ONL

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

Good idea, I'll do that too. @gohKamikaze

I was hoping to continue the story this week, if he comes back soon and posts.

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

How are you all doing then? Alive I hope?

🦄 Deeper Than The Sands - Merged With T.S.

Haakon J. Elvsgaard

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Location: Al Fishawi' in El Ataba El Khadra

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Haakon had been so deep in thought, trying to think of anything he could use to find more about this "Pharao's Curse", that he nearly threw away his notepad when he was disturbed by someone. His eyes locked with the figure who had spoken to him, using a mere split-second to realize who it actually was. "Miss Clarke! What a surprise to see you here." Haakon said back, quickly regaining his confidence and composure now that he was in the presence of Josephine; he wouldn't want to seem unmanly around her, or anyone else for that matter. "Please do, looks like you're already comfortable in that chair."

Josephine Clarke, a famous movie actress from America; beautiful and silver-tounged - that was until he got to know her, if only just a little. Haakon enjoyed her company, she enjoyed his, so he was glad to have her sitting there at the other side of the table with him. Except the smoking, but that he'd grown used to. Her looks and personality more than compensated for that.

"This? It's part of an article about that curse. Curse of the Pharaos, you've most likely heard of it, you probably get to hear lots of things in your position, or what Josephine? Haakon smiled at her, closing his notepad and laying it down on the table with his pencil once their food and beverages came. The coffee was perfect, not too strong but yet with a distinct taste, same as his food. "Like you said, it is important. It's the whole reason why I was sent here; Dagbladet only sends their best in cases like that!" He took a sip of his coffee, letting in pour down before continuing. "But what brings you here? Did your scripts no longer entertain you?"

🦄 Deeper Than The Sands - Merged With T.S.

Haakon J. Elvsgaard

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Location: Al Fishawi' in El Ataba El Khadra

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"Hey! Watch where you're driving that, you idiot! Haakon shouted at a man riding a horse-led wagon through the Opera Square, jumping back a few feet to avoid getting driven over. Partly it was his own fault, checking his satchel one last time and not noticing that he stepped into the road. But then again, Haakon figured the man could have been more considerate about his horse-riding, and Haakon was simply a visitor and couldn't possibly expect to know that he was to be run over. All in all, Haakon felt confident in his right to shout at the man.

But he did look in both directions before he walked across the square again, just to be sure.

The square and streets outside the Grand Continental was indeed buzzling with life, people of all ethnicites and religions filling the area in a sea of men, women and children. And Haakon was just one of those many, a unique man in an ocean of equaly unique people, but as a group united in said difference. Pulling out the notepad and a pen, he began to quickly scribble down all the different nationalities he could make out from them, be it true or not. British, Eygptian Arabic, Italian, French, Sudanese Muslim, German... He quickly drew a thick line over the last one, before continuing with said list. But in this small game of Guessing, he tried to navigate to his destination, a place he had heard only good things off.

Al Fishawi' was exactly what Haakon pictured an Egyptian coffee house to look like, only with more foreigners and food. The atmosphere was filled with approriate music for the coming darkness of night, it's night-life and a mix of the smell coffee and Middle Eastern water pipes. Haakon had at first been disgusted with the smell, if primarly for its intensity, but by now he'd grown an indifference to them both. Luckily the sea of people had shrunk - it was just a steady river flowing down the street next to Al Fishawi' by now -, and so it wasn't too difficult to find a table to sit at. Thank you, Sir. Yes please, one coffee and something light to eat. Preferably not spice, please." Haakon said in his, not broken English with still with a non-English accent, to the man one could call a waiter.

As he sat at the table, waiting for his order, he pulled up the notepad again. He went back to the first page of it, reading through his sparse notes from his first day in Egypt. Oh, how much anger was in that article he sent back; it was no wonder that he was told to man up and be positive. After that, he simply left out all the negative parts of his reporting, specifically the heat. He skimmed forward, ending up at his notes for the last events of the so-called "Curse of King Tut"; the grave-robbing of Lord Carnavon and the theft of a single object, a necklace in the shape on an Egyptian Eye. And so far Haakon had very little, probably nothing to work with, only pure speculation on the matter. "Skulle gitt mye for å faktisk finne noe brukbart om denne saken..."

