\ Haven:Mist and Shadow Logs/SR Penny
Logs

SR Penny

  • Encounter 8/30

“Examination”**

Merek has accepted the encounter. Your target is abducted by humans who believe that the target can help make them supernatural. They need to either get out of the situation themselves, or stall for long enough for their allies to come save them.

In cell 5x It is dark.

It is night, and about 65F(18C) degrees. There is a waxing gibbous moon.

Merek is standing here.

Merek is settled in the cell of the clinic, which he had accidentally locked himself in. For now he seems to be leaning back in the dark to a wall and relaxing, with a sigh.

Time ticks by, minute after minute. Suddenly, you hear something outside of your cell- muttered conversation. You think there are a few people outside.

Merek stands up after a bit, and then walks to the cell. He knocks on it a bit, "Hello, is anyone out there?" he asks, hoping it's someone that can let him out of this place for the time being.

The conversation stops immediately when you knock. You hear nervous shifting. The conversation shifts to a low whisper. You'd guess there are two, perhaps threee people. You catch a shadow fall across the sliver of light that comes in under the cell door.

Merek frowns a bit when it seems that no one is opening the door, and takes his time to settle back in at the wall, watching the place in darkness as he lets out a thoughtful sigh.

You can just make out a snatch of conversation: "...no prisoner on the roster..." "Must be one of the classified..."

Someone knocks on the door. "I-identify yourself," comes a man's voice from the other side of the door.

"... I'm Professor Tennant, of Blackfield, I somehow managed to get locked in here by a patient," Merek tells them, which seems to be not true, but hey, he will take what he can get.

More hushed conversation follows, and the door opens- though not all the way. Two men enter, wearing the uniforms of clinic technicians. There seems to be someone else in the hallway, and the door begins to close. The men stand between you and the exit. "Professor Tennant," one of them repeats your name. You do not recognize either of them from around the Clinic.

Merek looks to the door, and then stands up, while he adjusts the scrubs, "Ah, thank you," he offers to the two. "Some of these patients are a bit harder to subdue than others," he admits after a moment.

The two men look to one another. One of them clears his throat. "You were injured by a patient?" he asks. "Do you need medical attention?" He looks over his shoulder. "Bring a stretcher," he requests of whoever is standing in the hallway. The two men don't move to allow you to leave.

Merek seems to keep his cool for the time being, "Yes, they caught me from behind while I was walking in the cell," he states. He then nods as they seem to want to bring in that thing.

Merek thinks; "Play along."

"We'll accompany you to the examination room," offers the lead man. He glances at the other, and then the two of theem are moving toward you...not threatening, but rather cautiously. You can tell someone is still outside. In the distance you hear the squeaking wheels of a gurney approaching the cell.

"Understood," Merek tells the two men with a firm nod, while he takes his time to wait for the wheels and all to arrive. He doesn't make any movements for the time being, he couldn't face them even if they wanted to hurt him, alas.

The two men take Merek by the arms and begin escorting him out of the cell into the hallway of the clinic. Outside are two more men, one of them wheeling a gurney down the hall toward the cell, the other serving as a lookout of sorts.

Merek allows himself to be escorted to that gurney, and takes his time to move along with the men. He looks and waits for the time being, "You all seem a bit on edge, has something happened in the clinic?" he asks.

The men attempt to get you to lay on the gurney. "Class One security breach," the lead man says, although this terminology is likely meaningless to you. "Double security for the next few hours, double patrols. We're just trying to make sure the inmates are all docile. Sorry for the inconvenience."

"Dear me," Merek states, and just nods his understanding rather than give away his knowledge or lack of. He then settles onto the gurney and relaxes back a bit.

Once you are on the gurney, the men attempt to fasten the restraints. "Just a routine examination, Professor," the lead man says. "Then we can release you."

Merek takes his time to nod towards the men, "Understood," he states, while he adjusts his scrubs a small bit. He then leans back and waits for them to do what they will.

