Down but not Out

At first darkness is all that you know. An inky blackness that has swallowed all of what you once were. Pressure joins the darkness, a course, crushing weight pressing in on your body from all directions. Oppression lingers over you like a palpable force, enslaving you to an unfathomable and impossible force.

Suddenly you become aware of something that you are missing. A pain blossoms in your chest and you panic. You attempt to move, but find yourself bound at wrists and ankles.

Spoiler:

2009-10-29 14:13:01 Red Rice rolls 6 dice to Strength Athletics 2,5,3,1,1,5 (0 successes)

You struggle against the ropes only to find that your muscles aren’t responsive. Pain and terror surges through your body once again and you feel that what ever you’re lacking is vital to your survival. Failure is not an option

Spoiler:

2009-10-29 14:13:10 Red Rice rolls 6 dice to Strength Athletics 2,3,10,1,1,9,8 (3 successes)

The ropes that bind your hands loosen in the face of your efforts. You set your thoughts to freedom of another sort, of breaking out of the dark embrace of your prison. You are no slave. You find that you are surrounded by soil. Its harsh grit pervades your entire body. You lash out with your new found strength, intent on freeing yourself from your prison.

Spoiler:

2009-10-29 14:27:21Red Rice rolls 7 dice to Strength Athletics 10,2,2,5,1,10,8,6,4 (3 successes)

The pain in your chest deepens. You know that your need will not wait much longer.

Spoiler:

2009-10-29 14:27:12 Red Rice rolls 7 dice to Strength Athletics 10,4,6,5,10,6,2,7,5 (2 successes)

Your hands break the surface. You world detonates in a blinding explosion of light as your lungs threaten to fill themselves with enough air to last a lifetime. Only now do you realize that it was air that you needed, that you were suffocating. You spur your aching arms to pull you completely out of the hole that was your dark prison. Overwhelmed, you flip onto your back and continue to gasp. You attempt to open your eyes, but the light is too bright.

Suddenly you hear a rough scraping sound to your right, and become aware of just how vulnerable you are lying prostate on the ground.

OOST: Here's you first post in your character long pilgrimage through the saturnine night. I'm sure the rest of you do things a little differently around here, but I have always maintained an Out of Character/Out of Storyteller (OOC/OOST) section in most of my posts to discuss possible actions or ask for rolls. If that goes against your style then I can adapt, just let me know.

Another blast of blinding light throws your already pitiful senses into complete shock, but you stand your ground. The world around you slowly begins to take shape around the grainy, afterimage blurring of your eye's first sight. The immeasurable mass of light slowly fractures into thousands of tiny points embedded in a bed of tar far above you. ‘Stars’, you realize, without knowing how you came upon such knowledge.

You reorient your head to the sound of the scraping. A blurred figure comes into focus. The scraping comes from a heavy shovel that he’s drags listlessly on the ground behind him.

You see him as a strange double image; one, a tall, muscular man who looks as sturdy as an iron pillar, another, a gnarled, gravelly statue that resembles stone more than man. He wears a stained flannel shirt and worn blue overalls, pockets bulging with unknown items. He continues to move closer to you and as he does, his features begin to take shape.

Spoiler:

2009-10-31 18:33:02 Red Rice rolls 3 dice to Wits + Empathy 1,8,2 (1 success)

His weathered face wears an emotion you identify as grief. You feel that that emotion means much to you, though you have no idea why. He gives a square look and places both of his knobby hands on the haft of the shovel.

“Tom?” He ventures tentatively “Rice, that you?”

As you take a step forward, the figure releases his grip on the shovel and heaves a huge sigh of relief. He beams a wide toothed smile at you.

“God, you had me scared out these bones Rice. Wasn’t sure if you was gonna tear yourself into bits and slither off or what,” he says around a grin, “Life’s hard enough without them being around”

Spoiler:

2009-11-05 14:01:53 Red Rice rolls 3 dice to Wits + Empathy 10,2,5,10,1 (2 successes)

The man’s features abruptly change. The joy at seeing that you made it evaporates. His smile crashes and you can see some sort of panic set in. His hands visibly tighten on the handle of the shovel, forcing his knuckles to go white. He turns from you as if in a stupor and stumbles toward a large stone jutting from the ground.

He stops about halfway to the rock and calls to you over his shoulder. “Come on and sit a spell. We got lots to talk about.”

The man continues his tired gait towards the rock, dropping his shovel on the way. He hefts himself onto the stone, heaves a sigh and avoids your gaze as you approach. He looks up at you once more as you near. His voice is gravel sliding over granite. “Bet you’re wondering where you are? Who you are? How you got here? Who I am? Why you can’t talk,” he enunciates each question by shrugging his shoulders and raising his arms “Probably even what you are, and what I am.”

He pauses for a minute and looks into the distance with an unreadable expression before beginning again. “No point in tellin’ you who I am, and I’ve found that only you can find out who you are. What I can tell you is who you was. You was the best, Rice. When you was in your prime, wasn’t a fighter born who could match you in the ring. Folks from miles around would come to see ‘Red-Rice’ Tom Mcgill knock the tar out of anyone stupid enough to step into that square.

“There’s a problem with that though. You got too good at hurtin’ folks, and it killed your insides. When I caught up with you, you were broken and bitter. The torment took hold an I… I did somethin’ that I shouldnt’ve. But this way you got another chance to be more than that sad man I found in a trailer park.”

He looks at you expectantly, trying to gauge you reaction.

OOST: I would allow Rice to cough up enough of the dirt in his throat for some monosyllabic talking at this point. He's not just strong willed, but openly defiant, and that is more than enough for a couple words in my book. It's up to you to decide whether he would though, and what form those few words would take.