This thread continues the multi-author story that started in June 2008. Kiwimuncher’s summary:
Nicholas is a poor, teenager who grew up on the streets. However, his life changes when he decides he wants to learn to read under a master (name?). But, when he disobeys his master and examines the forbidden books, his master turns him in to governmental officials, who are highly interested in Nicholas continuing with his education. currently, Nicholas is in a jail cell after being captured by the government while trying to escape with his father. (supposedly, his father gave Nicholas over for money, SUPPOSEDLY)
*Round-Robin ‘Riting.
Er, guys, you asked for it, so why aren’t you using it?
And this is definitely first post, since no one’s posted.
May I join?
Yes! New thread!
1) Oui! You can join!
I think I could be nick’s new friend, perhaps. I could be someone wrongly convicted of some horrible murder or something.
3: I’ve never participated in a RRR, but I think people only write. This is NOT role play.
4) That’s true. Sorry BLuefire27. But we could easily create someone like that in the story!
I suppose I should post what we have of the story so far……. will do…..
William Hartford was a very nervous man. He had good reason to be. Although he had been born into a rich family and his entire life had been one of leisure and safety, his carriage was now hurtling down the Holloway road on a fool’s errand, bearing papers that were worth considerably more than the Crown Jewels.
The night was muggy and warm. William mopped at his forehead with an immaculately clean handkerchief, wondering how a few innocent dabblings with saltpetre and sulfur could have led to this.
The carriage came to a shuddering stop at the coachman’s surprised shout. There was a short pause, and then the man screamed.
A thud, and then the soft “clip-clop†of a walking horse. William fumbled under his seat and removed a loaded blunderbuss, pulling back the lock with trembling hands.
He pulled open the door of the carriage a crack. Outside, beneath a crooked tree, a figure in hat and cloak was seated on the back of a horse.
“I do not wish to hurt you, my friend,†he said, in a voice that betrayed only the slightest hint of a French accent. “I only want the gold.â€
William recognized the voice and got up the courage to answer. “I know what you truly want, and I swear to you that you shall not gain it! This won’t solve anything, Duval!â€
“Please don’t argue.†Behind him, there was a soft creak from the other door, but William didn’t notice it. The speaker raised his voice. “If you resist, I will be forced to harm you. I assure you, I shall not miss. Now, if you- â€
The recoil from the blunderbuss knocked William back into his seat. The stranger’s horse reared up, but it was tethered to the tree. The horses pulling the carriage bolted- but the carriage itself didn’t move. Somebody had cut the harness.
William reached beneath the seat again and pulled out a sheaf of papers. He was about to get out and take the highwayman’s horse when someone stabbed him in the back.
Claude Duval watched the body tumble out of the carriage, shutting the door behind him. The papers scattered on the seat were impossible to read in the meager moonlight, but he could make out familiar symbols- mercury, sulfur, salt…
Duval tucked them into his pocket and crossed the road to his horse. He kicked the remnants of the cloth dummy out of his way, reflecting what a wonderful skill ventriloquism was, and retrieved his hat. His cloak had been rendered quite unwearable by the shot, but he could easily buy a new one.
The highwayman mounted his horse and rode away, leaving behind a deserted coach, a huddled corpse, and the beginnings of a catastrophe.
It was snowing in London. Snowflake after snowflake beat down down opressively, shrouding the city in an opaque veil of whiteness.
Streets were deserted; not so much as the tiniest footprint graced the impressionable ground. Even the stray dogs, usually found in surplus, had retired to some secret lair where they lay hidden.
From behind heavily latched doors, crackling fires and loud voices recounting merry tales were audible, the only clue to what revels went on behind those impassive doors.
And so the city lay: prosaic and vapid, robbed of its human life… or almost so.
One Upper Swandam Lane, a vile little alley speckled with meanest street characters, a lone silhouette was making its rapid way down the street. Its figure was well and muscularly built, a peasant, one might have said (save for his features, which were of a remarkably delicate and clever nature), and he was aged perhaps somewhere between 17 and 20. A ragged cloak whipped about him and beneath his poorly clad arm was a wicker basket. In a gust of wind, its lid blew off and a small pile of produce from Brick Lane Market, the older bruised type vendors are willing to haggle for, was revealed.
Ignoring the fact that his source of food had become exposed, he pushed on through the snow, covering his basket with his tattered cloak, for whatever help he thought it might be. Leaving his quickly fading footprints in the snow behind him, he slowly came upon great brick steps. Reluctantly moving his near frostbitten fingers for his inner pocket, he withdrew a rusted iron key, which he eagerly, but sluggishly pushed for the lock on his door.
The rotted wood left much to be desired, as as well as the rest of the building. Moss and decay lingered about the place, making the young man grimace at how familiar his own house was.He sighed, gazing upon the bronze engraving on the bricks beside the door- “Barrows, 25 Swandam Laneâ€.
Pushing hard at the great, door, it swung inward, and he nearly flung himself on the floor, the snow falling about him. Picking himself up, he slammed the door shut, and flung his tattered coat to the coat hanger. Taking in a breath of relief, he dashed to the hearth, where a fire was burning, and he could warm his hands.
Suddenly a voice came from behind him, “Nicolas, is’at you?â€
“Who else could it be, father?†The young said back, bearing a thick British accent.â€The foods on the table, at least, what I could afford to get.â€
The older man grunted, “Very well. Nicholas…â€He said, lifting himself from his stiff wooden chair, “postage came today.â€
Nicholas remained unmoved in his spot, but replied simply, “What is there, father?â€
His father proceeded across the brick floor, slowly and with a slight limp. Wearing raggity clothes, a thin beard, and using an old wooden cane, he made a shuffle and a tap at each step. The ominous pattern, mixed with his usually lively father’s silence frightened the young man.
“What is there?â€He repeated, with a voice sounding very frightened.
“Son,†The older man said getting louder and angrier the whole time, “tell me what this is, before it gets thrown into the fireplace!†And to add to what he said, he grabbed his son’s chin, and threw him down, holding a tattered piece of paper to his face.
A trickle of blood tinted the floor as Nicholas read, with repetitive and shortened breaths, “N-nicholas Burrow…â€He stopped to take a frightened gasp, but it was interrupted by his father grabbing his head and shaking it while yelling, “READ IT!â€
A spray of spit met Nicholas in the face as he stuttered, “Examining your talents… we have n-noticed exceptional skill in the area of chemicals and al-alchemy…†He voice faded off at the end off at the last sentence, and an uncomfortable silence followed.
His father said nothing but let it sink in.
Nicholas’ eyes flew to the bottom of the paper to see a series of signatures and a cryptic looking stamp, with a familiar looking symbol.
“Do you know what this is?!†His father blared.
Nicholas’ eyes widened in alarm. How?! How could they have known?! How…….. Nicholas paused uncertainly. He recalled an old man, one he had considered his friend, his teacher. The man’s normally kind eyes flashed in fury, his mouth twisted in an angry grimace. Nicholas looked back on this moment guiltily. He had disobeyed his teacher, opening the forbidden books, even using them! Could the old man have betrayed him? Nicholas put his head in his hands and groaned.
“This has gone on long enough!†his father exclaimed. “I knew ill would come of it, you meddling in richling arts! I won’t allow it! Whoever these people are, they won’t get their claws into the name of Burrow! You mark my words boy, if they do, they will never let go!â€
With that, Nicholas’ father released the boy gruffly. Immediately, the old man, hurried through their ragged home, gathering several valuables.
“Wh……what are you doing?†Nicholas squeaked.
“Packing boy! Packing!†his father called over his shoulder. “We can’t delay! Those vultures will be expecting your reply by morning! We mustn’t be here when that time comes!â€
Nicholas looked on blankly for a moment, still processing the events of the last couple of minutes. Then he leapt to packing with gusto. Fortunately, the Burows did not own much of anything, so packing was the work of a few minutes. Nicholas’s father shoved him out the door. Nicholas took one last wistful glance back at the house where he was born and raised and had lived in all his life. Then he rushed to catch up with his father.
The two bivouacked on the banks of the Thames that night.
“They may still find us if they’re determined enough,†Nick’s father warned. “In the morning we’ll go to your uncle for a secure, permanent place to stay, but until then we oughta keep watch. You got us into this mess, so you go first. Wake me when the moon’s at 45 degrees.â€
With that, he layed down and fell asleep. The ground was rough and uncomfortable, but Nicholas and his father were used to rough and uncomfortable.
Nicholas settled in for his hour-long watch. For a while he was wide awake, but soon the activities of the day got to him, and watching the hypnotic dancers that were the tongues of flame from the small fire they had dared to light, he felt the lids of his eyes get heavier…droopier…closed. Nicholas had uncomfortable dreams about rough voices and harsh laughter, and in the morning he woke up in a different place from were he went to sleep.
NIcholas sat up with a jolt. He was sitting on a cold, damp floor with a barred door at its end. No amount of blinking could assure Nicholas that he was dreaming. Terrified, he ran up to the door and looked through the bars. He appeared to be in one of many cells that were lined up alongside a narrow hall. Was this…..? But how…..? Could this possibly be a JAIL?! And where was his father? With a moan, Nicholas sat down heavily.
A raspy chuckle came to Nicholas’s ears and he turned around to see a ragged man staring at him from the cell across from his own. “Feeling a little woozy lad?†the man growled mockingly. “Present accommodations got ‘cha down?†An unfriendly spurt of laughter escaped his wretched maw. “But…†Nicholas protested. “I didn’t…….. They couldn’t possibly……. Where is my father?!â€
This protest brought a sound much like that of a strangled dog from the man. “It doesn’t matter what you did of did not do boy!†the man snarled. “If they want you, they will get you. And I wouldn’t be moaning after your father. He was quite happy to hand you over for a pretty penny and escape from the noose.†The man cackled gleefully at the look of horror on Nicholas’ face as he turned away. Enveloped with waves of hopelessness, Nicholas curled up into a ball and sobbed.
I know a little bit about alchemy, especially as it relates to astrology, so maybe I can help.
*volunteers to help with all info*
When Nicolas awoke, the first thing he noticed was the cold. He opened his eyes and blinked owlishly. For a moment he felt lost an confused, then the events of the past day flooded back. He stuffed his hand into his mouth to stop himself from screaming. The other prisoners were all asleep, pale daylight flooded into the cell from a small barred window. There was snow on the floor of his cell, and- a glint in the snow ! On a small pile of feathery snow, only inches from where he had lain, was a small phial with blue, inky liquid in it. Nicolas picked it up and brushed of the snow. The label read “Rüfrestfl” and there was a note tied around the phials neck. Nicholas clumsily unfolded it, his curiosity growing. The note simply read:
“The alchemists will return”. Nothing more.
P.S: (spoiler) for whoever continues this story, “Rüfrestfl” is an acid which has to do with rust (and metall jail cell bars). Otherwise the name dosn’t make sense.
9) Oooooooooo. That’s a good idea!
I think I forgot to mention that there are 2 different sects of alchemists and they’re kind of rivals. Yeah…… we had been discussing that in the last section……
I may try to add some to that later tonight.
10) add the name of the one sect in note:
“the whatevertheirnameis alchemists will return”
WANTED:
Someone to participate in this thread.
Well, we’ve been calling the two sects “occulists” and “logicians”. They’re both alchemists, they just don’t like each other and they study the trade differently.
Can they secretly take turns murdering each other ?
13) Well, I suppose that they are going to be doing that a lot. Probubly more then usual willl be occurring, due to mysterious appearrance of that document in the prologue. WHich reminds me, a murder has already occurred!
10) Heh heh. I guess I never added more onto it. Does NIcholas know what it means on the bottle? I wouldn’t think so………. but maybe he would…… I don’t know…….. what do yall think? Perhaps he could work the elixure by accident?
I have an idea, so I’ll write it. If you guys don’t like it, then just say so, and we can change it!
