T Risket

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

@RBYDarkThen we'll cross our fingers for you and hope for the best. In the meantime we have an Elder God to stop :D

Ps. There's a deer right outside my window. It's beautiful.

@ONL

Theres a roasting rack of ribs on the grill outside my window.

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

Hey guys just wanted to pop in and say not to wait for me rp wise-seems like I keep getting pulled away the past few days and haven't been able to devote my regular time to rping. Might edit down my post just to get something up (probably cut out the whole dream shpiel)

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

@ONL@SigurdI fucking love history roleplays...until I remember halfway through my first post I don't know much about history at all.

Anywho, I just got done filing my damn unemployment so I am going to get cracking on finishing that bastard post.

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

*sighs* Ok...my post still isn't ready to go up, mainly because I've gone overboard with this giant detailed post. Gonna throw up the big ol chunk I have done so other people can get writing if they want (Cause Im close enough to finishing that everyone should get the gist of my post, pretty much wana strecht out my dream sequence though)

Post that is taking me way to long to write

Before long August and Dupree were sequestered away within the confines of Duprees private study, the good professor having been kind enough to not only treat August like a sane individual but also went about reinforcing his beliefs that he wasn't a madman-Faye Desdemona was or at some time had been a very real person.

August had to admit the majority of clippings upon Dupree's infamous wall had been quite the sight, his eyes doing a dance that tried to connect all of the macabre murders, suicides, and unexplained phenomena that literally sat pinned against the wall before him. Withdrawing a wallet sized camera from within one of the many pockets of his beige trench coat August flipped a switch on the small rectangular object which then sprung open with a pop into a tapered triangle shape. Most wouldn't outright recognize the impressive piece of technology he held as many were still used to the much more common big and bulky types of cameras-not the sort of science fiction device August held in on of his massive paws. Letting Dupree get a good look at the camera and hearing no objections August began taking picture after picture and before long had photographed the entirety of the whole wall. For a moment the detective in him salivated at the idea of trying to decipher each and every secret confined within what was quite possibly the most devilish puzzle he had ever seen. But then he remembered he was already trying to solve his own personal puzzle-a puzzle that could very well have a piece hidden within these various paper clippings.

Hopefully he now had a comrade to help him in his search..

As the two stood there trying to decipher some sort of meaning or pattern within the impressively put together wall of articles consisting of both crimes of passion along with outright insanity August found himself occasionally glancing towards Dupree in a momentarily peculiar way, almost as if to simply relay the fact that he was glad the other man was there-Dupree was afterall walking proof August wasn't entirely crazy. Proof that this whole world wasn't entirely crazy.

Or did all this just prove the opposite? Perhaps the pair rightfully belonged in the old Sanitarium, the very place that even August had heard foul whispers of despite his short time in the City.

Pushing these thoughts from his mind in a way that he had become rather adept at doing August finished the cup of tea Dupree had brewed for the pair-not too fast as to appear rude but quick enough that he was clearly intent on leaving. It was a shame too he thought-it was a damn good cup of tea afterall and he truly didn't mind the company. But August had a set goal in his head at the moment and no amount of tea and coffee could dissuade him once he was set upon a path.

No, nothing short of a bullet would stop August from finding his answers.

With a tip of his fedora and a few heartfelt words of gratitude August was gone and before Dupree knew it all that was left in his place was the faint smell of cheap cigarettes along with a business card containing little more than August's name and number-although in this case he also wrote the rooms phone number for the Nightshade Inn.
--
The rest of Augusts day had been spent tracking down a man with a decent darkroom: the man who finally was able to help him out in this regard hadn't even been a man at all though. Quite the contrary infact as Cindy Usher was in many ways many a mans ideal looking lady-well, most men.

