Full Version: The Immortals RPG
Introduction, Guidelines and Rules:
Introduction
This RPG is based on Highlander I, III, End Game and the Series. A working knowledge of these will serve you well. Notice: Highlander II purposefully omitted- please do not create a character which “thinks” he/she is an alien banished to earth. For those not familiar with the premise, some notes follow:
(1) Immortals can only be killed by decapitation, do not age and cannot have children.
(2) We do not know why or how we came into being.
(3) Immortals can sense the close proximity of other Immortals( like a Red Alert)
(4) Immortals can be (fully) Immortal or possess LATENT Immortality . Immortality is only triggered after the Character experiences their first VIOLENT death, until that experience they age and can have children.
(5) A note for the Ladies: Statistically, women experience the least number of VIOLENT deaths, hence the reason there are so few Immortal women, most of these violent deaths are at the hands of their lovers.
(6) A secret organization known as the Watchers have been observing the Immortals.
Guidelines:
(1) Each player must create an original character never referenced or seen in the Highlander movies or series. And not a relative of the Macleod Clan.
(2) You must introduce your character in the traditional Highlander style:
Example: I am Connor Macleod, of the Clan Macleod, born in (DATE <very important)….etc.
(3) the RPG is set in present time (2005) Earth, all entries will be assumed to be occurring present time, unless you date it as a FLASHBACK: Example: Paris, 1812. Because we are Immortal, we have lived many secret lives…and the RPG will be rich with historic flashback encounters between friends and rivals, but these encounters can not happen…..if your character hasn’t been born yet. Hint: make your character old like a fine wine.
(4) Your character may be: Immortal, (latent) immortal <which must be determined by another player, a Watcher, or simple mortal without knowledge of ‘all things Immortal”.
(5) If you choose to be Immortal--Within your 5th post you must recount the story of your first violent death. Who, what, when, why, how. Hint: take your time and create a good “back story” for your character, if needed wait until other players have introduced their characters…then choose who killed you( your nemesis). You don’t have to be killed by another immortal to become immortal…it just has to be a VIOLENT death.
Rules:
(1) No player/writer can “behead” another character<<thus forcing the other writer/player out of the game. When you write your battles, you must allow an escape< unless approved in advance (by PM) by myself (game master). Each character/writer is responsible for writing/choosing when they wish to “retire” their own character and writing their death scene or by electing whom they wish to have the honor/privilege<< when this is the case they need to PM myself then the person who’ll be claiming the kill. Please remember, we are not only playing a game, but writing a story that is being enjoyed by others….by keeping readers “in the dark” and communicating in private….no one will ever know if a duel will result in a Kill or just another close call.
(2) Each writer writes for only one character at a time, when you tire of the game…you may “retire” him/her then start a new one.
(3) NO LIGHT-SABERS…sorry, light sabers against steel swords….NO. Remember the RPG is set in present tense Earth, except where noted by the writer stating otherwise<< the past ONLY.
(5) Have Fun….remember Highlander is about Passion…Magic.
Introduction
This RPG is based on Highlander I, III, End Game and the Series. A working knowledge of these will serve you well. Notice: Highlander II purposefully omitted- please do not create a character which “thinks” he/she is an alien banished to earth. For those not familiar with the premise, some notes follow:
(1) Immortals can only be killed by decapitation, do not age and cannot have children.
(2) We do not know why or how we came into being.
(3) Immortals can sense the close proximity of other Immortals( like a Red Alert)
(4) Immortals can be (fully) Immortal or possess LATENT Immortality . Immortality is only triggered after the Character experiences their first VIOLENT death, until that experience they age and can have children.
(5) A note for the Ladies: Statistically, women experience the least number of VIOLENT deaths, hence the reason there are so few Immortal women, most of these violent deaths are at the hands of their lovers.
(6) A secret organization known as the Watchers have been observing the Immortals.
Guidelines:
(1) Each player must create an original character never referenced or seen in the Highlander movies or series. And not a relative of the Macleod Clan.
(2) You must introduce your character in the traditional Highlander style:
Example: I am Connor Macleod, of the Clan Macleod, born in (DATE <very important)….etc.
