\ Haven:Mist and Shadow Logs/SR Naomi-Buffy And The Sea Serpent
Logs

SR Naomi-Buffy And The Sea Serpent

Buffy has accepted the encounter. Your target is abducted by a sea creature that's somehow crossed over into our world, it is up to them to survive for long enough that their allies can come help.

Buffy is currently dressing himself in preparation to leave.

In a muggy cavern of subterranean rock This cavern is dark and dank, seeming to be nothing more than a large and irregularly shaped crevasse somewhere obviously under the surface of the Earth and the water that covers most of it. Granite and basalt have been worn away, smoothly in most places, showing the wear and tear of eons of tides ebbing and flowing into and out of the cavern. The floor is silty beneath an inch or two of briny liquid, cold and smelling of the deepest depths of the sea. Furthermore, only adding to the oppressive isolation, a constant, irregular drip, drip, dripping can be heard and no fresh or other breeze flows into the chasm, leaving what breathable air there is feeling thick with moisture and easily depleted.

Buffy is standing here.

This is a thin, fair-skinned male with green eyes in his mid-twenties looking down. His aura has a faint red glow. You would judge him to be a 7.0 out of 10. They seem social. You can see his face, neck, the top of his chest, and hands.

His brow is smooth for the most part, though faint lines can be seen beginning to form. His eyebrows have a naturally trimmed appearance, the left looking partially halved compared to his right. His moon-shaped eyes are two very different and vibrant shades of green, the right being a bright emerald, while the left a darker shade of olive. He has a straight nose that is set above a pair of peach colored lips that linger a bit on the thin side, and his slender cheeks help give his strong jaw a rather handsome, rectangular appearance.

He has a slender neck. The area along his upper chest is fitted with slight definition and is free of blemish. His hands are relatively large and scantly calloused.

Buffy is using: a black beanie a long-sleeved white henley shirt a pair of white paint-splatter blue denim jeans a pair of brown suede alligator heel ankle boots

The flooding of previous days has more or less receded though the town of Haven has been left a shambles, not only physically but in some cases, emotionally. Whispered rumors of some kind of sea serpent or monster seem to be making the rounds, though all are vague and fearfully spoken, as if in fear of inviting such a catastrophe despite logic dictating that such things should be considered silly fripperies of fable. Despite this, the water in town remains, and as Buffy is preparing to leave the apartment, an inhuman roar of rage is heard just outside the apartment, before the shattering of glass and splintering of wood is heard terrifyingly near. Before Buffy has a chance to look around, that earsplitting cry is heard again, this time within the very same room he resides in just before something heavy, wet and scaly collides with remarkable strength against his head and his world goes silent, dark and senseless.

Buffy likely goes quickly limp as he's conked on the head, unconscious.

Some time passes with Buffy unconscious, though the fair-skinned, green eyed man valiantly if unconsciously struggles to regain his senses. Dreamlike images of a coiled, serpentine body imprisoning his and time spent being dragged into and through breaking waves and countless leagues of cold water might be imprinted on his consciousness when he awakens far from the warm, clean bedroom he was going about his day in to find himself lying on the floor of a waterlogged cavern in an inch of brine with no discernable exit but for the slippery, eroded walls of the cavern which show some faint hint of daylight far, far above. Should his eyes clear quickly enough, he might catch a glimpse of the tail of some kind of serpent but of mind-boggling size slithering upward along that wall but disappearing quickly from view even as the noise of a distant splash is heard drifting downward from above.

After finding at least something that could resemble his bearings, Buffy squints, unable to see in the darkness. If he's reclined, he doesn't rise. He instead slides his hands about his waist, feeling for his flashlight. His eyes are wide open, though, still searching around his surroundings.

Buffy thinks; "I'm wet. Where am I? ...Probably a... cave, or something? Where is there a cave in Haven? Am I even still in Haven?"

Buffy thinks; "Just... don't move. This is the part in the horror movies where people scream like idiots and get eaten by giant spider snake monkeys. Not doing that. Don't move."

(Subtly) Buffy catches his breath as he continues feeling for his flashlight, opting to hold it before letting out a very, very quiet exhale.

Upon closer scrutiny and with the added glow gifted by Buffy's flashlight, it is easily ascertained that he is alone in a fairly small cavern, though roomy enough for him to stand and even walk a few paces each way from where his body rests, prone and still while Buffy gazes carefully around himself. The splash fades from audibility, leaving only the sound of waves breaking nearby and though the depth of the crevasse distorts the volume and distance of the noise it seems to be coming from the west and not all that far away, perhaps an indicator that the place he has been deposited is indeed, not terribly far from home, alien as it may be. The warm glow bathing the walls reveals not everything has been completely worn away into smoothness, with small shelves of rough rock scattered sporadically through and up the walls.

