Encounterlogs
Magnuss Odd Encounter Sr Cailyn
In the mystical atmosphere of the Black Rose Cafe, Magnus' evening of peaceful reading was disrupted when a curse took hold of his hand, transforming it into a force of chaotic destruction. His hand, seemingly possessed by a vengeful spirit, violently attacked books and then rebelliously mocked Magnus with a rude gesture. Desperate to contain the curse, Magnus used his shirt to bind his increasingly wild hand and retreated to a nearby alley to confront the entity with threats of banishment and attempts to physically restrain its unpredictable movements.
The conflict intensified as Magnus' cursed hand assaulted him with supernatural strength, leading to a fierce struggle where he attempted various methods to break the spell, including pouring salt and chanting in ancient Nordic. As the hand led him on, Magnus' determination did not waver; he drew a magical circle with chalk and runes, trying to bind the spirit. His efforts culminated in a powerful ritual that drained his energy but ultimately succeeded. A brilliant flash and a spectral wail marked the curse's departure, and Magnus, exhausted and triumphant, could finally rest, relieved to be free from the malevolent presence that had so forcefully intruded upon his life.
(Magnus's odd encounter(SRCailyn):SRCailyn)
[Tue Dec 12 2023]
In the Cafe of Black Rose Book Store
Large columns support the high ceiling which has
a large stained glass roof that, in the day time
at least, dapples the small cafe below in shades
of rosy reds, greens and dark gray shadows. Each
of the black painted columns are ornamented with
leafy vines that wind their way around them. The
walls are covered from ceiling down with crimson
lake hued wallpaper, embossed in a subtle raised
pattern of more of the blooms that lend the shop
its name. From roughly head height the wallpaper
gives way to darkly stained wood panelling which
then gives way to similar dark hard wood floors.
In the center of the room is a circular counter,
inside of which serves as the hub for the little
cafe that offers patrons a place to sit and read
while snacking or sipping on some coffee or tea.
It is about 50F(10C) degrees.
(Your target has been afflicted by a curse which takes away control of one of their limbs, which now has a new and likely destructive purpose. It is up to them to control the cursed limb for long enough for they and their allies to figure out how to contain or solve the problem.
)
It is a normal evening at the Black Rose Cafe, Magnus is reading a book at the counter, studying from a book on ancient religion and ancient texts, sipping coffee as he enjoys the quiet of the late hours. The coffee is nearly finished, and Magnus sets it aside as he flips another page in his book, engrossed in the writings of ancient Babylon in this particular chapter.
Indeed, a normal evening for Magnus But... Something seems rather off. When Magnus goes to flip the page in his book, his hand stays glued to the pages, fingers all of a sudden gripping tightly.
Looking down at his hand, Magnus frowns as he attempts to lift it again, using more strength as he pulls his other hand over to grip his wrist to pull. His brow furrows down with a stern gaze as he grubles at his own limb.
Magnus is able to grasp his other wrist and pull with ease. It seems, for a moment, there's a give- But Magnus winds up just pulling the page right out of the book! Rrrrip is certainly a sound that causes a few heads to turn in the bookstore... And then Magnus' hand starts to pull against his own grip.
"Deviled thing." Magnus states angrily as he gets up from his seat at the cafe and looks around, hastily walking out the door as he moves to a more secluded space in the alley next door. "If you're some sort of spirit possessing me, know that I will banish you to the worst hell you have ever imagined."
Magnus' hand certainly lashes out in an attempt to drag books from shelves as it's wheeled out of the establishment. When Magnus starts to speak to it in the alley, it whips about and gives him a mean middle-finger!
"Oh, you certainly are a piece of shit, you spirit." Magnus mutters as he attempts to pull off his flannel and wrap it around the hand to bind it. "Here, let's get you situated." he says as he kneels down to use his knee and his arm to bind and trap the hand against the ground. "One second while I work on getting you out of my body."
Magnus' hand squirms as it's wrapped up in the flannel shirt. It certainly doesn't like its newfound position. It starts to pull against Magnus, attempting to lead him towards one of the buildings in the alley.
