So in another life I'd be...
- Thread starter K'Ehleyr
- Start date
TheLonelySquire
Vice Admiral
My wife's husband and my daughter's father! Of course!
I made one hell of a discovery today. While rummaging the old House of Ravescene archives and experiencing one of our ancient artefacts, it turns out that in another life I actually was someone very familiar to me.
It turns out I actually WAS my most illustious ancestor, Byron Rapeseed - oil magnate, raconteur, poet, adventurer, hunter, imperialist, scoundrel, gambler, bootlegger, former monk, renaissance man, lover, fighter, thief, mage, bard, paladin, necromancer, wood elf [That's enough - someone], bon vivant, bounder, and cad. The very scourge of the British Raj, wanted for several minor felonies within the Confederate States of America, inventor of the Stiff Upper Lip™, and manufacturer of 10,001 lies from 1825 to 1897 inclusive.
Many of the tales have become the stuff of legend, including how Lord Rapeseed used his fourth leg to complete Schubert's 8th (Unfinished) Symphony before being rumbled by the Berlin authorities and burning the manuscript in a random firework; and how he regained his virginity following a mysterious trip through the Namib Desert armed with only his wits, skill, and a cigarillo case to survive.
No one knows how Lord Rapeseed died. Some say he was stabbed through the heart by a vengeful Hong Kong harlot with a skin condition. Others say he was caught with his hand on Queen Victoria's prize bouquets, and executed for clumsiness. A few believe he had been beheaded by a lynch mob in Wellington, New Zealand, and all of his body parts taken to the four corners of the globe, their depiction later used as part of a limited-edition collection by the Royal Mint in 1911.
Actually, it turns out that his body was never found, following an expedition to southern Ceylon, where he declared he was feeling a little hungry and wanted to go out for a bite, then suffered a paper cut and ran out screaming, heading into the jungle. He promised he'd be back, and according to local Sinhalese documentation, the people have been waiting for his return ever since.
In stark comparison, of course, my current life is nothing like all that. Perhaps.
It turns out I actually WAS my most illustious ancestor, Byron Rapeseed - oil magnate, raconteur, poet, adventurer, hunter, imperialist, scoundrel, gambler, bootlegger, former monk, renaissance man, lover, fighter, thief, mage, bard, paladin, necromancer, wood elf [That's enough - someone], bon vivant, bounder, and cad. The very scourge of the British Raj, wanted for several minor felonies within the Confederate States of America, inventor of the Stiff Upper Lip™, and manufacturer of 10,001 lies from 1825 to 1897 inclusive.
Many of the tales have become the stuff of legend, including how Lord Rapeseed used his fourth leg to complete Schubert's 8th (Unfinished) Symphony before being rumbled by the Berlin authorities and burning the manuscript in a random firework; and how he regained his virginity following a mysterious trip through the Namib Desert armed with only his wits, skill, and a cigarillo case to survive.
No one knows how Lord Rapeseed died. Some say he was stabbed through the heart by a vengeful Hong Kong harlot with a skin condition. Others say he was caught with his hand on Queen Victoria's prize bouquets, and executed for clumsiness. A few believe he had been beheaded by a lynch mob in Wellington, New Zealand, and all of his body parts taken to the four corners of the globe, their depiction later used as part of a limited-edition collection by the Royal Mint in 1911.
Actually, it turns out that his body was never found, following an expedition to southern Ceylon, where he declared he was feeling a little hungry and wanted to go out for a bite, then suffered a paper cut and ran out screaming, heading into the jungle. He promised he'd be back, and according to local Sinhalese documentation, the people have been waiting for his return ever since.
In stark comparison, of course, my current life is nothing like all that. Perhaps.
Cheat
J. Allen ~ very moving and tragic
Thank you 
Zee ~ I'm glad to see your imagination has returned, I think I would have liked Lord Rapeseed
Thanks all
He was a renowned lover and great company with the ladies. Some say that thanks to his antics, he is the direct ancestor of 90% of today's population of Bangladesh.Zee ~ I'm glad to see your imagination has returned, I think I would have liked Lord Rapeseed
As I said, nothing like me. At all.
