Sigurd

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

Oh, wow, this RP has been going on for more than a month now. Awesome, everyone. :)

The Lord of the Rings

@Luminosity@Tombprince
Alrighty. Expect a post late tomorrow in the evening. The wizard's got to explain things and all that jazz before they depart.

The Lord of the Rings

@Gate Keeper@POOHEAD189
We'll see what happens. I shall post tomorrow. I hoped I would today, but maybe someone else wants to jump in before I do.

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

@ONLWell, I did something.

Don't read the hider until you have read the IC post!

My Hider

But mind you, he's cold and paranoid and hungry, so what he had seen might not really have been there. He's got no magical potential either. I wanted him to feel like there's a great conspiracy going on.

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

Emil Günther

Physical state: Cold
Mental state: Frightened and paranoid

Scared, Emil thought it best not to head to his room, or anywhere near it. Police! It still rang through his ears. To one watching him, he must have looked like a paranoid drunk looking over his shoulder every five seconds and unable to hold his head still as he made his way through piles of thick snow. Police! When he reached the trail leading through the yard of the university grounds and eventually the street, his legs were soaking went, and he was freezing. Hypotermia. A million needles piercing me. Like when we hiked in Telemark that year. She fell into it. Lucky not to have her lungs inflamed. Suddenly the police badges invaded his thoughts and sirens and bars, too. He hurried.

A block away warmth and delicious smell suddenly hugged him. Turning to his right, he saw he was in front of a pub. Sean. He entered and Sean was inside indeed, by some coincidence. Emil recognized him, or his back, sitting at the bar, while the rest of the place was almost completely vacant, with maybe a quarter of the chairs taken by either scoundrels or those who'd avoid going home by all means until late at night.

”Am I lucky to see you,” Emil said, sitting on the stool next to Sean's and asking for a beer, an order to which the bartender reacted with a squint. And Irishman and a German.
”Where the fuck have you been...?” Sean asked, his glass pausing just in front of his lips, he looking at Emil's pants and shoes, gesturing at them with his hands. ”Have you pissed yourself?”
Beer. Looks like it when you're sick. ”Funny,” Emil said. ”But not. Long story. I just need to warm me. Myself, I mean.” Mich.
”You're a weird fucking sort, man, you know,” Sean said and took a sip.
”Tell me that when I all this shit happens in a second in one of our universities. It's unnatural.”
”I'm feeling ya. I can't get that bloke's head out of my mind.”
Pretend. ”Did the police say anything?”
”Fuck if I know. I'm staying away, I've had enough.”

The bartender put the foaming glass of beer right in front of Emil, without a word, and subtly slammed his hand on the bar, displaying intolerance. Cracked skin. Too many dishes. And a... He gasped. His heart beating like mad.
”You alright?”
”Bartender” Emil says, almost stuttering. ”Can I have a glass of water, please?”
”Hell, man...”
The man fills the glass and puts it next to the beer glass. F. D. The initials, tattooed with poor skill on his hand, right where the root of the thumb begins. No mistake. Must be an army tattoo. His wife. Girlfriend. Child. In trenches, with ink. He rose quickly, trying to act normal.
”I need to use the bathroom, excuse me.”
He went away as fast as his freezing legs let him, right into the dirties bathroom in all Arkham. Fshhhhhhhhhhh. Cold tap water filled his hands and he washed his face. Me. He looked at the cracked, greasy mirror that distorted his face. Frightened. It's only a coincidence. Calm down. Yes. Pay and go.
Somewhat calm, he went back into the bar, put he knew not how much money next to his unfinished drink, told Sean to drink it for him, and went out before they knew it.

Having looked left and right, he ran across the street, and went left towards the dorm, not noticing the cold anymore. Silly. Soldiers do it all the time. The street was quiet, he made the only sound with his feet. Shortcut. He turned into an alley on his right, to cut the way short. His stomach growled with hunger. What day is it? I wonder what we have for lunch at the cafeteria. Cooked wine, like we do for Christmas. With chocolate cake and sweetened bread. Warms you up really nice. Stands with Danish pastry. Good croissants. A loud ring of metal followed by an aggressive meow of an escaping nightblack cat interrupted him. The animal had turned over the trash bin and scared itself. They never let you pet them or touch them. Look at you and disappear. Dogs are not like that. Friendlier. He rolled the bin with his foot towards the wall, pulled it up, went for the lid and placed it on top of the can. F. D. On top of the lid, written right under the handle. He looked at it thrice to make sure. ”No...” he mutters and starts backing up. Am I insane? The icy ground proved to be a foe, for his sole slipped and he fell on his back. Not pain, but Steiner was the last of his thoughts before he started running, and running.