=========================================
NIcholas turned the bottle back to its label and studied it once more. What did it mean? The note had said it was from the “alchemists,” which immediately gave him cause for suspician. It was the alchemists and those cursed arts that had gotten him into this mess in the first place. It was hard to believe that they would help him out of it. Everyone knew that one never recieved help from the government without having to render some service in return.
NIcholas was violently shaken out of this thoughts at the sound of his prison door creaking open. With a gasp, he looked up and guiltily shuffled the bottle behind his back. He stared upward at the jailer, who held out a pan of paste that resembled something that might be edible. The man held a serious posture, one that clashed with his bushy mustache and his even bushier eyebrows. “Eat up young man! You’ll need your strength in this god forsaken place!”
NIcholas took the food reluctantly and avoided the jailer’s curious gaze.
The man craned his neck over NIcholas’ shoulder. “What is it you’ve got there?” he asked, his voice turning rough.
Eep! More later! Must go!
OK! I’m back!
I just thought, is anyone keeping up with this document. I think that there was someone doing it before, but I don’t remember who and they may very well not be here anymore………
————————————————————
“N-n-n-n-nothing…” Nicholas stammered, clutching the bottle nervously behind him.
I just thought….. I can’t really continue until I know more about this acid. Is it an actual acid or did you make it up? And what are its properties?
The jailer’s mustache twitched, a hard frown peeking out from under the mass of hair. “Young man!” he said angrily. “You are not allowed to have any possesions in here! You need to hand that over immediately!”
Nicholas backed away wearily
————————————————
Oops.
15) I made it up after hearing about Salpeter in Chemistry class (I don’t know the english name for it). It dissolves all metals except Gold & Platin (english name ???) and well, I’ll put it this way; if you dunk your hand in that stuff, you’ll need a robotic one like in Star Wars. I invented the name though.
16) OooooooHO!
PERFECT! 
Although….. not pretty……… *wince*
——————————————————–
“I’m warning you, young man!” the jailer threatened. “Give that to me this instant!
Nicholas shook his head stubbornly.
The man’s face was changing hues quickly from pale tan to putrid purple. Without taking his eye’s off of NIcholas, he groped at his belt, pulling out his baton. The baton flipped out of the belt, forcing the air around it to thrum with motion. The weapon had a mean, thick butt, one that was made to hit in quick, painful slaps.
Nicholas shuddered in dread. He still hadn’t recovered from his last escapade. “T-take it! Take it!” he stammered frantically, hurling the bottle at the jailer as if it were on fire.
The man didn’t have time to react. The bottle collided with his chest, shattering the glass everywhere and leaving the man utterly soaked. He stood for a moment, staring at Nicholas in apparent shock. Suddenly, he convulsed as if he had been possessed. With a shriek, he fell to the prison floor, his body being wrecked with spasms. Nicholas took a step back, in shock and covered his face in terror as the man began to scream in utter agony.
Tears running down his cheeks, Nicholas huddled in the cell corner, his face hidden in his hands, as the screams slowly lessened and eventually stopped. Shakily, he uncovered his head a small fraction. Timidly, he reached out and picked up the set of keys that had fallen by his feet. They were still warm from the jailer’s pocket. Nicholas vaguely remembered them falling out when the man had rummaged through his belt. As if in a trance, Nicholas stood and walked past the prostrate form of the jailer, his body bloody and mangled beyond recognition from the deadly chemical. Without pausing, he opened the door and stepped out into the hall.
—————————————–
Hmmmmm. What do you think? Too bloody?
Yeah…… Hi……. where is everyone?
I’m kind of newbish. What exactly is going on, and how can I join in?
Hello Cats Eye!
Well, we’re all working together on this thread to write a story! Umm………. Well…… post 7 is most of the story. We’ve also written a little bit more since that was posted. You’ll have to read that to get the flavor of what we’ve written so far. You can also read the summary at the beginning and just ask any questions and everybody can help you out…….
Hmmmmmmm. I haven’t seen Colonel O’Popcorn in a while……. where is he?
Attention all Alchemy RRR peoples! Where are you?
19) *feels guilty for ruining the -phtes thread* .
Read the story and post the next part… make sure to always look at the last part of RRR and RPG threads, so that you don’t lose track of characters.
22) Reporting for duty ! Do we keep the last gory part (17) or not ?
23) Well, I was wondering what yall thought. I mean, I wrote it, so, of course I like it. But what do YOU think? Your opinion is much appreciated!
And we might want to figure out what happens next. Where does he go from just walking out of his jail cell?
Why? What’s going on at the -phyte thread? Maybe I should check it out……
OMG. The Neophyte page it utterly GONE!
24) I, for one, like it. However, as you said, it leads us into a bit of a dead end. There are, presumably, other detainees in the jail. Could he free some or all of them and try overpower any other guards present?
Idea! Could his father be in a neighboring cell? Or would that be moving too quickly?
Yay!
Hiya Colonel!
I think the father thing would be moving too quickly. We can use that as a card to pull out later. Freeing some other detainees might work. Or maybe there’s help for him somewhere nearby? I mean, that bottle of chemical didn’t appear by accident. Someone wants him to escape.
28) So will he be contacted by someone? That seems like it would work. The only trouble I see is that we’re then stuck with the people with whom he escaped. Where do they go?
Well, I guess he could just leave them in their cells. I mean, he isn’t exactly friendly with them. Maybe there’s a guard or something that is actually a spy and the guard is waiting for him or something like that.
The problem is, if he leaves them in their cells, he can’t escape. They have to go somewhere, and I doubt they would agree to go back to prison. Most of them probably won’t have anywhere to go, and they’ll want to find a safe haven — and if Nick has one, they’ll stick with him.
I suppose we could just say that they all go their separate ways, but that strikes me as a little unsatisfactory.
Perhaps it could be a sort of secret or special prison, in which alchemists are detained? Then we have a few new buddies and mentors for Nick. Also, the person (or people) who want to rescue Nick are given a reason to let the other prisoners stay with them as well.
I just realized something. The last six posts have just been by you and me. Other people comment as well! Please! The previous thread died like this! And this one is too young – only 30 comments long!
32) Yes peoples, please post! There’s bookgirl, Catseye, LadyGaladriel and KaiYves from this thread and gimanter, Alice, Kokonilly, Bookworm, POSOC, TMFA, and earthgirl all from the last thread! We need all yall’s help and input!
Cause I think this RRR has real potential!
31) I like that idea, that it’s a special alchemists prison. If it were, then there are prisoners that are against Nic’s captors, and they may very well be with the group that is helping Nic to escape.
That would be helpful…….
I’ll just write over this and put Nic in a different place-
Nic backed away in horror as the jailer screamed. He flung away the phial, which, more by luck then aim, hit his tiny window and melted all three solid metal bars. Nic turned his head, saw the opening and ran, using his wooden bunk as trampoline. He hoisted himself out of the window and was suddenly blinded by the stark white of the falling snow. The entire street was covered in soft, ankle deep snow that was falling relentlessly. It was a beautiful scene, but freezing cold. Suddenly Nic yelped as his right palm burned. He thrust it into the snow and rubbed. It stopped hurting, but as he looked at it he saw a small half-moon shaped scar, left by the acid on the rim of the window. He squared shoulders and walked off, determined to find a shelter for the night.
34) That clears up a lot!
I still think that someone should be waiting for him though……. And that scar thing is interesting….. How are you placing it though? I guess I can stick it together…… OK, let’s see……. Hmmmmmm. Complications. Nic can’t throw the phial twice. What if the…… wait…… arg…… THe phial would have had to shatter upon contact with the man in order to have killed him. So he can’t throw the phial at the window. The window melting thing is definately convenient though. So, we need something else with the liquid to touch the window and dissolve the bars. *gruesome thought* EW. 
No! *clears head* OK, so maybe the jailer throws something in his possession? Ah! perfect! The baton! What do you guys think?
——————-
“I’m warning you, young man!†the jailer threatened. “Give that to me this instant!
Nicholas shook his head stubbornly.
The man’s face was changing hues quickly from pale tan to putrid purple. Without taking his eye’s off of NIcholas, he groped at his belt, pulling out his baton. The baton flipped out of the belt, forcing the air around it to thrum with motion. The weapon had a mean, thick butt, one that was made to hit in quick, painful slaps.
Nicholas shuddered in dread. He still hadn’t recovered from his last escapade. “T-take it! Take it!†he stammered frantically, hurling the bottle at the jailer as if it were on fire.
The man didn’t have time to react. The bottle collided with his chest, shattering the glass everywhere and leaving the man utterly soaked. He stood for a moment, staring at Nicholas in apparent shock. Suddenly, he convulsed as if he had been possessed. With a shriek, he fell to the prison floor, his body being wrecked with spasms. Nicholas took a step back, in shock and covered his face in terror as the man began to scream in utter agony. The air whooshed over his head and Nicholas ducked as the jailer’s baton flew through the air, shattering the glass window and causing the iron bars to dissolve into dust.
Tears running down his cheeks, Nicholas huddled in the cell corner, his face hidden in his hands, as the screams slowly lessened and eventually stopped. Shakily, he uncovered his head a small fraction. The jail room was the picture of utter catastrophe. Glass littered the floor and the jailer lay prostrate on the floor, his body bloody and mangled beyond recognition from the deadly chemical. (sorry, I just loved that description) Nicholas looked over his shoulder and stared at the window over his head, the gravity of his situation settling heavily upon him . He took a deep breathe and ran, using his wooden bunk as trampoline. He hoisted himself out of the window and was suddenly blinded by the stark white of the falling snow. The entire street was covered in soft, ankle deep snow that was falling relentlessly. It was a beautiful scene, but freezing cold. Suddenly Nic yelped as his right palm burned. He thrust it into the snow and rubbed. It stopped hurting, but as he looked at it he saw a small half-moon shaped scar, left by the acid on the rim of the window. He squared his shoulders and walked off, determined to find a shelter for the night.
Hows that?
35) That’s cool.
I thought the phial just came open, but still… I’ll post on the months thread and try to recruit some Mbers…
OKey dokey!
Thanks!
OK peoples! *squares shoulders* Ready for moving on! What is he going to do now? I haven’t exactly thought past this point yet.
I suggest he should meet someone from one of the fractions- so that he gets into the action.
Yes, msot liley there is soemone who is watching out for him, seeing if he will escape with the help of that chemical. So, he should be running into them soon……… I suppose…….. I may write later. Unless anyone else wants to!
I’m alittle hyper rightr now so my thoughts aren’t exactly organized.
Oh, I like this turn of events. Since nobody else has written further, I’ll give it a shot.
* * *
He didn’t walk very far, however. A quick blur came out of the shadows and tackled him. A pang of terror struck Nick. Had the prison discovered the body and sent someone after him so impossibly soon? It had been less than a minute after he jumped out of the window!
He calmed down – slightly – when he realized that his antagonist was a young girl, about his own age.
“Sorry I had to tackle you,” she whispered as she rose to her feet, one hand brushing snow off her knees while the other kept a firm grip around Nick’s wrist. “I didn’t want you running away.”
“Who are you?” Nick whispered back. “Did you put that vial in my cell? What do you want with me? How –”
“Ask all you want later,” the girl interrupted. “Right now we’ve got to get you safe.”
She pulled him up beside her and took off back to the shadows. Nick followed dazedly, a thousand questions running through his mind.”
* * *
What do you think?
41) Excellent!
Oh dear. sorry peoples. I haven’t been able to come on here very much this week. I really haven’t exactly thought all that much past this point. Who is this girl? Since Nicholas is a pretty normal name, I guess her’s should be as well, to fit the time period. Maybe Breanna? Valorie? Tisha?
I thought she could be someone with a personal tie to Nick. Obviously she is an alchemist and is helping her faction rescue Nick, but I think we should bring her closer to him. Remember how we never mentioned Nick’s mother? I believe (I’m too lazy to check) that we had a brief conversation about his mother being a logician. I wrote this girl in with the idea that she could be his sister or half-sister. This is alterable if anybody has a better idea, of course.
On the subject of names, I have no clue at this point.
44) That’s an ingenius idea!