He was a renowned lover and great company with the ladies. Some say that thanks to his antics, he is the direct ancestor of 90% of today's population of Bangladesh.Zee ~ I'm glad to see your imagination has returned, I think I would have liked Lord Rapeseed
As I said, nothing like me. At all.
He would have liked my place
I made one hell of a discovery today. While rummaging the old House of Ravescene archives and experiencing one of our ancient artefacts, it turns out that in another life I actually was someone very familiar to me.
It turns out I actually WAS my most illustious ancestor, Byron Rapeseed - oil magnate, raconteur, poet, adventurer, hunter, imperialist, scoundrel, gambler, bootlegger, former monk, renaissance man, lover, fighter, thief, mage, bard, paladin, necromancer, wood elf [That's enough - someone], bon vivant, bounder, and cad. The very scourge of the British Raj, wanted for several minor felonies within the Confederate States of America, inventor of the Stiff Upper Lip™, and manufacturer of 10,001 lies from 1825 to 1897 inclusive.
Many of the tales have become the stuff of legend, including how Lord Rapeseed used his fourth leg to complete Schubert's 8th (Unfinished) Symphony before being rumbled by the Berlin authorities and burning the manuscript in a random firework; and how he regained his virginity following a mysterious trip through the Namib Desert armed with only his wits, skill, and a cigarillo case to survive.
No one knows how Lord Rapeseed died. Some say he was stabbed through the heart by a vengeful Hong Kong harlot with a skin condition. Others say he was caught with his hand on Queen Victoria's prize bouquets, and executed for clumsiness. A few believe he had been beheaded by a lynch mob in Wellington, New Zealand, and all of his body parts taken to the four corners of the globe, their depiction later used as part of a limited-edition collection by the Royal Mint in 1911.
Actually, it turns out that his body was never found, following an expedition to southern Ceylon, where he declared he was feeling a little hungry and wanted to go out for a bite, then suffered a paper cut and ran out screaming, heading into the jungle. He promised he'd be back, and according to local Sinhalese documentation, the people have been waiting for his return ever since.
In stark comparison, of course, my current life is nothing like all that. Perhaps.
Yes!Is the best bit.
There's a little bit of Rapeseed in all of us.
... Actually, that has now been genetically proven.
... Actually, that has now been genetically proven.
In my case, it's the left knee. It's slightly more rakish and dashing than the rest of me.There's a little bit of Rapeseed in all of us.
in another life i''d would have been captain of a 17th century man o war not the big 74 gun ships just something like a frigate 32 or 40 guns.or maybe a samurai lord or something like that
I still get to deal with the used lingerie, I take it?Ok, joint winners ~ CorporalClegg, J.Allen and Zee, for their time and imagination
You win a free night and use of amenities at my Bordello, and my I welcome you with a glass of champagne in my parlour
I am known as Galahad. Self-declared Knight of Albion. I am a supremely powerful telekinetic mutant. I have fought street criminals, super-criminals such as the notorious Lords of Chaos as well as the Taliban in Afghanistan and the Mutant Freedom Force.
I am wanted by the government. Their super-soldier unit, also known as the Knights of Albion, want me to join their ranks. But thanks to my ability to blur my features by vibrating air molecules in front of my face, they've never identified me.
My telekinetic abilities enable to fly at speeds of over 500mph, whilst also protecting me from friction and air resistance. I can deflect bullets, heat the air to survive cold temperatures and form a protective bubble that means i can survive underwater. I can also lift objects and throw them around, ranging from tennis balls to main battle tanks.
I also have super-powered hearing and eyesight.
Next to the MFF's leader, the renegade super-soldier known as Saviour, I am probably one of the most powerful mutants in the UK.
