rpanons | I'm bad at this

Rundown:

rpanons is an anonymous community for role-play related topics. This place serves as a forum for game discussions, canon discussions, RP solicitations (ATP, game ads, open memes), and advice. The occasional off topic comment is inevitable, but please keep heated social and political topics to their respective communities. Posting them here will only get them frozen. Subsequent threads made to bypass a freeze will then be deleted.

Rules:

Do not post pornographic or shocking images.
Do not share private entries, plurks, chat logs, etc.
Do not use this community as your social/political/hatespeech soapbox.
Do not be redundant. One page does not need three or more threads on one topic/theme. Your unfunny, forced memes also fall under this rule.
Do not treat this comm like your personal therapist. Threads about nonfictional suicide, self injury, rape, and abuse will be deleted. There are better resources out there for you.
Do not treat this comm like your personal Plurk or Twitter. Off-topic happens, but it should be open for discussion and not just a play-by-play of your life. No one cares.
Shut up about Tumblr. If it's not a discussion about Tumblr RP it will be deleted.

CONCERNS | RESOURCES

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I reply "Holy Heights" only to gauge a reaction from my companions. I don't really play at Holly Heights. I don't play anywhere.

I move to zip up my North Face jacket but am reminded by the nothing that I grab that I'm not wearing one. Left it at the house, like the proud, island-blooded, now-shivering champion that I am.

I suggest huddling closer together. I say it's to keep Hah and Tsafa in sight and out of reach of the branches, but really I'm wanting to keep myself warm. But you know what else can keep you warm? Drunkenness. Sure, the bottle of Fosters I grab from the box isn't vodka or rum or whatever liquor people say is supposed to keep you warm in the cold, but I figure maybe drinking half of this six-pack could at least help me forget that it's freezing out.

"Oh wow, Holly Heights is really cool!" Tsafa says enthusiastically. "Who do you play?"

Down you go into the foggy vale, with only pendulous mosses and skeletal tree limbs visible in the gloam, and only the voices of your comrades to orient yourself by. Nobody notices your shivering, except possibly the weather itself, which takes a vengeful turn for the frosty. But hey, cold beer! Really cold. And really beer. Fosters: Real Beer For Real Anons. You do in fact feel deceptively warmer.

But before you can stop chugging and answer Tsafa's innocent question, Hah and Tsafa stop dead in front of you.

"What the hell is that?"

What the hell is what? Your reflexes are a little slow. All you can tell is that there's a darker bit of the rather dark night. Hah holds up a cell phone on flashlight mode and murmurs, "Wish I had a flare gun."

It's a black... rectangle. In the midnight dim it at first looks like a solid block, but as you approach, you can see that it is covered with narrow gouges that run mazelike over its surface. Someone or something has piled up a heap of fir boughs up on one side of it, so that with a little scrabbling, you might be able to get on top of it.

It is getting very cold. Although no foggier.

"Hold my beer," I say to Tsafa.

Because I am gonna climb the thing like the increasingly drunken part of my brain is telling me to do.

It's okay, you lush. Hah has been pounding the other half and is secretly admiring your initiative.

"What? I can't hold a beer!" Tsafa shouts, suddenly panicked. Her enormous dark eyes are thrown wide with alarum. "I'm only 17!"

Hah reassuringly takes the beer for her. Slugging a huge gulp (what's a little backwash between handholding pals?), Hah frowns. "Are you sure you should go up there? I thought you weren't going to try to get us killed."

Too late, your drunk ass is already scuttling up the pile of brush. It's a little over eight feet to the top. It's thoroughly dark up here.

"Here, take this!" Hah shouts. You see the glowing light of the cell phone arc up, up, into the air, over... It falls neatly at your feet and shatters. In the brief span in which it still shed light on your efforts, you might have seen the wide black stone altar beneath the statue of a horned god. Hewn into the gently curved stone face were, if you saw them, which maybe you didn't, several holes, which probably had something to do with the array of open-mouthed demons carved all around the sides of the altar.

I'd be more choked up about this but my phone is almost five years old and I've never liked the touch pad on it. If our inebriated/or underage asses make it out of this alive, I'm justified in buying a new one.

I'm bad at this

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

hah