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

@BurningColdYou can make a final post in which your character goes crazy and does something completely inane or absurd and die in Lovecraftian style. That'd give us all something to think about and allow you to disappear from the RP. :-D
Of course, the best case would be you staying with us and playing.

P.S.
I will write something tomorrow. I had a busy day today.

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

@ONLCrap, I accidentally typed Steiner instead of Atkins. I know we're in his office. My bad. I edited it now. And he means the content is rather serious and urgency of action is needed, I suppose?

Empire of Bones - Fantasy adventure RP

@NowIGiveUpIn that case, I am going to skip the first dungeon. Exams and all that... But you guys have fun. :)

The Lord of the Rings

”Gandalf...Firecracker?” said the wizard, turning towards the hobbit, bearing a serious inqusitive look of a general scolding a disobedient footman. ”They call him Gandalf the Firecracker now?!” He then laughed heartily until he choked, then coughed to clear his throat. ”Oh, Mithrandir, what else should we expect of you... He does make 'em good, doesn't he?” he asked the hobbit, locking his eyes with hers, remembering how Gandalf spoke well of the little folk. He would have his opinion on his mind. Of course, he had seen Ellaryn before, 'spied' on her, and he knew her to be one of a kind -- the kind that every company needs. He sat his old bones down on a chair, slowly, laying his staff onto his lap. The pipe was fuming again.

”See, they have sharp ears,” he says in a voice suddenly clear, or too clear one might say, for a mortal. Poitning the head of the staff at Calariel, he says: ”I can see Rivendell on your cheek, Calariel. I have many names, but your folk call me Ofnir, which is the name you might prefer over all the others. And as for you, master dwarf,” he adds, ”we will have to allow some creativity, for no dwarf has yet given me a nickname in their tongue. I am looking forward to hearing one you might come up with, though!”

”And you, Aelin,” he says through a circle of smoke, ”have a keen eye as well as ear. Yes, I am one of the blue.” He pulls his cloak aside revealing a bit more of his tattered blue robes underneath. ”And don't ask... I don't know where the other one may be.” Ofnir looks at the floor. For a moment, the dust underneath their feet seems to him at once the burning sand and green vast steppe of the east, where he once travelled, but the vision passes, and he returns to his addiction -- the puffing of weed -- with an obvious sadness in his eye.

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

Emil Günther

Physical state: a mild adrenaline rush
Mental state: frightened and alert

March-stalkers mighty the moorland haunting, wandering spirits... Emil immediately envisioned an unspecified number of dark silhouettes of unspecific faces and build approaching them from the other side of the wall. ”That letter is really heavy; and with all due respect, sir, I don't think either of us is petit enough to fit into one of those cabinets,” he said, nodding to the junk-filled shelves. It might have been his practical German upbringing that drove him to his next action, although the fear in face of the unknown creeping towards the office had probably been the force that did it. He grabbed the thick edge of Atkins's desk, kicked the broken drawer aside to clear the way, and pushed the massive thing right against the door, which, fortunately, was not too far away. His daily exercise routine paid off. Door handle. Blocked. Cut-off arm. Sensitive to noise. Fly.

”Through the window, professor?” He tried opening the thing through which he had seen the bird fly all while praying the situation would save him from getting expelled for vandalizing the property of the university, but it wouldn't move an inch. Corroded. He saw a balcony to the left that could be reached with a risky manoeuvre, but descending down somehow using the ledges seemed a much better option because the office was not too high and piles of snow down bellow would offer at least some cushion. He pushed the window once more, but still nothing happened. He put his right hand into the pocket. GOTT MIT UNS said the inscription on Emil's black pocketknife, a gift he had received during the summer and which he now fingered in his pocket, unwilling to take it, a weapon, out in front of a teacher, as if some invisible hand clutched his own.

Something slammed on the door. Fuck it... he took the blade out and jammed it between the lower sash and the frame, trying to work the window open as the door handle behind him rattled and beat violently against the desk surface that blocked it.