|04-17-2008, 01:49 PM||#1|
The Pulps: Pulp Era Heroes RPG IC Game Thread
The year is 1935, and the world is beginning to spiral into insanity. The fascist regimes are beginning their expansion in Europe. The United States are in the midst of an economic depression, the likes of which hasn't been seen before. Over in the Far East, the Japanese are also beginning to mount a power play to take over the world and expand their empire. It is in these darkest of times that heroes and villains begin to emerge...
Green Lantern and Spike_x1
Cliff Secord aka The Rocketeer As Portrayed By Spike_x1
Professor James Moriarty As Portrayed By Watchman
Dr. Henry Jones, Sr. As Portrayed By Matt Murdock
Dr. Henry Jones, Jr. aka Indiana Jones As Portrayed By Byrd Man
Kent Allard aka Lamont Cranston aka The Shadow As Portrayed By Andy C.
Philip Marlowe, Private Eye As Portrayed By RGDurant
Dr. Philip Howard Nacht As Portrayed By Green Lantern
William Fitzroy As Portrayed By Catman_prb
|04-18-2008, 02:16 AM||#2|
Join Date: Aug 2004
Re: The Pulps: Pulp Era Heroes RPG IC Game Thread
As I start this journal, I do so to prevent others from making the same errors that have plagued my life. As long as I can remember I have been terrorized by demons in my dreams. The dark monsters caused me many sleepless nights through my youth. As I attended Miskatonic University in my home town of Arkham, the dreams got more intense. I studied archeology under Professor Henry Morgan and shortly after graduation I began to search for the causes of my night terrors.
Ten years ago, I made a promising discovery. Rumors of strange creatures in the Congo fell upon my ears. I began an expedition into the heart of those jungles. What Conrad called “The Heart of Darkness” lived up to its name. The trees shadowed the floor of the jungle in perpetual night. In the darkened jungles, my dreams were unbearable. The closer I got to the center of the jungle, the more terrifying the surroundings got. In the dead of night, I heard unearthly sounds. Sounds of voices chanting unearthly phrases. Phrases that before had only been found in my dreams. However, these weren’t in my dreams. At this point in my journey, I was no longer able to sleep. The morning after I heard those bone chilling voices, I found something even scarier. In a clearing in the jungle, sunlight broke through the canopy of trees. The clearing was muddy, and a circle of six greenish black stones was set up around the perimeter. The black stones were like nothing I had ever seen. The stones were approximately the size of a hiking pack. The stone was a dull color, almost soapy in appearance. On the nearest stone I saw a language that in all my years of schooling I had never encountered. It appeared to be an ancient form of Arabic, but with some form of hieroglyphics spattered throughout the message. My blood froze as I recognized some of the symbols on the stone. They were carved in the form of the monsters of my dreams. Great and terrible mixes of men and fish, enough to drive a man mad. That is when I noticed the object at the center of the circle.
At the centerpiece of the horrific stone circle and displayed on a pillar of the same black stone, was an old wooden chest. Trimmed with gold, the black wood was rotting through in places, the lock hanging rusted from the clasp on the front. Just what made this chest special enough to deserve the central position in the disgusting cult ritual I had heard the night before? Because that was what the circle was, undoubtedly the place of an evil cult ritual. The sounds of the jungle disappeared as I stepped into the circle. An unearthly silence encompassed the clearing. There were no animal noises, no birds chirping, no sound of wind whistling through the trees. I stared at the chest, afraid to open the ungodly trunk. Though it may have just been my imagination, to this day I swear there was a green glow emanating from the chest. As I laid a hand on the wooden box, a chill went up my arm. The chest was frigidly cold even in the sweltering heat of the African jungle. The lid opened easily, revealing the contents.
Inside the chest sat a leather bound book. The cover was still in pristine condition, though I could tell that it was ancient, at least several centuries old. The leather cover was bound shut with a golden clasp, and the same hieroglyphs adorned the strap holding the book closed. In ancient Arabian text I could read what appeared to be the title. Necronomicon. The fabled book of the dead. I lifted the tome from its place of reverence, and the jungle came back alive. I could hear wild cats making their protests to my intrusion. Deep in the jungle I could hear the chants from the night before. The voices were beginning to get closer to the clearing, and the goose pimples rose on my arms. I gulped in fear, too petrified to move. I nearly dropped my prize, but finally I began to move. Not just move I began to run. The adrenaline pumping in my veins, I ran faster than I ever have in my life. As the voices faded behind me, I stopped to breathe, still clutching my treasure to my chest. I was sweating profusely, I pressed the book to my chest. I could see shards of light piercing through the leaves, the edge of the forest was in sight. I ran even faster, as I burst into the savannah and down the beaten dirt road to the township. I hid my prize as I waited for the next car to leave for Cairo.
Last edited by Green Lantern; 04-18-2008 at 02:20 AM.