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Recent Statuses

9 mos ago
Current Alternatively - and now, hear me out - one could avoid looking up photos of such eldritch horrors ... maybe?
3 likes
10 mos ago
Back for my bi-yearly visit. Now where did I leave that thingy-ma-jig? Anyone seen that mish-masher? I think it looks like motivation or something!
4 likes
3 yrs ago
I now identify as a Master Procrastinator. Thank you all, and good night.
1 like
3 yrs ago
New medical term: Dizzy mummy (condition of patient when world is spinning and only treatment is confinement to bed). I hate being sick...
3 yrs ago
@Vampiretwilight: Funny indeed. Now to make it into a roleplay here...let the madness and sassy Narrator commence.
1 like

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Most Recent Posts

So I take it Indiangiver saw Cthuhlu himself and subsequently went insane, since he(she?) is nowhere to be found. Anybody want to begin a new Call of Cthuhlu RP with me then?
Four days later, Oxfordshire countryside, 17:00 PM.

The afternoon sun shined brightly across the Oxfordshire landscape, dragging shadows after the trees, bushes and rocks standing up from the ground. And people, like George and the small group strolling through the wilderness. This land was, to George's great disappointment, the property of one of his friends, a fellow landowner. Owning it for himself would have been his next big priority for his renown and family, only if he hadn't enjoyed James' company as much as he did. They were like-minded, upper-class Englishmen with a well taste for life. Hunting included.

The sound of a shotgun rang through the air, followed by the thud of a grouse crashing into the ground. -"Excellent shot, George. That's a new record, I reckon?"

"Thank you, James. I do think it is, write that down Albert." George said to one of the men walking with them, one of his servants of course. George opened the shotgun and casually walked towards the dead grouse to pick it up. "I impress myself sometimes." Then he suddenly received a text message on his phone, and by the special ring he knew exactly who it was from, and probably what it was about. George handed the grouse over to Albert and turned his attention to his phone. "Well gentlemen, I fear we should considering ending this session sooner than expected. I have business to attend to."

A few hours later, The Pear Orchard.

George had already ordered his bottle of whiskey when the rest of the team started pouring into the pub. He took a sip of his glass of whiskey, a fine year of Glenfiddich, greeting the others as they sat down. "I certainly don't mind him not joining us, people like him do not drink after all. What a pity for them, when scotch is such an important part of life. Or what, Cassandra?" George's eyes shot over to Cassie and her less-than-delicate drink in her hand.

"For Queen and country, to us, and everyone else out there who needs us."
Hello? Are people still here?
I'm still interested as well. Hope most people will return and get this show on the road. Perhaps a circus? *nudge nudge* *wink wink*
"Yes, I am okay Cavalier. Now would you kindly focus on the mission, we don't have time for this...this nonsense." Lancaster said back to Thom before they left the complex, guns blazing at any hostile target around them. As they made their way towards the Toyota, Lancaster focused on moving as fast while carrying Hassam, seen as he was a rather heavy person. The others would cover him, but he did get in one shot. While making their way through the streets of Peshawar, Lancaster caught the sight of a figure standing on a balcony, armed with the infamous AK47, and in Lancaster's opinion, highly overrated. The others seemed too busy shooting the others, leaving Lancaster with the job. Effortlessly he aimed upwards and fired three times. Every bullet hit the man's chest before he could fire back, and fell over the fencing and down on the ground. "You missed one, Liberty."

They finally made their way to their getaway car, the infamous white Toyota that was frequently used in the region. Lancaster was once again not amused by it, it was far from his preferred car, but he knew in that area it was their best pick. It was still ugly in his eyes. Lancaster threw the unconscious Hassam into the rear compartment while Cavalier suppressed their pursuers. "Finally, I was starting to fear I had to carry him all the way back home." Lancaster commented while he got in the car just before they sped off. It was far from over now, now came perhaps the most dangerous part of the mission. "I'll try, if Liberty can drive according to the plan."

Lancaster loaded the MPX with the curved 30-bullet magazine, and opened fire. He did his best to fire accurately, hitting a couple of targets as they sped down the road. Bullets flew both ways, but luckily Sierra wasn't the ones getting hit. "Sure, this is just a lovely evening in the park to you, Kingmaker. If we were given a few more magazines that just these, perhaps we could feel the same way." Lancaster said calmly, perhaps a bit sarcastic into his comms, joining in on the conversation. They were going to be fine, they were trained for just this kind of sticky situation. And though Lancaster didn't always like gun fights, he knew when more was better than less. "What about road blocks up ahead of the road? Surely the news has spread by now?"
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.