You’re right, we did have that conversation! I do believe we discussed that the alchemists were going to kill him or something because they found out that Nicholas really didn’t know all that much about alchemy compared to what they’d hoped and his Mom intervened enough to make it so that he was allowed to live but under restriction or something like that.
Well, whatever the details of the conversation were, I think that we should definitely add in Nick’s mother as an alchemist of one persuasion or another. Shall I give it a go?
***
The girl chaperoned him through London’s back streets, navigating what seemed hundreds of cryptic twists and turns. Nicholas began to feel dizzy. At last, they came to a halt in what seemed a dead end. An imposing wall stood, quite solid, before them.
“Wha–” Nick began.
“Sssh!” the girl hissed. She walked up to the wall and started to run her fingers along it, apparently searching for something. Nick watched in silence, hoping that this would be explained later. After a minute or so of tense silence, the girl straightened up, smiling with satisfaction. She seized the brick on which her fingers had come to rest and pulled. It came out easily enough, and Nicholas spotted the smallest end of rope on the back of it before the girl let go and it snapped back into position once more.
Nick didn’t see any immediate change, but the girl seemed confident of something. She had never been as nervous as he was, but now she was visibly relaxed, sure that the danger was over.
“Let’s just hope Nigel hasn’t fallen asleep on duty,” she whispered jovially.
Suddenly, to Nick’s open-mouthed awe, a door-shaped section of the wall creaked inward to allow them through. The girl smiled at his obvious amazement as she walked inside.
“We’re good at hiding,” she said, no longer making any effort to lower her voice. “We have to be. Alchemy isn’t exactly a government-approved science, you know, no matter how it’s practiced. The only reason that every known alchemist isn’t being hunted down and killed right now is that there are some famous names among them. And that could change any day, of course, so we have to be secretive. Also, there are other dangers…” Her voice trailed off. Nick chose not to comment quite yet. “Anyway, come on! We still have a ways to go, and there’s someone very eager to see you.” She beckoned, and Nick tentatively walked in after her. He looked up just in time to see part of a complex pulley system twist its way through a rope before that same system pulled the door shut behind them, entrapping the pair in complete darkness.
Nick felt the girl’s hand in his.
“Stay close,” she warned. “This is a maze. It’s easy to get lost if you don’t know the way.” Nicholas mentally prepared himself for another dizzying journey.
He was not disappointed. The two spent what felt like an hour traversing the labyrinth, although the girl kept him going at a firm pace. Nick was exhausted by the time their hands finally parted and the girl opened a door, letting in some light.
Nicholas was momentarily blinded, but when his eyes cleared, he saw a brown-haired, smiling woman waiting for him. She was in her 30s or 40s and seemed familiar to Nick, although he couldn’t remember when he had last seen her.
“Recognize me, Nicky?” she said, her joyful tone put off by the sadness in her eyes. “You haven’t seen me since you were three.”
Suddenly Nick gasped. He remembered who this woman was!
“Mom!” he exclaimed.
***
Well, there we are. I realize that this does not go into very much detail, but I just wanted to get this down to move us along. Feedback?
Hello ? Someone?
47) Oh sorry.
I’ve been crazy for the past weeks. I like what you’ve done! 
How should Nicholas react to his Mom though? I mean, she’s kind of abandoned him for….. let me see….. 14 years? Of course, given his situation, he might overlook that. What do yall think?
I’m back again. Sorry peoples.
This semester really is being crazy for me. So how should he react to his Mom? Considering his situation, i’d expect he’d be happy to see his Mom. THough I’d expect he wouldn’t be entirely happy with her.
—————————————————————-
The woman held out her arms to him and Nicholas fell into her embrace. The hug lasted a few seconds and then Nicholas broke away gently. He stared at his mother questionally.
“I don’t understand.” he said slowly.
His mother only shook her head. “Not here.” she said. “This is not the right place.” She motioned for him and the girl to follow her and they moved deeper into the building. NIcholas barely took in his surroundings as they hurried along. His mind was terribly muddled with whirling thoughts.
It was true. I hadn’t seen his mother for 14 years. She had left without a trace and had never looked back. And now here she was. How was he supposed to respond to her?
He stared openly at his mother’s back as they moved down a dimly lit corridor. She was dressed in a practical business-like dress and her hair curled softly around her shoulders. Compared to her, Nicholas looked like he belonged to a slum. What had she been doing all these years? What had been so important that she would just abandon her family? Nicholas’ brow furrowed, his face set determinely. The very next chance he got, he would wrestle what explanation he could from this woman.
POST HERE !
49) I like it. Rrrg, I had something I was going to write but I moved on before I got it down and now I can’t remember.
I suppose I should apologize for my month-long hiatus (my hard drive died and school and laziness conspired to keep me from replacing it until yesterday), but seeing as only two more comments went up it seems somewhat unnecessary.
Honestly, people, it’s going to take more than just us three posters to move this thing along. Come! Post! Help!
Maybe we could remind other people of this on a more populous thread?
How ’bout this?
***
The trio walked for perhaps half an hour without a word between them. Every second of silence seemed an eternity of torment to Nicholas. His mind burned with as many questions about this place, but they were nothing compared with the burning his mother’s face had set off in his heart. Once or twice, feeling he could survive his inner turmoil no longer, he began a sentence, only to be cut off with a gentle shushing from his mother or smack on the head from the girl.
At long. long last, he saw a dim sliver of light in the distance. The girl grabbed his arm just in time to prevent him from tripping down a long flight of steps.
Traversing the stairs took a few minutes. Nicholas was panting slightly when they reached the top, although his mother and the girl were unfazed.
“Here we are,” said Nick’s mother serenely, pushing open a door. “Now, we can talk.”
***
Okay. Perhaps some planning is in order before we can continue.
I agree. Where was his mother? I assume that she abandoned them for a distinguished governmental job with the alchemists. How did she get such a good job? Well, since this other girl is supposedly Nicholas’ sister, then she obviously has broken away from Nicholas’ dad. Perhaps an alchemist liked her and offered her a nice job in exchange for dumping Nicholas’ dad and she agreed. However, maybe the man didn’t know that they were married and that she had a kid and she didn’t tell him because, if she had, then she wouldn’t have gotten him or the job.
Does that make sense?
Maybe she’ll ask Nicholas to keep all of this a secret because she doesn’t want people to know about what she did. And maybe it’s about this time when people come to investigate Nicholas’ abilities.
I’m still here, just to let yall know.
I’m imagining NIcholas’ reaction when he finds out that the girl is his sister. I can imagine that they sit down in the room and that his Mom flat out tells him without very much ado and NIcholas freaks out and then other people come in who aim to test is alchemy abilities. And then…….dum dum dum (forboding music)
53) In reference to Nick’s sister, I actually thought that she would share a father with Nicholas as well, and whom Nick’s mother took when she left the household under some soon-to-be-determined circumstance. However, your version of events is intriguing, as it opens up an opportunity to introduce a stepfather character, which I think could be very interesting. Also, I suppose it makes more sense.
54) Sorry it took so long to post a reply. So how exactly should they test his abilities? Do they give him some sort of exam? Do they take his blood and determine some inbuilt capability for alchemy? I think that something about testing his abilities should be included, but I can’t think of a reasonable way.
After reading over my post above, I realized it might have come across as a little sarcastic near the end. Sorry if you were offended; any rudeness was not intentional.
ok. are you guys actually writing the story or just planning? i’m confuzzled.
57) Both, but we have to plan before we can write, so that everybodies on the same page.
55) Really? I didn’t notice a sarcasty thing so, that’s OK.
That’s a very good question. How WILL they test him? Maybe they’ll ask him to do something they view as fairly easy, like….. um….. converting some sort of element into something else. I’m not sure what though.
57) We were writing for a while, but now we’re at an important point, so we’ve stopped to plan briefly. Once things are worked out satisfactorily, we’ll start again. Feel free to join in either way.
58) Well, they surely can’t expect him to know as much as they do, so I expected this test to somehow find his ultimate potential. However, I guess they could do something along the lines of your suggestion, just to see how much he already knows. In fact, that makes much more sense. So perhaps they put him through a series of tests, starting easy and getting steadily more difficult? They give him a task like, for example, making some sort of potion, and then move on to the classic lead-to-gold transformation (as was your idea), and then finish with something he can’t do, like creating a minor life-form? I like it, though it may need some refining.
Yeah. But how much does he know exactly? And didn’t weren’t we arguing in the beginning about whether it would be possible for him to learn all this stuff from the books? I’m all for that being possible, but what do you think?
Goodness. I need to research Alchemy. I’m behind. *goes off to research*
Very good point. I am too lazy to check if that was actually an argument, but it sounds legitimate. Maybe they just ask him to identify alchemical ingredients or something? I’m clueless, I admit.
I haven’t posted here in a long time. But I so still exist. Y’all should know that. This thread needs life. Tongiht I will think about it! This I vow! I will come back with an idea! *goes to bed*
The room was a small office, one that you would expect a person of importance to inhabit. It was strictly tidy with several leather chairs that seemed to be meant more for looks then comfort. Nicholas sat in one of these chairs carefully, as if he were not worthy to defile such a thing with his presence. His mother and the girl did likewise.
“Nicholas, this is Rachel.” his mother introduced, motioning to the girl sitting across from him.
Nicholas nodded absently and mumbled a hello. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a name plate with bold letters, “Mrs. Roberts.”
“Nicholas.” his mother repeated, recapturing Nicholas’ attention by her over-serious manner. “Nicholas, this is your sister.”
The statement was so shocking, so unexpected, that Nicholas’ jaw dropped and it took his greatest amount of restraint to keep himself from leaping from his chair. The girl, now Rachel, met his gaze cooly, even a little contemptuously, giving Nicholas the feeling that there was more to tell.
“Did father know?!” Nicholas asked breathlessly. The surprise was still fresh on his face. “How could….”
His mother held up a hand for silence and Nicholas closed his mouth with difficulty. “I have not seen your father for 14 years.” she explained carefully. “People move on Nicholas.”
Nicholas sat in silence for a moment, letting this announcement sink in. His mother’s words were making him feel more angry then he believed he had a right to be and he swallowed back the rash exclamations that where running through his head. The way his mother was staring at him pleadingly made his blood run hot.
“So,” he said with careful control. “Who is Mr.Roberts?”
His mother blushed at this reaction and began to stammer a reply, only to be interrupted by the door to the office being blown open.
—————————————–
Oops! Gotta go! More later!
63) It’s a relief to see that this thread hasn’t been entirely forgotten.
Well, I like it a lot. I can’t think of anything to add right now, but perhaps I will be able to add something at some point.
Several men quickly entered the room. The first, a tall man with a commanding presence and luxurious dress, immediately strode over the Nicholas’ mother and kissed her lightly on the cheek. “Kaitlen” he murmured as a greeting. “Cassium.” she replied gently, a blush evident on her face. All the while, his mother’s gaze never left Nicholas’ face. Her eyes were a warning for him to keep his mouth shut, a thing Nicholas could be fairly good at doing in the most trying of circumstances and this was most certainly one of those circumstances. The man, Cassium, turned around the room, and, touching Rachel’s shoulder carefully as he passed, stopped in front of Nicholas. Nicholas glanced at the other men that had accompanied Cassium, who were standing silently in the doorway. He returned his gaze to Cassium, who was staring at Nicholas intently. As their eyes met, the man stuck out his hand, which Nicholas took with surprise. Cassium’s hand was firm when they shook.
“I’m glad to see you in one piece lad.” Cassium said friendly. Somehow, Nicholas returned the man’s smile, despite his dislike of him, which had been present ever since his mother’s proclamation. Cassium continued, seeming not to notice Nicholas’ coldness. ” When we heard that the occulists had you, I almost lost my head with worry. Their dungeons are not the best places for one to stay, especailly a boy of your age. You can’t be more then 15!”
Nicholas’ dislike of Cassium lengthened. 15? He was 17 years 2 months and 11 days to the mark. Hardly 15! Clearly, the man was one of the worst sort.
