Encounterlogs
Elanoras Odd Encounter Sr Mikhael 240607
Elanora finds herself in the midst of an odd and chilling encounter when a group of desperate cultists interrupts the tranquility of her luxe living space. The cultists, two chic and visibly distressed young women along with two men — one lanky and the other stockier — had come with a ludicrous request: they wanted Elanora to serve as a vessel for the reincarnation of Mammon, a powerful demon, through a ritual that involves her conceiving a demon-child. Amidst the complexity of their plan, they clumsily reveal their intentions, all the while surrounded by the vigilant eyes of robotic vacuums, adding an almost comical relief to the tense situation. The robots, eager to maintain cleanliness, comically usher the disarray outside onto the balcony.
Outside, with the horizon broadening over Haven's Bay and the town quietly nestled in sleep, Elanora confronts the absurdity of the situation with wit and sarcasm. She toys with the cultists, disarming their grave and misguided mission with laughter and disbelief. While the cultists, particularly the lanky leader, fumble to articulate their elaborate plan involving demon blood and a prophecy, Elanora's amusement only grows. The situation descends into a bizarre mixture of earnest pleas from the cultists and derisive rebuttals from Elanora, underscored by a deeper understanding of the futility and desperation of their cause. The encounter concludes with no pact made, leaving the cultists to grapple with their misguided intentions and Elanora, once again, alone with the breaking dawn, probably pondering the absurdity of the world's desperate reaches towards salvation.
(Elanora's odd encounter(SRMikhael):SRMikhael)
[Thu Jun 6 2024]
In a Spacious, Suave Living Space with View of the Bay
This formal living room is spacious, a blend of modern luxury and historic tranquility. Dark wallpaper with swirling silver patterns adorns the walls, adding a touch of sophistication to the space, creating an illusion of expansiveness, serving as a central point in the penthouse, seamlessly connecting the hallways and foyer. Strategically placed indoor plants breathe life into the space, harmonizing with the abstract, refined decor.
Black, hard marble floors stretch elegantly throughout the apartment, lending an airy feel to the residence. The high ceiling, painted in a shadowy darkness, is adorned with clouded figures and warped shades blending seamlessly in a foreboding visual illuminated by a minimalist chandelier with cascading glass orbs that bathe the room in soft, ambient glow.
A glass balcony nestled between broad windows offers a scenic view towards the east, showcasing Haven's Bay framed by hazy blurs of old-growth forest. In the distance, the tempestuous Atlantic Ocean captivates with its restless waves, shifting from stony depths in colder seasons to coastal blues in warmer ones. Despite the open floor plan, the space exudes a sense of elevation, with steps on either side of the connecting hallway adding to its grandeur.
It is morning, about 71F(21C) degrees,
Another swallow runs down the leader's throat when Elanora begins to intone. It is plainly obvious that these are lackeys, sent here in desperation - uncared of whether they come out alive, or in bodybags. Maybe they chanced upon something here, in Elanora, that they are not ready to handle at all. The girls, who had made to sit in front of Elanora on the floor, they are deterred from the notion after they had just settled down on their knees. The fearful glances they gave to each other is full of silent communication. "No, I'm not clear.." The lanky one interjects shamefully.
The girls make a sigh, frustrated, and they reach for their injured one again, take him by the arms - huff and puff, and visibly go red. Their manicured fingers clutch on as if for dear life, their hoods fallen already. One is a brunette, the other a platinum blonde - the sort of chic girls that would turn heads, but it is obvious that much of it is make-up. Boundless, boundless make-up. Off in the distance, above the stairs, there is an ominious red glow.
It beeps - in the darkness, buzzes forward, slightly, as if fearful of the steps but it watches, the robotic cleaner is like a hound on the back of that fallen cultists that ruins the cleanliness of its floors, so far kept bay only by the low steps that it doesn't dare traverse. It is not mapped for it, after all. Another beep, and before the girls can start hauling the boy off towards the balcony, a different robot vacuum erupts from under the TV unit, from where the recharge station is placed - it rushes swiftly to bump the man's legs, and as if urging them to get the hell out, continues to sweep in their wake towards the balcony with ferocity and vicious intent to clean.
