Play@YSDC

Once he's sucked in the foetid air for several minutes, Darren manages to slow down his breathing and focus on his surroundings. Looking around him there is only darkness. Not the partial, grey darkness of the city night but the complete blackness under the earth, like the inside of grave. There is not a single pinprick of light to be seen, just the occasional flashes from his own retinas, firing randomly at the complete lack of stimulation.

He scrapes his feet along the ground, it's hard and a little rough, like stone, the sound of his feet is weird, dampened, muffled. He can't get any sense of the space he's in, how big it is, what else might be here. But there's other sounds - little sounds - scuttling and scratching, dripping, creaking - and he struggles to localise where any of these sounds are coming from.

Concentrating on keeping his cool, trying to keep his breathing steady, his legs shaking Darren wonders why no-one has followed him through. He reaches back feeling for the mirror, for a way back. "Harry?,Louis?,Shirley?,Kyle? He whispers into the darkness.

Darren reaches behind him and feels rough stone. He slides his hands back and forth along the wall, trying to feel for a mirror or something like it. But all he can feel is the stone. He turns and starts searching more frantically, there must be something here, there must be! Eventually his hand strikes the edge of some kind of frame. It's hanging at head height and touching the surface within the frame it feels smooth and hard, like glass.

OOC:   Can I get a Sanity roll for being trapped in complete darkness

OOC:   Of course. Be my pleasure.....

Sanity 56% 1d100

OOC:   Oh my giddy aunt

Staggering back from touching the glass, Darren finds himself in the centre of the darkness, unsure where he is facing, what is around him, he feels dizzy, disorientated. His head hurts. What is happening?

There's a sound, soft, repetitive, a shushing, like water lapping. Moving his legs they meet resistance, not the treacly feeling of the mirror, a lighter more gentle pressure. Water, yes water. His legs feel wet, and cold. He's waist deep in water. The darkness hangs thickly about him. But there's a pinprick of light. Some way off in the distance. Too far to see what it is. Too far away. Too far away to be in the house. That slither of illumination bounces off the glistening surface of the water. Water as far as the eye can see. Miles and miles. The water pulls him to and fro as it laps and churns around him. In the air is the salty metallic taste of the sea. Under his feet an odd rubbery feeling.

He starts spinning on the spot, heart pounding. Where's all the water came from? Where's the mirror transported him? He must be in one the csves at the beach! Miile's away from the house, his friends, from IAN!!! He feels panic setting in and starts wading through the water to the light."My folks are gonna kill me for losing Ian stupid kids, stupid Roger stupid house, stupid dare!!" His heart pounding as panic starts setting in.

Darren feels the panic rising. This isn't right. Where am I? He struggles against the water, his feet pushing against the rubbery floor, wading through the endless sea. Towards the light that seems ever distant. Legs, waist, numb from the cold. Salt air. The back and forth from the waves. He looks up into the sky and there is an endless nothing of grey. Looks down into...



What's that, below him. He can just make something out through the weak, distant light. Something below him. Beneath the water.

OOC:   Can I get a Hard POW check

Be my pleasure

1d100

OOC:   regular pass..soooo FAIL

The light slowly, almost imperceptibly brightens. Looking below his feet, through the water, Darren can just make out something on the sea floor. Like...like...a giant eye! He squeezes shut his own eyes. Under his feet he feels the rubbery surface shift, ripple, and move. Looking again, the sea floor is smooth again, no sign of the eye. I must have imagined it.

He breathes a sigh of relief, looks around. In the gradually brightening light he can see that the water extends in every direction as far as he can see. Nothing perturbs the straight line of the horizon.

He stands there in the water as it gently nudges him to and fro with the lapping waves. Legs like ice. The gentlest of breezes ruffles his hair.

Then under his feet the surface shifts and moves again. He looks back into the water, through the water. The sea floor fissures, and splits, slowly, inexorably, the giant eye opens. Stares out of the depths. Stares out of the depths and looks at him.