With the light providing some much needed illumination, Buffy slowly sits up, letting the light aid in scanning the room for the nearest exit point, searching at eye level on the walls for a crack or entry he could fit through, while even looking up towards the ceiling.

The well-worn rock of the walls reveals few of its secrets to Buffy, and none of them seem to be an exit anywhere within his height or reach, unless he happens to be able to shrink while he grows gills, or has a handy scuba suit beneath his jeans and shirt with flippers under those swank boots he dons; the only exit other than the one hinted at by the filtering in of dimming light from above is a hole below, a fathomless cylinder drilled through the solid rock of the floor by only the Gods know what a few inches too narrow for even a human child to force itself through without breaking collarbones and contorting in the most painful fashions imaginable. What this hole does seem to add to the current predicament of Buffy is, though, is more water, an almost imperceptible amount entering the cavern as the tide outside seems to be rising for whatever reason, natural or otherwise, leaving the man almost ankle-deep by this time.

Buffy's search would reveal little close at hand, certainly nothing large enough to squirm into, but a plethora of small cracks and chinks do line the cavern walls at various distances within his reach.

Buffy thinks; "...Dammit, it still hurts to shift."

Buffy peers upwards after considering the watery hole below. He lets his light shine upwards, thoughtfully.

Buffy thinks; "The walls are jagged... I could probably climb... I mean, that's really the only thing I can do at the moment. Okay... just stay on your toes, Buff."

Buffy makes his way towards one of the walls on the cave, placing the small flashlight into his mouth to be held firmly by his teeth before he makes an attempt to carefully scale the wall, trying if at all possible to do it as quietly as he's able.

His hands are relatively large and scantly calloused.

The large, calloused hands of Buffy manage to chip away and force their digits into a pair of the crevices nearest him, that flashlight giving him an easy view of which are widest and thus most able to accommodate his fingers. While neither a particularly strong man nor a particularly dextrous one, he surely has the luck of the Irish on his side and within a few moments he has made a bit of progress up the wall. Water continues to surge and ebb through the hole in the floor, the drip-drip-dripping by now a constant, but changing in timbre, something easily noticed by a musician as indicating a definite growth in the volume of water below.

After free-climbing this way for a short length of time, Buffy has managed to bring himself about a third of the way up what is visible of the cavern walls, though that grows dimmer with every passing moment, a fact perhaps made more salient when the man finds the fingers of his left hand well and truly wedged within one of those cracks, halting his progress.

With the water changing in volume below him, Buffy grips tightly onto the a crack with his right hand, while slowly trying to free his left hand from where it's been lodged. He glances down periodically, likely to check to make sure he's alone.

The stuck man is also a smart man, and the shifting of the flashlight held in the mouth of Buffy briefly points the beam downward, revealing that yes, indeed, the water below is beginning to follow him up the walls of the cavern walls. Furthermore, silently, unseen by the man as he ever-so-carefully scales those slippery walls, that beam of light glitters briefly off a rolling, arcing length of silvered, scaly body that writhes with serpentine grace and sneaky silence through the water, any noise it makes camouflaged by the choir of drops cascading into the depths below. Visible only for a second, the thing vanishes, ostensibly swimming or slithering or doing whatever it is scaly, snakey critters that live in deep, dark holes beneath the ocean do to Houdini away when light touches them.

Buffy, lucky guy that he is, succeeds in freeing that hand and with only the most minute noise added to the drips when a few shards of rock, broken free to accommodate his escape, plunge down into the waters below, creating their own series of arrhythmic splashes as they hit and break its surface.

Buffy lets out a sigh of relief as his hand is freeing, and he places the fingers onto his side as if to ease whatever minute pain it might've caused. He squints as he glances down, pausing briefly to peer at something unseen, but otherwise gives it no more of his time as he continues to, carefully, scale the wall.

Buffy thinks; "I could've sworn I saw something..."

Buffy thinks; "Which means that I did see something... I mean, that's a safe assumption."

Buffy thinks; "...Okay, safe is the wrong word. But still."

Buffy thinks; "I've got a phone... signal is likely dead. A bottle of cologne, and a flashlight... all of which would be useless in the event that I drown."

Buffy thinks; "Assuming there is something there... which I feel like there is, given that I'm here... it'd have to be smart enough to knock me out and drag me away. So, I doubt it's a mindless animal."

Buffy thinks; "Wait, outside was flooded, but... I thought they killed it? Fuck, if this is another lochness sea monster..."