(3) the RPG is set in present time (2005) Earth, all entries will be assumed to be occurring present time, unless you date it as a FLASHBACK: Example: Paris, 1812. Because we are Immortal, we have lived many secret lives…and the RPG will be rich with historic flashback encounters between friends and rivals, but these encounters can not happen…..if your character hasn’t been born yet. Hint: make your character old like a fine wine.
(4) Your character may be: Immortal, (latent) immortal <which must be determined by another player, a Watcher, or simple mortal without knowledge of ‘all things Immortal”.
(5) If you choose to be Immortal--Within your 5th post you must recount the story of your first violent death. Who, what, when, why, how. Hint: take your time and create a good “back story” for your character, if needed wait until other players have introduced their characters…then choose who killed you( your nemesis). You don’t have to be killed by another immortal to become immortal…it just has to be a VIOLENT death.
Rules:
(1) No player/writer can “behead” another character<<thus forcing the other writer/player out of the game. When you write your battles, you must allow an escape< unless approved in advance (by PM) by myself (game master). Each character/writer is responsible for writing/choosing when they wish to “retire” their own character and writing their death scene or by electing whom they wish to have the honor/privilege<< when this is the case they need to PM myself then the person who’ll be claiming the kill. Please remember, we are not only playing a game, but writing a story that is being enjoyed by others….by keeping readers “in the dark” and communicating in private….no one will ever know if a duel will result in a Kill or just another close call.
(2) Each writer writes for only one character at a time, when you tire of the game…you may “retire” him/her then start a new one.
(3) NO LIGHT-SABERS…sorry, light sabers against steel swords….NO. Remember the RPG is set in present tense Earth, except where noted by the writer stating otherwise<< the past ONLY.
(5) Have Fun….remember Highlander is about Passion…Magic.
"My name is Maximus Decimus Meridius, Commander of the Armies of the North, General of the Felix Legions, loyal servant to the true emperor, Marcus Aurelius. Father to a murdered son, husband to a murdered wife….and I will have my vengeance in this life or the next.”
I was born in Hispania, now known as Spain, in the year of our lord 151 A.D., faithfully serving Emperor Aurelius until his death in 180 A.D. My family was murdered because I refused to swear allegiance to his murderer and son--Commodus. I avenged their deaths, killing Commodus in 192 A.D., but not before being fatally wounded myself.
My lifeless body was carried from the arena and prepared for burial, but to my horror and anguish, my spirit’s reunion with my family in Elysia was no more than a dying illusion. A short-time later, from the depths of oblivion, in a terrifying jolt I was thrust back upon this world. My scream of anguish mirrored the scream of terror emitted by the young slave girl startled while attending my suddenly re-animated corpse. I grabbed imploringly at the last fading images of my beloved and son. I stared around in horror and panic for I believed myself cursed by my ancestors for all the sins and blood on my hands. I staggered forth , into that dark night from the morgue, seized a horse and fled into the hills surrounding Rome. I vowed I would never shed blood again.
Character Intro-video
I was born in Hispania, now known as Spain, in the year of our lord 151 A.D., faithfully serving Emperor Aurelius until his death in 180 A.D. My family was murdered because I refused to swear allegiance to his murderer and son--Commodus. I avenged their deaths, killing Commodus in 192 A.D., but not before being fatally wounded myself.
My lifeless body was carried from the arena and prepared for burial, but to my horror and anguish, my spirit’s reunion with my family in Elysia was no more than a dying illusion. A short-time later, from the depths of oblivion, in a terrifying jolt I was thrust back upon this world. My scream of anguish mirrored the scream of terror emitted by the young slave girl startled while attending my suddenly re-animated corpse. I grabbed imploringly at the last fading images of my beloved and son. I stared around in horror and panic for I believed myself cursed by my ancestors for all the sins and blood on my hands. I staggered forth , into that dark night from the morgue, seized a horse and fled into the hills surrounding Rome. I vowed I would never shed blood again.
Character Intro-video
Chicago’s Field Museum - Present Day
The young boy was bored to death as I peered at him through the outstretched net before me and continued my presentation. “So, as you can see, nets have been a vital tool for both primitive hunters and fishermen alike….”
“When do we get to see the knives and swords and all the cool stuff!” one of the boys interrupted.
Sister Marie, scolded the youngster, “Jimmy, don’t interrupt! Professor Martin has been very generous with his time today, taking us on this tour. Now who remembers what St. Matthew said in Chapter 4, verse19?”