"Now look, spirit. I can see and hear you, if you just want to speak with me, I will speak. What is it you are asking of me?" Magnus allows the hand up, but still has it wrapped up in his flannel shirt, like a collar and leash, as he allows it a little bit of room to roam.
The hand, adorned in a flannel shirt, appears devoid of any communicative intent as it frenetically moves, swirling and writhing without apparent purpose in the space around Magnus. Its erratic movements suggest an absence of conventional gestures or signals.
However, in a sudden burst of energy, the hand seizes an opportunity when granted a modicum of space. With a swift and forceful motion, it yanks violently, as if propelled by an unseen force, aiming to forcefully collide with one of the nearby buildings. The abrupt and intense action creates an air of urgency, leaving Magnus to grapple with the unexpected and potentially perilous behavior of the animated hand.
"You insane thing!" Magnus growls as he looks around, attempting to assess the building for what could be inside as he grits his teeth against the pain of his hand smacking into the building, luckily it's partially padded by the cloth that he tightens, tugging on the sleeves to try and hold that hand against his body.
Persisting in its tumultuous movements, the hand refuses to relent, swirling and thrashing as though possessed by a volatile energy. In a sudden transformation, it clenches into a tight fist, a tangible manifestation of its growing aggression. The air is charged with tension as the hand, now assuming a more deliberate form, seems poised for a calculated strike. With an alarming change in demeanor, the fist propels itself with unwavering determination, hurtling through the air with a singular focus the target being Magnus' face.
What a devilish appendage!
Not fast enough, Magnus gets punched right in his own face, dazing him for a second as he tries to shake it off, his long hair and braids whipping around his face as he grunts at the malevolent hand, "I'll fix you..." Magnus says as he pulls it to his chest and smashes himself against the wall, pressing his whole bodyweight against it as his other hand reaches down into his bag to find some magical ingredients. A bag of salt comes out as he starts to rip open the bag one handed, no delicate moves here, just pouring the whole bag of it on his hand as he begins to chant some ancient nordic language to attempt to break the curse.
In response to Magnus' actions, a dynamic interplay unfolds with the cursed hand. Whether it's the application of salt or the rhythmic cadence of Nordic chanting, there's a discernible impact on the rebellious appendage. The hand, ensnared in a pinning maneuver executed by Magnus, undergoes a series of animated contortions. Its movements become a tumultuous display of resistance, a manifestation of its relentless struggle to break free from the restraining hold imposed by Magnus. The hand squirms and thrashes with a determined vigor, each motion indicative of its fervent attempt to evade the constraints placed upon it. The unfolding scene paints a vivid picture of the ongoing clash between Magnus and the animated hand, with the environment charged by the intensity of their interaction.
Continuing to reach into his bag for random things to break curses, Magnus continues to chant as he pulls out a water bottle, attempting to drench the hand in water as he tries to keep it pinned to the wall with his chest. "Come on you, you're not possession, are you voodoo?" he asks as he tries a different chant and a different method of curse breaking.
The cursed hand, now drenched in water, undergoes a momentary stillness, its rebellious movements momentarily subdued. Droplets cascade down its fingers, creating a shimmering effect as it remains pinned against the wall by Magnus's chest. The ambient tension lingers as the hand, seemingly affected by the water, exhibits a subdued resistance. Magnus's question hangs in the air, unanswered by the enigmatic appendage. The hand's response is elusive, as if caught between the realms of possession and the arcane dance of voodoo. The chant, altered and unfamiliar, reverberates in the space, intertwining with the ambient energy of the supernatural struggle. The outcome remains uncertain as the animated hand stands at the crossroads of mystical forces, poised for the next twist in this otherworldly encounter.
Taking that moment to fish something else out of his pocket, Magnus draws out some chalk and awkwardly draws a circle on the wall, etching small bits of rune around the edges of binding as he glances down at the torn bag of salt and the empty water bottle that have been strewn about in his haste, he attempts to pull back and slam his hand back to the wall, palm open, so he can bind whatever is in his hand into the circle and out of his body.