Darren panics, screaming out loud he starts trying to run through the water, stamping down on the eye as he moves. Struggling against the waves, slipping, his head going under. Surfacing, gasping for air spotting out the water he's gulped as he's flailing trying to regain his footing and half run/half swim away from it, towards the light.

Flailing through the icy waves, Darren half-runs, half-swims towards the light. Every breath is gasped and painful, coughing out the salty brine with each exhalation. His whole body is tingling, nerve endings burning with the prickle of too-cold water against his skin. In his desperation he knows he can't last much longer out here. Beneath his feet the rubbery ground writhes and bucks, throwing him to his knees and plunging his head under the water. Even as he closes his eyes, blacking out his surroundings, he can feel that stare coming through the water, burrowing into his brain.

Another POW please, regular difficulty this time.

okay fingers crossed . POW 65 1d100

OOC:   HaHaHaHaHa

Beneath the soles of his feet the ground seems to rise up and Darren stumbles forward, arms stretched out ahead of him he plunges into the water. His hands grasp fruitlessly for some purchase and his head dips beneath the surface. Feet slipping he finds himself floating, arms and legs churning the water, unable to reach the surface. Panic rising, his chest feels tight. The urge to breathe surges inside him. He wants to breathe, he needs to breathe. The pain in his chest grows, aches, threatens to overwhelm him...

Frantically flailing his arms, trying to reach the surface. In his panic he loses his bearings, not knowing which way is up or down.Chest tight. Lungs on the verge of collapse all he can think of is Ian and how he's let him down and how his parents ate going to hate him as he opens his eyes and finds him staring into the eye.

Lungs about to burst, Darren looks straight into the massive eye, all sense of direction gone all he is aware of is the great black pupil staring at him through the rippling water. Around him the light seems to dim and darkness closes in around him until all he can see is the eye. Staring into him, burrowing into his soul. In a last desperate surge he wildly flails his arms and legs in an attempt to swim down to the eye, to claw at the unblinking globe...

The bottom of the water seems to be getting further and further away the more he struggles. Eventually he cannot stop himself from opening his mouth in a gasp and sucking in a rush of salty water. A black, fuzziness constricts his vision until all that is left is the tiniest pinprick of blue light. And then complete darkness.

-----

Thud. Darren's face smacks into something solid, and he crumbles to the ground. He's no longer in water. Coughing and retching he realises that he can breathe in great lungfuls of the cool, stale air. There's a nasty taste to it, mildew and urine and other, even less pleasant things he can't identify. His own ragged breaths sound odd, muffled, distant. And around him, somewhere, too imprecise to localise, there are little sounds. Scuttling, scratching, dripping, creaking. Beneath him he feels the floor, rough stone with bare earth between.

Eyes wide he rolls onto his back, sitting up his head snapping from side to side, his head swimming, utterly confused he pushes himself to where he hopes a wall is, his heart pounding hard in his chest.

Immediately in front of him Darren feels a wall of rough stone. Spreading his hands out he is unable to find any trace of the mirror - so it is a different wall to before. He begins to feel his way along the wall, trying to demarcate the periphery of the room, perhaps find a door or window. All around him the muffled and unsettling sounds persist, creaking, scuffling, like there is something, somethings around him in the dark, just out of his awareness. Watching him.

-----

Crack, the sound of thunder is accompanied by a flash of light that comes from a window set high up in the south wall, beyond Darren's reach. Lighting up the room like a flashbulb he tries to take it all in before it plunges back into an even deeper darkness marked by the after image of the lightning.

The walls to the south and east (where Darren stands) are rough stone. To the north and west they are rotting wooden slats covered with horse-hair mixed mortar. The floor is rough-cut flat stones over dirt, unmortared. There's a doorway to the west and to the north there seems to be some kind of break in the wall, which is battered and chipped like someone has been attacking it with their fists.