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

@SigurdGood answer. Next!

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

@SigurdYou kept your promise, so I'll refrain from having you hanged. And as soon as Kamikazi is done, I'll get out a massive post for everyone in the group.

I hope everybody is still eager to continue this even for the silence the past days/weeks? :)

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

Him, and Kamikasi as well for his Argus-post. If not then I'm more than eager to push out a post for Faye and Jeremy!

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

So...ehm...hello? Are you all alright? :P

🦄 Deeper Than The Sands - Merged With T.S.

@PundiiSorry for copying the whole "typing on the typewriter"-into part thingy, hope you don't mind?

🦄 Deeper Than The Sands - Merged With T.S.

Haakon J. Elvsgaard

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Location: Grand Continental Hotel Suite 251

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Pling

"Kairo-Orientens Metropol" Pling "Det første en vil oppleve når man trer inn i Egypts hovedstad, Kairo, er følelsen av å følge i de fotspor tusener av mennesker har gått; Fra faraoene som regjerte i årtusener til erobreren Alexander den Store, til Osmanerne av Tyrkia og de britiske forsvarerne av Suez. Man trår nedover Historiens allé, omringet av gatemusikanter og boder fulle av all slags frukter, mens arkitekturen reiser seg milevis over hodene..." The clicking of the letters on the typewriter turned silent, the words appearing on the white sheet of paper ceasing to continue as Haakon sighed. He ruffled his hair, drops of sweat making contact with his palm and running down his wrist.

"Nei...det føles fortsatt ikke riktig." The man with bags underneath his eyes stood up from the desk, stretching out his arms and back to hear it quietly crack into place. Haakon had been sitting at that desk for the entire day, trying to write a new article to publish back home; it had already been a week since he sent his last paper, and he knew that if didn't get anything published soon, he wouldn't get payed for sitting on his bum in the middle of excotic Cairo. He chuckled at that thought, he hadn't even wanted to be there in the first place, in that all-too warm city of sand and more sand.

It was with a sigh of relief that Haakon could remind himself of the fans that cooled down him and the room, the kind of luxury a man of his past was not used to at all. Especially not in the burning heat of North Africa for a man that was used to skiing in April. Other than that, he frankly enjoyed staying in Cairo; it was a buzzling metropolis of different cultures unlike his hometown, and he'd even met up with quite the lady of a movie star. He was even payed to stay there, as long as he wrote something worth printing. It was all well enough, had he only been able to get some sleep. The past three nights had given him very little of that, and it was showing with the bags under his eyes. The dream, or nightmare you could call it, had gotten all the more frequent the past nights, not normal for Haakon. And the fact that he still remembered it so vividly troubled him.

Haakon shook his head, trying to get those silly thoughts of his head. Of course it was just a dream, dreams didn't mean anything other than your mind playing tricks on you. The image of the ring - Egyptian of apperance - surely was just his mind remembering one of the many merchandises he saw the street-vendors selling. He poured himself a glass of water, surely he needed something to drink and some fresh air after having spent the whole day inside. Haakon looked outside the window, watching Opera Square buzzling with passing cars and carts as he realized it was already time for dinner. "Vel, en sulten journalist er en dårlig journalist."

He grabbed his satchel from the edge of his bed, opening it to see if everything was still there; it was, his pencils, wallet, camera and notepad. As he closed it, his eyes briefly caught sight of what he'd drawn on his notepad; the ring he'd seen in his dreams. But then it was gone again, buried in the satchel slung over his shoulder as he grabbed his iconic fedora and exited his room. With a clunk, he locked the door behind him and made his way to the reception, hoping for directions to a respectable, but cheap restaurant.