IndianGiver

Old One Rising (A Lovecraftian adventure-horror RP - Full)

I'd like to ask anyone who has lost interest or is questioning their involvement in the roleplay to let me know. Low interest this early on is a surefire way to kill a roleplay and I'd rather that not happen. Life has also had me preoccupied, but I'd like to know who is up to this.

Old One Rising (A Lovecraftian adventure-horror RP - Full)

Well, it took five days but I did post as promised. I suppose let me know if there's any blatant anachronism or mistake I've made? Or just if something needs to be changed.

@RBYDark

You're quite alright, I'll try and get a reply up to someone tonight, likely as an NPC since I'm still waiting to see where Everett can enter.

Old One Rising (A Lovecraftian adventure-horror RP - Full)

@IndianGiver Very well then, moving the CS into the Char tab. Is there anything I should know for the first post?

@redbaron1234

Just that you format it with some way of indicating their current physical and psychological status - check the first few IC posts.

@ONL I'll gather from your post that since it's morning, the evening has advanced from where Everett was. That's perfectly fine; I refuse to manage IC time but that actually keeps me from having to post about him staggering into town.

Old One Rising (A Lovecraftian adventure-horror RP - Full)

@redbaron1234 I did, but seemed to have missed the notification until now. I'll accept, but I can't afford us to get any bigger after that - managing 10 seems like a task indeed!

Old One Rising (A Lovecraftian adventure-horror RP - Full)

- Everett W. Luden -

Scratched up, waterlogged and dizzy - Confused, in a mild degree of shock

Appearance - minus bandage

Having faded in and out of consciousness for what seemed like only a few minutes past, Everett clung tightly to an eviscerated piece of wooden siding. It must have been the mere response of his hands, a feat of self-preservation by his flesh, latching on to the splintered hull piece that kept him above water, for he possessed neither the strength nor total awareness needed to grasp it on his own. He could feel nothing, but could tell by the audible lapping of water by his ears that he was nigh submerged in water. He'd been subject to this before - that sensation of being almost alive. Fearing perhaps that he'd received some blow to his head, the same instinctual hand with its instinctual reaction tapped the wood piece lazily trying to navigate to his cranium. When Everett finally reached it and ran his hand through the water, oil and blood soaked fibers of his short hair, affirmation though achieved, it was too late for him to realize that removing his hand from its prior position had loosened him off the slimy flank of broken ship, and he slipped under the water.

For a few moments his limp corpse sank into the green-brown waters of the Miskatonic, the film of oil on his clothes and skin beginning to detach and lift from him. His eyelids lifted, at first struggling like a strongman lifting some ungodly weight, until they rose to meet his brow. In a failed attempt to eject the water from his lungs while already several feet below the surface, he grabbed at his chest in pain, calling upon the pool of energy that is doled out by adrenaline and using it to propel himself to the surface. His head threw itself backwards as Everett coughed, gasped and cried, his arms breaching the water and flailing to keep afloat.

Spitting oil-laden Miskatonic from his mouth, he was greeted by a sight that was scathing and appalling to behold. Bright, nubile flames burnt as in small pyres across the width of the river, with pieces of debris, chunks of ship and a visible oil slick fueling them with small impunity. Smoke from these pyres, as well as from a larger fire some distance downriver from he, smothered the air above him. Some of the tall grass which lined the sides of the river had be singed by small infernos, though the area was far too moist to allow the licking flames to expand out from the water. Everett waded in the water a moment, taking in the disastrous sight with now-wide opened and red eyes. The Almira, the old, time-trusted inland steamship whose freight of lumber was now either burning or laying still upon the bed of the Miskatonic, had not merely ran aground and sunk – she had erupted.

Everett paddled, panicked towards the river bank, his head dipping beneath the water several times. Occasionally his head would turn for a brief moment to see, lingering in the horizon above the small fires that clawed desperately for bits of wood and fuel in the water, the smoke-shined sun that glared at him like some apocalyptic red eye. Still, he struggled to eject water from his lungs as he floundered through the thick waters to reach a landing of mud, rock and trodden grass. Tall, almost ancient red oaks stood apart from the river beginning a tree line some yards away, leaning slightly in the winter breeze and catching bits of airborne ash. Tossing himself to dirt of the river bank, he rolled over onto his back, coughing up the last few gulps of water that sat in his chest. When air could pass somewhat unimpeded through his lungs and nose, he took several deep breaths, allowing some trace energy to return to him. Everett began trying to move each part of his body independently, coming across nothing but some rattled joints and water-washed gashes evenly distributed across him. The water had already ran out of his pockets, making apparent that he still had his knife and marlinspike in the shape of a lump in the side of his coat. Propping himself up with shaking arms, he looked one last time out at the smoldering river before trying to stand up. He couldn’t recall anything about the wreck, which Everett found neither surprising nor particularly unlucky for him. As the small blazes were slowly extinguished by the ebbing river waters, and the evil, almost sanguine sun continued to set, he rose, staggering, to his feet.

Turning away from the carnage, Everett shambled through the grass towards a makeshift dirt path visible some ways off. Whether it was the spirits of his shipmates, the ill-looking sun or some other malevolent presence behind him, he could distinguish clearly through his shock the sense that he was being watched.

Old One Rising (A Lovecraftian adventure-horror RP - Full)

Everything looks good, folks. I'd ask only that you be sure your character has been approved by me and then posted to the character page before you go at it.