She was a kind girl in what August assumed was probably her late twenties and considering the way she was as equally quick to flirt as she was to talk back he thought it safe to assume she was single. In his mind she really seemed like one of those “flapper” girls he'd heard of, the type who seemed to effortlessly buck most of those old world rules that shackled so many men and women for years. And maybe that's why August immediately liked her, although he wasn't really sure to be honest. Iether way he seemed to like her enough to sit there and cut the shit with her for an hour or two before heading back out into the cold streets. Before leaving Cindy had promised to have all of his photographs ready for pick up in the morning-even more importantly she promised to keep a tight lip about the contents of said photographs in a way that August honestly believed. It didn't really surprise him how quick she swore herself to secrecy, afterall he genuinely thought she seemed the type that would be far more curious than fearful about abunch of pictures from old news stories on ghastly unsolved crimes and phenomenoa.
--
LATER THAT NIGHT

August giant frame sat hunched in the crappy bed that took up the majority of the small room he'd been calling home as of late. In one hand he loosely clutched what looked like a glass milk jug full of a clear and extremely strong smelling liquid-white lightning. Both highly illegal and potentially toxic but August didn't much mind either risk-sure, alcohol was illegal, but it was still just as easy to get as a pack of smokes. The still easy access to liquoir was a good thing for August too because these days he didn't really “go to sleep” so much but instead more often than not “Passed the fuck out.”

Despite his best efforts to subconciousley fight the dreams and stay awake the extremely strong alcohol eventually won out as it always did-sending August spinning into the deep dark hole that was the nightmares.

Only, this time the dream was a bit different. A little scarier too, in some ways.

Part 1:
August awoke to the smell of smoke and death, screams filling the air as his ruined combat boots sloshed their way through the trenches. He knew he wasn't really awake and yet...it all seemed so real-the cries of agony the somehow pierced through the thunderous bombings, the way blood, mud, and bodies alike were crawled and walked over in the ever important pushes to advance, he could even feel the almost ever present combination of smoke and dust filling his lungs and stinging his eyes. Nightmare or not he pushed on, just like he had always done overseas. Pushing on was the only way out.

He and his unit had been sent to capture an important objective...or were they in retreat? And just where was his unit? He couldn't remember any of the specifics-the sights and sounds were all seared to memory but the events leading up to this moment in time had been completely lost to him like so many other things on this battlefield. Or perhaps he was just crazy? Maybe he'd finally lost it-which wasn't uncommon really. Hell, he'd seen his fair share of men completely lose it. In fact-

His train of thought was cut off as a vice like grip clasped around his ankle from somewhere below the kneehigh watery concoction of death and muck that seemed to fill every trench. Assuming he was snagged on a rifle or some poor bastards body he gave his leg a hard tug-a tug that was returned tenfold, sending August shooting into what should have been one of the worst watery graves imaginable. He didn't even have time to scream as he was dragged under.

And then he was sinking weightlessly downwards...deeper and darker he went while quickly realizing he had sunk much further than any trench could possibly have been dug. Even odder was the fact that he hadn't drowned despite the fact that he hadn't had time to take a real breathe. Finding this all very peculiar his curiosity finally wound up getting the better of him and August opened both eyes. What he saw made him scream into the nothingness around him for it was his own brothers blue and bloated corpse that firs met his gaze-his large bulging almost fishlike eyes staring straight back at August-well, up at him to be more precise, for it was his younger brothers rotting hand that so tightly gripped at August while very cement shoes that had takein his younger brothers life seemed to be the main reason for August's rapid decent into this sea of madness.

Just to show where im going/ how I wana end it I will be ending it with August bumping into @ONL characters and spilling abunch of his recently takein photographs.

Dragon Age: Seas Of Thedas

Awesome to see this rp takeing off so good. May the wind be at your sails!

One Rainy Night in Chicago

<Snipped quote by T Risket>

Don't worry about it, fam, your post is good. Also, now I want a cold drink. I blame you and your hard rootbeer.
By the way, I think some paragraphs were repeated.

@Fubsy

Holy tolito you were not kidding Fubs, talk about embarrasing. Lol thanks for letting me know, post should read alot cleaner now. On a related note...

Hey guys-literally posting right now, just givein my shit a quick reread for all those blatant errors I will still somehow miss.

@T Risket

I literally knew that was going to happen!

One Rainy Night in Chicago

@Fubsy
You are probably right-I'll go reread and edit...you should see the trainwreck of repeat/tossed paragraphs that are in my word doccument

One Rainy Night in Chicago

Posted!

Then edited...