The torn bag of salt and the empty water bottle, casualties of Magnus's haste, bear witness to the fervent struggle. The hand, now the focal point of Magnus's attention, braces itself for the impending maneuver. As the hand makes contact with the surface, the intricate runes adorning the edges of the chalk-drawn circle come into play. The binding magic takes hold, a fusion of ancient symbols and intent. The hand, now bound within the confines of the mystical circle, becomes a captive entity, severed from its host, metaphorically. The air crackles with residual energy, and the hand, once a symbol of defiance, is now ensnared in the intersection of Magnus's mystical prowess and the arcane forces at play.
Pushing his will and intent through his hand and the symbols, Magnus continues to chant in a different language, his bodyweight pressing his arm taut against the wall, arm muscles straining as he grits his teeth from the effort, beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead as he uses the other hand to pull back his hair out of his face. "Come on, you...whatever it is, come out of me! Bind in this place, through these symbols of rote, my will and my soul bleed out to bind you!"
As Magnus channels his energy and intent through the hand, the sensation is palpable on the cursed appendage. The runes etched in chalk pulsate with an otherworldly glow, resonating with the weight of Magnus's determined chant. The hand, ensnared within the mystical circle, feels the shifting currents of supernatural forces. The foreign language, rich with arcane cadence, reverberates through the ethereal space, each word a command echoing through the walls. The pressure intensifies as Magnus leans into the wall, his arm stretched taut, muscles straining under the exertion. Beads of sweat emerge on his forehead, testament to the intensity of the effort. The hand, once a vessel of defiance, now quivers with the palpable influence of Magnus's will. It responds to the binding incantations, each syllable a thread weaving the fabric of an intricate spell. The symbols of rote, drawn with purpose on the wall, become conduits for the transference of power.
Taking deep breaths and centering himself, Magnus can feel the life force draining from him at the conclusion of the ritual, the sweat and the ragged nerves remain, heart thundering in his chest as he pours will through his mind into the runes and feels the energy both positive and the foreign source bleed from him. "As above, so below. By Freyja divine we are sent to battle, in life and in death we arrive and depart, until we meet in Folkvangar."
In a climactic moment, as Magnus's incantations reach their zenith, the cursed hand undergoes a profound transformation. A brilliant flash of light emanates from the mystical circle, casting an ephemeral glow that dances across the room. The radiance pulsates with a mesmerizing intensity, signaling the culmination of Magnus's arduous efforts. Simultaneously, a haunting wail echoes through the space, distant yet unmistakable. The ethereal sound reverberates through the air, carrying with it the echoes of the curse's departure. It is a spectral lament, a fading remnant of the supernatural force that once held sway over the rebellious hand. As the flash of light subsides, the hand emerges from the ordeal transformed. The spectral residue of the curse dissipates, leaving behind an air of stillness and release. The room, once charged with mystical tension, now basks in the aftermath of the exorcism. The distant wail lingers in the air for a fleeting moment, a haunting memory of the supernatural encounter that has just unfolded. The hand, no longer bound by the malevolent force, trembles with a newfound freedom, and the once-ensnared appendage is restored to a state of calm.
"Rest well, whatever you are. Just not inside of me." Magnus says as he closes his eyes and lets out a deep, tired sigh.
In the aftermath of the mystical struggle, the quiet alley stands as a witness to the ebb and flow of supernatural forces. The dimly lit surroundings, adorned with weathered brick walls and flickering streetlights, exude an air of serenity that belies the recent otherworldly turmoil. The chalk-drawn circle on the wall remains, a testament to the arcane battle waged within its confines. The air, once charged with mystic tension, now carries a subtle calm, as if the very atmosphere has sighed in relief. The distant wail, a fading echo of the curse's departure, dissipates into the silence, leaving behind a stillness that envelops the narrow passageway. Strewn remnants of Magnus's hasty effortsa torn bag of salt and an empty water bottlebear witness to the urgency of the exorcism. Puddles of water from the earlier dousing glimmer in the feeble light, reflecting the transient aftermath of the supernatural struggle. As the ambient sounds of the city gradually reassert themselves, the alley resumes its quietude. The walls, stained with the residue of mystical energies, stand stoically, indifferent to the cosmic battles that momentarily disrupted the equilibrium.
