The League of Aristocrat Rescue

[NapoleonXIV]

"Ah, so we've caught you at last," Jean-Paul Marat adjusted the robe he wore over the infected and painful sores that had defined his life for several years now. "Your head will fall tomorrow, Scarlet Pimpernel, and these miserable nobles will know at last that noone can save them". He turned away from the prison bars and gestured to the two guards with him, they fell in behind and all had soon disappeared, though the maniacal laughter of the Jacobin seemed to echo through the Bastille for long moments after he had gone.

The tall and handsome Englishman he left behind seemed not to have heard. He seemed to be intent on picking at the inside of his long jacket and in a second he stood up and walked over to stand below the cell's lone window. As he lifted his arm to point outside he pulled a cord underneath his coat and a tiny rocket shot out of his sleeve. Seconds later, it burst in shower of bright firework sparks, lighting up the sky high over Paris in a brilliant ball of white and green. The man in the cell smiled, help would soon be on the way.

(So who is coming? Anyone have any ideas for what kind of Superheroes you'd get in Paris of the 1790's?)

[David S Poepoe]

Bond, Sir James Bond

[Count Dearborn]

Here is one:

Dr. Christopher Syn, alias Captain Clegg, alias the Scarecrow of Romney Marsh. He's a vicar, from a small town in Kent, that fights corruption and abuse of power by wearing a costume that looks like a scarecrow. He's there because of a debt owed to Sir Percy

Richard Sharpe & Horoatio Hornblower

A visit by Dennis Wheatley's character, the spy Roger Brook.

[Cockroach]

Richard Sharpe & Horoatio Hornblower
Evidently its been a while since you last read the Hornblower series, by the end its Lord Hornblower. :D

[Count Dearborn]

Yeah, but at this time, he hasn't made Lord yet.

[Satyrane]

Sharpe moved swiftly and surely through the darkness of the Paris night. The streets would be less than safe for an ordinary man, but for the tall Englishman with his steely eyes and scarred-yet-still-devastatingly-attractive-to-women face, the Terror held no terror.

Pausing only to show decent, English working-class sensitivity to a skinny prositute, Sharpe crept round to the back of the Bastille, taking advantage of an unprovable but historically incredibly unlikely flaw in the great building's defences to sneak inside. God, he wished Pat Harper was with him on this one - he'd have given Boney's gold teeth to have the huge Irishman's reassuring bulk watching his back. But he hadn't even met Pat Harper yet, he reflected ruefully. And who the hell was Boney anyway?

Suddenly, out of the darkness, loomed the figure of a guardsman! Almost without thinking, Sharpe swung his heavy sword upwards and gutted the man, clamping his large, bony hand over the dying crapaud'smouth to muffle his screams. He paused to reflect for a moment, with bluff, Northern frankness, on the horrors of war and the little French wife that this man had undoubtedly left behind. Perhaps he would shag her later, after she fell desperately in love with him. More likely he would just turn away her advances with a dark and brooding countenance.

Stepping over the Frenchman's trailing intestines, Sharpe peered in through the door of the Pimpernel's cell. He couldn't stand the effeminate Southern upper-class pansy - if the aristos couldn't defend themselves, let them go to the chop and good riddance! But he couldn't help but grudgingly admire him for his skill at arms and derring-do.

Unlocking the door took only a moment and, disguised as washerwomen, the pair quickly made their escape in a shower of disembowelled Frenchmen.

etc.etc.etc.

[Satyrane]

Bumpy-bump-bump.

Finally saw Sharpe's Challenge last night - excellent! :D

[Gerald]

Excellent:) This reminds me of the comic "The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen" by Alan Moore and Kevin O'Neill. It takes place in 1898, but the authors have imagined another such league in the 18th Century, the "Society of Extraordinary Gentlemen":
http://www.comp.dit.ie/dgordon/League/loeg0010.html
Oh, and
Sharpe crept round to the back of the Bastille.
if the year is 1793, the Bastille has already been demolished;)
Long for a sequel and more disembowelled Frenchmen:D