A small girl shyly raised her hand.
“Yes, Carol?”
Frowning in concentration, she slowly recited,” Jesus walking by the sea of Galilee, saw two brethren, Simon called Peter, and Andrew his brother, casting a net into the sea: for they were fishers…” Her recitation faltered as another man and woman approached the group. The elegant looking woman was clad in a business suit with the museum’s emblem embroidered on the pocket. The man, clad in casual clothes, leaned against the wall, his hands thrust into his pockets.
“I want to go see the swords and stuff !”, Jimmy chimed in again.
Sister Marie gave him a stern glance, then turned to Carol again. “Please continue.”
Blushing slightly at all the attention now directed her way, the small girl went on , “And he said to them, ‘Follow me, and I will make you fishers of men.’ “ And on that note, the man leaning against the wall, clapped his hands together, drawing the children’s attention toward him and with a defiant smirk at Sister Marie, he continued the bible verse, “’And they straightway left their nets, and followed him.’ Come on kids, I know where they keep the swords and armor . Who wants to see the samurai?”
Choruses of excited cheers and “yeah!!! floated down the hall as the group noisily charged off behind the stranger, leaving the Professor and the two young women behind.
“Sister Marie, let me introduce Diana Metcalf. She’s the Associate here at the Museum in charge of Acquisitions.”
“Nice to meet you,” Sister Marie mumbled quickly, then she directed a brilliant smile at Jack Martin. “Will you be attending Mass this Saturday? Father Kenneth would be especially pleased to see you.”
Diana raised one eyebrow and gave Jack a cryptic glance.
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Jack replied.
“Splendid….Oh! Those children will get clear away from me!” she exclaimed as she hurried off down the hall in pursuit of the now disappearing group.
Diana pouted as she purred, “But Jack Darling, aren’t you forgetting something, We have a date this Saturday!” She eased the net from his hands and playfully draped it over him, wrapping it around his still outstretched wrists, playfully binding him, as he looked on in bemusement at her, “Yes, but dear, our “dates” never involve a “sleepover….“ was his playful reply as she grabbed his hands and pulled him down the hall, in the opposite direction of the kids. “I just don’t understand all this devotion to Church and religion, you’re such a devil at heart! And you could be having much more fun with your time!”
Jack’s smile became much more serious now, so he laughingly replied. “ Di, The Church was very good to me…. along time ago when I was lost and felt I had no more purpose in life. It has been my lighthouse during stormy times, and my salvation when I have no where to run.”
A mischievous grin lit her face as she turned the doorknob to the janitorial closet behind while slowly starting to undo the buttons on her blouse. Pulling him inside the small room she whispered. “If you’re going to Mass, you’ll be needing a few extra ‘sins of the flesh” to confess…and I am in charge of …acquisitions!
Italia A.D. 192
For several weeks I wandered the country-side alone, lost and terrified the ancestors had abandoned me. With no purpose to live, and knowing full well that I should by all accounts not be among the living, I longed to rejoin my family in Elysium. I made several attempts at taking my own life. First, I tried throwing myself off a high cliff--very painful, but I healed quickly. I then disemboweled myself, again very excruciating, but it did not achieve the customary results I had hoped for. During my final attempt, I was interrupted by a passing peasant family. Returning home from paying their taxes in Rome, they saw my twitching body hanging from a large chestnut branch along the side of the road. The old man held me still as his adult son frantically cut me down from the end of my rope.
My eyes opened to their concerned faces as I struggled to draw a breath past my ravaged throat. "Why didn‘t you leave me?" I tried to ask, but my crushed vocal chords would not respond.
"We shall take him with us and care for him until he has healed." the old man declared. He and his wife exchanged a glance and I gratefully returned to unconsciousness.
I awoke later that night, uncomfortably draped over the back of a smelly donkey as it plodded along the road. I pretended to still be asleep so I could listen to these strangers and try to figure out their intentions. Why had they rescued me? I was so sure I would have succeeded-- that time. Did they know my identity? Their soft words intruded upon the quiet clatter of feet and hooves upon the loose rocks in view below.
"What will he do when he finds out what we are?" asked the old woman.