But its up!

One Rainy Night in Chicago

ABANDONED SANDLOT
FRIDAY, OCTOBER 14, 2016
6:25 PM

Halfway through polishing off her third sixteen ounce hard rootbeer (she hated real beer but could never get enough hard soda) a slight tremor rocked the poorly maintained dirt baseball diamond Slugger found herself sitting atop-she simply wrote it off, to caught up in the ongoing storm. Rather than being bothered by the rain hammering down on her she had actually seemed to to be enjoying the show mothernature was putting on for her. She'd been pondering the idea of simply staying here and enjoying the storm for the rest of the night-maybe polish off the rest of her six pack and smoke some grass in the old grafitti riddled concrete dugouts of the abandoned sandlot. Before she was able to complete her train of thought the somewhat serene scene was ruined by yet another slight tremor, one that was quickly followed by a second....and then another. The ground shook gently enough that Slugger felt rather confident that she was ok-whatever was making these manmade tremors was a safe distance from her.

Atleast for now.

Standing up to her fully less than intimidating size of about 5'8” Slugger began to beat away at the brown dirt and mud clinging too her red pinstriped uniform-an act honestly done more out of habit than anything else. Prioritizing she first gathered up all her empty alcoholic beverages and then went about crushing each can in a rather satisfying way before tossing them all into the closest trash can (which had been located in the nearest dugout.) Quickly makeing her way back to “home plate” she was glad to find that she was indeed sporting a decent buzz despite the events now unfolding. It was a state that she thought mixed well with the adrenaline rushes she'd almost become likewise addicted to at this point in her life.

She'd deny it if asked outright but lately Slugger had fallen into a bit of a habit when it came to what she deemed as“patrol nights.”
These aptly named nights, which were originally meant to almost be a sort of break for Slugger while giving her an excuse to flex her muscle and put the scare into low level criminals without any real effort. Tonight had been like many patrol nights before-she'd first set out fully masked in an attempt to genuinely make the streets a safer place for everyone by randomly patrolling parks tonight. It was an honest attempt that had somehow failed yet again while passing Ricos Liquor Store. Somewhere between polishing off her second and third hard soda the practice of “patrol” had devolved into more of a “hunt” for criminals. The once genuinely honest and reasonable practice was now just an excuse to drink, snort, and smoke just about whatever she could get her hands on before turning her attention to some legal punching bags.

In an effort to push away the inconceivable realization the she herself had slowly started to become what she fought against she did her best to turn her full attention to the full body uniform she wore. It may have been a basic look, just white pants and a shirt with red pinstripes along with a pair of black fingerless leather gloves that matched both the beat up black helmet atop her head and the modified cleats on her feet.

In her opinion though it was the best outfit she owned.

Mutch like tonight she always seemed to eventually find herself to a baseballfield in one way or another-whether that meant breaking into Wrigley Field or simply drinking a hard soda or two over an unnamed sandlot like the one she sat in tonight didn't matter. There was just something about being surrounded by that dirt and chalk, the fresh cut-

-Another explosion, rather closer this time, rocked Slugger in her place, before she knew it she was checking to make sure her secondary weapon was at the ready. She was extremely satisfied as her fingers rested on the conveniently jerry rigged weapon strapped to her back with nothing more than the combination of simple clothe (that had been tied to the base of the bat) and a hefty metal doughnut (that was likewise tied to the cloth)-the whole contraption working in a rather simple fashion: as the doughnut slid onto the bat it created its own self tightening harness that doubled as a flail of sorts whenever the doughnut was knocked loose from the little league bat.

Not breaking from tradition though the main weapon she clutched at her side with a vice like grip was still her same old infamous Louisville Slugger, although a keene eye or two would also notice the baseball at the ready in her right hand-a small round object she could throw with unnerving accuracy.

Like a mad woman she ran towards the commotion. Even if she couldn't "help" the whole thing was sounding like one hell of a show.

One Rainy Night in Chicago

Hey guys-literally posting right now, just givein my shit a quick reread for all those blatant errors I will still somehow miss.

Also please forgive if my writing is a tad rougher than you lot, I can tell from the first posts yall are some damn good writers.