Encounterlogs
Iakress Odd Encounter Sr Zoe 240604
The tranquility of Iakres's early morning is shattered by the intrusion of three audacious teenagers in his backyard, who, driven by youthful recklessness, had purloined a mysterious locket from a local haunted house. Amidst their startled chaos, believing the older man to be a phantom from tales untold, they agree to return the locket, albeit with a mix of fear and bravado. Iakres, leveraging his age and a clever cantrip of intimidation with his cane, convinces them that returning the locket is in their best interest, camouflaging his act with threats of police involvement and invoking sympathy by mentioning his unwell wife. Despite their initial defiance, especially from the apparent leader Janice, the teenagers concede, handing over the locket to Iakres.
As the teenagers retreat, leaving Iakres with the locket, he heads back inside, contemplating the relic's authenticity and potential curse. Deciding against waking his wife for her magical expertise, he opts to investigate with the aid of her old books, seeking a safe method to deal with the artifact. Meanwhile, outside, the teenagers' argument fizzles into silence as they abandon their claim, though one lingers, driven by curiosity or concern, spying through the window. Their vigilant watch is abruptly ended by a scream, coinciding eerily with Iakres's reading about the dangers of cursed objects, reinforcing the notion that some artifacts, like the locket, are better left untouched.
(Iakres's odd encounter(SRZoe):SRZoe)
[Mon Jun 3 2024]
In a comfortable bedroom within a trailer
Dark wood flooring that is scratched and dulled from age, creaks and moans sometimes beneath one's feet. The walls are painted a soft and muted artic blue with bright white wood trimming along the floor and ceiling. However, the fresh coat of paint doesn't hide the fact the the walls themselves are thin, and the western window needs replacement. The sliding glass door leading into a small, private yard sticks when trying to get it open, and it only appears to lock via a metal bar.
It is before dawn, about 80F(26C) degrees, There is a waning crescent moon.
(Your target and their allies stumble upon a hidden artifact of great power within a local haunted house. However, it quickly becomes apparent that they aren't the only ones interested in the artifact. The Golden Shadow has been hired to secure it for a mysterious and powerful client. The characters must decide whether to relinquish the artifact, negotiate for it, or fight to keep it out of the hands of The Golden Shadow and their ruthless client.)
The muted light of the rising sun filters through the window - the plants upon the windowsill are thriving, a vibrant green as they soak in the first life-giving rays. It's been a quiet night, with only a few ruckuses to be heard from nearby trailers, and the sound of only a couple wolves howling from the Moore woods. This close to the woods, it's an improvement. At least they didn't howl all night, so they've got /some/ manner of consideration for the elderly (it was probably entirely unrelated).
His wife sleeps next to Iakres, her breathing steady and deep, the peaceful quiet interrupted only by the occasional snore that he's surely gotten used to by this point. The peace is not to last for too long, though.
The tranquility of the early morning is abruptly disrupted by the sounds of youngsters - teenagers, perhaps? - right outside. They must be in the backyard, to be heard this close, their laughter and excited chatter piercing through the thin walls of the trailer. The window does little to muffle the clamor, though individual words are still hard to make out. Very disrespectful of them, really, to be making noise this early in the morning when Iakres is trying to get some shut eye. They don't seem to care, youthful voices rising and falling, filled with energy and excitement. One of them must have leaned against the trailer heavily, because there's a muffled 'thump' of noise, and the metal bar upon the sliding door rattles a little in response.
Iakres hadn't been sleeping. Not really, anyway; sleep tended to be thin and mealy, these days. He didn't have his teeth in, either. He needed full dentures, top and bottom, after so many broken jaws through his life, and he didn't sleep with them in. It was also very convenient into tricking The Youth into thinking he was even older and more cantankerous than he really was. Fueled by mischief and, in fairness, a little annoyance at the little shits banging on the door, the old man gets to work dressing himself just enough to not pass for the wrong kind of old man chasing after children, and bursts from the back door, waving his cane as he goes. "Get outta here, you little shits! Let an old man sleep in peace!"
They'll never see him coming. It's three teenagers, looking like they're in that high-school going age - a boy and two girls - and all three of them look like deer caught in the headlights when they're faced with a wrinkly old Greek man bearing down upon them like vengeance from the Greek Gods themselves. It's the scruffy-haired boy that'd leaned against the trailer; the girls are both huddled behind the broken birdbath in the backyard, hidden from view of whoever may be looking from outside the poor excuse for a fence enclosing the yard, and they all let out similar, terrified screams of horror and alarm, both the girls - Blonde and Brunette, or thing one and thing two, whatever Iakres wants to remember them by - clutching to each other and scurrying to hide something that gleams gold behind their backs. So much for peace, right?
