Encounterlogs
Lydias Odd Encounter Sr Legion 240301
At the vibrant Succubus Club, amidst the controlled chaos of the lounge and dance floor, Lydia, a bartender slightly recovering from a recent attack but back on her feet, finds herself navigating the storeroom in search of Malibu rum. Here, she encounters a weeping woman, Becky, dressed in an outdated club dress and lamenting the loss of her engagement ring which she believes has fallen into a crack near the bathroom. Lydia, sensing the oddness of the situation but driven by empathy, decides to help Becky search for her ring in the dark, somewhat eerie basement beneath the club. As they search, Becky shares snippets about her fiancé John and his job on Wall Street, casually mentioning Apple as if it’s a budding company, adding a certain timelessness to her sorrow.
The search reveals more than just a lost ring; it uncovers a poignant truth about Becky, who's revealed to be more ethereal than human. With Lydia’s assistance, they find the tarnished ring, evidently lost for decades. Becky's reaction to finding the ring—a mix of joy and an unexplained disappearance upon touching it—leaves Lydia alone with unanswered questions and a heavy heart. This encounter underlines not only the thin veil between the past and present in the club's storeroom but also the unresolved stories that linger in its shadows. Lydia emerges from the basement, ring in hand and a somber realization in her heart, suggesting she's given Becky the closure she needed, though it leaves Lydia with a contemplative echo of their brief connection.
(Lydia's odd encounter(SRLegion):SRLegion)
[Mon Feb 26 2024]
At the Front Bar and Lounge of The Succubus Club
Though the thrum of club music greets visitors fresh in the door, the
sound is muted in this front partition bar, granting space for
conversational drinks and a place to request bottle service. The building
itself is a converted club warehouse, design sleek with the flash of modern
club setting and new renovation. Floating shelves with LED accent lighting
and a lit glass back drop lays scene for a multitude of liquor bottles
behind the bar, ranging from well club swills and beer displays to premium
bottles with prettier and pricier labels. The bar itself is long and topped
with smoked, sheened glass on the top surface, space for standing lounge
available toward the ends, past the available line of seating. A few pieces
of lounge furniture is on the other side of the room for more intimate
gathering away from the music and a smoking patio is visible through the
front doors when they open.
The bar area extends into a wide open dance floor ahead with waitress
service and wall lounge seating, the energy of the dance and trap music
compelling movement.
It is afternoon, about 34F(1C) degrees, and there are a few dark grey stormclouds in the sky.
(Your target encounters a ghost who's fixated on some past tragedy from their life, they need to either give the spirit some sense of closure, or send it on it's way through more violent means.
)
Lydia is still a little stiff from being attacked a few days ago, but at least the unsightly bruises have faded. And so she's been able to slip back into one of her more flirtatious outfits and is back at work, touring the club with a tray in her hand, smiling at patrons and taking drink orders.
The back storeroom of the bustling club is a stark contrast to the vibrant chaos outside its door. Stacked from floor to ceiling, boxes of liquor and supplies create narrow, labyrinthine pathways that snake between shelves laden with every imaginable brand of alcohol. The air is thick with the scent of cardboard and a faint, lingering aroma of spilled spirits, a testament to the hurried restocking during peak hours. Fluorescent lights buzz overhead, casting harsh shadows that flicker in the cramped space. Amidst the clutter, a small, cluttered desk serves as the makeshift command center, littered with inventory lists and delivery schedules, illuminated by a solitary, flickering lamp. The constant thump of the club's bass reverberates through the walls, a muffled heartbeat that keeps pace with the frenetic energy of the storeroom. Here, amidst the ordered chaos, the club's lifeblood is meticulously managed, ready to fuel the night's endless demands.
It's into the back room that Lydia bustles, looking for a refill on Malibu rum for the bartender -- only to catch glimpse of someone, something in the corner of the back storeroom. It's a woman, in a club dress, weeping. She shouldn't be here.
Lydia makes her back back, giving a bit of a sigh as she can drop her public smile for a bit. She blinks at the sound and slowly mkaes her way through the shelves, approaching the woman. "Um, hey" she says softly. "Sorry. Are you okay?"
When the young woman turns, there's something odd about her -- like she's see-through. It must be a trick of the light, because once she turns again she seems normal. Then she says to Lydia with a sniffle, "No. No, I lost my engagement ring," she says. Her dress is a little off, too -- like a 1980s kind of design, with poofy sleeves. "I think it rolled down the drain," she says. She's standing near an access panel to the club's basement.