Whether Buffy saw something or not, he is most certainly free and most insistent on continuing his ascent up the walls and toward freedom. That brief, downward glance reveals nothing, but has the man slip precipitously on one of the slicker spots of the perimeter, losing some of that precious ground he has used so much effort to gain but gamely, carefully, quietly, he resumes progress. This might be aided by the fact that after a few more carefully placed hands and feet, he has managed to climb to a spot where the cavern narrows, allowing him more leverage and easier purchase despite the deepening darkness held at bay by his trusty sidekick, the flashlight. By now, Buffy is halfway up the cavern, plying what little strength and dexterity he has to somehow, with almost magical precision, find and make use of the cracks and ledges and rough spots lining the walls to pull himself upward.

This turns out to be yet another positive bead on his lengthening strand of kismet, because those falling rocks do seem to have brought something back... something long, and slithery, and scaly, and shining, and very much pissed off. A plethora of somethings, actually, because after a few moments of angry writhing splish-splashing below, what reveals itself is reminiscent of a nest of snakes found in some deep mountain cave somewhere, roiling in the water below and revealing two... three... four... more... serpentine bodies barely visible in the waters rising below.

Buffy glances back down at the splish splashing below, and upon seeing the serpentine bodies, he lets out a muffled whine. His brow furrows deeply, and he turns his sights back up towards the head of the tavern, fully intent on ascending as quickly now as able.

Buffy thinks; "...Multiple freaking snakes... Why'd it'd have to be more than one? Why not a giant... one, thing... I don't want to drown here..."

Buffy thinks; "...Maybe it's just one really long one."

Buffy thinks; "Pfft, and that's better?"

Buffy thinks; "...Yes."

With no more rocks or cave chunks plummeting downward to disturb them, the squirming things below seem to calm and drop from vision and hearing. Buffy, to his credit, or perhaps thanks to his fear, has managed to make quite a bit of headway in that whining lunging flurry of upward climbing, reaching the three-quarters mark like his butt is on fire and the water to put it out is... well, up above him, breaking audibly nearby to the west, really. A faint breeze can be felt here, especially as it kisses wet, naked human (mostly) flesh, Buffy's hands finding it first as they reach and find more purchase over his head and haul him up, up, up, toward freedom and the... safety... of Haven... maybe.

Good thing, too, because one of those slithery, sinuous forms, still obfuscated by the darkness deepening below as he scrabbles upward, has decided it is in fact too angry to go slide back under its rock and is attempting, with no success (for the time being) to launch itself from the water rising slowly beneath Buffy's tiring, free-climbing body; still far enough below to not be seen directly unless one were to stop looking upward for purchase and escape to stare down at the teeth heard snapping below, between really rather tiny roars of anger. Tiny when compared to the roar heard before the man was knocked out and found himself here, anyway.

Buffy doesn't find too much time to stop, or... really any time at all, to be honest. He continues moving upwards, though he'd glance back behind him, hoping his eyes would connect on some sort of seen creature long enough for him to wildly, blindly gesture a free hand towards it. Whether whatever he attempted to do landed was yet to be seen. He continues climbing forward.

Buffy thinks; "...God, I hope that distracts something down there."

Buffy suddenly lets go of the rocks, leaping towards the waters below. Buffy (Subtly) continues climbing forward, as swiftly as he can.

		Stat Report:Buffy
	he has Illusions stat at 2.

The wave of that hand of Buffy and the illusion of the man plummeting has what seems to be a relatively thick length of coiled, pissed off sea-snake literally lunging upward into the air and almost leaving the water below, the last of what light hits it revealing just enough to mark it a definite, dangerous threat, even if it is just a miniature version of the monster that brought Buffy here in the first place. A snapping of teeth is heard again as it goes for the not-there figure and a lithe wriggle of its rolling body is visible when it retreats, thwarted, diving down into the depths below with a splash and a flick of its tail. This does buy the fleeing man enough time to finish scaling those walls.

Aided by panic, pragmatism, and a little bit of Saint Paddy, the soggy, perhaps almost exhausted Buffy with the bright green eyes finally escapes the hole, emerging to find himself stranded on a rocky islet in the deepening dusk, with waves licking almost up to the wide but well-hidden crack in the rock jutting from the water to hound him.

In a rocky islet surrounded by water A big chunk of rock jutting from oceanic water, this islet is little more than a pointed outpost amidst a massive, briny volume of seawater.

It is dusk, about 53F(11C) degrees, and there are a few dark grey stormclouds in the sky.

After emerging, Buffy rolls over onto his back should there be space enough to do so, taking the moment to rest. He exhales, staring up at the sky should it be available for him to view.