"IT'S A GHOST!" one of them screams, and earns herself a thwap on the head from the other.
"No, you dumbass. It's obviously a ghoul. Ghosts can't open doors! Shit, IT'S A GHOUL!"
The boy may have peed his pants in fear. Metaphorically, not literally. Yet. He's the only one to notice that Iakres may not be ghoul nor ghost though, for he quickly steps in front of the girls - how chivalrous - and quickly says, "We're sorry, sir! We'll return what we grabbed, I promise! It was my idea, not theirs! Please don't haunt us we'll go back home and never enter your home again oh God please don't kill us my mom will be so mad!"
Never mind, he thinks Iakres is a ghost too.
Wow, digging in /his/ backyard? Nevermind the fact that the Westhaven locals were doubtlessly far more familiar with Iakres's parcel of land than the recent arrival - stealing was wrong. Also, buried treasure in Haven had a good chance of being unexploded ordnance or some form of cursed relic, so better to keep it out of the teens' hands. He lowers the head of his cane towards the ground, then lets the haft spill through his fingers until he holds it by his foot, pointing the solid gold heron's head at the intruders. "Return ye what ye took," he belts out, surprisingly robust in both performance and English pronunciation. "Return it!"
There doesn't seem to have been any digging work done in his backyard - Iakres's wife hadn't gotten to fix up the back of the house yet, too busy still with the front yard, so it would be very obvious if someone had dug enough around the place to find hidden treasure - it's likely that whatever they took wasn't quite from his backyard. That doesn't stop all three of the teenagers from cowering beneath Iakres's booming voice and impressive command of the English language - and the heron head of his walking stick, as though it may call down lightning from the heavens to smite them with. "Y-yes, sir, we'll return it!" the boy says again, glancing back over his shoulder at the girls for just the briefest moments. The blonde takes the hint and brings out the item they'd attempted to hide behind them earlier - it's a locket, one that must have once shone quite brightly with metallic gold luster. It's tarnished now, too worn out to be properly shiny, but there's still some sort of etherealness to it, a quality that Iakres may come to recognize - it's Not Quite Right, whatever it is.
The girl shuffles forward, dragging the boy along like a shield, hand with the locket outstretched towards Iakres. She's scared, but hey, they said they'll return it so they'll return it. The boy, for his part, doesn't mind being used as a meat shield too much - prefers it to the alternative, or perhaps he just wants to impress one or both of them.
"Here- here you go, sir. We'll... We can take it back to your house if you want. Where we got it. We just- we didn't think you'd follow us all the way here. This is where we usually go after- s-sorry..." she's almost hyperventilating, but hey, that's the locket, delivered.
And then there's the third one speaking up from behind them, the brunette girl, squinting at Iakres distrustfully once she's over the fear. "You're not a ghost after all, are you? I think you're just some old dude. My mom was talking about some old people moving in." Busted...?
"I am Mister Androulakis," Iakres replies, in what would be a curt response if not for his cumbersome name. "Not a ghost. A person, who you are rudely disturbing. My wife is not well." He points the heron's head to the locket dangling between the blonde's fingers, angling it enough for it to be hooked over its spear of a beak. "It is not mine. But you have just tell me that you stole it." His brow furrows deeply, with the consternation of old men who once fought for what's right. "If you give it to me, I give it to the police. I have a deputy coming around soon. My wife made cookies for her. I give it to the police, there is no crime, and you have not done anything wrong but bother an old, sick woman." His pronunciation might be slipping a little more now, courtesy of the missing teeth, but it's nothing he hasn't done before. "Honestly. It is not safe to just /take/ things in this town. Also, that bird bath might be, eh... I forget the word. Sick." Contaminated. "Give it to me and go and I will tell my wife I was the one who banged the door. Otherwise she will find your parents. What would they do to you, knowing you are troubling old, dying women? Hm?"
"It's not really stealing." Now that the brunette isn't so terrified anymore, it's apparent she's the 'leader' of the three, and she places a hand on her hip as though she's the authority on thievery and semantics when she tells Iakres, "We just found it in the haunted house out in the forest. It's not like it belongs to anyone, so we can keep it." Under her sharp tongue and her sharper gaze, the blonde shrinks away, as though attempting to figure out whether she should pull the locket away from Iakres, but, well, it's already in the clutches of his heron's head now. "And if you tell the police they're going to ask where you got it and then our parents will find out anyway." She juts her chin up stubbornly - there's her argument, though she falters a little at the mention of the police in question, glancing over towards the road that's not quite visible from here as though to figure out if there's a policewoman coming by anytime soon.