Lydia blinks a little, glancing the woman over but mostly focusing her attention on the panel. "Oh... I'm sorry. I'm not sure... I'd probbly have to find the janitor or something." Still, motivated by basic emapthy, she observes the panel more closely to figure out whether she can open it.
Easily. It's got no lock on it, and in fact, Lydia has been down there before, when there's been a power outage or some flicker in the club. The breakers are down there, after all, along with the various pipes and tubings of the club. Outside, the bass beat flickers as a low undercurrent as the young woman leans in, watching Lydia.
Lydia hesitates for a moment "I shouldn't really..." she glances over her shoulder, at the loud, busy club. Be difficult to get anyone's attention right now. "Okay, let me have a look, but I'mm not promising anything." She opens the panel, and starts heading down the stairs, a little precariously in her high heels.
The stairs are almost more of a ladder, with narrow metal steps. It's hard in heels, but it's possible, and Lydia is able to descend fast enough. It's dark down there, and it takes a moment to find the lights, illuminating the store room. The woman is down below, too, by the time the lights go on. "It wasn't quite a drain," she explains. "More like -- a crack?" There are in fact cracks in the ceiling up above, vents really so that cables and the like can be run up there. "It was near the bathroom," she tells Lydia, pointing in the general direction of where the sound of the bathroom hallway penetrates.
Lydia blinks a little as she finds the woman right beside her; something about the speed with which she got here seems... not quite right. She takes in the woman's dress again and clears her throat before murmuring okay, let's have a look..." She starts heading toward the space beneath the bathroom, asking quietly "What's your name?""
Lydia blinks a little as she finds the woman right beside her; something about the speed with which she got here seems... not quite right. She takes in the woman's dress again and clears her throat before murmuring "okay, let's have a look..." She starts heading toward the space beneath the bathroom, asking quietly "What's your name?"
The young woman drifts behind Lydia, seeming almost startled at the question. Her feet make no sound as she walks behind the dark-haired bartender. "Oh," she says. "Becky. My name is Becky," she shares with Lydia.
Lydia blinks as bites her lip, noting the lack of sound. A little uncertainly, she fumbles for her phone and turns on the flashlight, casting the beam on the ground to see if there is any glint of metal in some hidden dark corner.
...a glint of metal. There is -something-, there, a little bit of a dull glint in a dusty corner of the storeroom. It's almost overshadowed by boxes, with the detritus of years and years piled up around it, but Lydia can catch a glimpse of it. Behind her, Becky is drawing close, as if to peer over Lydia's shoulder. So far, she doesn't say anything, but there's perhaps some excitement in the way she holds herself.
Lydia moves forward, tensing up without quite knowing why. The hone is tucked away again as she starts to dry and shift some of the boxes and debris aside. "So... tell me about your fiance?" she asks, a little too casually.
As Lydia's searches, Becky talks. It's a kind of rambling thing, more to herself than anyone else. "John is great," she says, though the way she says it is uncertain, like she's trying to convince herself. "He just took a job on Wall Street, you know, so we're going to have to be apart for a little bit, but he's got a lead on something great," she says. "Have you ever heard of Apple?" she asks. "They make computers."
In front of Lydia, it takes some effort to shift through boxes.
Lydia paues a little in her work as things starts to fall together. She looks over her shoulder, staring at Becky for a moment "Y-yeah. I heard of them" she says, her tone gently prompting her to continue, even as she keeps pushing boxes aside.
There! In the dim corner of the storeroom, Lydia finds a ring. It is tarnished, the stone dark from age and dust, the gold band black with soot. It seems untouched through some long passage of time, and the style of it is old-fashioned, from decades earlier. It is, unquestionably, an engagement ring, however, with a single solitaire stone as Lydia digs it out of the dust corner.
Becky seems to light up. "My ring!" she exclaims, her voice full of some joy.
Lydia stares a little at the ring, looking at the obvious age. She lets out a soft sigh as she turns and looks at Becky, holding out the ring for her to see. "What happened, Becky?" she asks in a soft, sad voice.
Reaching out, someone goes to take the ring -- and then, like a poof, when her hand closes on it? She disappears, Lydia's question unanswered.
