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i suck. help?
  • raging+drunk+ladraging drunk lad December 2010
    Posts: 6,459
    Is anyone around enough to do a dumb little RP thing?

    I'm really rusty and it bothers me.
  • FerretFerret December 2010
    Posts: 972
    You wake up on a cold concrete floor in a puddle of vomit. A moment later you're clear enough to understand the vomit is yours. Your head is killing you, and the naked phosphorent tube suspended from the ceiling above you doesn't help the least in making you feel comfortable.

    What do you do?
  • raging+drunk+ladraging drunk lad December 2010
    Posts: 6,459
    More abstract than I bargained for, but let's see where it goes.

    [center]* * *[/center]

    Wincing from the dull yet persistent pain in my Gulliver, I squint and gaze about my surroundings. Vomit? Yes, still there. I find a dry spot on my sleeve to wipe as much off in a single sweep as I can--you know the uncomfortable feeling of vomity skin against vomity cloth--and try to get sorted.

    Two eyes?

    Blink blink. Check.

    Ten digits on two hands? Wiggle wiggle. Check.

    Ten toes attached to two feet attached to two legs to my pelvis? Seems to be.

    Well, at least there's that. And I'm not nude or at least I've imagined myself with clothes on, and that's half as good.

    I cough to clear my throat and run my tongue along my teeth to make sure that they're still all there. All accounted for. I juggle a wad of spit-diluted sick from cheek to cheek before hocking it onto the floor with its mates.

    Feeling too much vertigo to chance standing, I roll onto my back, my side, go foetal for a bit of a break and then push myself into sitting.

    Where was I and what was I doing again? I don't recall indiscretion (read:roofies) being on the agenda when last I was conscious. Hell, everything is in a strange, vague, fugue-y, wibbly-wobbliness. I dig around in my jacket pocket--maybe I'll find something to snack on as I mull over this predicament.

    Don't panic, as a certain book advised, which soon becomes mantra.

    "Don't panic."
  • FerretFerret December 2010
    Posts: 972
    Your fingers strike a metallic object. It's a flat key of a dull metal. You don't recall what it's supposed to unlock, or if it even belongs to you.
    Apart from the mystery key you find nothing.

    You don't panic.

    You decide to have a look at your surroundings, although there's not much to look at. The phosphorent tube illuminates a circular patch of floor 30 feet in diametre with you at its centre. You realize the light does not strike any walls or any other object.

    What do you do?
  • raging+drunk+ladraging drunk lad December 2010
    Posts: 6,459
    "You're not a Peek Frean," I say to the key after taking it out of my pocket to examine.

    Disappointed that it wasn't a packet of biscuits, I put it away again, thinking that it might perhaps come in handy--whether in the immediate sense or sometime much later, I chose not to dwell on it.

    The peculiar set-up seemed so utterly unnerving: horror movie unnerving. It seemed to the be kind of utterly impossible situation that you'd swear you'd be much more clever in than any of those yobs on film. On the plus side, I haven't begun to panic just yet. Good for me.

    Nothing but unilluminated void in every direction outside of this circle. My, what a clever flourescent tube you are, I mentally communicate to the light in appreciation and befuddlement. As no other light is being radiated at me from outside of the circle, the best that I can surmise is that I've got to be indoors, perhaps in a basement. The light has to be wired into something, so I can assume that there's a ceiling supported by walls.

    I wonder what MacGyver would do.

    Well, since I'm clearly visible underneath the sole light source, I couldn't get any more conspicuous, now can I?

    Hailing frequencies opened.

    "Hullo?" I address the dark. "Is anyone there?" A pause and a swallow as I muster some strength to repeat, "Is anyone there?!"
  • FerretFerret December 2010
    Posts: 972
    The sound of your voice reverberating back at you from some far away wall - ooh, cavernous - reminds you of a song by the Lemurz. Wait that's not right. Apez? Chimpanzeez? You don't recall the excact name, but it has got something to do with primates and ending in a z. You pause to consider why some pronounce it cee while others say sed.

    Your calls go unanswered. This is starting to get creepy.

    Something shiny catches your eye at the edge of the light spot. You figure you missed it when you were sitting down. Walking over to it you see it's a coin. Well it looks like a coin as you've yet to pick it up. Bending down will probably make you dizzy again. Dizzier even.

    Standing in the half light, half gloom at the edge of the light, you also notice a faint green light far out in the darkness. Funny how faint light goes completely unnoticed in bright light, eh? Your introspectivity reminds you that you've used the word light far too much.

    What do you do?
  • raging+drunk+ladraging drunk lad December 2010
    Posts: 6,459
    I stare at what looks to be a coin. In its inanimate way, I suppose it returns the stare with one of its own. As I've pocket space to spare and a bare encumbrance, I consider adding it to my inventory, though I did not particularly revel in the thought of either bending (stiff joints from a sedentary lifestyle) or descending, lest my floor-level vertigo return.

    Instead, I opt for a somewhat lazier approach by scraping the sparkly thing into my circle of... Well, I wish to say 'light', but the word has become overwrought. Anyway, I pull the thing into my happy circle of phosphorescence.

    Wait, is that right?

    "Luminescence," I try, vocally. "Incandescence," I test to be fair.

    Getting into somewhat higher spirits, I begin to say the words to the tune of the Indiana Jones theme.

    Incandescence... Luminescence... Incandence! Lu-mi-nes-cen-cence!

    Ah, God bless you, John Williams.

    Right, about that coin-y thing... I retreated back into the circle rather skittishly, inspecting my new find while standing, debating whether or not it was worth a closer look--of which I compromised with myself to merely genuflect for. A leg and a knee wasn't quite sitting and wasn't quite standing, and it was just another foot away from a blind sprint like a runner waiting for the pistol shot on starting blocks.

    A moment later I wonder where the devil my wallet and mobile have gone.
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