I chose the name Galahad when i dedicated myself to heroic works as my heart is pure and i have the telekinetic strength of ten men.
my preferred costume is a stylish black leather bodysuit.
I am wanted by the government. Their super-soldier unit, also known as the Knights of Albion, want me to join their ranks. But thanks to my ability to blur my features by vibrating air molecules in front of my face, they've never identified me.
My telekinetic abilities enable to fly at speeds of over 500mph, whilst also protecting me from friction and air resistance. I can deflect bullets, heat the air to survive cold temperatures and form a protective bubble that means i can survive underwater. I can also lift objects and throw them around, ranging from tennis balls to main battle tanks.
I also have super-powered hearing and eyesight.
Next to the MFF's leader, the renegade super-soldier known as Saviour, I am probably one of the most powerful mutants in the UK.
I chose the name Galahad when i dedicated myself to heroic works as my heart is pure and i have the telekinetic strength of ten men.
my preferred costume is a stylish black leather bodysuit.
Does it feel like you're wearing nothing at all?
Nothing at all?
Nothing at all?
[
Stupid sexy Ravescene! - someone]
I watch attentively while the rest of the tribe sleeps. I crouch so low I could be sitting, naked atop a rocky outcropping as I carve flutes and religious icons and conjure up stories to tell the children. I am lean and lithe, dark and covered head-to-foot in traditional scarring patterns that make me appear as striped and spotted as the animals my people hunt. Some are from the hunt, others from the great beasts I've slain and others from the men I killed. Every mark has a story.
I keep my eyes averted from the dying flames that the sleeping forms of my brothers, family and friends surround. I watch the plains around us, every shifting shadow or wind-rustled brush, as my hands work instinctively on my idle works.
On the other side of the mass of sleeping bodies my mother's youngest brother watches the south, his sick young boy mewling quietly into his chest. I say a prayer to our gods for his recovery.
My own four children sleep huddled around their mother, not one of them old enough to join in the watch or the hunt.
The cackle of scavenging dogs drifts in on the wind, I stand quickly to seek out their low shadows but they are still too far to be seen, and thus to be of any worry.
The fire turns to smoldering coals behind me, but it won't be cool enough tonight to need it so I let it die as I gaze up at the stars and. . . wonder.
I keep my eyes averted from the dying flames that the sleeping forms of my brothers, family and friends surround. I watch the plains around us, every shifting shadow or wind-rustled brush, as my hands work instinctively on my idle works.
On the other side of the mass of sleeping bodies my mother's youngest brother watches the south, his sick young boy mewling quietly into his chest. I say a prayer to our gods for his recovery.
My own four children sleep huddled around their mother, not one of them old enough to join in the watch or the hunt.
The cackle of scavenging dogs drifts in on the wind, I stand quickly to seek out their low shadows but they are still too far to be seen, and thus to be of any worry.
The fire turns to smoldering coals behind me, but it won't be cool enough tonight to need it so I let it die as I gaze up at the stars and. . . wonder.
I still get to deal with the used lingerie, I take it?Ok, joint winners ~ CorporalClegg, J.Allen and Zee, for their time and imagination
You win a free night and use of amenities at my Bordello, and my I welcome you with a glass of champagne in my parlour
As long as you keep tuning my piano
And from what dvd/game/comic did you get this
That is so brilliantly descriptive I can almost see it ~ I hope you will all be ok, especially your young cousin
Gotta keep such a fine machine well oiled.I still get to deal with the used lingerie, I take it?Ok, joint winners ~ CorporalClegg, J.Allen and Zee, for their time and imagination
You win a free night and use of amenities at my Bordello, and my I welcome you with a glass of champagne in my parlour
As long as you keep tuning my piano
[You're doing it wrong - someone]
All the better to play a fine tune onGotta keep such a fine machine well oiled.I still get to deal with the used lingerie, I take it?
As long as you keep tuning my piano
So long as I hit the right notes in the right order.All the better to play a fine tune onGotta keep such a fine machine well oiled.As long as you keep tuning my piano
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