A stubborn leader she may be, but the other two aren't immune to Iakres's guilt trips - or maybe they're just very scared of their moms finding out they've been out in the woods. "Janice, shut up," the boy hisses over to the brunette - Janice - and tells Iakres politely, "We're sorry, Mister Andrew... uhm. Mister." No last names shall be pronounced here with any degree of confidence. "It's just- we thought someone had been following us, and- well- I think it's better for you to have this. I hope your wife feels better soon." There, responsibility of possibly-cursed locket passed on to Iakres - the young lad must have good instincts to pass it on so easily.
"Everything has a rightful owner," mumbles toothless Iakres, who brings the tarnished gold up to eye level for a better inspection. "And be less worried about doing the right thing. The police won't punish you for turning in lost valuables, children." Perhaps the old man needs to read up on the current state of the policing institution of America, but that's neither here nor there. "Thank you. You're good kids. Stay in school!" He doesn't even need to dismiss them. He just turns right around and heads back into his room, letting the rattly door swing shut behind him. Problem solved. Now, this could seriously be a cursed relic, but he wasn't a mage, like Zoe - who really needed her rest, so instead he brings the thing into the living room, where he lays it down on the coffee table and begins to root around for one of his wife's old books. Maybe there'd be some passage in there to help him figure out if he had a problem in his trailer.
Well, Iakres's hasty retreat doesn't leave much space for the children to be mouthy back at him, so they're simply left to fume in his backyard, and channel that energy into bickering with each other in muffled voices - it's the boy and the brunette, if he cares to make out the voices, both of them just arguing with each other until one or both - or all three? - storm off, jumping back across the fence the same way they came in. She's not happy that they just handed over the locket and he's not pleased that she's willing to risk getting into trouble with the parental figures, typical teenager stuff.
Unbeknownst to Iakres, one of them may have chosen to stay behind. They're quiet, creeping across his window, waiting to see what he's going to do with the locket. They don't make a noise, and if he glances over he may catch a glimpse of brown hair beyond the window, crouched low, but they're just observing, trying to figure out what he's up to, until-
A blood-curdling scream, from right outside, around the same time Iakres reaches the section on cursed objects that's going over how it's generally a bad idea to open things like lockets, pendants, compasses, and boxes that are closed, and they should remain closed for good reason. There really is no peace to be had today.
As the teenagers retreat, leaving Iakres with the locket, he heads back inside, contemplating the relic's authenticity and potential curse. Deciding against waking his wife for her magical expertise, he opts to investigate with the aid of her old books, seeking a safe method to deal with the artifact. Meanwhile, outside, the teenagers' argument fizzles into silence as they abandon their claim, though one lingers, driven by curiosity or concern, spying through the window. Their vigilant watch is abruptly ended by a scream, coinciding eerily with Iakres's reading about the dangers of cursed objects, reinforcing the notion that some artifacts, like the locket, are better left untouched.
(Iakres's odd encounter(SRZoe):SRZoe)
[Mon Jun 3 2024]
In a comfortable bedroom within a trailer
Dark wood flooring that is scratched and dulled from age, creaks and moans sometimes beneath one's feet. The walls are painted a soft and muted artic blue with bright white wood trimming along the floor and ceiling. However, the fresh coat of paint doesn't hide the fact the the walls themselves are thin, and the western window needs replacement. The sliding glass door leading into a small, private yard sticks when trying to get it open, and it only appears to lock via a metal bar.
It is before dawn, about 80F(26C) degrees, There is a waning crescent moon.
(Your target and their allies stumble upon a hidden artifact of great power within a local haunted house. However, it quickly becomes apparent that they aren't the only ones interested in the artifact. The Golden Shadow has been hired to secure it for a mysterious and powerful client. The characters must decide whether to relinquish the artifact, negotiate for it, or fight to keep it out of the hands of The Golden Shadow and their ruthless client.)
The muted light of the rising sun filters through the window - the plants upon the windowsill are thriving, a vibrant green as they soak in the first life-giving rays. It's been a quiet night, with only a few ruckuses to be heard from nearby trailers, and the sound of only a couple wolves howling from the Moore woods. This close to the woods, it's an improvement. At least they didn't howl all night, so they've got /some/ manner of consideration for the elderly (it was probably entirely unrelated).
