let you continue your worship to devil and state alone." Storming out of the room, Ivan slammed the door. "I see so much of Sergei in him," the host observed. Rousing the emotions of the officers, they laughed in unison and continued playing cards. "So, how do we kill him," the youngest officer asked. "A bullet to the heart," nonchalantly replied the host. The air became thick again of toxic fumes. "Did you actually kill General Sergei," asked the young man. "Not by my hand. Of course, the same could be said of his family."



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