Getting no response from Nicholas, Cassium hestitated and spoke again. “We’ve done further research into your past, if you don’t mind our intrusion on your privacy.”
NIcholas shook his head mutely and saw his mother’s eyes widen behind Cassium’s back.
“The occulists have a tendency to act rashly.” Cassium explained. “Your former teacher assured us of your brilliance in learning to read, especially considering your lowly background.”
Nicholas had to stop himself from curling his lip in anger.
“You teacher also commented on your unusual leadership skills. He said you have the ability to control a group with ease. He was unsure of your skills in the alchemical arts, but he did say that he didn’t think that you had the chance to become very learned in them, due to him discovering you early on.”
Nicholas looked back on the memory guiltily and regretted misusing his master’s trust. Would it not have been much better to be still living in his former world, learning under his master and leading his friends in their daily frolicking, instead of sitting here with his traitorous mother, foreign sister, and this detestable man? His thoughts wandered restlessly and he dropped into a moddy silence.
“….. train you in the arts.” Cassium was saying. Nicholas’ attention returned to Cassium and he stared up at him, not having processed what he had just said.
“We will watch your progress with interest.” Cassium added confidently, too confidently.
“Thankyou very much.” Nicholas said firmly. “But I do not wish to remain here. I can make my own way.”
Cassium raised an eyebrow. “I don’t believe that you have an option. You are a minor and your father has disappeared and most likely is deceased. You are now property of the logicians.”
Abruptly, Cassium turned from Nicholas, kissed the hand of Nicholas’ mother, saying once more, “Kaitlin,” and left, motioning for the other men to leave as well.
Come back to life thread! Live! LIVE!
Well poopers.
*scream* Where are the people?! WHERE?!
I was wondering the same thing myself. I still haven’t thought of anything to write, so it’s up to you or any lurking thread-readers to continue for now.
Oh thank goodness. You’re still here. *sigh of relief*
All lurking thread readers! We need you! Please don’t lurk any longer! Please? *gets down on knees and begs to invisible people*
I’m really bored, so I want to post what we have so far. Here it is!
——————————————————————————————-
William Hartford was a very nervous man. He had good reason to be. Although he had been born into a rich family and his entire life had been one of leisure and safety, his carriage was now hurtling down the Holloway road on a fool’s errand, bearing papers that were worth considerably more than the Crown Jewels.
The night was muggy and warm. William mopped at his forehead with an immaculately clean handkerchief, wondering how a few innocent dabblings with saltpetre and sulfur could have led to this.
The carriage came to a shuddering stop at the coachman’s surprised shout. There was a short pause, and then the man screamed.
A thud, and then the soft “clip-clop†of a walking horse. William fumbled under his seat and removed a loaded blunderbuss, pulling back the lock with trembling hands.
He pulled open the door of the carriage a crack. Outside, beneath a crooked tree, a figure in hat and cloak was seated on the back of a horse.
“I do not wish to hurt you, my friend,†he said, in a voice that betrayed only the slightest hint of a French accent. “I only want the gold.â€
William recognized the voice and got up the courage to answer. “I know what you truly want, and I swear to you that you shall not gain it! This won’t solve anything, Duval!â€
“Please don’t argue.†Behind him, there was a soft creak from the other door, but William didn’t notice it. The speaker raised his voice. “If you resist, I will be forced to harm you. I assure you, I shall not miss. Now, if you- â€
The recoil from the blunderbuss knocked William back into his seat. The stranger’s horse reared up, but it was tethered to the tree. The horses pulling the carriage bolted- but the carriage itself didn’t move. Somebody had cut the harness.
William reached beneath the seat again and pulled out a sheaf of papers. He was about to get out and take the highwayman’s horse when someone stabbed him in the back.
Claude Duval watched the body tumble out of the carriage, shutting the door behind him. The papers scattered on the seat were impossible to read in the meager moonlight, but he could make out familiar symbols- mercury, sulfur, salt…
Duval tucked them into his pocket and crossed the road to his horse. He kicked the remnants of the cloth dummy out of his way, reflecting what a wonderful skill ventriloquism was, and retrieved his hat. His cloak had been rendered quite unwearable by the shot, but he could easily buy a new one.
The highwayman mounted his horse and rode away, leaving behind a deserted coach, a huddled corpse, and the beginnings of a catastrophe.
It was snowing in London. Snowflake after snowflake beat down down opressively, shrouding the city in an opaque veil of whiteness.
Streets were deserted; not so much as the tiniest footprint graced the impressionable ground. Even the stray dogs, usually found in surplus, had retired to some secret lair where they lay hidden.
From behind heavily latched doors, crackling fires and loud voices recounting merry tales were audible, the only clue to what revels went on behind those impassive doors.
And so the city lay: prosaic and vapid, robbed of its human life… or almost so.
One Upper Swandam Lane, a vile little alley speckled with meanest street characters, a lone silhouette was making its rapid way down the street. Its figure was well and muscularly built, a peasant, one might have said (save for his features, which were of a remarkably delicate and clever nature), and he was aged perhaps somewhere between 17 and 20. A ragged cloak whipped about him and beneath his poorly clad arm was a wicker basket. In a gust of wind, its lid blew off and a small pile of produce from Brick Lane Market, the older bruised type vendors are willing to haggle for, was revealed.
Ignoring the fact that his source of food had become exposed, he pushed on through the snow, covering his basket with his tattered cloak, for whatever help he thought it might be. Leaving his quickly fading footprints in the snow behind him, he slowly came upon great brick steps. Reluctantly moving his near frostbitten fingers for his inner pocket, he withdrew a rusted iron key, which he eagerly, but sluggishly pushed for the lock on his door.
The rotted wood left much to be desired, as as well as the rest of the building. Moss and decay lingered about the place, making the young man grimace at how familiar his own house was.He sighed, gazing upon the bronze engraving on the bricks beside the door- “Barrows, 25 Swandam Laneâ€.
Pushing hard at the great, door, it swung inward, and he nearly flung himself on the floor, the snow falling about him. Picking himself up, he slammed the door shut, and flung his tattered coat to the coat hanger. Taking in a breath of relief, he dashed to the hearth, where a fire was burning, and he could warm his hands.
Suddenly a voice came from behind him, “Nicolas, is’at you?â€
“Who else could it be, father?†The young man said back, bearing a thick British accent.â€The foods on the table, at least, what I could afford to get.â€
The older man grunted, “Very well. Nicholas…â€He said, lifting himself from his stiff wooden chair, “postage came today.â€
Nicholas remained unmoved in his spot, but replied simply, “What is there, father?â€
His father proceeded across the brick floor, slowly and with a slight limp. Wearing raggity clothes, a thin beard, and using an old wooden cane, he made a shuffle and a tap at each step. The ominous pattern, mixed with his usually lively father’s silence frightened the young man.
“What is there?â€He repeated, with a voice sounding very frightened.
“Son,†The older man said getting louder and angrier the whole time, “tell me what this is, before it gets thrown into the fireplace!†And to add to what he said, he grabbed his son’s chin, and threw him down, holding a tattered piece of paper to his face.
A trickle of blood tinted the floor as Nicholas read, with repetitive and shortened breaths, “N-nicholas Burrow…â€He stopped to take a frightened gasp, but it was interrupted by his father grabbing his head and shaking it while yelling, “READ IT!â€
A spray of spit met Nicholas in the face as he stuttered, “Examining your talents… we have n-noticed exceptional skill in the area of chemicals and al-alchemy…†He voice faded off at the end off at the last sentence, and an uncomfortable silence followed.
His father said nothing but let it sink in.
Nicholas’ eyes flew to the bottom of the paper to see a series of signatures and a cryptic looking stamp, with a familiar looking symbol.
“Do you know what this is?!†His father blared.
Nicholas’ eyes widened in alarm. How?! How could they have known?! How…….. Nicholas paused uncertainly. He recalled an old man, one he had considered his friend, his teacher. The man’s normally kind eyes flashed in fury, his mouth twisted in an angry grimace. Nicholas looked back on this moment guiltily. He had disobeyed his teacher, opening the forbidden books, even using them! Could the old man have betrayed him? Nicholas put his head in his hands and groaned.
“This has gone on long enough!†his father exclaimed. “I knew ill would come of it, you meddling in richling arts! I won’t allow it! Whoever these people are, they won’t get their claws into the name of Burrow! You mark my words boy, if they do, they will never let go!â€
With that, Nicholas’ father released the boy gruffly. Immediately, the old man, hurried through their ragged home, gathering several valuables.
“Wh……what are you doing?†Nicholas squeaked.
“Packing boy! Packing!†his father called over his shoulder. “We can’t delay! Those vultures will be expecting your reply by morning! We mustn’t be here when that time comes!â€
Nicholas looked on blankly for a moment, still processing the events of the last couple of minutes. Then he leapt to packing with gusto. Fortunately, the Burows did not own much of anything, so packing was the work of a few minutes. Nicholas’s father shoved him out the door. Nicholas took one last wistful glance back at the house where he was born and raised and had lived in all his life. Then he rushed to catch up with his father.
The two bivouacked on the banks of the Thames that night.
“They may still find us if they’re determined enough,†Nick’s father warned. “In the morning we’ll go to your uncle for a secure, permanent place to stay, but until then we oughta keep watch. You got us into this mess, so you go first. Wake me when the moon’s at 45 degrees.â€
With that, he layed down and fell asleep. The ground was rough and uncomfortable, but Nicholas and his father were used to rough and uncomfortable.
Nicholas settled in for his hour-long watch. For a while he was wide awake, but soon the activities of the day got to him, and watching the hypnotic dancers that were the tongues of flame from the small fire they had dared to light, he felt the lids of his eyes get heavier…droopier…closed. Nicholas had uncomfortable dreams about rough voices and harsh laughter, and in the morning he woke up in a different place from were he went to sleep.
NIcholas sat up with a jolt. He was sitting on a cold, damp floor with a barred door at its end. No amount of blinking could assure Nicholas that he was dreaming. Terrified, he ran up to the door and looked through the bars. He appeared to be in one of many cells that were lined up alongside a narrow hall. Was this…..? But how…..? Could this possibly be a JAIL?! And where was his father? With a moan, Nicholas sat down heavily.
A raspy chuckle came to Nicholas’s ears and he turned around to see a ragged man staring at him from the cell across from his own. “Feeling a little woozy lad?†the man growled mockingly. “Present accommodations got ‘cha down?†An unfriendly spurt of laughter escaped his wretched maw. “But…†Nicholas protested. “I didn’t…….. They couldn’t possibly……. Where is my father?!â€
This protest brought a sound much like that of a strangled dog from the man. “It doesn’t matter what you did of did not do boy!†the man snarled. “If they want you, they will get you. And I wouldn’t be moaning after your father. He was quite happy to hand you over for a pretty penny and escape from the noose.†The man cackled gleefully at the look of horror on Nicholas’ face as he turned away. Enveloped with waves of hopelessness, Nicholas curled up into a ball and sobbed.
When Nicolas awoke, the first thing he noticed was the cold. He opened his eyes and blinked owlishly. For a moment he felt lost an confused, then the events of the past day flooded back. He stuffed his hand into his mouth to stop himself from screaming. The other prisoners were all asleep, pale daylight flooded into the cell from a small barred window. There was snow on the floor of his cell, and- a glint in the snow ! On a small pile of feathery snow, only inches from where he had lain, was a small phial with blue, inky liquid in it. Nicolas picked it up and brushed of the snow. The label read “Rüfrestfl†and there was a note tied around the phials neck. Nicholas clumsily unfolded it, his curiosity growing. The note simply read:
“The alchemists will returnâ€. Nothing more.
NIcholas turned the bottle back to its label and studied it once more. What did it mean? The note had said it was from the “alchemists,†which immediately gave him cause for suspician. It was the alchemists and those cursed arts that had gotten him into this mess in the first place. It was hard to believe that they would help him out of it. Everyone knew that one never recieved help from the government without having to render some service in return.