The men wheel the gurney through the hallways of the Clinic. The lead man seems to have a cool head, but the others are clearly nervous, scanning the hallways for..who knows what. They finally pull the gurney into a side room. They step out into the hall for a moment, conversing in low tones. Three of the four men return, closing the door behind them. One of them has a black doctor's bag. "What kind do you suppose he is?" the man with the bag asks the leader. "Probably one of the higher level ones... he wasn't even on the clinic roster." "Be quiet," the leader says, raising an open palm to the other. He leans over you. "I want to make this quick," he tells Merek. "You're going to give us the secret of your blood."

Merek looks up to the man, and then frowns a bit, "Ah well, alas. In any case, if you let me be, sure. You can take a sample of it, should you wish," he then tells the men, with a lift of his shoulders up a bit.

"We need more than just a sample," the lead man says. "How do you do it? How do you change other people into what you are?"

While the lead man questions you, the man with the bag opens a bag and removes a syringe. He seems to be preparing equipment to draw your blood.

"Alas, my kind can't do such a thing, though I found a technique that helps," Merek states, he then lists off some data that should at least make some sense, while he watches as they prepare to take his blood.

Merek thinks; "Perhaps this is my ticket to freedom, just let them have what they want..."

The man pulls out a miniature spiral notebook and takes a pen from his ear, scribbling some notes down as Merek feeds them false data. "Yes, of course, " he says. "Alchemy. We simply have to infuse..." he rattles on, about half of what he says striking you as dangerously close to the truth, but diluted by disinformation that you've fed them. The man with the bag quickly draws several vials of blood. He clearly knows what he's doing and has some kind of medical training. It's quick and relatively painless. When finished, the three of them slip out the door, leaving you momentarily alone in this room.

Merek frowns a bit when the men leave him alone. For now, he leans back and just looks up at the ceiling, while he lets out a thoughtful little sigh. He seems to just be with his thoughts.

Moments later, a security alarm goes off, the klaxon sounding through the halls of the Clinic. You hear the sound of running feet, and the distant sound of a crashing gurney.

Merek lets out a sigh and just waits for now. It seems whoever had come to gather the data is now caught. He watches the ceiling more, and then struggles in his bonds a little bit.

A few minutes pass. The door opens and a flashlight beam washes over your eyes. You recognize an actual Clinic employee. "You there. Are you okay?" He moves to free you from the restraints.

Merek nods a bit, "Yes, I'm perfectly fine," he states after a moment. "Could you get me out of these?"

The Clinic employee frees you from the gurney. "There are intruders in the Clinic," he cautions you. "Probably best to say in here for now."

Merek stretches once he's freed from the gurney, "Thank you, they kidnapped me from my sleeping room," second spin time, while he nods a bit. This would be much harder to get around, and he's unlikely to persuade the Clinic employee.

The Clinic employee nods, but a look of obvious suspicion settles over his features. He reaches for a walkie-talkie.

Merek watches the man and lifts his brow a bit. He doesn't do too much for now except stand there. "I just wanna get a bed to sleep in please, if that's alright," he offers.

The Clinic employee lifts his radio. "All clear here," he says, "Just a patient that needs to get back to a bed. No sign of the intruders." A burst of static, a garbled message. "Alright, all clear." He looks up to Merek. "Alright, come with me."

Some orderlies come and take Merek away.


Encounter 7/27- A Walk in the Woods

Alexander has accepted the encounter. Your target's been contacted to help find a civilian who's become lost in the woods.

'Alexander is in his cabin, doing whatever he would be doing at the moment, when his earpiece crackles. The signal seems weak, as if something is interfering with it. "...oints, we hav...in the forest, likely nearing the outer..." The voice is definitely male and sounds slightly familiar, even through the static.

Alexander is currently on the computer, listening to NPR over the speakers, something about a town that is dealing with flooding due to rising sea levels. Though when he hears something over the comms he turns down the volume, reaching for his phone to speak into that. "Alex. You are breaking up. Repeat? Over."

A moment passes. Static crackles through your phone for a few moments before you are able to pick up any vocalization. "This is Wilcox. We... civilian. Repeat, a civ... toward the Deep Forest. Approximate coordinates...." When the coordinates do come in, you realize that they are relatively near to your cabin. You also realize that this scout has broken protocol and ventured into the forest.

"God damn it. Hold position, I'm on my way," says Alexander as he looks to his phone for the coordinates. As he studies them he rises to his feet and heads over to his trunk to grab his spear, bow, and armor, strapping the armor over his clothing and slinging the bow and spear over his back.