Old One Rising (A Lovecraftian adventure-horror RP - Full)

Everett Luden

Basics

Name: Everett Walsh Luden
Nickname/title: The Sailor
Gender: Male
Age: 30
Build/physicality: Stands at 6’1”, a lean, almost contradictory build that comes from years of deckhand work and being underfed.
Appearance:

Mugshot from 1924 arrest - no longer has head bandage

Background
Psychological status: While somewhat dejected by his recent history, Everett is more shocked by what has just occurred than anything else
Quirks, ticks, conditions, sensitivities to the paranormal: Chews lip when anxious and often looks about his surroundings, symptoms rendered by undiagnosed paranoia. While not necessarily sensitive to the paranormal, he has seen his fair share of anomalies at sea, and harbors a guilty interest in the occult. Everett is a former morphine addict.
Magical potential: Mild potential
Personality: Reserved and suspicious, but plain in speech, Everett gives the impression that he's trying not to crack under a self-imposed discipline. At times, his paranoia may become apparent and cause him to withdraw himself in otherwise casual settings. When not subject to this, he is quaint and polite.
Hometown: Baton Rouge, Louisiana
Education: Attended a segregated primary school in Baton Rouge, but did not reach high school. Received a mixture of general education and training in marine transportation at the Massachusetts Maritime Academy.
Occupation: Merchant mariner (Second mate rating)
Achievements: Getting out of Louisiana, gaining an applied education, reaching second mate status
Sexuality: Bicurious
Religion/philosophy: Formerly Protestant Christian, is now agnostic. Holds the philosophy that there is a mixture of fate and divination that shapes history and the world.
Marital status: Single
Family status: Had a girlfriend and a daughter by her in Southern Massachusets, whom disowned him after his arrest. Immediate family has since passed.
Biographical writeup: Everett Luden was born in Baton Rouge, Louisiana in the Summer of 1895. His father was a longshoreman and deckhand for the barges and steam vessels that were headed up and down the Mississippi River, often doing dangerous, unpleasant tasks that were set aside for non-whites. His mother was a seamstress, whom worked for practically nothing in the small riverside part of town Everett was born in. Seeking to follow after his father, he acquired an affinity for the water and sea vessels at a young age. His older brother was with him not but a few years before he was beaten to death during the New Orleans race riot of 1900. Given the circumstances, Everett would normally have learned to deal with the role prejudice would play in his life, but fought these problems at every avenue. While trying to work alongside his father, his defiant attitude often ended him up severely reprimanded and left shore side, hauling rope.

When Everett's mother died in 1914, he and his father left Baton Rouge as part of the "Great Migration", following an opening in maritime jobs in Massachusetts. Working to become an ordinary seaman and apprentice aboard a very generous captain's breakbulk lumber ship, he again found himself stuck on land with the United State's involvement in World War 1, wherein his father was conscripted aboard a merchant vessel resupplying American forces abroad. Tragically, the vessel carrying his father and mentor captain was sunk by a U-boat in the Atlantic. Resolute to make up for his stagnation prior to his father's death, Everett managed to become an unofficial student of the Massachusetts Nautical Training School, earning his third mate's credentials in 1922.

Diligent and irrevocably determined to overcome the obstacle that race represented in his career, Everett worked on a variety of near-coastal and sea vessels, often doing work that was not befitting of his now second mate ranking until he earned the confidence of a seasoned, white crew. Long hours, physical and emotional strain and access to surpluses of sea-bound medical supplies resulted in Everett developing a gradual addiction to syringe morphine to cope with his work. As addictions do, Everett's became worse, sapping the gratification he received from his work and distancing him from his new family in Massachusetts. In early 1924, he was arrested for attempting to smuggle morphine aboard a vessel, though he was released after some few months after falling out of addiction and having his credentials revoked.

Everett left Southern Massachusetts, alone and aimless in the wake of his personal failure. With no other applicable skills, he traveled to Northern Massachusetts, to Gloucester, where a need for longshoreman there gave him his only real direction. As his talent at deckwork was detected by a coastal breakbulk steamship captain much like the one he'd known so many years before, Everett found himself aboard the Almira, headed up the Miskatonic River - towards Arkham...

Miscellaneous information

Combative belongings: Diving knife and marlin spike (used for tying knots)
Noncombative belongings: Length of rope
Other information (optional):
Theme song (optional):

Old One Rising (A Lovecraftian adventure-horror RP - Full)

@Twhirtley We are currently numbering 7 characters if I count correctly, and potentially 10 if others that expressed interest do not show. I don't want to it to get too big, but you could fill out a sheet and send it to me and it will help me decide. Keep in mind, characters may die, users may lose interest, the space may be there.

@Levythelevy That's what I was thinking; having gaps in information/observations between the characters is exactly what I was looking for.

The intro post is up and I'm almost out of time. Hopefully I can get the NPCs done by this evening and utilize one or two of them. Wishful thinking.

Update: Some users have been messaged the "profile" of the Great Old One I've created. For everyone else, parcel details will be added to the characters page and continually added as the story progresses.

Old One Rising (A Lovecraftian adventure-horror RP - Full)

I will get the intro post up this morning so anyone who is ready can start. Still chipping away at the NPC's and my own CS. I have a few users who may benefit from having details on the Great Old One to develop their characters, but I wanted to take a consensus and see if anyone would prefer to have it largely unveiled later or now.

A map of Arkham and the general region has been added to the title post.

Old One Rising (A Lovecraftian adventure-horror RP - Full)

Just a thought, maybe you could open the RP up? 4 players may be hard to sustain the RP with, and I doubt everyone who expressed interest will follow through.

@Odysseus

I probably will. Not to sound expectant, but I was worried I would get more people applying than it could handle. So far I number 7 potential characters, my own included.