NIcholas was violently shaken out of this thoughts at the sound of his prison door creaking open. With a gasp, he looked up and guiltily shuffled the bottle behind his back. He stared upward at the jailer, who held out a pan of paste that resembled something that might be edible. The man held a serious posture, one that clashed with his bushy mustache and his even bushier eyebrows. “Eat up young man! You’ll need your strength in this god forsaken place!â€
NIcholas took the food reluctantly and avoided the jailer’s curious gaze.
The man craned his neck over NIcholas’ shoulder. “What is it you’ve got there?†he asked, his voice turning rough.
“N-n-n-n-nothing…†Nicholas stammered, clutching the bottle nervously behind him.
The jailer’s mustache twitched, a hard frown peeking out from under the mass of hair. “Young man!†he said angrily. “You are not allowed to have any possesions in here! You need to hand that over immediately!â€
Nicholas backed away wearily. “I’m warning you, young man!†the jailer threatened. “Give that to me this instant!
Nicholas shook his head stubbornly.
The man’s face was changing hues quickly from pale tan to putrid purple. Without taking his eye’s off of NIcholas, he groped at his belt, pulling out his baton. The baton flipped out of the belt, forcing the air around it to thrum with motion. The weapon had a mean, thick butt, one that was made to hit in quick, painful slaps.
Nicholas shuddered in dread. He still hadn’t recovered from his last escapade. “T-take it! Take it!†he stammered frantically, hurling the bottle at the jailer as if it were on fire.
The man didn’t have time to react. The bottle collided with his chest, shattering the glass everywhere and leaving the man utterly soaked. He stood for a moment, staring at Nicholas in apparent shock. Suddenly, he convulsed as if he had been possessed. With a shriek, he fell to the prison floor, his body being wrecked with spasms. Nicholas took a step back, in shock and covered his face in terror as the man began to scream in utter agony. The air whooshed over his head and Nicholas ducked as the jailer’s baton flew through the air, shattering the glass window and causing the iron bars to dissolve into dust.
Tears running down his cheeks, Nicholas huddled in the cell corner, his face hidden in his hands, as the screams slowly lessened and eventually stopped. Shakily, he uncovered his head a small fraction. The jail room was the picture of utter catastrophe. Glass littered the floor and the jailer lay prostrate on the floor, his body bloody and mangled beyond recognition from the deadly chemical. Nicholas looked over his shoulder and stared at the window over his head, the gravity of his situation settling heavily upon him . He took a deep breathe and ran, using his wooden bunk as trampoline. He hoisted himself out of the window and was suddenly blinded by the stark white of the falling snow. The entire street was covered in soft, ankle deep snow that was falling relentlessly. It was a beautiful scene, but freezing cold. Suddenly Nic yelped as his right palm burned. He thrust it into the snow and rubbed. It stopped hurting, but as he looked at it he saw a small half-moon shaped scar, left by the acid on the rim of the window. He squared his shoulders and walked off, determined to find a shelter for the night.
He didn’t walk very far, however. A quick blur came out of the shadows and tackled him. A pang of terror struck Nick. Had the prison discovered the body and sent someone after him so impossibly soon? It had been less than a minute after he jumped out of the window!
He calmed down – slightly – when he realized that his antagonist was a young girl, about his own age.
“Sorry I had to tackle you,†she whispered as she rose to her feet, one hand brushing snow off her knees while the other kept a firm grip around Nick’s wrist. “I didn’t want you running away.â€
“Who are you?†Nick whispered back. “Did you put that vial in my cell? What do you want with me? How –â€
“Ask all you want later,†the girl interrupted. “Right now we’ve got to get you safe.â€
She pulled him up beside her and took off back to the shadows. Nick followed dazedly, a thousand questions running through his mind.â€
The girl chaperoned him through London’s back streets, navigating what seemed hundreds of cryptic twists and turns. Nicholas began to feel dizzy. At last, they came to a halt in what seemed a dead end. An imposing wall stood, quite solid, before them.
“Wha–†Nick began.
“Sssh!†the girl hissed. She walked up to the wall and started to run her fingers along it, apparently searching for something. Nick watched in silence, hoping that this would be explained later. After a minute or so of tense silence, the girl straightened up, smiling with satisfaction. She seized the brick on which her fingers had come to rest and pulled. It came out easily enough, and Nicholas spotted the smallest end of rope on the back of it before the girl let go and it snapped back into position once more.
Nick didn’t see any immediate change, but the girl seemed confident of something. She had never been as nervous as he was, but now she was visibly relaxed, sure that the danger was over.
“Let’s just hope Nigel hasn’t fallen asleep on duty,†she whispered jovially.
Suddenly, to Nick’s open-mouthed awe, a door-shaped section of the wall creaked inward to allow them through. The girl smiled at his obvious amazement as she walked inside.
“We’re good at hiding,†she said, no longer making any effort to lower her voice. “We have to be. Alchemy isn’t exactly a government-approved science, you know, no matter how it’s practiced. The only reason that every known alchemist isn’t being hunted down and killed right now is that there are some famous names among them. And that could change any day, of course, so we have to be secretive. Also, there are other dangers…†Her voice trailed off. Nick chose not to comment quite yet. “Anyway, come on! We still have a ways to go, and there’s someone very eager to see you.†She beckoned, and Nick tentatively walked in after her. He looked up just in time to see part of a complex pulley system twist its way through a rope before that same system pulled the door shut behind them, entrapping the pair in complete darkness.
Nick felt the girl’s hand in his.
“Stay close,†she warned. “This is a maze. It’s easy to get lost if you don’t know the way.†Nicholas mentally prepared himself for another dizzying journey.
He was not disappointed. The two spent what felt like an hour traversing the labyrinth, although the girl kept him going at a firm pace. Nick was exhausted by the time their hands finally parted and the girl opened a door, letting in some light.
Nicholas was momentarily blinded, but when his eyes cleared, he saw a brown-haired, smiling woman waiting for him. She was in her 30s or 40s and seemed familiar to Nick, although he couldn’t remember when he had last seen her.
“Recognize me, Nicky?†she said, her joyful tone put off by the sadness in her eyes. “You haven’t seen me since you were three.â€
Suddenly Nick gasped. He remembered who this woman was!
“Mom!†he exclaimed.
The woman held out her arms to him and Nicholas fell into her embrace. The hug lasted a few seconds and then Nicholas broke away gently. He stared at his mother questionally.
“I don’t understand.†he said slowly.
His mother only shook her head. “Not here.†she said. “This is not the right place.†She motioned for him and the girl to follow her and they moved deeper into the building. NIcholas barely took in his surroundings as they hurried along. His mind was terribly muddled with whirling thoughts.
It was true. I hadn’t seen his mother for 14 years. She had left without a trace and had never looked back. And now here she was. How was he supposed to respond to her?
He stared openly at his mother’s back as they moved down a dimly lit corridor. She was dressed in a practical business-like dress and her hair curled softly around her shoulders. Compared to her, Nicholas looked like he belonged to a slum. What had she been doing all these years? What had been so important that she would just abandon her family? Nicholas’ brow furrowed, his face set determinely. The very next chance he got, he would wrestle what explanation he could from this woman.
The trio walked for perhaps half an hour without a word between them. Every second of silence seemed an eternity of torment to Nicholas. His mind burned with as many questions about this place, but they were nothing compared with the burning his mother’s face had set off in his heart. Once or twice, feeling he could survive his inner turmoil no longer, he began a sentence, only to be cut off with a gentle shushing from his mother or smack on the head from the girl.
At long. long last, he saw a dim sliver of light in the distance. The girl grabbed his arm just in time to prevent him from tripping down a long flight of steps.
Traversing the stairs took a few minutes. Nicholas was panting slightly when they reached the top, although his mother and the girl were unfazed.
“Here we are,†said Nick’s mother serenely, pushing open a door. “Now, we can talk.â€
The room was a small office, one that you would expect a person of importance to inhabit. It was strictly tidy with several leather chairs that seemed to be meant more for looks then comfort. Nicholas sat in one of these chairs carefully, as if he were not worthy to defile such a thing with his presence. His mother and the girl did likewise.
“Nicholas, this is Rachel.†his mother introduced, motioning to the girl sitting across from him.
Nicholas nodded absently and mumbled a hello. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a name plate with bold letters, “Mrs. Roberts.â€
“Nicholas.†his mother repeated, recapturing Nicholas’ attention by her over-serious manner. “Nicholas, this is your sister.â€
The statement was so shocking, so unexpected, that Nicholas’ jaw dropped and it took his greatest amount of restraint to keep himself from leaping from his chair. The girl, now Rachel, met his gaze cooly, even a little contemptuously, giving Nicholas the feeling that there was more to tell.
“Did father know?!†Nicholas asked breathlessly. The surprise was still fresh on his face. “How could….â€
His mother held up a hand for silence and Nicholas closed his mouth with difficulty. “I have not seen your father for 14 years.†she explained carefully. “People move on Nicholas.â€
Nicholas sat in silence for a moment, letting this announcement sink in. His mother’s words were making him feel more angry then he believed he had a right to be and he swallowed back the rash exclamations that where running through his head. The way his mother was staring at him pleadingly made his blood run hot.
“So,†he said with careful control. “Who is Mr.Roberts?â€
His mother blushed at this reaction and began to stammer a reply, only to be interrupted by the door to the office being blown open.
Several men quickly entered the room. The first, a tall man with a commanding presence and luxurious dress, immediately strode over the Nicholas’ mother and kissed her lightly on the cheek. “Kaitlen†he murmured as a greeting. “Cassium.†she replied gently, a blush evident on her face. All the while, his mother’s gaze never left Nicholas’ face. Her eyes were a warning for him to keep his mouth shut, a thing Nicholas could be fairly good at doing in the most trying of circumstances and this was most certainly one of those circumstances. The man, Cassium, turned around the room, and, touching Rachel’s shoulder carefully as he passed, stopped in front of Nicholas. Nicholas glanced at the other men that had accompanied Cassium, who were standing silently in the doorway. He returned his gaze to Cassium, who was staring at Nicholas intently. As their eyes met, the man stuck out his hand, which Nicholas took with surprise. Cassium’s hand was firm when they shook.
“I’m glad to see you in one piece lad.†Cassium said friendly. Somehow, Nicholas returned the man’s smile, despite his dislike of him, which had been present ever since his mother’s proclamation. Cassium continued, seeming not to notice Nicholas’ coldness. †When we heard that the occulists had you, I almost lost my head with worry. Their dungeons are not the best places for one to stay, especailly a boy of your age. You can’t be more then 15!â€
Nicholas’ dislike of Cassium lengthened. 15? He was 17 years 2 months and 11 days to the mark. Hardly 15! Clearly, the man was one of the worst sort.
Getting no response from Nicholas, Cassium hestitated and spoke again. “We’ve done further research into your past, if you don’t mind our intrusion on your privacy.â€
NIcholas shook his head mutely and saw his mother’s eyes widen behind Cassium’s back.
“The occulists have a tendency to act rashly.†Cassium explained. “Your former teacher assured us of your brilliance in learning to read, especially considering your lowly background.â€
Nicholas had to stop himself from curling his lip in anger.
“You teacher also commented on your unusual leadership skills. He said you have the ability to control a group with ease. He was unsure of your skills in the alchemical arts, but he did say that he didn’t think that you had the chance to become very learned in them, due to him discovering you early on.â€
Nicholas looked back on the memory guiltily and regretted misusing his master’s trust. Would it not have been much better to be still living in his former world, learning under his master and leading his friends in their daily frolicking, instead of sitting here with his traitorous mother, foreign sister, and this detestable man? His thoughts wandered restlessly and he dropped into a moddy silence.
“….. train you in the arts.†Cassium was saying. Nicholas’ attention returned to Cassium and he stared up at him, not having processed what he had just said.
“We will watch your progress with interest.†Cassium added confidently, too confidently.
“Thankyou very much.†Nicholas said firmly. “But I do not wish to remain here. I can make my own way.â€
Cassium raised an eyebrow. “I don’t believe that you have an option. You are a minor and your father has disappeared and most likely is deceased. You are now property of the logicians.â€
Abruptly, Cassium turned from Nicholas, kissed the hand of Nicholas’ mother, saying once more, “Kaitlin,†and left, motioning for the other men to leave as well.