 Your comms crackle.  "...egative! Got eyes on- .... mov... eng..."  Your

comms fill with the unmistakable report of gunfire, several blasts fired off in quick succession. Static takes over the channel again.

"Jesus Christ," Alexander groans as he finishes prepping himself and rushes for the door to get out of his cabin and get in his truck to drive off northwards on Ashwood Way. If it's close to him, it's likely in the north to northwesternly direction.

 You jump in your truck and drive northwards on the dirt road, jostling you

as you try to maintain a balance of speed and control. The comms are nothing but static right now. You reach the end of the road without any incident. You are now parked at the treeline, able to go north or northwest into the woods toward the coordinates. For a moment a sound comes over the static, something that sounds perhaps like labored breathing, but then it's gone, the signal fading.

Alexander hops out of his truck and slams the door shut as he hurries in a jog into the woods and towards the coordinates, grabbing his spear as he goes and holding it in both hands, keeping it up and at the ready as he moves forward, attempting to get to his man.

 You move through the woods, spear at the ready. At this depth, you know there isn't much in the way of serious danger. 

Alexander continues on the warpath towards his man and whatever fate might have befallen him. As he approaches the scene he slows down a bit, moving at a walk, eyes, ears, and spear at the ready, waiting to see what danger might be ahead of him.

 Two shots, pistol most likely, ring out from the northwest. Alexander is

able to pinpoint the location fairly easily. You estimate you're about two hundred and fifty feet away.

Seeing that the fight is still ongoing and his man is probably still alive Alexander returns to his jog forward, moving towards the northwest, dark brown gaze keeping his eyes both in front of him and around him, making sure he isn't about to be ambushed or draw some nasty attention.

 There! Ahead, you can see the silhouette of a man, slouched on the ground

against a tree. Two downed forms lay on the forest floor, concealed by shadows. The last, which you can peg as a lowly kobold, sprints toward the man. He raises his hand and two more pistol shots crack into the forest. The kobols shriekes and falls to the forest floor. The puts two more rounds into the fallen form, his arm then sagging down to his side.

Seeing that Alexander is late for the party and the kobold is dead Alexander approaches the injured man, eyes looking around himself, scanning for any other threats as he calls to him, "Hey! You alright?!" He ask him, approaching, eyes narrowed for any additional threats.

 As Alexander nears the man, he can hear labored breathing.  "S-sir?"  The

scout's voice is weak. You look and listen, not detecting any further threats in the vicinity. You recognize Wilcox, one of the scouts that works for the Black Sun.

"Don't call me sir," Alexander counters to the man, kneeling down before him to look him over with a grim face, dark eyes scanning his body. "Can you stand? Walk back to my truck?" He inquires to the man, looking back to the kobolds, just to make sure they are truly dead.

"Sorry...sir..." He tries to laugh, but he winces in pain. Up close, you can see that the front of his clothes are covered in blood. His off hand, the one without the gun, is tucked into his stomach. You can see that his hand is drenched in blood as well. He coughs, a definite sputtering sound to it. "Negative.." he says through clenched teeth. "Can't walk. Can't abandon her, anyway."

"Her?" Ask Alexander back to the man, double checking his surroundings, looking back to the man as he ask. "Who. Wait, you said something about a civilian? I couldn't hear on the comms. What's going on?"

Wilcox coughs wetly. "My daughter. She's... out here somewhere. Can you...find her? Please...before she stumbles into another world... or monsters find her..." He tries to move, but an agonized moan escapes from him instead.

"Alright. I'm gonna call in some guys. They are gonna come to you and help you get to the hospital. I'll go look for your girl, what's her name?" Ask Alexander back to Wilcox, giving the man a small dip of his head. "And do you have any idea where about she is?"

"Becca," Wilcox croaks. "She... was looking for me. It's my fault. She's..." 'c He points dead north. "Headed that way. Don't let her...stumble into another world. Please."

"I won't," says Alexander back to Wilcox, standing up to speak into his phone. "Hey, I need a team to come and pick up Wilcox and take him to the hospital. The coordinates are..." After listing them off he looks down to Wilcox. "Just hang tight here until they come. I'll go look for your daughter."