"Now, Leah, we will trust in our faith. If he betrays us, we will just earn our place in Heaven that much sooner. We must trust in the Lord, and tend this lost soul toward a meaningful existence, and show him the Lord has yet a plan and purpose for him.
And so, over the next several weeks, I dwelt with these simple Christians, who made no acknowledgement of who I was…of this I was grateful, and their generosity was humbling…they had so little, yet shared it with a mere stranger whom they had taken in. I found myself ashamed…..for years earlier I had usually given the orders which had taken the lives of so many of their brethren, but too, I could see how their meekness was a cancer that threatened the might of Rome.
Many evenings, the old man would instruct his extended family by the fireside, of the story and teachings of this new Religion. Most evenings I would simply smile politely and allow my mind to wonder off to visions of my family and the life we once shared. Until one evening, when the old man, Kyros, began to speak of the Resurrection….this got my full attention.
“And on the third day he arose.”
Could there be another like me? That thought plagued me. I began asking questions….many questions.
“Do you mean, Kyros that this Jesus rose from the dead?”
“Yes, when the women came on the third day to anoint his body, they found the stone miraculously rolled away from the tomb‘s entrance.”
“Did anyone actually see him?”
“Oh yes, many witnesses reported seeing and talking to him.”
“So, where can I find this Jesus?”
“He died for our sins, and ascended into heaven to make a place for us.”
“Did anyone see this?” I asked skeptically.
“There is more to faith than seeing with your eyes…you must believe in your heart.”
Evidently, my mocking questions did not set well with the mistress for I noticed my supper portions beginning to dwindle. My questions became more veiled. But the possibility of another like me haunted me, and so this is where my Search for Jesus began….literally. For 30 long years, I searched the length and breath of the known world. As I searched for this Man, I lived among his followers and learned of his Word. Everywhere, his followers were persecuted. And over the years…it seemed to me that the more they were persecuted, the more their numbers grew. But I never found --Him. As they say today…..ELVIS had left the building. It was at the end of this period… in
222 A.D. in Athens, that He found me….not Jesus…but the Hun; the first of our kind that I would spend an Eternity encountering…for I was not alone.
For several weeks I wandered the country-side alone, lost and terrified the ancestors had abandoned me. With no purpose to live, and knowing full well that I should by all accounts not be among the living, I longed to rejoin my family in Elysium. I made several attempts at taking my own life. First, I tried throwing myself off a high cliff--very painful, but I healed quickly. I then disemboweled myself, again very excruciating, but it did not achieve the customary results I had hoped for. During my final attempt, I was interrupted by a passing peasant family. Returning home from paying their taxes in Rome, they saw my twitching body hanging from a large chestnut branch along the side of the road. The old man held me still as his adult son frantically cut me down from the end of my rope.
My eyes opened to their concerned faces as I struggled to draw a breath past my ravaged throat. "Why didn‘t you leave me?" I tried to ask, but my crushed vocal chords would not respond.
"We shall take him with us and care for him until he has healed." the old man declared. He and his wife exchanged a glance and I gratefully returned to unconsciousness.
I awoke later that night, uncomfortably draped over the back of a smelly donkey as it plodded along the road. I pretended to still be asleep so I could listen to these strangers and try to figure out their intentions. Why had they rescued me? I was so sure I would have succeeded-- that time. Did they know my identity? Their soft words intruded upon the quiet clatter of feet and hooves upon the loose rocks in view below.
"What will he do when he finds out what we are?" asked the old woman.
"Now, Leah, we will trust in our faith. If he betrays us, we will just earn our place in Heaven that much sooner. We must trust in the Lord, and tend this lost soul toward a meaningful existence, and show him the Lord has yet a plan and purpose for him.
And so, over the next several weeks, I dwelt with these simple Christians, who made no acknowledgement of who I was…of this I was grateful, and their generosity was humbling…they had so little, yet shared it with a mere stranger whom they had taken in. I found myself ashamed…..for years earlier I had usually given the orders which had taken the lives of so many of their brethren, but too, I could see how their meekness was a cancer that threatened the might of Rome.
Many evenings, the old man would instruct his extended family by the fireside, of the story and teachings of this new Religion. Most evenings I would simply smile politely and allow my mind to wonder off to visions of my family and the life we once shared. Until one evening, when the old man, Kyros, began to speak of the Resurrection….this got my full attention.