Okay, thanks. That is extremely useful.
You’re welcome.
I’m sorry I’m not really doing much right now.
I have exams approaching. But school is almost out, so I’ll be able to do a lot then. 
School’s OVA!
So, now what’s gonna happen? Any bright ideas? I assume he’s gonna go into training now. But then Cassium is going to find out about Nicholas’ lineage and land him in the slammer. Then escape again. And perhaps an inkling about the mysterious parchment mentioned at the beginning. Right?
Hmm… well, he’ll definitely start training. I don’t know if Cassium would get mad over Nick’s lineage from what I’ve seen of him so far, but I’m sure we can invent a reason if we need to. It might be a good idea to drive him away from the logicians, at least temporarily, and (maybe) land him with the occultists for a period of time. That way Nicholas has a good sense of both parties and how they operate, making him better fit to judge who to join in the end.
And you are 100% right, we need to bring back that paper, and soon. I’d completely forgotten about it.
Well, Nicholas has to have a teacher. Right? What if it’s Duval, the guy who stole the papers? And Duval is leading a conspiracy against both alchemical houses? I’ll write a little I suppose but I can’t stay on much longer. Mon pere is being a pain in the platypus.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – — – – – — – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
Nicholas’ new quarters were slightly better off then his prison cell. The room had bare, dirt brown walls with an uncomfortably hard bed, a small table, and a shelf. A small oil lamp lay lay on the shelf, beside several large volumes, which drew Nicholas’ eyes despite himself.
He had been told by a small youth just a few minutes ago to expect his first class early the next morning. The thought of living in such a place as this with his new stepfather and his mother, now Mrs. Roberts, was infuriating. But yet…….
Failing to restrain himself, Nicholas strode earnestly over to the shelf and picked up one of the books titled “Ancient Alchemical Arts.” Walking as if in a trance, he sat down on his new bed and flipped open the cover. This world of learning was too addictive to resist.
Duval is shown as a kind of evil character in the prologue, but there is no reason we can’t change his alignment. I like that idea quite a bit.
* * *
Nicholas was still reading when the young man who had helped Nick locate his room returned in the morning.
“Interesting stuff, huh?” the boy remarked, his tone more than a little condescending despite the fact that he was clearly younger than Nicholas. Nick returned with an absent nod, still absorbed in the text. “Well, you’re gonna have to put it down now. We aren’t going to test you until we’re sure you have the hang of things, so, right now, you’re going to be getting lessons.”
Nick looked up in surprise. He hadn’t realized he had been reading for the entire night, and he suddenly felt incredibly weary. Still, he was in no position to argue, so he closed the book (reluctantly), got out of his bed with a tacit grimace, and walked over to his erstwhile guide.
“Lead the way,” he said.
* * *
The boy lead Nicholas through a maze of corridors to a heavy wooden door. “Wait in there.” the boy said and walked briskly away. Nicholas stared after the boy, suddenly nervous, and turned back toward the door. It was really quite thick, with a handle that looked as if it had been made several centuries ago. A sign by the door told Nicholas who was supposedly waiting for him behind the door. The lettering glinted tidily off small plack, Professor Duval. It didn’t look too threatening. His confidence somewhat restored, Nicholas pushed open the door.
Hello peoples that I just know are here! I’m a-leavn for a month this Wednesday! So, no, I haven’t dropped off the face of the earth.
The room was large and dim, lit by a few lamps hanging from the ceiling. Along two of the walls were benches and counters. On these counters were an assortment of glass jars, alembics, and pots. There was also a wood stove, from which came a faint bubbling noise and a sharp odor.
At one bench, his back turned to Nicholas, sat a man in a simple brown cloak. He was hunched over something, absorbed in his work.
“Professor Duval?” asked Nicholas uncertainly.
Hooray, a new writer!
***
The man gave a small start of surprise. Nicholas was about to apologize for disturbing his work when he turned around to face Nick with a reassuring smile.
“So you’re Nicholas? Excellent. We shall get started right away.” He shuffled away his papers to some unseen pocket of his desk and rubbed his hands with anticipation. “Now, the first order of business is to see what you know already. I have a few test papers here” – he swiveled back around and produced several sheaves of paper, seemingly (to Nicholas) out of nowhere – “but” – disappearing them once more – “I think hands-on work is simply much more fun, don’t you?”
Before Nicholas could formulate a reply, Professor Duval whisked him over to one of the empty pots.
“Now then, let’s get started.”
***
I can’t say that I really know much about alchemy and its accompanying arts, so I’m relying on others to finish out this scene, if it’s all the same to everyone.
I’m back!
Um… Well… I don’t know all that much about Alchemy either. I know it was a medival form of chemistry. They tried to make money through a scam of being able to turn lead into gold. Later on, scientists actually used this long experimental process to turn lead into gold, but it was ridiculously hard and expensive and produced hardly anything. But that’s not very helpful. I suppose to start out, they could jsut do a simple chemistry experiment. Or I could research. *groan*
Well, you don’t have to be historically accurate, of course, or even scientifically accurate. I’m sure somebody here has read a lot of stories about alchemy or alchemists – we need to draw on pre-existing fiction, as opposed to pre-existing fact. I was saying that I haven’t encountered much alchemy in my reading (Harry Potter’s Potions class aside.) I know there are people here, reading this, who know what they’re talking about when it comes to alchemy. Post! We need you!
Excellent! I read the Wikipedia article on it! Quite excellent! Alchemy is just an ancient form of chemistry. Alchemists mostly wanted to…
1. make gold from common elements
2. make a universal solvent
3. make the elixir of life/health (aka sorcorers stone)
I have an idea for his test! (wikipedia rocks)
—————————————————————————
Nicholas peered into the pot curiously as Duval turned away again and started rummaging in a nearby cabinet. The pot being empty, he turned back toward the professor, who was mumbling something under his breathe. Abruptly, the man stood up, his arms bursting with various objects and laid them out on the smooth counter top. Wheezing slightly, Duval gave Nicholas a crooked smile and pointed toward the disorderly pile. “I want you to show me the 4 elements in as simple a procedure as possible.”
Nicholas stared at him in dismay. “But sir!” he objected. “Shouldn’t we be doing some sort of conversion or…”
But Duval simply left Nicholas and returned to his desk.
———————————————————————
OK, so, I read about one principle of alchemy, which was the idea that there are 4 element, air, fire, water, and earth. One test they mentioned in the wikipedia article was that they would just burn a piece of wood to show all 4 elements. Log=earth. Flames=fire. Smoke = air. Smoldering soot = water. I think it was a stretch with the soot, but apparently its historically accurate. *shrug*
That’s good. That’s excellent, in fact. Thank you, kiwimuncher and gods of Wikipedia.
You’re welcome!
——————————————————
With a frustrated sigh, Nicholas examined the objects strewn across the table in front of him. He had a box of matches, several obscure instruments that looked as if they had some unforseen purpose, the skull of what appeared to be a dog, a piece of wood, and a biscuit that could have passed for the fossilized remains of some ancient animal’s excrement. Nothing on the table, save for the matches, resembled anything useful for portraying the elements: earth, air, fire, and water. Glancing over his shoulder to make sure that Professor Duval was indeed not paying attention to him, Nicholas picked up the biscuit and squeezed it. Indeed, it was as hard as a rock. Was this some sort of joke? Curiously, he grasped the biscuit in his fist and struck it against the side of the counter. The little table shuddered at the impact, causing the dog skull to rattle and leaving a small scratch on the surface. The biscuit showed no sign of wear. Clearly amused, Nicholas resolved to repeat his experiment. Raising the petrified food particle over his head for the greatest force, he swung it over the table with a decisive thud. Sparks flew off of the point of impact, catching Nicholas by surprise. He jumped back as the fiery specks flew over the box of matches and caught on the log, which unfortunately burst into flame. Repressing a squeal, Nicholas grabbed the empty pot and threw it over the fire, cutting off the flame’s source of oxygen.
“You could have used the matches, you know.” said a voice in his ear.
Nicholas jumped and spun around to see Professor Duval standing behind him.
“Good job, though.” Duval continued and handed Nicholas a slip of paper. “I have business to attend to, as you can see. You can begin your studies in the library. It’s just next door.” Duval motioned to the left. With a firm pat on the back, Ducal led Nicholas back out into the hall and closed the door behind him.
Well, I’m leaving tomorrow for the beach for 3 days.
So, I won’t be here. *rereads last written part* *laughs* 
That cracks me up.
Is this too late to join? If it isn’t, can some one give a large summary?
Please join! We would love to have you! Erm… summary… let’s see…
Nicholas is a kid who got caught reading forbidden alchemical books by his teacher and was turned in to the government. He and his father try to escape, but they get caught. Nicholas wakes up in jail, his father mysteriously gone (to reappear later). However, he gets help from an outside source through the appearance of a chemical in a bottle, which he accidently uses to the murder of his guard and he escapes. From there, he hooks up with his long absent mother and newly discovered half-sister. Currently, he has been taken in by one sect of alchemists and his being taught under Professer Duval, who is seen briefly in the Prolog as the robber of an important document. and that’s it so far!
To read what we have, read post 71 and onward!
Ok, so I’m going to write some now. I think that what they’re trying to make is more than Lead into Gold/Elixir of life/Universal Solvent. And, should it take place in what was real England, or a fantasy England, where ‘magic’ actually worked? (I’m going to introduce a plot twist)
“We are now going to delve into the most illegal ventures that we can do. And possibly the most useful.” Professer Duval confessed. “I know you’ve read some of the illegal scripts. Now, you shall, at least this morning, go into practice.” They walked down the hall, and came to another room. This room was filled with alchemists, mixing potions, boiling strang colored fluids, and whatnot. One suddenly shouted, “I’ve got it! Get a test subject!” Some servants rushed out of the room. A few minutes later, they came back with a bedraggled looking prisoner. The man forced a vial of fluid down the man’s throat. Instantly, he turned slightly yellow. His fingers began to swell up, followed by the rest of him.
(Depending on which Engalnd we’re working with, fantasy or real, we can use one or the other of this next part.
Real):
The man began to make choking sounds, and his tounge swelled. He fell down, convulsed, and then went limp.
“Another of Mr.Koch’s failiures. I don’t see why they listen to him.” Duval muttered.
(Fantasy):
The man swelled and swelled. He began to lose form, becoing a shapeless blob, hovering a few inches off the floor. He began to grow. Acutally, he didn’t look like a man anymore. He looked like an ever inflating ballon. He inflated, crushing equipment, and one unfortunate alchmist, the one who gave him the potion. Another alchemist had the insight to pop him, or poke him with a pin. He delfated, leaving a yellow fluid behind. “Disgusting.” Professer Duval said. “At least Koch got what he deserved.
OK… I think we’re sticking with real England and as historically accurate as possible.
However, I’m not sure that Duval would be entrusting this information to Nicholas, since he’s just a lowly apprentice and a beginning one at that. I was thinking more for Nicholas following him and spying…
I like this idea you have. These could definitely be test trials gone wrong.
We can put it in later.
Okey day!
OK! I have an idea about what we could do!
So, Nicholas continues his studies under Duval, but begins to suspect him of hiding something. So, Nicholas begins to spy on Duval and sees things like Enceladus described. For obvious reasons, this alarms Nicholas and he does a little more nosing around. But, for some reason, Duval catches Nicholas… maybe doing something dealing with the mysterious document… and lets slip Nicholas’ parentage to Cassium, his step father. Cassium is enraged by this and has Nicholas thrown in a jail cell, where he is rescued by the second sect of Alchemists with his not so long ago disappeared father!
Hello? What to y’all think?
Hmm… decent enough, but we should change some aspects. For one, why would learning that Nicholas is his stepson enrage Cassium? I don’t see it. However, I do like the idea of a sort of alchemist war, especially since his parents are on opposing sides.