 The fallen scout drops his pistol and brings his hand up to snap off a

shaky salute. You remember now that Wilcox is ex-military, and nobody has been able to get him to stop with the decorum. He leans his head back against the tree, and his heavy breathing is the only sound you hear now.

Alexander continues northwards, leaving Wilcox alone for the moment to wait for help to arrive as he moves northwards, searching for the child. He glances down, looking for possible tracks made by the child, while also checking his compass to make sure he doesn't stumble into a gate himself.

 Your compass indicates a gate to the northeast of your position, the needle

bouncing slightly in its housing. Searching the ground, you look for tracks as you walk on, finding some indication of something small traveling this way, but whether it was a human child or some smaller forest creature, you can't yet say. You continue, eyes scanning between the trees, ears picking up only the soft padding of your footfalls on the soil. Then you spot it- something very small, an object, laying on the ground about 15 feet or so from you.

"Alright. I'm gonna call in some guys. They are gonna come to you and help you get to the hospital. I'll go look for your girl, what's her name?" Ask Alexander back to Wilcox, giving the man a small dip of his head. "And do you have any idea where about she is?"

"Becca," Wilcox croaks. "She... was looking for me. It's my fault. She's..." 'c He points dead north. "Headed that way. Don't let her...stumble into another world. Please."

"I won't," says Alexander back to Wilcox, standing up to speak into his phone. "Hey, I need a team to come and pick up Wilcox and take him to the hospital. The coordinates are..." After listing them off he looks down to Wilcox. "Just hang tight here until they come. I'll go look for your daughter."

 The fallen scout drops his pistol and brings his hand up to snap off a

shaky salute. You remember now that Wilcox is ex-military, and nobody has been able to get him to stop with the decorum. He leans his head back against the tree, and his heavy breathing is the only sound you hear now.

Alexander continues northwards, leaving Wilcox alone for the moment to wait for help to arrive as he moves northwards, searching for the child. He glances down, looking for possible tracks made by the child, while also checking his compass to make sure he doesn't stumble into a gate himself.

 Your compass indicates a gate to the northeast of your position, the needle

bouncing slightly in its housing. Searching the ground, you look for tracks as you walk on, finding some indication of something small traveling this way, but whether it was a human child or some smaller forest creature, you can't yet say. You continue, eyes scanning between the trees, ears picking up only the soft padding of your footfalls on the soil. Then you spot it- something very small, an object, laying on the ground about 15 feet or so from you.

Seeing the object upon the ground Alexander approaches to get a better look, looking around himself before down to whatever the object might be.

 The coast is clear. You don't detect any monsters in the vicinity. Bending

down, you discover a stuffed toy rabbit with elongated, floppy ears and arms and stunted little feet. It has a dopey, goofy expression on its face. The toy has some dirt on it, but otherwise seems intact.

"Becca?" Alexander calls out into the forest as he picks up the rabbit, holding it in one hand with the spear in the other, looking around himself, listening for any response that might be coming.

 After a few moments of silence, you hear the shrill scream of a child

coming from the forest ahead.

Hearing the scream Alexander rushes to the sound, dropping the rabbit and grabbing his spear in both hand as he charges forward, cutting through the trees as he moves as fast as his feet can carry him towards the child.

 Alexander knows he's fast. Your feet carry you through the woods as you

weave between trees, leap over fallen logs and duck low-hanging branches, the forest seeming determined to stop you. Ahead in the growing darkness you spot a figure loping away from you- curved horns, hooved feet, and bound human child draped over its shoulders like a sack of potatoes. With both hands on your spear, you can't check your compass, but you know you're headed in the direction of the portal. If you're not careful, you could chase this creature through it and end up God knows where.

Well, seeing the danger of approaching closer Alexander charges the thing. But as he does so he reaches into a hidden pocket and draws out a bola, which he throws at the creature's legs, attempting to tie him up so that he can stab into the creature as it falls.

 The bola whirls through the darkness, entangling the goat-like legs of the

beast. It pitches forward, the child flying from its grasp to thud into the forest floor. The beast rolls over, drawing a wicked-looking flint knife from a leather belt strapped across its chest. It reaches back, trying to fling the weapon at Alexander ...

 ... Alexander is too fast, ducking under the crude weapon. You are now

closed in on the entangled creature.