Cleaning up his trash in the alleyway, Magnus takes his hand off the wall and flexes his fingers, trying to make sure everything is gone from his body as he tosses the ripped bag and the empty water bottle in the dumpster.
The conflict intensified as Magnus' cursed hand assaulted him with supernatural strength, leading to a fierce struggle where he attempted various methods to break the spell, including pouring salt and chanting in ancient Nordic. As the hand led him on, Magnus' determination did not waver; he drew a magical circle with chalk and runes, trying to bind the spirit. His efforts culminated in a powerful ritual that drained his energy but ultimately succeeded. A brilliant flash and a spectral wail marked the curse's departure, and Magnus, exhausted and triumphant, could finally rest, relieved to be free from the malevolent presence that had so forcefully intruded upon his life.
(Magnus's odd encounter(SRCailyn):SRCailyn)
[Tue Dec 12 2023]
In the Cafe of Black Rose Book Store
Large columns support the high ceiling which has
a large stained glass roof that, in the day time
at least, dapples the small cafe below in shades
of rosy reds, greens and dark gray shadows. Each
of the black painted columns are ornamented with
leafy vines that wind their way around them. The
walls are covered from ceiling down with crimson
lake hued wallpaper, embossed in a subtle raised
pattern of more of the blooms that lend the shop
its name. From roughly head height the wallpaper
gives way to darkly stained wood panelling which
then gives way to similar dark hard wood floors.
In the center of the room is a circular counter,
inside of which serves as the hub for the little
cafe that offers patrons a place to sit and read
while snacking or sipping on some coffee or tea.
It is about 50F(10C) degrees.
(Your target has been afflicted by a curse which takes away control of one of their limbs, which now has a new and likely destructive purpose. It is up to them to control the cursed limb for long enough for they and their allies to figure out how to contain or solve the problem.
)
It is a normal evening at the Black Rose Cafe, Magnus is reading a book at the counter, studying from a book on ancient religion and ancient texts, sipping coffee as he enjoys the quiet of the late hours. The coffee is nearly finished, and Magnus sets it aside as he flips another page in his book, engrossed in the writings of ancient Babylon in this particular chapter.
Indeed, a normal evening for Magnus But... Something seems rather off. When Magnus goes to flip the page in his book, his hand stays glued to the pages, fingers all of a sudden gripping tightly.
Looking down at his hand, Magnus frowns as he attempts to lift it again, using more strength as he pulls his other hand over to grip his wrist to pull. His brow furrows down with a stern gaze as he grubles at his own limb.
Magnus is able to grasp his other wrist and pull with ease. It seems, for a moment, there's a give- But Magnus winds up just pulling the page right out of the book! Rrrrip is certainly a sound that causes a few heads to turn in the bookstore... And then Magnus' hand starts to pull against his own grip.
"Deviled thing." Magnus states angrily as he gets up from his seat at the cafe and looks around, hastily walking out the door as he moves to a more secluded space in the alley next door. "If you're some sort of spirit possessing me, know that I will banish you to the worst hell you have ever imagined."
Magnus' hand certainly lashes out in an attempt to drag books from shelves as it's wheeled out of the establishment. When Magnus starts to speak to it in the alley, it whips about and gives him a mean middle-finger!
"Oh, you certainly are a piece of shit, you spirit." Magnus mutters as he attempts to pull off his flannel and wrap it around the hand to bind it. "Here, let's get you situated." he says as he kneels down to use his knee and his arm to bind and trap the hand against the ground. "One second while I work on getting you out of my body."
Magnus' hand squirms as it's wrapped up in the flannel shirt. It certainly doesn't like its newfound position. It starts to pull against Magnus, attempting to lead him towards one of the buildings in the alley.
"Now look, spirit. I can see and hear you, if you just want to speak with me, I will speak. What is it you are asking of me?" Magnus allows the hand up, but still has it wrapped up in his flannel shirt, like a collar and leash, as he allows it a little bit of room to roam.