The lanky one, in dejection, steps over it to get to the balcony as well - the vista visible from here, just a mere shade in the distance. "The world is endingg.. We, the- the.." He actually looks at his hand for this. "The Destined Host believe it can only be saved if we ally ourselves to the might of Demons to save us from the calamity approching." And he drops his hand. Sweaty, wiped on his robe. Drat, it removes the pre-planned cheatsheet of his notes. "We- We are trying to summon Mammon into this world, but the ritual is.. is different to others. The prophecy says- it says the Son of Satan will be born from a willing union, claw its way from the depths of hell to usurp the seat of his Father and be born unto this world.." He looks at his hand again, notes the missing text with a quiet expletive, and looks back upon Elanora, brows scrunched up, lips withdrawn.
Elanora's heels clip as she walks out onto the balcony. She steps out a few steps, just enough for the 4 bumbering idiots to follow her after the door closes. So that they do not wake the monsters within. The monster outside with them however, leans over the balcony, feeling the cool summer breeze blow back the waist length locks of her hair, flutter it in the air behind her body. "The son of Saton will be born from a willing union... Claw it's way from the depth of hell to usurp the seat of the father.." Her amber eyes turn to look at the man in question, "Have you tried fucking one of them?" She nods towards one of the women as she gives a helpful smile, "What do you guys need me to teach you how to put a penis in a pussy or something?" The woman does not seem particularly impressed.
In their wake, the ominious glow of a gathering mass of robot vacuums stare out onto the balcony door. Just behind the wall-to-ceiling glass, they all beep in muted silence that the soundproof doors don't allow. That army, after noting the absence of anyone else, spread out to continue their cleaning undisturbed. No cigarette butt, no ash, no quarter given to anything. Meanwhile, outside, the air is chilly with the early morning air of a rising sun. It's light swiftly approaching, diminishing the gloom and doom of everything it basks its rays upon.
From their vantage point high above, and on the encircling massive balcony, the breeze is light and airy. It carries a scent of the sea, liberating at once, bereft of the pollution of the day-to-day ongoings of the town. It hasn't reached them while the town still sleeps, not yet awake. Far way, the bluffs are torrented by heavy waves. They crash upon the jagged rocks, spread around them and conform, but with devouring possessiveness, they are wearing into Haven bit by bit. Just as hungry as the forest that tries to claim it every day.
At a loss for words, the lanky one pauses now, fearful, quiet mumbling much to himself things that are not evidently meaningful as he tries and fails to come up with a defence against Elanora's reproach. It is when the girls that leave the bumbling, drooling brute on the ground speak up. Only one of them, while the other has knelt down to affectionaly stroke the boy's chin, the brunette. Trying to calm the boy down that bites on his imprompt gag with a hard, chubby jaw. "We /know/ how to fuck, okay?" She chides, not at all whispering now that they are outside. Then, as if realizing what their goal is, she grows quiet just the same.
It isn't a lasting wait, she clears her throat to take up the mess her associate made. "Mammon needs to be born onto this world, we can't just fuck and summon him." Another laughter, bright as merriment, elusive like a dance, it whispers in Elanora's ears. The feel of it is enough to grace her skin with pinpricks of heat, the amusement bleeding through from her patron to her, yet no words yet arrive. "We narrowed it down, and we narrowed it down to /you/. Mammon can be reincarnated to this world if your body is used as a vessel, because- because of your.. you know." She fiddles with her thumbs now, two manicured digits pressing onto one another at their flat pad. Her naturally pouty lips jut out. "You won't be harmed in the process, probably, we think.." She casts a cautious glance at all of her friends, now - only for them to stare - then give a slight shake of their head. No, it would be very painful to be clawed out of. "Anyway!" She pipes back, swallows hard, "You're needed for this so you should come with us, the fate of the world could rest on you!"
Elanora's eyes are out across the bay, watching the way the surf rolls into the beach on the eastern side of the town. "Ooohh." She laughs softly, "You need >me< to ....to what... Get pregnant with a baby and summon your Mammon to bind himself to my baby?" There is great cackling laughter as she turns to look at the four, "Oh my god. Thanks I needed that laugh." Amusement lights in her amber eyes now as she leans back against the railing. "And which one of you get to be the lucky father?" She asks as she reaches up to toy with a lock of her hair, "Relax. World ends in 13 years it only takes 1 year to for a human pregnancy."