Reaching out, Becky goes to take the ring -- and then, like a poof, when her hand closes on it? She disappears, Lydia's question unanswered.
Lydia starts a little, before giving out another deep sigh. "Hope that's enough for youm" she says quietly to the empty air. Her hand closes around the ring, and she slowly starts to head back up, slipping the ring in her purse, though she has no real plans for what will happen ot it.
The search reveals more than just a lost ring; it uncovers a poignant truth about Becky, who's revealed to be more ethereal than human. With Lydia’s assistance, they find the tarnished ring, evidently lost for decades. Becky's reaction to finding the ring—a mix of joy and an unexplained disappearance upon touching it—leaves Lydia alone with unanswered questions and a heavy heart. This encounter underlines not only the thin veil between the past and present in the club's storeroom but also the unresolved stories that linger in its shadows. Lydia emerges from the basement, ring in hand and a somber realization in her heart, suggesting she's given Becky the closure she needed, though it leaves Lydia with a contemplative echo of their brief connection.
(Lydia's odd encounter(SRLegion):SRLegion)
[Mon Feb 26 2024]
At the Front Bar and Lounge of The Succubus Club
Though the thrum of club music greets visitors fresh in the door, the
sound is muted in this front partition bar, granting space for
conversational drinks and a place to request bottle service. The building
itself is a converted club warehouse, design sleek with the flash of modern
club setting and new renovation. Floating shelves with LED accent lighting
and a lit glass back drop lays scene for a multitude of liquor bottles
behind the bar, ranging from well club swills and beer displays to premium
bottles with prettier and pricier labels. The bar itself is long and topped
with smoked, sheened glass on the top surface, space for standing lounge
available toward the ends, past the available line of seating. A few pieces
of lounge furniture is on the other side of the room for more intimate
gathering away from the music and a smoking patio is visible through the
front doors when they open.
The bar area extends into a wide open dance floor ahead with waitress
service and wall lounge seating, the energy of the dance and trap music
compelling movement.
It is afternoon, about 34F(1C) degrees, and there are a few dark grey stormclouds in the sky.
(Your target encounters a ghost who's fixated on some past tragedy from their life, they need to either give the spirit some sense of closure, or send it on it's way through more violent means.
)
Lydia is still a little stiff from being attacked a few days ago, but at least the unsightly bruises have faded. And so she's been able to slip back into one of her more flirtatious outfits and is back at work, touring the club with a tray in her hand, smiling at patrons and taking drink orders.
The back storeroom of the bustling club is a stark contrast to the vibrant chaos outside its door. Stacked from floor to ceiling, boxes of liquor and supplies create narrow, labyrinthine pathways that snake between shelves laden with every imaginable brand of alcohol. The air is thick with the scent of cardboard and a faint, lingering aroma of spilled spirits, a testament to the hurried restocking during peak hours. Fluorescent lights buzz overhead, casting harsh shadows that flicker in the cramped space. Amidst the clutter, a small, cluttered desk serves as the makeshift command center, littered with inventory lists and delivery schedules, illuminated by a solitary, flickering lamp. The constant thump of the club's bass reverberates through the walls, a muffled heartbeat that keeps pace with the frenetic energy of the storeroom. Here, amidst the ordered chaos, the club's lifeblood is meticulously managed, ready to fuel the night's endless demands.
It's into the back room that Lydia bustles, looking for a refill on Malibu rum for the bartender -- only to catch glimpse of someone, something in the corner of the back storeroom. It's a woman, in a club dress, weeping. She shouldn't be here.
Lydia makes her back back, giving a bit of a sigh as she can drop her public smile for a bit. She blinks at the sound and slowly mkaes her way through the shelves, approaching the woman. "Um, hey" she says softly. "Sorry. Are you okay?"
When the young woman turns, there's something odd about her -- like she's see-through. It must be a trick of the light, because once she turns again she seems normal. Then she says to Lydia with a sniffle, "No. No, I lost my engagement ring," she says. Her dress is a little off, too -- like a 1980s kind of design, with poofy sleeves. "I think it rolled down the drain," she says. She's standing near an access panel to the club's basement.
Lydia blinks a little, glancing the woman over but mostly focusing her attention on the panel. "Oh... I'm sorry. I'm not sure... I'd probbly have to find the janitor or something." Still, motivated by basic emapthy, she observes the panel more closely to figure out whether she can open it.