His wife sleeps next to Iakres, her breathing steady and deep, the peaceful quiet interrupted only by the occasional snore that he's surely gotten used to by this point. The peace is not to last for too long, though.
The tranquility of the early morning is abruptly disrupted by the sounds of youngsters - teenagers, perhaps? - right outside. They must be in the backyard, to be heard this close, their laughter and excited chatter piercing through the thin walls of the trailer. The window does little to muffle the clamor, though individual words are still hard to make out. Very disrespectful of them, really, to be making noise this early in the morning when Iakres is trying to get some shut eye. They don't seem to care, youthful voices rising and falling, filled with energy and excitement. One of them must have leaned against the trailer heavily, because there's a muffled 'thump' of noise, and the metal bar upon the sliding door rattles a little in response.
Iakres hadn't been sleeping. Not really, anyway; sleep tended to be thin and mealy, these days. He didn't have his teeth in, either. He needed full dentures, top and bottom, after so many broken jaws through his life, and he didn't sleep with them in. It was also very convenient into tricking The Youth into thinking he was even older and more cantankerous than he really was. Fueled by mischief and, in fairness, a little annoyance at the little shits banging on the door, the old man gets to work dressing himself just enough to not pass for the wrong kind of old man chasing after children, and bursts from the back door, waving his cane as he goes. "Get outta here, you little shits! Let an old man sleep in peace!"
They'll never see him coming. It's three teenagers, looking like they're in that high-school going age - a boy and two girls - and all three of them look like deer caught in the headlights when they're faced with a wrinkly old Greek man bearing down upon them like vengeance from the Greek Gods themselves. It's the scruffy-haired boy that'd leaned against the trailer; the girls are both huddled behind the broken birdbath in the backyard, hidden from view of whoever may be looking from outside the poor excuse for a fence enclosing the yard, and they all let out similar, terrified screams of horror and alarm, both the girls - Blonde and Brunette, or thing one and thing two, whatever Iakres wants to remember them by - clutching to each other and scurrying to hide something that gleams gold behind their backs. So much for peace, right?
"IT'S A GHOST!" one of them screams, and earns herself a thwap on the head from the other.
"No, you dumbass. It's obviously a ghoul. Ghosts can't open doors! Shit, IT'S A GHOUL!"
The boy may have peed his pants in fear. Metaphorically, not literally. Yet. He's the only one to notice that Iakres may not be ghoul nor ghost though, for he quickly steps in front of the girls - how chivalrous - and quickly says, "We're sorry, sir! We'll return what we grabbed, I promise! It was my idea, not theirs! Please don't haunt us we'll go back home and never enter your home again oh God please don't kill us my mom will be so mad!"
Never mind, he thinks Iakres is a ghost too.
Wow, digging in /his/ backyard? Nevermind the fact that the Westhaven locals were doubtlessly far more familiar with Iakres's parcel of land than the recent arrival - stealing was wrong. Also, buried treasure in Haven had a good chance of being unexploded ordnance or some form of cursed relic, so better to keep it out of the teens' hands. He lowers the head of his cane towards the ground, then lets the haft spill through his fingers until he holds it by his foot, pointing the solid gold heron's head at the intruders. "Return ye what ye took," he belts out, surprisingly robust in both performance and English pronunciation. "Return it!"
There doesn't seem to have been any digging work done in his backyard - Iakres's wife hadn't gotten to fix up the back of the house yet, too busy still with the front yard, so it would be very obvious if someone had dug enough around the place to find hidden treasure - it's likely that whatever they took wasn't quite from his backyard. That doesn't stop all three of the teenagers from cowering beneath Iakres's booming voice and impressive command of the English language - and the heron head of his walking stick, as though it may call down lightning from the heavens to smite them with. "Y-yes, sir, we'll return it!" the boy says again, glancing back over his shoulder at the girls for just the briefest moments. The blonde takes the hint and brings out the item they'd attempted to hide behind them earlier - it's a locket, one that must have once shone quite brightly with metallic gold luster. It's tarnished now, too worn out to be properly shiny, but there's still some sort of etherealness to it, a quality that Iakres may come to recognize - it's Not Quite Right, whatever it is.
The girl shuffles forward, dragging the boy along like a shield, hand with the locket outstretched towards Iakres. She's scared, but hey, they said they'll return it so they'll return it. The boy, for his part, doesn't mind being used as a meat shield too much - prefers it to the alternative, or perhaps he just wants to impress one or both of them.
