Sigurd

The Lord of the Rings

#MakeMoriaGreatAgain

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

I made a post. Hopefully it's alright. I am also limited to a phone, like ONL.

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

Emil Günther

Physical state: Sick
Mental state: Excited

”A nurse will help, most certainly,” Emil said. ”I saw one pass us by. I think she might be near still.” He cut the talk quickly, feeling a hint of tremor tingle in the depth of his speech that he had to prevent from emerging. His worry, he knew not why, seemed to him impersonal, as if it were felt for him by a man writing his life like a story. He could have sworn that he himself as he knew himself was an entity separate from some real life that existed above this plot he was following and had mistaken for reality. His sickness or not, he saw himself like a character from a novel that he'd grown to like and now observed so carefully that he related to him to the point where he could feel him profoundly. And he couldn't wait to see what the next page of smeared tint would bring. A mystery, yes. A tale of horror and anomaly, of things incomprehensible. Most Gothic in setting, Romantic in possibility. These dark halls and secrete notes, and the inevitably bloody ending.

With a prayer to some indefinite god that the note would not fall off his shoe sole he turned and slowly, almost clumsily, left. After a few steps he knelt and, pretending to be fixing his laces, grabbed the paper with the haste of an addict. The note in his palm, he disappeared around the corner, picking up his pace, not looking at the faces of the workers who regarded him with curious eyes. A note, with words on it. A she, the doctor said. They are allowed ink and paper inside? Someone must have smuggled it in. He then saw her, the nurse, again, and as he realised she was prettier than he thought in that close and brief encounter his situation felt closer to his heart again. She walked into an open office whose number he remembered. 64.

The bathroom was across from the office. Once inside, he was surprised by a faint smile on his lips that he saw in the mirror. Conning himself for a moment, he caught a thought intruding, and knew he somehow expected the smirk. The office: Six and Four. F and D. Oh, author, you conjurer of the subtle! With refueled vigor he entered one of the cubicles that the bathroom contained: the one farthest from the door. The paper was damp with the sweat from his palms and the writing hieroglyphic at best, but decipherable. I'm here, Emil. Help me. he read, squinting over the note. He sat on the lowered toilet seat, feeling the plastic depress under his weight. The lights in the silent bathroom flickered and he gazed up at the ceiling, expressionless and still like the walls of the the asylum.

***

Sixty-Four he read, face washed and refreshed, hair fixed, mouth cleansed with water. Through the stained glass in the door he saw but the most shapeless movement within that could have been that of anything, a raw motion of the visible. He knocked three times waiting for a response, a drop of cold water going down his neck.

The Lord of the Rings

@TombprinceI am for the option in which you post first. I am intrigued.

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

I'll catch up on it all. I had no time for internet during the past couple of days.

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

Making a post tomorrow. Sorry for the delay.

The Lord of the Rings

Ofnir

Doors began to open and windows too. In black shapes of houses and in front of them now gleamed candles and lanterns as the villagers heeded to the bell sound. The loudest night the village has ever seen, Ofnir couldn't help but think, putting the hot rings into his robe pocket. Also, he felt, a tug of depression and surrender was jerking him from the inside, feebly, outside his own soul. It was the accursed sorcerer's little power that was left, he at once realised, fleeing from the dead and passing over and around him on its return to the north as its vessels went in flames. Ofnir was not a nut easy to crack, and such attempts were futile; and he knew that his enemy understood this. It was not an attempt of his of damaging Ofnir as much as it was an invitation to a trial of might. Years before, Ofnir might had been unquestionably confident in his supremacy over the man who was now poking at his spirit; now, on the other hand, his earthly body had begun to wither, at large due to his own carelessness. But there was no time to waste. He went towards the stables where he found his mount safe; the rest of his company were running to and fro, making sure theirs were safe too.

”Alright!” he said. ”Once you've, and hastily that is, made sure all's well and finished with your preparations, come to that watchtower from which the bell swings; Calariel will be waiting there.”

He turned and leaving added: ”I'll go and settle the matters with the villagers.”

The Lord of the Rings

I will reply tomorrow if no one wants to make a post.

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

@RBYDark@ONLTo be honest I was interested in seeing what you'd do; a slight paranoia on my part and all that, very Lovecraftian. I didn't want or not want to have Emil alone. You could have done whatever in that situation. It's that I prefer leaving the options open instead of controlling the game myself, especially since I am not the GM.

And of course, I want Emil to go from a boring student to a monomaniacal lunatic by the end.

The Lord of the Rings

Ofnir

"How can I help?" , Calariel said.
"Head out, somewhere high, and see with your elf eyes if the path is clear; there shouldn't be more of these creatures lurking,” Ofnir told her. ”Their master will be weary, for he is far away, and his spell is tiring. There is more, much more to come up north, I am afraid... Much darker, too.”

With a gentle pat on Calariel's shoulder, Ofnir went back into his room and took his satchel, sword, and a small pouch of black leather, the only belongings he had, and was out past the burning corpses shortly. With a quick glance he noted that his sword was not glowing. No enemies nearby, at least. We should have enough time to head woodward. On his way down he saw the felon dead as well and burning already. Well done, Ellaryn! he thought. The smoke was gathering near the ceiling and dripping down ever slowly as the wood caught fire. ”The stables!” he said, thinking of all the hay that might burn and cause a havoc in the entire village. He rushed out through the door and shouted as if through a magical word filter for all to hear clearly: ”Wake the villagers! We have to stop the fire from spreading!” But he soon saw that a couple of them had already gone out with bucket in their hands, a pair of unfortunate souls who fortunately could not sleep well that night and were quick to react to the redness in the night. They immediately knew what to do.

And so, as he stood in the middle of the street, a subtle milky light came from his staff, and as if the moonlight had lent them a chunk of her pale lustre, an silvery phosphorescence was upon the night, warding off the retreating sense of dread.
Ofnir untied the black pouch, revealing inside a set of ivory rings, smooth and fashioned in the simplest of designs, all warm on his palm.