Easily. It's got no lock on it, and in fact, Lydia has been down there before, when there's been a power outage or some flicker in the club. The breakers are down there, after all, along with the various pipes and tubings of the club. Outside, the bass beat flickers as a low undercurrent as the young woman leans in, watching Lydia.
Lydia hesitates for a moment "I shouldn't really..." she glances over her shoulder, at the loud, busy club. Be difficult to get anyone's attention right now. "Okay, let me have a look, but I'mm not promising anything." She opens the panel, and starts heading down the stairs, a little precariously in her high heels.
The stairs are almost more of a ladder, with narrow metal steps. It's hard in heels, but it's possible, and Lydia is able to descend fast enough. It's dark down there, and it takes a moment to find the lights, illuminating the store room. The woman is down below, too, by the time the lights go on. "It wasn't quite a drain," she explains. "More like -- a crack?" There are in fact cracks in the ceiling up above, vents really so that cables and the like can be run up there. "It was near the bathroom," she tells Lydia, pointing in the general direction of where the sound of the bathroom hallway penetrates.
Lydia blinks a little as she finds the woman right beside her; something about the speed with which she got here seems... not quite right. She takes in the woman's dress again and clears her throat before murmuring okay, let's have a look..." She starts heading toward the space beneath the bathroom, asking quietly "What's your name?""
Lydia blinks a little as she finds the woman right beside her; something about the speed with which she got here seems... not quite right. She takes in the woman's dress again and clears her throat before murmuring "okay, let's have a look..." She starts heading toward the space beneath the bathroom, asking quietly "What's your name?"
The young woman drifts behind Lydia, seeming almost startled at the question. Her feet make no sound as she walks behind the dark-haired bartender. "Oh," she says. "Becky. My name is Becky," she shares with Lydia.
Lydia blinks as bites her lip, noting the lack of sound. A little uncertainly, she fumbles for her phone and turns on the flashlight, casting the beam on the ground to see if there is any glint of metal in some hidden dark corner.
...a glint of metal. There is -something-, there, a little bit of a dull glint in a dusty corner of the storeroom. It's almost overshadowed by boxes, with the detritus of years and years piled up around it, but Lydia can catch a glimpse of it. Behind her, Becky is drawing close, as if to peer over Lydia's shoulder. So far, she doesn't say anything, but there's perhaps some excitement in the way she holds herself.
Lydia moves forward, tensing up without quite knowing why. The hone is tucked away again as she starts to dry and shift some of the boxes and debris aside. "So... tell me about your fiance?" she asks, a little too casually.
As Lydia's searches, Becky talks. It's a kind of rambling thing, more to herself than anyone else. "John is great," she says, though the way she says it is uncertain, like she's trying to convince herself. "He just took a job on Wall Street, you know, so we're going to have to be apart for a little bit, but he's got a lead on something great," she says. "Have you ever heard of Apple?" she asks. "They make computers."
In front of Lydia, it takes some effort to shift through boxes.
Lydia paues a little in her work as things starts to fall together. She looks over her shoulder, staring at Becky for a moment "Y-yeah. I heard of them" she says, her tone gently prompting her to continue, even as she keeps pushing boxes aside.
There! In the dim corner of the storeroom, Lydia finds a ring. It is tarnished, the stone dark from age and dust, the gold band black with soot. It seems untouched through some long passage of time, and the style of it is old-fashioned, from decades earlier. It is, unquestionably, an engagement ring, however, with a single solitaire stone as Lydia digs it out of the dust corner.
Becky seems to light up. "My ring!" she exclaims, her voice full of some joy.
Lydia stares a little at the ring, looking at the obvious age. She lets out a soft sigh as she turns and looks at Becky, holding out the ring for her to see. "What happened, Becky?" she asks in a soft, sad voice.
Reaching out, someone goes to take the ring -- and then, like a poof, when her hand closes on it? She disappears, Lydia's question unanswered.
Reaching out, Becky goes to take the ring -- and then, like a poof, when her hand closes on it? She disappears, Lydia's question unanswered.
Lydia starts a little, before giving out another deep sigh. "Hope that's enough for youm" she says quietly to the empty air. Her hand closes around the ring, and she slowly starts to head back up, slipping the ring in her purse, though she has no real plans for what will happen ot it.