With the creature on the ground Alexander puts his foot upon the beast, attempting to pin it down as he thrusts his spear down into the creature, attempting a stab at the half man, half beast, aiming right for the throat in a hopeful kill shot.

 Your spear plunges into the creature's throat. It emits a horrid ululation,

a mixture of human screaming, goat braying, and the gurgle of life's blood spurting out of the savage wound you just inflicted. The goat legs kick frantically, but they are held together by the bola. It thrashes for a few more seconds before it gurgles its last...

 The girl is unresponsive, but breathing. She seems to have been drugged,

and in fact you discover a blowdart lodged in her shoulder and a bamboo blowgun on the creature's belt. Alexander doesn't know much about medicine or poisons. At that moment, your comms crackle, Through the static, you hear "Medical team in position. Proceeding with extraction. At your command, the medical team waits for just a few minutes before you make it back to them. By this time, Wilcox has fallen unconscious. The medics spirit them away, leaving you there alone. You will have to wait to find out if either of them have survived their injuries..."

Encounter 9-9-17, The Haven Witch Project

Dale arrives.

Thomas arrives.

Your scouts report a civilian lost in the woods, headed west. Unless intercepted, he will likely cross into the outer forest. The scouts reported the man carrying a digital camcorder.

For whatever reason, Dale is in the woods. Out for a stroll, perhaps?

As Thomas begins approaching the edge of the forest. He pauses, reaching into a pouch on his belt and pulling out a thin forest green cloak and drapes it over himself, instantly making him blend better into the woods.

Thomas gets a forest green cloak from brown leather pouch.

Thomas wears a forest green cloak.

Indeed. A stroll in the woods. Dale has his armor on. He always has his armor on, underneath the clothing. Shotgun in his duffel bag, sword kept out of sight somehow. Along with his various toys, such as his many grenades. On a stroll through the woods, where he can drink in peace without anybody judging him.

Thomas is concealed presently, Dale will not notice him unless he chooses to reveal himself.

If Thomas does notice Dale, he will sit in the foliage for a moment before he decides to reveal him after determining the man is no threat. He calls out, "Hail traveler."

Even if Thomas didn't take the measures to conceal him, Dale probably would not notice the other man. No, the drunk is too wrapped up in his boozing. Walking through the misty woods, when that voice calls out to him. He turns around, hand reaching inside of his jacket- before slowly letting go. Relaxing. "Uh." Comes his drug addled, slurring Californian bass. "Hail." Says the man, squinting long and hard at Thomas. He pulls out a prescription bottle, taking a few pills before downing some with his bottle of Jack.

Thomas tilts his head slowly at Dale's reaction, most of the mixing of pills with the liquor, but doesn't address it. He peers at the man with his mossy green eyes from under his hood before he continues, "I am Tom." He shifts his head, looking to the west, "Did you see a man come through here with a camera?"

You haven't seen a soul since you entered the woods, until now of course.

"Nope." Dale supplies towards the odd man that is Thomas, Dale shaking his head a few times before studying the guy with his dull blue eyes. He scrubs at his chin some, before looking over a shoulder, then back to the other more wiry man. "Nope." He repeats again.

As you converse with the man, you hear just the slightest hint of motion coming from deeper in the woods, the westerly direction.

"Hrmm, very well." Thomas says, turning into the woods, strolling deeper in. He lowers his profile as he moves onward, every step of that of a veteran of the woods, rarely a twig stepped on or a leaf rustled. The platinum haired man moves onward towards the movement that was perceived.

Thomas glides across the forest floor, moving deeper in. Unless Dale follows him, the second man will be left behind here.

Rather a clumsy oaf, a drunken clumsy oaf, Dale tails behind the other man, curious at what this guy's activities are. SNAP. Goes a twig. "Shit." Goes Dale, upon stubbing his toe on a rock. The cycle of fuckups goes on.

The two men move at equal speed, Thomas moving from tree to tree unnoticed, Dale crashing along. The latter man's clumsiness might actually enhance Thomas's chances of being undetected by any forest monsters that the two might encounter.

Thomas keeps moving along, taking care to move cautiously and using concealment as his gaze scans his surroundings for any sign of this missing person.