On a separate but related note, did we ever decide whether Duval turns out to be good or evil? I think I recall considering a twist, but if he remains evil, we can have Nicholas sabotage his plans as incentive for Duval to turn the other logicians against Nick somehow.
Yeah, I guess you’re right, but I wanted him to end up in a situation like I described before. What if he were considered a threat due to his father’s involvement? *shrug* I suppose we’ll think of something later.
Yeah, I think there was going to be a twist. Like, Duval was niether intirely good or bad or something like that. Why would he want the logicians to be against him?
I just thought of this, but we should definitely include the step sister in this. That would be cool.
Hello peoples! This thread is REALLY slow.
Alas. I should write something. Maybe. But I have to think what I’ll do. Any suggestions?
So is this thread officially dead? It was just getting interesting. Come on, people, don’t lose hope. We haven’t written anything for a while, but a few months shouldn’t prevent us from starting up again. I’ll probably write something soon.
Sorry. I haven’t been on MB for a month.
My school is evil. Erm… let’s see….
The library quickly became where Nicholas spent most of his time. Professor Duval was apparently a very busy man and often simply suggested a title for Nicholas to read through for the day. The library was for the most part empty except for the librarian, a wrinkled old man who spent most of his days rambling through the bookshelves and repairing any of the dusty volumes that looked slightly worn. Nicholas had never spoken to him and hardly even knew if the man could speak English, since any attempts of his at communication were warded off with a few grunts.
Well, that’s not all that much, but I’ve gotta go. Bye yall!
Dead thread. That rhymes!
Well heavens.
OK. this makes me sad. *head desk*
Okayy…No speaking for the quality of this work, but I’ll give it a shot. Alchemy was sort of like science, right? Very much sort of , but scientists have lab papers. Alchemists probably have lab notes too. Enough lab notes would probably be bound into a book and then…
_____________
One day, about a month after he arrived, Nicholas found the section of the library that held alchemists’ notes. He turned down a corner that he had never seen before, and found a small, dusty room. Unlike the other cloisters that he had found during his unending search for new reading material, this room was filled with loose papers, old alchemical apparatuses, and a set of notebooks all filled with the same cramped, twisted handwriting.
Nicholas was immediately enthralled. Reading treatises on the properties of one element or another was all very well and good, but to come acroos what was obviously a long-ago alchemist’s lab, with authentic notes on the experiments conducted within…
It took very little time before Nicholas was sitting on a stool with a notebook entitled Volume I: Ancil D’s Voyage into the Most Mysterious Artifacts
_______________
………… So now Nicholas has a secret lab, that to my thinking was Duval’s secret lab before that. And from Duval’s old notebooks, Nicholas finds out what type of experiments Duval is prone to conducting. He can find out that Ancil is Duval either immediately or later, after he’s begun sympathizing with “Ancil D”‘s work. I made up Duval’s first name as I couldn’t find any mention of it before. Duval is french in origin, it means ‘form the valley’, and Ancil is also French, and means ‘of nobility’. We can use his name’s meaning to create some sort of backstory for him.
. ……..
Like, he was from french nobility from a small valley, far away form Paris. His family left France at the time of the French revolution, when he was young. They were suddenly destitute and perplexed by the strange ways the English perceived alchemy. Then Duval got mixed up in with the logicians…
And what are the Most Mysterious Artifacts anyhow? Find out in the next segment of…
Yay! People! Thanks for dropping in Fantasty Fan!
*does happy dance*
This is an excellent idea! I had been trying to think of a way that Nicholas could get in the know about what Duval was doing and this was the perfect way to do it!
Most Mysterious Artifacts? Some sort of new element perhaps? Or the elixir of life? Universal solvent? Something to do with the mysterious document?
Oh wow. What if Nicholas finds the mysterious document in the room?! *gasp* OK. Well…. I think that we need to agree on what Duval has discovered first before we begin talking about his scientific journals. I was thinking that next we could write in some snippets of his actual writings and discoveries, but they should all be pointing towards one theme. What is that theme? I’m thinking about the elixir of life, which might be a cliche unless we twist it around a bit, like having the elixir of life not exactly allowing a person to live forever, but to allow them to take life from others, or something like that. Any other ideas?
I looked up Alchemy’s wikipedia page, and found something interesting. It said that alchemy was also used to achieve ultimate wisdom…which makes sense, because if you have ultimate wisdom you can make elixir of life and a universal solvent or whatever…
There’s also something called the Great Work in alchemy, which sounds a lot like a Mysterious Artifact to me.
Copied and Pasted form Wikipedia……………………………..
Great Work; mystic interpretation of its four stages:
* nigredo (-putrefactio), blackening (-putrefaction): corruption, dissolution, individuation
* albedo, whitening: purification, burnout of impurity; the moon, female
* citrinitas, yellowing: spiritualisation, enlightenment; the sun, male;
* rubedo, reddening: unification of man with god, unification of the limited with the unlimited.
……………………………
It certainly sounds mystical, right? Of course, since Nicholas just opened the first volume of Duval’s lab notes, he might not find it just yet.
And is Duval still performing nasty experiments like suggested by Enceladus in comment 90? If he is, he could be performing nasty experiments to solve the mystery of this Great Work.
Great Work… that sounds pretty good. It definitely sounds better then the elixir of life.
So this great Work unifies a man with god? So it would make Duval a god? Whoah… that’s deep. And completely awesome! I might do a little more research on it myself…
Oh… well I found out that the Great Work is the process to making the Philosopher’s Stone, or the elixir of life. So it’s the same thing…
Ooops. I still like the original idea though. Even if it’s technically the same theory, it sounds cooler, and it gives a bit more detail into how the elixir is made.
And even if Duval didn’t strictly become a god, there’s the fact that someone who’s all knowing and immortal is likely to think of themselves as such anyhow.
Give Duval a big ego or just a bunch of misconceptions so that he thinks that’s what the elixir does, when instead it does something more mundane?
Maybe the French believe elixir does something different than the British do? Strictly speaking, all Western alchemists had the same idea, but maybe it could be a really obscure alchemical philosophy by someone who was some sort of mad alchemist that says that the elixir is completely different from what had previously been imagined? And maybe that Mad Alchemist could cause the schism between the logicians and the oculists? One group accepts his theory and the other doesn’t. They have a big fight. The government is Very Displeased and starts restricting alchemical research. One group goes along with it, thereby getting themselves into the government’s good graces, and the other remains a fringe group. The divide between the two widens even more.
Sorry, I’m just compulsively throwing out scenarios here.
That would be a good reason for why there are 2 different sects of Alchemists in this story and one seems to be underground. How do you think of these things? It’s like you’re a genius.
As for Duval, I don’t think we should entirely pronouce him as being entirely selfish. He should have some idea with himself that he’s making an elixir of life for himself to help the world, despite his negative ways of going about it.
And… ooch. I have to go now. Well, I’ll try to write later. Or should I say, ASAP.
Entry 1.
I begin this journal so that I may record my endeavors on the project that is the greatest yearning of my heart, for myself, and most of all, for mankind. From the savages of the South, I retrieved it: the element of darkness. From this element, I intend to begin my search for infinity. My first task: to turn darkness into light.
Nicholas flipped through the following pages in a daze. Each piece depicted overwhelming and complex diagrams that Nicholas could not decipher. He had hardly realized the time when the lights flickered out in the distance. The librarian was leaving, a sure sign that Nicholas had missed his evening meal and more then likely his evening meeting with Duval. Placing the book hastily in the same place where he had found it, Nicholas stumbled out of his nook and crept out of the library carefully so that he wouldn’t fall over a wayward stack of volumes. He blinked to accustom his eyes again to the bight lighting as he opened the heavy library door and stepped into the hallway. The clock across the hall confirmed Nicholas’ fears. He had missed his meeting with the professor by an entire hour. This was not going to be good.
————————————————————————————-
OK. I’m thinking that Nicholas will walk into Duval’s office and overhear Duval talking with someone else about secret stuff. Maybe about the murder that Duval has committed, which was shown in the very beginning.
I was also thinking about how Duval will achieve the different levels of the “Great Work.” The second and third stages dealt with females and males. What if we could work this to include both NIcholas and his stepsister? And what if the second stage of the “Great Work” dealt with the death of a virgin girl, which could include Nicholas’ stepsister. That could be an excellent reason why Nicholas could end up in jail again and be rescued by his father….
Well, goodness. My forgot to put the “undo italic” symbol after the journal entry. My bad.
[Looks like a job for HTML Gnome *spoing*]
Thanks GAPAs!
OK. Sorry I haven’t been around, in case anyone else has been. But I think this thread is dead.
That seems like a reasonable assumption, sadly enough.
**necromancy**
Hmm. That gives me an interesting idea. I think I’ll be lazy and allow other people potentially still reading this to run with it first.
This probably looks really weird, I mean about me wanting to join so many RPGs/RRRs/whatever at once, but I’m feeling in a particularly spontaneous mood. So…you already know what I want to ask, right? In my defence, there seems to be only four or five people who have regularly posted (on this one, at least) and it’s not like the other RPGs or anything where another character would be just too confusing. And I LOVE alchemy. (Not that I’ve tried it or anything…I know it doesn’t work. But it’s just fascinating.) Anyway, here endeth my plea and I sure hope someone notices it.
It was nearing midnight, and Nicholas found himself walking the familiar steps to his professor’s rooms. His eyes ached with tiredness and his whole body yearned for sleep, but his heart was beating fast as he quickly approached the entrance to Duval’s rooms. Nicholas wasn’t sure how Duval would react to his lateness – it was always hard to tell. He hoped that Duval would be understanding, but the more likely answer was that he wouldn’t be too pleased, especially as Nicholas hadn’t even found out yet how one went about turning darkness into light.
Nicholas reached the door to his master’s study. It was ajar, and to his surprise he heard voices coming from within. He strained harder and caught the voice of his professor and another man, talking.
‘They’re starting to realize something’s up, Gregory.’ This was Duval.
‘Nonsense. No one’s done anything about it yet. If they suspected us they would have struck already – you know well enough they’re not one for caution.’
‘They’ve already found the body – it’s only a matter of time before someone investigates and discovers the formulae missing. Then, who else could they suspect but us? We’ve been their only known rivals for years.’
‘Perhaps…’ the other man mused, before he was cut off by the agitated Duval.
‘Perhaps nothing, Gregory. Once they notice something is amiss they will be bound to come sniffing at our trail like hounds on a game hunt. If we’re not careful, it’s only too easy for them to realize what exactly we’re playing at. We need to be careful.‘
‘All right, all right,’ the other man, Gregory, intervened. We’ll send a few of our men out to…ah..make sure that nothing will happen to you or your precious formulae.’
‘Are you quite sure about that, Gregory? If your men let them see even one thing, I shall not be too pleased. No one can know it is us. They can suspect of course – oh, they always suspect. Who else could it be? But without proof, suspicion is useless. It is nothing. I implore your men to act to their best of abilities. Not a single shred of evidence must be left behind.’
‘It is understood, professor.’
The two men were silent for a while, before the stranger – Gregory – spoke up. ‘It’s getting quite late, Mr Duval, and I’m afraid I am needed back at…you know. Thank you for your kind hospitality, professor.’
There was the sound of footsteps approaching the door, and Nicholas drew back into the shadows as Gregory neared the corridor.
‘Good night, professor.’
‘Good night, Gregory.’
The professor accompanied the unknown Gregory to the doorway where, most unfortunately for Nicholas, the flickering light cast an eerie glow onto Gregory’s face. Nicholas could not help but gasp as what he saw there shocked him to no end. The professor, ears always alert, heard this inadvertent sound and turned sharply to the shadowed wall.
‘Who’s there?’ Duval sounded angry, almost hostile. Nicholas had never heard him this defensive before, and was quite scared to face him. He knew, however, that sooner or later they would find him hidden, crouching in the shadows, and he stepped boldly out of the shadows.
‘Nicholas?’ Duval looked surprised for just the merest fraction of the second, before looking furious again.