"Here- here you go, sir. We'll... We can take it back to your house if you want. Where we got it. We just- we didn't think you'd follow us all the way here. This is where we usually go after- s-sorry..." she's almost hyperventilating, but hey, that's the locket, delivered.
And then there's the third one speaking up from behind them, the brunette girl, squinting at Iakres distrustfully once she's over the fear. "You're not a ghost after all, are you? I think you're just some old dude. My mom was talking about some old people moving in." Busted...?
"I am Mister Androulakis," Iakres replies, in what would be a curt response if not for his cumbersome name. "Not a ghost. A person, who you are rudely disturbing. My wife is not well." He points the heron's head to the locket dangling between the blonde's fingers, angling it enough for it to be hooked over its spear of a beak. "It is not mine. But you have just tell me that you stole it." His brow furrows deeply, with the consternation of old men who once fought for what's right. "If you give it to me, I give it to the police. I have a deputy coming around soon. My wife made cookies for her. I give it to the police, there is no crime, and you have not done anything wrong but bother an old, sick woman." His pronunciation might be slipping a little more now, courtesy of the missing teeth, but it's nothing he hasn't done before. "Honestly. It is not safe to just /take/ things in this town. Also, that bird bath might be, eh... I forget the word. Sick." Contaminated. "Give it to me and go and I will tell my wife I was the one who banged the door. Otherwise she will find your parents. What would they do to you, knowing you are troubling old, dying women? Hm?"
"It's not really stealing." Now that the brunette isn't so terrified anymore, it's apparent she's the 'leader' of the three, and she places a hand on her hip as though she's the authority on thievery and semantics when she tells Iakres, "We just found it in the haunted house out in the forest. It's not like it belongs to anyone, so we can keep it." Under her sharp tongue and her sharper gaze, the blonde shrinks away, as though attempting to figure out whether she should pull the locket away from Iakres, but, well, it's already in the clutches of his heron's head now. "And if you tell the police they're going to ask where you got it and then our parents will find out anyway." She juts her chin up stubbornly - there's her argument, though she falters a little at the mention of the police in question, glancing over towards the road that's not quite visible from here as though to figure out if there's a policewoman coming by anytime soon.
A stubborn leader she may be, but the other two aren't immune to Iakres's guilt trips - or maybe they're just very scared of their moms finding out they've been out in the woods. "Janice, shut up," the boy hisses over to the brunette - Janice - and tells Iakres politely, "We're sorry, Mister Andrew... uhm. Mister." No last names shall be pronounced here with any degree of confidence. "It's just- we thought someone had been following us, and- well- I think it's better for you to have this. I hope your wife feels better soon." There, responsibility of possibly-cursed locket passed on to Iakres - the young lad must have good instincts to pass it on so easily.
"Everything has a rightful owner," mumbles toothless Iakres, who brings the tarnished gold up to eye level for a better inspection. "And be less worried about doing the right thing. The police won't punish you for turning in lost valuables, children." Perhaps the old man needs to read up on the current state of the policing institution of America, but that's neither here nor there. "Thank you. You're good kids. Stay in school!" He doesn't even need to dismiss them. He just turns right around and heads back into his room, letting the rattly door swing shut behind him. Problem solved. Now, this could seriously be a cursed relic, but he wasn't a mage, like Zoe - who really needed her rest, so instead he brings the thing into the living room, where he lays it down on the coffee table and begins to root around for one of his wife's old books. Maybe there'd be some passage in there to help him figure out if he had a problem in his trailer.
Well, Iakres's hasty retreat doesn't leave much space for the children to be mouthy back at him, so they're simply left to fume in his backyard, and channel that energy into bickering with each other in muffled voices - it's the boy and the brunette, if he cares to make out the voices, both of them just arguing with each other until one or both - or all three? - storm off, jumping back across the fence the same way they came in. She's not happy that they just handed over the locket and he's not pleased that she's willing to risk getting into trouble with the parental figures, typical teenager stuff.
Unbeknownst to Iakres, one of them may have chosen to stay behind. They're quiet, creeping across his window, waiting to see what he's going to do with the locket. They don't make a noise, and if he glances over he may catch a glimpse of brown hair beyond the window, crouched low, but they're just observing, trying to figure out what he's up to, until-
A blood-curdling scream, from right outside, around the same time Iakres reaches the section on cursed objects that's going over how it's generally a bad idea to open things like lockets, pendants, compasses, and boxes that are closed, and they should remain closed for good reason. There really is no peace to be had today.