Ahead- at first you think perhaps you've found your quarry, but as your eyes adjust you see a pair of shambling figures- the decaying creatures you sometimes encounter at this depth. They are moving slowly, steadily toward you...although you realize it's probably Dale they are drawn to, since you're keeping a low profile.

For a moment, you see a hooded figure pointing to the west. It's gone after a moment, though, leaving you to wonder if it was ever there in the first place.

"Sonuvabitch." Dale cries as he trips on his feet, landing his face in a steaming pile of kobold shit. Because that's just his damn luck. Spitting, and wiping his face off, he sputters, "Goddamn, smelliest fucking... what the fuck..." This string of curses goes on as he tries to and fails to stealthily tail Thomas.

Blinking a bit, Dale takes another short amount of pills and liquor. He looks uneasy, but breaks off from Thomas. Heading towards the west.

As Dale breaks off, he becomes vaguely aware of two figures approching him, barely glimpsed shapes moving toward him from deeper in the woods.

Thomas slowly pulls his blade from the sheath behind his back as he remains in his hiding spot, watching the man as he watch Dale stumbling in kobold dung and pop more pills. The hooded man's head just tilts once again with mild curiosity.

The decaying creatures are approaching the other man. He seems only slightly aware that something is amiss. They seem completely unaware of you.

Slowly Thomas begins creeping around the creatures, waiting until they get close enough to Dale before he is ready to engage them with his blade.

Thomas gets a combat knife from belt with holsters.

Thomas unsheathes his combat knife.

"Sonuvabitch..." Dale sighs as he sees two figures approach him. He knows what happens this deep in the woods. In Haven's woods. People disappear. And Dale He isn't going to be one of them, so he's digging around inside of a pouch, pulling out a frag, and hiding it behind his back. Waiting.

Thomas frowns slightly as Dale pulls out a grenade, deciding that it was likely time to act as now. He springs from his hiding spot, raising his knee into the side of the shambling creature to attempt to cause it to stagger back before lunging forward to swipe his blade at the neck of the likely undead creature.

"Goddammit, motherfucker." Dale calls, before springing into action himself. Surprisingly nimble when he wants to be. He pulls out his sword, unsheathing it, before twisting the thing around. Promptly, Dale cuts it's throat.

Before Dale can get the grenade out, Thomas appears seemingly from nowhere, expertly kneeing the ceature in the side. The momentum, rather than the actual blow, seems to throw the creature back, the blade slashing into it. The creature does not bleed, but utters a ghastly moan. Dale is on the other creature, stabbing it in the throat. There is no arterial spray, and at this range, even the drug and booze addled man's dulled senses can smell rot, and see that the creature he is engaged has no eyes and half of it's face is simply exposed skull.

"What the fucking, fuck?!" Dale cries out once more, upon noticing the smell. And the eyes, or lack thereof. And it's face. Or lack thereof. His eyes widen, but that doesn't stop him from putting his foot out, tripping the undead critter before promptly rising his sword and bringing it down on it's exposed neck while it lays on the ground.

Thomas doesn't show any sign of surprise in his fighting style, he just leaps back with great agility and grace, possibly even tumbling a lot as he pulls out his pistol from his holster. He fires off a rapid succession of shots into the shambling zombie, holding down the trigger on his single action revolver and just slapping the hammer in fast succession, laying down a small lead storm.

Thomas gets a Model 1858 single action revolver from belt with holsters.

Thomas gets a Model 1858 single action revolver from a pocket.

Dale trips the creature easily, especially since one of its legs was twisted at an unnatural angle anyway. It hits the ground, reaching for the man's legs and inadvertently blocking the sword blow with one of those reaching, decaying arms, which is severed at the elbow. The other hand latches onto the man's jeans. Meanwhile, Thomas's opponent attempts to grab him as well, but the latter man rolls away and empties a cylinder's worth of bullets into the creature. Chunks of rotting flesh explode outward and the creature stumbles back, looking like it might be reading to collapse.

Thomas sliding his pistol back into its holster almost like a gunslinger of old, he rushes back forward towards the creature with his blade instead of trying to reload the antique firearm.