The wind picks up at that moment, it blows through Elanora's crimson locks, wafts around the hem of her dress. It is a gentle touch, still carrying the salt of the sea on it. On the side, the downed one of the group sobs a few times but eventually appears to come to terms of his managed manhood, resigned to its now aching feeling while the girl affectiontely comforting his pain now sits on her knees, her own dress smoothed out under her legs. She's a lot more prim and proper compared to the lanky one and the platinum blonde. Lackeys of lackeys, maybe, a couple efforted into the endeavor by their highly ambitious classmates to spend their college time in a cult. It is not their place, it is a sad existence for them.
But what can someone who has seen the horrors of the world, aware that the looming threat of death is fast approaching for everyone? As the stockier, plump boy sits up to be hugged by his brunette companion, he takes out the gag in his mouth, throws it off the balcony without standing up. His spittle and tears are wiped with his hands, what is not wiped clean, the brunette lick a thumb and does it for him with a bittersweet smile etched on her picture perfect mouth. They both turn their attention upon Elanora, now, and onto their too ambitious by half pair of friends.
Elanora on the other hand, is assaulted by a cacophony of sound, now. Laughter, mirthful - ecstatic in pure raw ecstasy at the foolishness abound. Every notion exists that her wicked patron is rolling around where she is at the spectacle these idiots make, and her own reaction to them all. Their mirths are entwined, though to the cultists, they only hear Elanora's own. "No- no.." The leader pipes up again, the lanky youth, throwing off his hood to reveal black hair, raven locks - dyed. He brushes them out of his eyes, slick with sweat of exertion. "Mammon would be.. your child." The process is elaborated after a glance at the platinum blonde. "What my.. associate left out, well, we don't know.. It must be a powerful demon that.. that.." He clears his throat. Barely out of teenage years, for all their claim of sexuality, he's slightly flushed. "Or demon blood. We have some people.." Those higher-ups, the ones that sent these lackeys on live or die mission, likely in fear of reproach themselves, of greater monsters. "They would take turns and.." As if it would make things any better, he suggests; "The pregnancy wouldn't last long, just three days - as long as it took Christ to rise from the grave.." The unmentioned is the part, the bit where Mammon would claw his way out of Elanora's stomach. "We'll do anything, we can't go back.. empty-handed.. without a child of Lilith.."
Outside, with the horizon broadening over Haven's Bay and the town quietly nestled in sleep, Elanora confronts the absurdity of the situation with wit and sarcasm. She toys with the cultists, disarming their grave and misguided mission with laughter and disbelief. While the cultists, particularly the lanky leader, fumble to articulate their elaborate plan involving demon blood and a prophecy, Elanora's amusement only grows. The situation descends into a bizarre mixture of earnest pleas from the cultists and derisive rebuttals from Elanora, underscored by a deeper understanding of the futility and desperation of their cause. The encounter concludes with no pact made, leaving the cultists to grapple with their misguided intentions and Elanora, once again, alone with the breaking dawn, probably pondering the absurdity of the world's desperate reaches towards salvation.
(Elanora's odd encounter(SRMikhael):SRMikhael)
[Thu Jun 6 2024]
In a Spacious, Suave Living Space with View of the Bay
This formal living room is spacious, a blend of modern luxury and historic tranquility. Dark wallpaper with swirling silver patterns adorns the walls, adding a touch of sophistication to the space, creating an illusion of expansiveness, serving as a central point in the penthouse, seamlessly connecting the hallways and foyer. Strategically placed indoor plants breathe life into the space, harmonizing with the abstract, refined decor.
Black, hard marble floors stretch elegantly throughout the apartment, lending an airy feel to the residence. The high ceiling, painted in a shadowy darkness, is adorned with clouded figures and warped shades blending seamlessly in a foreboding visual illuminated by a minimalist chandelier with cascading glass orbs that bathe the room in soft, ambient glow.