Buffy thinks; "Okay... that worked... where even the hell am I?"

Quite lethargically, Buffy withdraws a phone, trying to find signal enough to gps.

The few moments of rest probably do Buffy a world of good, with a fresh sea breeze blowing over him to begin drying out his clothes and the flesh of his body beginning to prune. Some sense of stamina is probably recovered over a slow stretch of time, as dark grey stormclouds float overhead and the sun, what of it is visible, continues its inexorable sinking behind and beyond the western horizon. Once Buffy has regained his breath, his calm, and his bearings, what bearings there are to be regained when marooned on a rocky not-quite-island, his glances would show a rocky, bluff-lined coastline not too far from the west, and that GPS, spotty though it is, eventually links up long enough to support the theory that he has really only been dragged a short distance from the southeastern coast of Haven before being dumped into that hole as offering to not-quite-monster-sized sea monsters.

From the east, however, comes a sound that would be remembered, perhaps forever, by the man as he plots his further escape; an angry, monstrous cry that sends sea-birds to scattering and, even as it is uttered, seems to close on the damp, stranded soul, heading straight for the rocky protrusion he is now on instead of in.

Bright and warm and welcoming, the lighthouse beckons to Buffy from the west, even as certain death swims headlong at him from the east.

Buffy turns his head lazily towards the east as there's a monstrous cry. He exhales, looking reluctant. He turns his head towards his phone, and in the direction of land, according to his phone. He seems to be trying to determine just how far of a swim it would be.

Buffy thinks; "...Great. Of course it's not over... I'm too tired, and treading water would exhaust me to the point of drowning.."

That second look at the GPS gives Buffy what might be remarkably welcome good news: the swim, should he attempt it, is really only a couple or three hundred yards, the bluffs facing him from Haven's coastline receding enough to leave a dark strech of beach visible, beckoning to him with its safety should he muster the courage (or fear?) to make a go of it. Meanwhile, on the opposite side of his little rocky perch, silent after uttering that singular bellow, a long wake of water can be seen approaching at superhuman speed, visible and closing though still relatively far off, the water breaking now and again to reveal the silvery scales covering a body tens of times larger than anything that was below him trying to turn him into an ad-hoc dinner.

Buffy feels a mild desire to stay and fight the beast, because killing it might be fun.

Buffy feels a moderate desire to swim to safety and not die.

Buffy looks towards the east. He waits until he's able for his eyes to spot the silvery scales of the creature before gesturing a hand, attempting to cast another illusion at the creature. He doesn't wait for a result afterwards. He rises to his feet, and quickly dives into the waters closest towards the land to swim to safety.

There's a painfully blinding light that hits your eyes, lingering for several long moments.

That wake stutters to a stop, whether Buffy looks at it or not, the bright, searing light of illusion that blasts it sending it diving beneath the depths, luckily for him. Or not, if it can actually swim /faster/ underwater, but only time will tell as Buffy dives into the water and begins to swim toward that safety beckoning him toward the sandy shore. The beast disappears and the exhausted, soaked man flails through the water with no strength, no dexterity, no nothin', really, propelling himself toward land with will and will alone... and then, surprise of all surprises... a mild rogue wave makes itself known under the almost-drowning, very slowly proceeding form of Buffy, lifting him and propelling him toward that beach, almost as if created by Providence herself, aiding and alleviating his struggle to survive by depositing him not completely onshore, but close enough that his next swim stroke has him beaching himself in only a foot-and-a-half of water.

Another more normal wave catches Buffy from behind as if attempting to nudge him that last little distance. The monstrous creature fails to make a re-appearance, perhaps deflected or distracted by the rogue wave, perhaps heading back to its nest amidst the rocks; all that is certain is that Buffy is within a few waded steps of safety, that lucky, lucky guy.

In a safe stretch of beach along the bluff-lined coast A tiny, sheltered beach below the bluffs of the town to the east is hidden away from the view and knowledge of most, providing a safe haven to sunbathe or swim to should one be found stranded in the ocean nearby.

With nothing short of exhaustion, Buffy continues making his way towards the shore.

Buffy is The Man. After making those waded steps he manages to hit the beach, those helpful waves receding behind him their breaking something of a goodbye wave to the man even if it goes unseen before the waves sink into the ocean again, leaving it calm and glassy and very much devoid of sea monster. He did it. The snazzy dresser with the green eyes and power of illusions has managed to escape death by munching, while simultaneously learning that the sea monster rumors are not only true, but that a nest of such creatures is being nourished, perhaps by the flesh and blood of the denizens of Haven itself, and he... Buffy. is, right now, the lone survivor of said encounter. Buffy is a winner!