"Get... the fuck... off of me...." Dale snarls as he drops his sword momentarily, fumbling with his bag to pull out a combat shotgun, pumping the thing before pointing it at the creature's head. It doesn't take a sober person to aim a shotgun. Then. BOOM!

Within moments, the fight is over. Thomas lunges forward and obliterates the shambling creature, already torn up by gunfire, with a stroke of his sword. Meanwhile, Dale all but decapitates the second monstrosity with a shotgun blast. The woods still seem to echo with gunfire from the two men. Dale is also now spattered in rotted flesh as well as kobold dung.

Thomas wipes off his blade on the tattered remains of clothing on the creature he just slew, to clean off the blade. He slides it back into the sheath on his belt before he pills his pistol back out. He slowly cycles through the cylinder, dropping out the empty casings one at a time. He begins sliding a round in at the time, before glancing back over to Dale, "Do you see the person we seek?"

Pumping his shotgun again, Dale points towards Thomas, then towards the creatures, demanding, ignoring the last question, "...What the fuck was that?!" He then proceeds to point towards himself, covered in the rotting flesh. "What the fuck." A beat later, and he admits to Thomas. "No, I haven't, but what the fuck?!"

Thomas looks back to Dale, tilting his head slightly to the side, "What is what? Are you hallucinating?" He asks, sliding his pistol into his holster, "Tell me what you believed you saw."

Dale points towards the rotting, for reelz dead now, critters, before kicking at them. Both of them. Once. "Look at this shi..." he just trails off, shaking his head as he pulls out more anti-psychotics. Downing more of his bottle.

Dale drinks from his bottle of Jack Daniels.

You hear distant motion in the forest. Perhaps the scuffle attracted the attention of other forest denizens. You should have a minute or two to get out of this spot.

"It looks like a rabid dog." Thomas says flatly to Dale, before shifting his attention back to woods, "We should move. It is getting dark and being lost in the woods at night is not good for anyone."

You're drunk, but not -that- drunk. These things aren't dogs. They look almost like zombies, although it doesn't seem like they were ever human, even when they were alive.

"These aren't dogs." Dale says a bit grimly towards Thomas, frowning at the man in his dung and rotten flesh covered face. All of a sudden, he realizes he has flesh on his face. And probably got some in his mouth. There's this really odd look in his face, before he throws up.

Dale suddenly vomits.

Dale (Internally) remembers the cult. What they did.

"We can discuss what you felt you saw later. We do need to keep moving." Thomas states as he begins moving deeper into the woods, his hand firmly resting on his revolver's hilt as he presses forward.

You press further into the woods, Thomas taking a slight lead. For a few minutes you travel, aware of shapes moving around you in the darkness. Then, suddenly, Thomas notices something, an electronic device of some kind laying on the forest floor.

Taking off after Thomas, Dale falls silent about what he just saw. What he feels splattered all over his face. He pauses when the other man pauses, letting the guy that seemingly knows what he's doing taking the lead.

Thomas crouches down to inspect the device as it lays among the leaves on the forest floor. His hand reaches out towards it, but it never makes contact on the device, instead he lifts his gaze off to the west, squinting his eyes as he peers deeper into the wood.

The Clocktower chimes: Bong, Bong, Bong, Bong, Bong, Bong, Bong.

There is no sign of the device's owner. It looks like there might have been a scuffle here, from the marks on the ground and nearby foliage.

Thomas picks up the device, if the camera is actually a digital camera, he thumbs through any pictures that were taken for any signs of where the owner could have gone.

Dale simply hangs back, waiting for Thomas's diagnosis of the situation. He looks to the disturbed ground, frowning as he scratches through that scruff he has growing on his chin.

Thomas looks over the device. It looks like someone has taken footage. Playing through it, the individual narrates what appears to be an amateur documentary about the forests of Haven, supposedly haunted. The individual walks through the woods, trying to overanalyze every sound, every twig breaking. About fifteen minutes in, he runs afoul of the two creatures you just destroyed. He runs, the cam getting shaky and hard to follow, until he reaches this spot, wherein he is attacked by a golden hound. The camera hits the ground and you catch footage of him being dragged into the Other.

Thomas smashes the device on the ground against a rock and mutters, shaking his head, "This is not good." He says, reaching into his pocket, pulling out a strange little compass, looking at it as the needle spins around. The device its self seems to be defective because it is not pointing towards magnetic north.