The hand, adorned in a flannel shirt, appears devoid of any communicative intent as it frenetically moves, swirling and writhing without apparent purpose in the space around Magnus. Its erratic movements suggest an absence of conventional gestures or signals.
However, in a sudden burst of energy, the hand seizes an opportunity when granted a modicum of space. With a swift and forceful motion, it yanks violently, as if propelled by an unseen force, aiming to forcefully collide with one of the nearby buildings. The abrupt and intense action creates an air of urgency, leaving Magnus to grapple with the unexpected and potentially perilous behavior of the animated hand.
"You insane thing!" Magnus growls as he looks around, attempting to assess the building for what could be inside as he grits his teeth against the pain of his hand smacking into the building, luckily it's partially padded by the cloth that he tightens, tugging on the sleeves to try and hold that hand against his body.
Persisting in its tumultuous movements, the hand refuses to relent, swirling and thrashing as though possessed by a volatile energy. In a sudden transformation, it clenches into a tight fist, a tangible manifestation of its growing aggression. The air is charged with tension as the hand, now assuming a more deliberate form, seems poised for a calculated strike. With an alarming change in demeanor, the fist propels itself with unwavering determination, hurtling through the air with a singular focus the target being Magnus' face.
What a devilish appendage!
Not fast enough, Magnus gets punched right in his own face, dazing him for a second as he tries to shake it off, his long hair and braids whipping around his face as he grunts at the malevolent hand, "I'll fix you..." Magnus says as he pulls it to his chest and smashes himself against the wall, pressing his whole bodyweight against it as his other hand reaches down into his bag to find some magical ingredients. A bag of salt comes out as he starts to rip open the bag one handed, no delicate moves here, just pouring the whole bag of it on his hand as he begins to chant some ancient nordic language to attempt to break the curse.
In response to Magnus' actions, a dynamic interplay unfolds with the cursed hand. Whether it's the application of salt or the rhythmic cadence of Nordic chanting, there's a discernible impact on the rebellious appendage. The hand, ensnared in a pinning maneuver executed by Magnus, undergoes a series of animated contortions. Its movements become a tumultuous display of resistance, a manifestation of its relentless struggle to break free from the restraining hold imposed by Magnus. The hand squirms and thrashes with a determined vigor, each motion indicative of its fervent attempt to evade the constraints placed upon it. The unfolding scene paints a vivid picture of the ongoing clash between Magnus and the animated hand, with the environment charged by the intensity of their interaction.
Continuing to reach into his bag for random things to break curses, Magnus continues to chant as he pulls out a water bottle, attempting to drench the hand in water as he tries to keep it pinned to the wall with his chest. "Come on you, you're not possession, are you voodoo?" he asks as he tries a different chant and a different method of curse breaking.
The cursed hand, now drenched in water, undergoes a momentary stillness, its rebellious movements momentarily subdued. Droplets cascade down its fingers, creating a shimmering effect as it remains pinned against the wall by Magnus's chest. The ambient tension lingers as the hand, seemingly affected by the water, exhibits a subdued resistance. Magnus's question hangs in the air, unanswered by the enigmatic appendage. The hand's response is elusive, as if caught between the realms of possession and the arcane dance of voodoo. The chant, altered and unfamiliar, reverberates in the space, intertwining with the ambient energy of the supernatural struggle. The outcome remains uncertain as the animated hand stands at the crossroads of mystical forces, poised for the next twist in this otherworldly encounter.
Taking that moment to fish something else out of his pocket, Magnus draws out some chalk and awkwardly draws a circle on the wall, etching small bits of rune around the edges of binding as he glances down at the torn bag of salt and the empty water bottle that have been strewn about in his haste, he attempts to pull back and slam his hand back to the wall, palm open, so he can bind whatever is in his hand into the circle and out of his body.
The torn bag of salt and the empty water bottle, casualties of Magnus's haste, bear witness to the fervent struggle. The hand, now the focal point of Magnus's attention, braces itself for the impending maneuver. As the hand makes contact with the surface, the intricate runes adorning the edges of the chalk-drawn circle come into play. The binding magic takes hold, a fusion of ancient symbols and intent. The hand, now bound within the confines of the mystical circle, becomes a captive entity, severed from its host, metaphorically. The air crackles with residual energy, and the hand, once a symbol of defiance, is now ensnared in the intersection of Magnus's mystical prowess and the arcane forces at play.