In the middle of the room are piles of junk and Darren sees the brown shape of rats scuttling into the piles as the room lights up. He doesn't get a great look but there seem to be extra storm windows, boxes of useless plumbing supplies and other assorted junk. On the south wall a small, dusty mirror hangs and in front of that there's a metal grating set in the floor.

Standing in dark, Darren thinks he hears something, yes, there it is again. Hard to localise but it seems to be coming from north of him. A kind of scratching, bumping sound.

Feeling his way around the walls he attempts to go towards the sound. "Ian?" He whispers.

In the darkness Darren tries to make his way towards the sound without falling over the junk abandoned around the room.

OOC:   Think that might be a straight DEX roll.

Keeping close to the walls, Darren is able to avoid all the junk and swiftly make his way to the north wall. Crumbling chunks of plaster fall away in his hands as he runs them over the wall. Towards what he thinks is the centre of the wall he can feel a sort of wooden frame buried under the plaster and the outline of what might be a door, open just a crack so that he can get his finger-nails into the gap. It's hard to tell in the darkness, if it's just random firing from his retina, or whether there might be the occasional flash of light from beyond the crack. Try as hard as he might he can't seem to push the crack open any wider. Something on the far side seems to be blocking it.

The scratching, bumping sound continues intermittently. It's definitely coming from beyond the crack in the wall. And there's something else, a voice, whispering, a word, it sounds like 'Ian.'

OOC:   sweet

Hearing his brothers name Darren rams the point of the crowbar into the crack , attempting to widen it.

The tip just about slips into the crack, gaining a little purchase. Darren leans on the crowbar and strains to shift the door.

OOC:   STR roll please

1d100

OOC:   phew

Throwing his whole body onto the crowbar and pushing with all his might, Darren feels the slightest movement, then a sudden rush as the crack in the wall spreads open and the crowbar pings out of his hands. There's a rush of foul smelling air, mildew, urine, and something nastier, like rotting meat. Now the door is open a foot or more he can definitely see flashes of light and hear voices.

Peering through the crack he sees a pile of planks and splinters of wood. Jumbled amongst there are the remains of boxes, metal bowls, old candles, twisted crucibles, disintegrating books, and other assorted junk. There are a few bookshelves still standing against the walls but most have fallen into the centre of the room and shattered. There's a source of flickering light through the low ceiling, but it seems weak, like it's struggling to penetrate through an invisible fog. Around the outside of the room is a mildew-rotted sofa and equally decayed stuffed chairs. They cast long shadows that seem to bleed and ooze into the corners of the room, occasionally lit starkly by flashes of light coming from somewhere off to the west.

The rough-cut flat stone slabs that make up the floor are laid directly onto the earth. The walls to the north and east are also made of rough stone. He can't see the west, and the south wall directly in front of him is crumbling and half-rotted lath and plaster. Whatever remains of the wood and metal door mechanism is twisted and sheared. To the east is a high window, well out of reach.

The voices come from the west but they're muffled and indistinct, swallowed up by the oppressive atmosphere.

1d100

OOC:   Yaaay fail!!!

Darren pushes against the frozen door with his shoulder. It budges slightly and he squeezes into the gap. The space is tight and he feels the wooden frame scraping against his skin, snagging his clothes and tugging at the seams.

Then with a sudden release he's through. Into the room beyond.

Breathing a sigh of relief, grasping the crowbar tightly Darren takes in his surroundings.

The room is in almost complete darkness but Darren recognises it as the space under the Parlour, the collapsed bookshelves piled in the centre of the room. Flashes of light and muffled voices come from the room to the west. The rank smell of mildew, damp, urine, and decay is even stronger in here.

Holding the crowbar in front of him, slowly moving it from side Darren moves slowly towards the sounds in the west.

Creeping slowly towards the door, Darren notices a shadow crossing in front of the weak and flickering light that oozes through the door. He holds his crowbar out in front of him in a defensive posture. The shadow moves, it moves fast. Something swings towards Darren's head, faster than he can react. Then it stops. Doesn't connect. Darren steps forward into the light.

OOC:   Moving here.