‘How much of that did you hear?’ he positively roared, flecks of spit flying into Nicholas’ face.
‘I – I…just got here, I swear. I missed my appointment an hour ago and thought you would be able to find time for me now.’
‘That’s all very well, boy,’ he growled, ‘but how much did you hear?‘
Nicholas shook his head and tried to look innocent.
‘Only…only the last part. When you were saying good night. I -‘ Nicholas swallowed nervously and it extinguished the rest of his sentence.
Gregory simply looked amused. ‘Well, my dear professor, I think it is time I should be leaving. I’ll leave you to deal him, shall I?’ He laughed menacingly before turning to leave. Nicholas was now alone with an angry Duval, who showed no signs of stopping.
How was that? I wasn’t sure if that was your plan or not but I followed post 104’s latter half for instructions.
Woot! Back from the dead! That was pretty good.
Thanks, Colonel! I try.
Was there anything I did wrong? I hope you didn’t mind the name Gregory…
Nicholas watched Gregory’s receding figure with dread. He was purposefully staring at anywhere but Duval, but there was no use – he had started talking again.
‘Well, boy,’ he grunted. ‘What do you want?’
For a second Nicholas stood there, his mind reeling as he struggled to remember why he had come up to his professor’s study in the first place. Duval, watching him, growled, ‘Can’t think of an excuse, eh?’
Nicholas was startled. ‘I – no, of course not. I…was…well, I missed our meeting by almost an hour, and I thought – I thought you would be prepared to receive me now.’
‘Did you really? And have you found out how to turn darkness into light?‘
‘Well, no, but -‘
He was cut off by Duval. ‘So what are you doing here, then?’ he roared.
‘I – nothing, sir. Nothing at all. I’ll go right now, shall I?’
Nicholas was shaking with fear. Duval eye him suspiciously, before letting him go with a short grunt and turning back into his study, closing the door loudly. Nicholas distinctly heard him lock it.
It was no use. He had angered his master by inadvertently overhearing those words, but there was nothing to do for it now. The professor was beyond reason and understanding, and Nicholas did not even dare try to ask him about what the conversation, and Gregory, had meant.
Thinking it over, he returned to the library, where, tired as he was, he sat down on one of the chairs, opened a large volume of The Alchemyst’s Index, being of the Fourth Volume, and sat down to peruse it. His sleepless eyes scanned the pages for any mention of the name Gregory.
——————————————————————————————–
Who should Gregory be? I’m thinking either an occultist, logician or random mercenary that doesn’t understand anything about alchemy.
Perhaps none of those. After all, Duval is cutting his own path, and Gregory seems to be helping him along. Maybe Duval wasn’t originally a bad person; Gregory could be the Palpatine to his Anakin. That’s certainly the impression I got from that exchange. Gregory was in charge and calm — “amused,” to use the exact word — while Duval practically had a coronary when he saw Nick. They’re partners in crime at the very least.
OK. Do you want to write next?
It was almost noon when Nicholas awoke. Duval had already left, so he had the place to himself – the first thing he did after a hasty breakfast was to go straight down to the library again and check The Alchemysts’ Index again, as he had been too tired last night to get past the names starting with B. He still had no idea whether Gregory was the man’s first or last name, so he had to check every page in case it was it first name. The book was arranged in alphabetical order by the last names of notable alchemists, so if Gregory was indeed his first name, Nicholas would have a lot of reading to do.
_________________________________________________________
So what exactly is Gregory? I’m thinking that he doesn’t belong to any side (occultist/logician) – he’s above such petty things – but still knows a great deal about alchemy. Immensely respected by both sides for his important insights, he has built up a base of loyal followers. Perhaps Duval could have been his apprentice before the two sides existed. I really have no idea – I created Gregory without much background; he was just a person to be talking to Duval. If you want to change/expand his character, feel free to do so.
Hi…does anyone else want to write something?
Well, I’m just surprised people are still posting on here. A lingering thread if I’ve ever seen one.
Well, maybe it would revive if more people started posting on here.
What do you guys want to happen next?
What do you guys want to happen next?
OMG! It survives! I apologize for not being on here for an extremely long time. Truthfully, it depressed me, and then I had exams.
Thanks Selenium! Yur awesome!
But anyway…
This is good.
About Gregory: I like the idea that he isn’t with either side, but I’m not sure if that would work. If he’s meeting Duval in the heart of one sect of alchemists, he would more then likely be put into suspicion by the other side and vice versa. I’m not sure it would work to well. Plus, if he wasn’t with them he more then likely wouldn’t even have access to Duval’s study… so…. yeah. He could be a double agent though or something like that, which would be very interesting….
One thing, I’m not sure that Duval would have had Nicolas turning darkness into light for an assignment. I mean, Nicolas just found that in a diary of Duval’s he found in a back room of he library. But that’s not very hard to change.
———————————————————————————
Bartley, Thomas
Barwick, Taylor
Barton, John
Barton, Smith
Barxton, Lewis
Basden, Robert
Basden, Miller
Bason, Harry
Bason, Bill
Bass, George
Bass, Joel
Bass, Richard
Bass, William
Basurto, Rogelio
Basurto, Wayne
Bateman, Michael
Bateman, John
Bates, Harold
Bates, Stephen
Baugess
Baugman
Baughn
B….
Nicholas’ head slowly drooped lower and lower as the seemingly endless names recorded in the book began to swim before his eyes, changing Beardsley to Breakfast, Berton to Bed, and Blondheim to light. Light out of darkness… Gregory out of….
A rough hand land on Nicholas’ shoulder and he jerked out of his half-dream state. He lifted his groggy head to meet the eyes of the librarian. The man stared at him for a moment and then rested his eyes on the page Nicholas had just recently been snoring and perhaps drooling over.
“You are looking for anyone in particular?” the man asked in a stiff voice, perhaps rusty due to lack of use.
——————————————————
Well, I’m going to bed now because I’m tired, but I think it would be OK if NIcholas asked the guy. I mean, he’s a recluse so it’s not like he would tell Duval. Or would he?
You’re welcome, kiwi! Thanks for posting something. I don’t mind if you change the darkness into light thing, I wasn’t really sure, so…yeah.
____________________________________________________
‘You are looking for anyone in particular?’ The man asked in a stiff voice, perhaps rusty due to lack of use.
Nicolas was startled, and wasn’t sure how to reply. How did he know he could trust this man?
The man chuckled strangely. ‘You don’t have to tell me, son. I just thought you looked like you need some help. I won’t tell anyone.’
Nicholas was too tired to care any more, and decided to tell the man. ‘I’m looking for Gregory.’
‘Gregory?’ The man looked surprised. ‘What, is that his first name or his last name?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Nicholas wearily. ‘I just need to find him. It’s important. Please.’
‘Does he have anything to do with…alchemy?’ The man whispered, his eyes glinting strangely.
‘I can’t be sure, but probably. He was talking to Duval, so they must know each other somehow.’ Nicholas wasn’t going to reveal the details of the conversation to this stranger.
‘Gregory…a Gregory…hmm…’ The man said, half to himself, as he flicked through the book.
Hmmmmmm. We could make this go either way… shall we make Gregory even more mysterious by having the old man say he’s never heard of him (or does he really know who Gregory is and just isn’t telling Nicolas?) or we could have him give Nicolas the answer… But that’s too easy. Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. *thinks*
————————————————————————-
“These books are part of me young man.” the librarian muttered. “Gregory is a common name, one used by any number of important alchemists.”
Nicholas pursed his lips in frustration and stared hopelessly across the never-ending bookshelves.
“But are there all that many alchemists of that name who are living now?” Nicholas insisted. “Surely the population isn’t that enormous!”
“You are sure that this Gregory is an alchemist?” the librarian questioned.
Nicholas bit his lip. He had assumed that the man was an alchemist. Why else would he be in the middle of their camp? But was he not accustomed to various servants going about the place? They weren’t alchemists in the least.
His look of defeat must have awakened some form of sympathy in the old librarian. He took the book from Nicholas’ hands and carefully shut it. “I will help you find this Gregory, if you do not mind the presence of a dusty, old man. But for now, go get some rest. You’re dead on your feet.” With surprising strength, the librarian pulled Nicholas to his feet and nudged him towards the door.
—————————————————————–
I’m thinking that the librarian becomes Nicholas’ friend, but the old guy ends up failing him somehow. Maybe the old man is actually connected with Gregory somehow and just isn’t telling Nicolas to keep him from getting into trouble. Any other ideas?
I like the idea that ol’ Greg is Duval’s ex-teacher or boss, or in some way his superior. That makes the encounter fit an archetype, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Didn’t we decide at some point that Duval was going off on his own as well? This fits. I had an idea, though; what if Duval (and now Gregory) aren’t going off on their own? What if there’s some sort of syndicate or mob of which Duval is only a pawn, cannon fodder? I’m not sure what to make of that. It changes all of our planning, basically. I’m leaning against it, personally, but it’s only fair to talk about it. Anyway, here are two scenarios, one with the syndicate idea, one without.
______
“Ah! Got… him…” the man said slowly, his face paling. “But no, this can’t be him. Here, you say? Talking to Duval? No, you must have misheard.”
“What is it?” Nicholas said, more eager than ever.
“Well, the Gregory here — as I said, surely not the one to whom Duval was speaking — was the leader of a very ambitious sect of men, most alchemists, some untalented grunts. They claimed that they wanted to force the world to respect alchemy, but in truth, Gregory just wanted to seize power for himself. Very powerful, very evil man, and he would never be allowed anywhere near here, much less welcomed into our sanctum sanctorum. And do you want to know why else that couldn’t have been him?”
“Why not?” said Nicholas, although he had a feeling he already knew.
“Gregory was killed over a decade ago. Duval himself did the deed, and we all saw him fall.”
______
“Mhmm… mhmm… mhmm! There we go! Gregory [last name to be determined, I suppose], ex-alchemist and respected retiree. You say Duval was speaking with him? That’s not surprising. He had several students before an accident scarred his face.”
“But Duval seemed so angry when I saw them!” Nick exclaimed, still a little shell-shocked from his experience and surprised to find such an innocuous answer to his question.
“Well, I didn’t finish. As I said, it’s unsurprising that Duval was talking to Gregory; but considerably more surprising is the fact that Gregory was talking to Duval. After the accident I mentioned, Gregory not only went into retirement, he went into seclusion. He blamed alchemy in general for what had happened, I suppose; he wouldn’t be the first embittered survivor of such an event. It’s a pity, though. He was quite skilled, and personally he and I go way back. It’s good to know that he’s back! I’ll have to find him and say hello sometime.” The man smiled warmly.
“Thank you, sir,” Nick said, and reluctantly returned to his chambers to study, most unconvinced that Gregory was as harmless as the man seemed to think.
______
Well, there you go. Vote on which one or discard ’em both.
Whoops, I didn’t see your post up there. Well, I suppose all three still stand for a choice.
Hmmmmmm I don’t like your first one because ti goes a little too much into evil guy taking over the world, but the second one is good.
Your idea might be better then mine because mine sort of complicates the story and it’s already complicated enough. But whatever y’all think works the best.
People? What now?
Well, hmm. A compromise of sorts isn’t out of the question. I like my idea, even if it’s the slightest bit cliché. That said, your contribution is pretty well-written and I like it as well, or even better. We can use yours and keep my idea in store to reconcile later. After all, your passage doesn’t identify Gregory, so he could still be anything. In fact, maybe this makes it easier; he can’t find Gregory in the list because he had his name removed? For renouncing alchemy? Something like that.
Yes, let’s go with that. It makes it harder to track down Gregory and ‘investigate’ (if he wanted to) if his name is not so easily found.
can I join? Danke you.
Oh, hi there, owl. But you’re pie girl now, aren’t you? Well…I guess you could, but it’s also up to the others, so I’ll leave it to them. (By the way, what are your ‘travel/brain/cookie’ points? I’ve never heard of them…)
Anyone can join whenever.
Wow, it seems like nothing much happened since I left. Should we continue with the story? Which idea did we decide to use in the end?