A glass balcony nestled between broad windows offers a scenic view towards the east, showcasing Haven's Bay framed by hazy blurs of old-growth forest. In the distance, the tempestuous Atlantic Ocean captivates with its restless waves, shifting from stony depths in colder seasons to coastal blues in warmer ones. Despite the open floor plan, the space exudes a sense of elevation, with steps on either side of the connecting hallway adding to its grandeur.
It is morning, about 71F(21C) degrees,
Another swallow runs down the leader's throat when Elanora begins to intone. It is plainly obvious that these are lackeys, sent here in desperation - uncared of whether they come out alive, or in bodybags. Maybe they chanced upon something here, in Elanora, that they are not ready to handle at all. The girls, who had made to sit in front of Elanora on the floor, they are deterred from the notion after they had just settled down on their knees. The fearful glances they gave to each other is full of silent communication. "No, I'm not clear.." The lanky one interjects shamefully.
The girls make a sigh, frustrated, and they reach for their injured one again, take him by the arms - huff and puff, and visibly go red. Their manicured fingers clutch on as if for dear life, their hoods fallen already. One is a brunette, the other a platinum blonde - the sort of chic girls that would turn heads, but it is obvious that much of it is make-up. Boundless, boundless make-up. Off in the distance, above the stairs, there is an ominious red glow.
It beeps - in the darkness, buzzes forward, slightly, as if fearful of the steps but it watches, the robotic cleaner is like a hound on the back of that fallen cultists that ruins the cleanliness of its floors, so far kept bay only by the low steps that it doesn't dare traverse. It is not mapped for it, after all. Another beep, and before the girls can start hauling the boy off towards the balcony, a different robot vacuum erupts from under the TV unit, from where the recharge station is placed - it rushes swiftly to bump the man's legs, and as if urging them to get the hell out, continues to sweep in their wake towards the balcony with ferocity and vicious intent to clean.
The lanky one, in dejection, steps over it to get to the balcony as well - the vista visible from here, just a mere shade in the distance. "The world is endingg.. We, the- the.." He actually looks at his hand for this. "The Destined Host believe it can only be saved if we ally ourselves to the might of Demons to save us from the calamity approching." And he drops his hand. Sweaty, wiped on his robe. Drat, it removes the pre-planned cheatsheet of his notes. "We- We are trying to summon Mammon into this world, but the ritual is.. is different to others. The prophecy says- it says the Son of Satan will be born from a willing union, claw its way from the depths of hell to usurp the seat of his Father and be born unto this world.." He looks at his hand again, notes the missing text with a quiet expletive, and looks back upon Elanora, brows scrunched up, lips withdrawn.
Elanora's heels clip as she walks out onto the balcony. She steps out a few steps, just enough for the 4 bumbering idiots to follow her after the door closes. So that they do not wake the monsters within. The monster outside with them however, leans over the balcony, feeling the cool summer breeze blow back the waist length locks of her hair, flutter it in the air behind her body. "The son of Saton will be born from a willing union... Claw it's way from the depth of hell to usurp the seat of the father.." Her amber eyes turn to look at the man in question, "Have you tried fucking one of them?" She nods towards one of the women as she gives a helpful smile, "What do you guys need me to teach you how to put a penis in a pussy or something?" The woman does not seem particularly impressed.
In their wake, the ominious glow of a gathering mass of robot vacuums stare out onto the balcony door. Just behind the wall-to-ceiling glass, they all beep in muted silence that the soundproof doors don't allow. That army, after noting the absence of anyone else, spread out to continue their cleaning undisturbed. No cigarette butt, no ash, no quarter given to anything. Meanwhile, outside, the air is chilly with the early morning air of a rising sun. It's light swiftly approaching, diminishing the gloom and doom of everything it basks its rays upon.
From their vantage point high above, and on the encircling massive balcony, the breeze is light and airy. It carries a scent of the sea, liberating at once, bereft of the pollution of the day-to-day ongoings of the town. It hasn't reached them while the town still sleeps, not yet awake. Far way, the bluffs are torrented by heavy waves. They crash upon the jagged rocks, spread around them and conform, but with devouring possessiveness, they are wearing into Haven bit by bit. Just as hungry as the forest that tries to claim it every day.