“And on the third day he arose.”
Could there be another like me? That thought plagued me. I began asking questions….many questions.
“Do you mean, Kyros that this Jesus rose from the dead?”
“Yes, when the women came on the third day to anoint his body, they found the stone miraculously rolled away from the tomb‘s entrance.”
“Did anyone actually see him?”
“Oh yes, many witnesses reported seeing and talking to him.”
“So, where can I find this Jesus?”
“He died for our sins, and ascended into heaven to make a place for us.”
“Did anyone see this?” I asked skeptically.
“There is more to faith than seeing with your eyes…you must believe in your heart.”
Evidently, my mocking questions did not set well with the mistress for I noticed my supper portions beginning to dwindle. My questions became more veiled. But the possibility of another like me haunted me, and so this is where my Search for Jesus began….literally. For 30 long years, I searched the length and breath of the known world. As I searched for this Man, I lived among his followers and learned of his Word. Everywhere, his followers were persecuted. And over the years…it seemed to me that the more they were persecuted, the more their numbers grew. But I never found --Him. As they say today…..ELVIS had left the building. It was at the end of this period… in
222 A.D. in Athens, that He found me….not Jesus…but the Hun; the first of our kind that I would spend an Eternity encountering…for I was not alone.
Chicago
July 9, 2005
6:45 A.M.
BRINGGG……BRINGGG…. BRINGG…the phone continued to ring as my outstretched arm emerged from beneath the bed sheets. My hand and fingers continued to search the night-stand blindly as I quietly cursed that adorable (I'm trying to say a bad word but can't).
“Yes, Di ….good morning….what time is it?” I growled as I rubbed my eyes and tried to focus the digital numbers on the clock beside the phone.
I could hear noise and people around her….”you’ll never guess what happened this morning!” she exclaimed in excitement.
I quietly grinned….for I had a pretty good guess….but I kidded her instead….”you woke up this morning, found you had a heart and it loved me? Besides its Saturday and just barely morning?” I rolled over to find that as usual, she had departed while I slept to return to her own dwelling.
“Ha…Ha…” she snorted…..”No, the exhibit just acquired another treasure this morning…a book, a very rare Druid Mystic piece. written just prior to the Dark Ages, around 400 A.D. !”
I grinned at my handy work and continued to kid with her, knowing that this gift was in fact from me. “And did you get the roses I sent you?” knowing that mere flowers from Jack Martin wouldn’t compare to such a prize.
“Jack …yes…they are lovely. The book-- was donated by that reclusive billionaire philanthropist ----Gerard Maximilian. It came to the Las Vegas Exhibit this morning. The curator called me in because there was a 'Thank You' note addressed specifically to me from that rich bastard! It’sa very strange… I’ve never even spoken to him. Oh, and I got a raise. Now I’m booked on the 7:15 to Nevada…can you believe it!”
“But Di Darling!” I mockingly tried to imitate her.”….I thought we had a date tonight!”
She got seriously irritated with me”….I thought we had agreed that our personal relationship wouldn’t interfere with our careers. And it is just casual…besides you’re having dinner with ‘Father Flanagan‘ tonight anyway.”
“It’s Father Kenneth. “ I returned.
“Who-ever…got to run Jack. I’ll be back Monday or Tuesday Evening By the way, have you seen the morning paper? Looks like you just got back from Boston in time…there’s been a gruesome murder out there. Watch your back….don’t lose your head!”
With that, the phone went dead, and my sense of humor disappeared. Di knew nothing about my immortality or the Gathering, or prize. I stepped into the living room and there on the floor beneath the mail slot was the Chicago Times, with an image of the recently deceased Icabod Roddenberry. I was suddenly on full alert...muttering under my breath., "May the poor bastard finally rest in peace." He wasn't a really evil Immortal, nor had he been exceptionally gifted with a blade, but he usually was able to remain "under the radar" from most of the other head-hunting Immortals. I reached under the bed and retrieved my sword. I began to look around the modest little apartment. Soon Jack Martin might need to disappear. I thought about Di and the fun we had been having…but, I knew it was really better this way. There was no need to endanger her life in this ...the Game. She was a free spirit with a heart of stone. Of this I was sure. Maybe that's why I loved her so much. We both knew that one day it would just be over, with nothing left except good memories.
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