Pushing his will and intent through his hand and the symbols, Magnus continues to chant in a different language, his bodyweight pressing his arm taut against the wall, arm muscles straining as he grits his teeth from the effort, beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead as he uses the other hand to pull back his hair out of his face. "Come on, you...whatever it is, come out of me! Bind in this place, through these symbols of rote, my will and my soul bleed out to bind you!"
As Magnus channels his energy and intent through the hand, the sensation is palpable on the cursed appendage. The runes etched in chalk pulsate with an otherworldly glow, resonating with the weight of Magnus's determined chant. The hand, ensnared within the mystical circle, feels the shifting currents of supernatural forces. The foreign language, rich with arcane cadence, reverberates through the ethereal space, each word a command echoing through the walls. The pressure intensifies as Magnus leans into the wall, his arm stretched taut, muscles straining under the exertion. Beads of sweat emerge on his forehead, testament to the intensity of the effort. The hand, once a vessel of defiance, now quivers with the palpable influence of Magnus's will. It responds to the binding incantations, each syllable a thread weaving the fabric of an intricate spell. The symbols of rote, drawn with purpose on the wall, become conduits for the transference of power.
Taking deep breaths and centering himself, Magnus can feel the life force draining from him at the conclusion of the ritual, the sweat and the ragged nerves remain, heart thundering in his chest as he pours will through his mind into the runes and feels the energy both positive and the foreign source bleed from him. "As above, so below. By Freyja divine we are sent to battle, in life and in death we arrive and depart, until we meet in Folkvangar."
In a climactic moment, as Magnus's incantations reach their zenith, the cursed hand undergoes a profound transformation. A brilliant flash of light emanates from the mystical circle, casting an ephemeral glow that dances across the room. The radiance pulsates with a mesmerizing intensity, signaling the culmination of Magnus's arduous efforts. Simultaneously, a haunting wail echoes through the space, distant yet unmistakable. The ethereal sound reverberates through the air, carrying with it the echoes of the curse's departure. It is a spectral lament, a fading remnant of the supernatural force that once held sway over the rebellious hand. As the flash of light subsides, the hand emerges from the ordeal transformed. The spectral residue of the curse dissipates, leaving behind an air of stillness and release. The room, once charged with mystical tension, now basks in the aftermath of the exorcism. The distant wail lingers in the air for a fleeting moment, a haunting memory of the supernatural encounter that has just unfolded. The hand, no longer bound by the malevolent force, trembles with a newfound freedom, and the once-ensnared appendage is restored to a state of calm.
"Rest well, whatever you are. Just not inside of me." Magnus says as he closes his eyes and lets out a deep, tired sigh.
In the aftermath of the mystical struggle, the quiet alley stands as a witness to the ebb and flow of supernatural forces. The dimly lit surroundings, adorned with weathered brick walls and flickering streetlights, exude an air of serenity that belies the recent otherworldly turmoil. The chalk-drawn circle on the wall remains, a testament to the arcane battle waged within its confines. The air, once charged with mystic tension, now carries a subtle calm, as if the very atmosphere has sighed in relief. The distant wail, a fading echo of the curse's departure, dissipates into the silence, leaving behind a stillness that envelops the narrow passageway. Strewn remnants of Magnus's hasty effortsa torn bag of salt and an empty water bottlebear witness to the urgency of the exorcism. Puddles of water from the earlier dousing glimmer in the feeble light, reflecting the transient aftermath of the supernatural struggle. As the ambient sounds of the city gradually reassert themselves, the alley resumes its quietude. The walls, stained with the residue of mystical energies, stand stoically, indifferent to the cosmic battles that momentarily disrupted the equilibrium.
Cleaning up his trash in the alleyway, Magnus takes his hand off the wall and flexes his fingers, trying to make sure everything is gone from his body as he tosses the ripped bag and the empty water bottle in the dumpster.