Who Was That Masked Man?

[Zylaa]

The men were gathered in a small, windowless room illuminated by a single lightbulb. Although all of them could have, of course, easily bashed down the wall, escaped, and charmed whatever random females happened to be passing by, they saw no need to do that as of yet, since nobody knew why the others were here. Currently V was attempting to explain to a large group of the men, most carrying swords, how exactly a lightbulb worked.

There was a cough from one corner of the room, and another lightbulb flicked to life above a slightly graying man wearing fine clothes and a smirk. Instinctively, all the assembled men disliked the newcomer and reached for their various weapons- again, mainly swords.
"I suppose you all are wondering why you have been gathered here," the man said.
"Actually, we had it all figured out," Wesley said. The new man glared at him.

((And I must go- stay tuned. But yes, this RP is up and running, and full details of the plot shall come once I get back. You may pick your characters or discuss on the OOC thread. Also, you may post here with your character's reaction to the new clearly evil dude.
Yes, this will be a slightly humorous roleplay.))

[Shadaras]

"Correction. You have it all figured out," a black haired man said, leaning agaist the wall. Silver hair spilled over a black headband, one he was using as a blindfold, its ends trailing over his shoulders and blending into his black coat. Under the coat, the dark red color of blood could be seen, accented by a black belt fastened with gold.

"And since you have it all figured out, would you care to tell us what it going on?" He looked from one to the other, hair swaying to fall in front of his pale face. "Either of you?" One black-gloved hand rested on the hilt of his sword in an almost, but not quite, threatening manner.

[Zylaa]

Wesley, who didn't really know, looked back at the man expectantly.

"I am Lord Beckler of the New Republic," he began. "My associates and I have led the people against the old and corrupt regime to institute a new era of prosperity for our nation. However, due to an unfortunate series of circumstances, we have run short on funding, and the first practice abolished was that of governmental protection." Here Beckler paused, but none of the men interrupted. "Since many conspirators of the old monarchy are still at large, myself and the others are at risk of being killed in this crucial step of the forming of our new government."

"Like we care," someone in the back of the crowd murmured.

"You will find that you do care," said Beckler, his voice cold. "You all are to guard us as the new government is born."

"Why should we?"

"You will find life to be very... unpleasant should you choose to decline. Your wives or significant others would be very upset, I dare say."

There was the usual sort of outcry at this statement. "Where are they?"

"Right now they are on a luxury cruise liner in the Caribbean," Beckler said, "But that could change."

"What about our children?" asked Zorro.

Suddenly a voice rang out from the heavens. Sequels? What are sequels? Henceforth it is decreed that there are no sequels.

[Shadaras]

"So what if we don't have any living relatives or people we care about?" The blindfolded man asked. "Or any dead-but-living ones," he added as an afterthought. "And what's this about sequels? I'm new here, remember? I've never even had a-" he searched for a word, but gave up with a shrug after a while. "I've never had anything dedicated to following me around and watching what I do."

[Zylaa]

The men were, for the most part, looking around for the mysterious voice and wondering what on earth was meant by "sequels," and in the distraction Beckler left. They heard his voice, though- "You have a day to decide amongst yourselves. You shall be provided with whatever food and water you wish."

[Shadaras]

((Someone else join, please.))

"Well," Kyther said. "I've decided. You won't get any help from me. Unless you can prove, beyond all doubt, how corrupt the current goverment is and how yours would be better."

((And if you have a better name, please suggest it.))

[Puffin]

A figure began to materialize from the shadows in the far corners of the room. He was a small man, who walked with a stoop and a sour grimace. His coat was old and tatty, and his trousers overlong, both made from some odious brown material. A long, leaning hat rested upon his head.

"This is all the evidence you need," he said, dishing out a file to every man in the room. His voice was long and croaking, like that of an old lady who lived alone in the woods, performing spells in her spare time. "My good friend Beckler predicted someone would ask a little question like that, so he hired me to do a little digging, you see." He brought his hands close together and made a strange hicupping laugh.

"Just look inside," he added. "And you will find pictures, pictures that demonstrate the corrupt nature of the old establishment."