At a loss for words, the lanky one pauses now, fearful, quiet mumbling much to himself things that are not evidently meaningful as he tries and fails to come up with a defence against Elanora's reproach. It is when the girls that leave the bumbling, drooling brute on the ground speak up. Only one of them, while the other has knelt down to affectionaly stroke the boy's chin, the brunette. Trying to calm the boy down that bites on his imprompt gag with a hard, chubby jaw. "We /know/ how to fuck, okay?" She chides, not at all whispering now that they are outside. Then, as if realizing what their goal is, she grows quiet just the same.
It isn't a lasting wait, she clears her throat to take up the mess her associate made. "Mammon needs to be born onto this world, we can't just fuck and summon him." Another laughter, bright as merriment, elusive like a dance, it whispers in Elanora's ears. The feel of it is enough to grace her skin with pinpricks of heat, the amusement bleeding through from her patron to her, yet no words yet arrive. "We narrowed it down, and we narrowed it down to /you/. Mammon can be reincarnated to this world if your body is used as a vessel, because- because of your.. you know." She fiddles with her thumbs now, two manicured digits pressing onto one another at their flat pad. Her naturally pouty lips jut out. "You won't be harmed in the process, probably, we think.." She casts a cautious glance at all of her friends, now - only for them to stare - then give a slight shake of their head. No, it would be very painful to be clawed out of. "Anyway!" She pipes back, swallows hard, "You're needed for this so you should come with us, the fate of the world could rest on you!"
Elanora's eyes are out across the bay, watching the way the surf rolls into the beach on the eastern side of the town. "Ooohh." She laughs softly, "You need >me< to ....to what... Get pregnant with a baby and summon your Mammon to bind himself to my baby?" There is great cackling laughter as she turns to look at the four, "Oh my god. Thanks I needed that laugh." Amusement lights in her amber eyes now as she leans back against the railing. "And which one of you get to be the lucky father?" She asks as she reaches up to toy with a lock of her hair, "Relax. World ends in 13 years it only takes 1 year to for a human pregnancy."
The wind picks up at that moment, it blows through Elanora's crimson locks, wafts around the hem of her dress. It is a gentle touch, still carrying the salt of the sea on it. On the side, the downed one of the group sobs a few times but eventually appears to come to terms of his managed manhood, resigned to its now aching feeling while the girl affectiontely comforting his pain now sits on her knees, her own dress smoothed out under her legs. She's a lot more prim and proper compared to the lanky one and the platinum blonde. Lackeys of lackeys, maybe, a couple efforted into the endeavor by their highly ambitious classmates to spend their college time in a cult. It is not their place, it is a sad existence for them.
But what can someone who has seen the horrors of the world, aware that the looming threat of death is fast approaching for everyone? As the stockier, plump boy sits up to be hugged by his brunette companion, he takes out the gag in his mouth, throws it off the balcony without standing up. His spittle and tears are wiped with his hands, what is not wiped clean, the brunette lick a thumb and does it for him with a bittersweet smile etched on her picture perfect mouth. They both turn their attention upon Elanora, now, and onto their too ambitious by half pair of friends.
Elanora on the other hand, is assaulted by a cacophony of sound, now. Laughter, mirthful - ecstatic in pure raw ecstasy at the foolishness abound. Every notion exists that her wicked patron is rolling around where she is at the spectacle these idiots make, and her own reaction to them all. Their mirths are entwined, though to the cultists, they only hear Elanora's own. "No- no.." The leader pipes up again, the lanky youth, throwing off his hood to reveal black hair, raven locks - dyed. He brushes them out of his eyes, slick with sweat of exertion. "Mammon would be.. your child." The process is elaborated after a glance at the platinum blonde. "What my.. associate left out, well, we don't know.. It must be a powerful demon that.. that.." He clears his throat. Barely out of teenage years, for all their claim of sexuality, he's slightly flushed. "Or demon blood. We have some people.." Those higher-ups, the ones that sent these lackeys on live or die mission, likely in fear of reproach themselves, of greater monsters. "They would take turns and.." As if it would make things any better, he suggests; "The pregnancy wouldn't last long, just three days - as long as it took Christ to rise from the grave.." The unmentioned is the part, the bit where Mammon would claw his way out of Elanora's stomach. "We'll do anything, we can't go back.. empty-handed.. without a child of Lilith.."