I can't speak for IndianGiver, but to me it looks just fine. Now the rest just have to post, and we can get into some wacky, scary stuff, yay!
<Snipped quote by 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.


I was not aware that it was evening actually, sorry about that.
I'll be sure to have a post tonight. Sorry for the delay.

Edit: I hope I don't upset anyone with my portrayal of Joshua. I mean to have him suffering only mild autism, but his major disablement will show to be the way early 1900s society has completely failed to accommodate his condition, and isolated him as a result.


I can't say I'm upset, it's interesting to see his perspective of the world, especially in that era. Looking forward to reading more about Joshua :)
Jeremy Arthur Velera
Physical state: Sweating, stiffness, dry throat.
Physiological state: Mildly anxious, feeling of sleeplessness.


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Shells fell all around Jeremy, the sound of exploding shells more deafening than anything else he knew. He was alone, in that hole in the middle of No Man's Land, waiting for his death. Everything felt dark, cold and frightening around him, even the air felt like it was slowly killing him. His skin itched, but he was unable to scratch it, he was frozen, staring at the corpses staring back at him. From their mouths crawled maggots and rats, both speaking in an unspeakable tongue that darkened Jeremy's thoughts. As the gas seeped into his hole, the corpses woke up from the dead, slowly walking towards him while whispering. It was if the artillery had stopped, no gunfire, no shouting, only their whispers; "It's all your fault, Jeremy. All your fault. Your fault. Fault...fault...you...dead...welcome to hell..." was all he understood before darkness consumed him and his screams. Then He, or It rose up before him.

Jeremy threw himself up from the mattress, screaming from the top of his lungs and clutching the edges of the bed. He screamed for a few seconds before he slowly realized where he was; it was a dream, it was just the same dream as usual and he was home, safe in his bed. In the corner of his eye he saw the door leading to the kitchen opened, a figure standing in the doorway which was shadowed by the lack of light in the room. As soon as the lights turned on though, he saw a friendly face. -"Good mornin' Jay."

It was Oliver MacMillan, one of the men sharing this apartment situation at the edge of Arkham. He was a Scot, a Marxist and like Jeremy himself, strongly opposed to the English; one could say he was the closest thing Jeremy had to a best friend here in America. "How long have I've been screaming, Oliver?"

-"Longer than usual, maybe ten minutes? Didn't want to wake you, not after last time. Get some breakfast and a cup of tea, you got some time before the garage opens." Oliver said to Jeremy, patting him on his shoulder as he passed Jeremy and forcing in a smile. He then undressed and went to sleep, like always. Jeremy pushed himself out of bed and went out to the kitchen.

When Jeremy looked at his pocket watch, it was a quarter to six in the morning. He felt like he hadn’t slept at all that night, like he had been lying in the bed curled up like a child, stiff and tired. It made his cup of tea all the better, the sausage on the bread was just the same. It was a known secret that Jeremy sometimes had trouble sleeping, screaming in the middle of the night and waking up sweating and tired. However, as of lately it had gotten much worse; his screaming got louder, he got stiffer and sweatier every time the nightmare returned, and waking him up was not an option after last time. Nevertheless, Jeremy had somehow gotten used to it, after nearly ten years of suffering it.

Jeremy finished his breakfast and cup of tea, got on his winter jacket, and headed outside. When he would return, it would Oliver and the rest’s turn to wake up and go to work, it was their cycle of life. Jeremy entered Armitage Street, just across from the railroad, and walked down the street. It was early winter without any snow, but as a sane Irishman, he dressed properly for the season. The weather was after all not that much different in Arkham compared to Dublin, though he still dearly missed home. He came to a newsstand with headlines such as; “Italian prime minister speaks to parliament, fascism on the rise”, “Norwegian capital name-change”, “First female governor elected”. Little of this interested him, but he bought a newspaper either way for later when he had his break.

He looked at his watch again, twenty-seven minutes had passed, and he still had a little while before the garage opened. So he decided to walk to the riverside of the city, he enjoyed just standing there and watching the water flow through. It was when he got to more open ground that he noticed a chimney of smoke in the distance, and that people were actually pointing towards it. He did not know what it was all about, but something deep inside of him told him something was very wrong. As he leaned against the railing on the riverside, he overheard a couple of men mention a boat, and a fire. He scratched his eyes, like many times already through that early morning, having that terrible feeling. That feeling would only turn worse.
Hello peepz, just wanted to assure you that IndianGiver has approved my character sheet beforehand, so you don't feel the temptation to burn me at the stake, hehe. Looking forward to roleplaying with you all!
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