Thomas gets a small bone compass from brown leather pouch.

The compass needle tugs northwest. You see drag marks on the ground... it appears something about the size of a human body was dragged in this direction.

"That is a strange little compass." Dale says with a squint, looking towards the direction it points off to. He puts away his bottle, and pulls out his sword once more. Deciding to keep the drinking to a limit now. And then his shotgun is pulled out, so he has a weapon in both hands. Why is this unaware natural carrying a sword and a shotgun? Only time will tell!

The platinum haired man pushes forward slowly as he slowly reaches out an arm, following where the compass points slowly, probing for the edges of the gate as Thomas moves along.

Dead ahead, northwest of your original position. The needled fixes firmly forward on what must be a gate into the Other. Do you enter, or do you leave the fool to his fate?

Thomas sighs audibly again before he glances back towards Dale, "You have come from another world. You walk into his strange world, yet ahead of me is into yet another world. I do not believe we are armed well enough to head through there, though I am sure you have saw things similar if I am correct, you are not as you were." He says vaguely.

"I didn't come from another world." Dale insists of Thomas, shaking his head, squinting at him like he's the delusional one. "I was born and raised in California." Indeed, his accent marks him off as a Californian. His slurred, drug addled accent.

"Yes well. It is your mental state and my lack of being prepared for this meaning that we have to abandoned this pursuit for now. I think we shall have a discussion." Thomas says to Dale, "I am betting I know things you will be surprised I know." He turns from the gate, a frown locked on his face, "Besides, through that gate, someone like that would be quickly torn apart... I doubt we could save them."

Thomas pauses and sighs audibly, looking down at his bracelet, "But, if things get bad... I can use this to escape." He turns to Dale, "How many grenades did you bring with you?"

"Six, seven. I didn't count." Dale remarks, although he does peek in, revealing at the most... seven, at least one of each kind. Except the naturalizer grenade. That is something Dale hasn't packed. He looks back up to Thomas, broad shoulders shrugging.

"Now, do you have odd memories that you do not believe belong to you? Like one of perhaps a man that lived in a jungle?" Thomas asks, shifting his eyes back towards the gate.

The gate stands silently. Nothing appears to be coming through for the moment. Sounds in the woods seem to have died off, leaving the men to converse.

"No." Dale shakes his head towards Thomas. "Adopted parents found me when I was a kid." Says the man, squinting long and hard at Thomas. Although, considering that they're in another world, Dale starts to doubt himself. Doubt his accusations that Thomas is the crazy one.

"We will discuss that in a moment, after we save a fool." Thomas says as he reaches out reluctantly, sliding into the gate between worlds and allowing the gate to tug him into the other.

Thomas steps forward and vanishes from sight. Dale can either follow him or not.

Dale follows after Thomas after a moment of hesitation.

The two men press forward, and the forest seems to change around them. Ancient. Primal. The trees reach hundreds of feet in height. The drag marks continue along the ground.

Thomas whispers as he sneaks forward, back to Dale, "This place likely speaks to you." He says, clearly making assumptions at this point... Or is he?

"I do have... this... does remind me a bit..." Dale starts to say, as he looks around the primal forest. "I remember being carried, somewhat, through woods like these. As a child." He wipes at his face, scrubbing some of the shit off of it. And the flesh. But whenever he sees the flesh, for some reason, he turns a bit green.

Thomas moves onward, following the trail what appears to be from the struggling man, deeper into the other as he peers around him a bit paranoid, but is it really paranoid when the woods really are filled full of dangers?

You hear strange sounds, indeed... the cawing of giant birds, the growling of lurking beasts. You follow the trail for a short time until you see it...ahead, a human male in distinctly Earthling clothes, bound and guarded by a pair of massive hounds. A strange men in a loincloth stands over the man, a sneer on his face.

Thomas pulls his blade back out and begins slowly strolling towards the strange tribal man, walking clearly in the open at this point. He stares down the tribal man as he begins to press his will upon the loincloth clad hunter. He forces the man's mind to be filled with fear and terrors.

Pulling out grenadelauncher, and swiftly attaching it to his shotgun, Dale looks to Thomas. Stopping with his slurring, for just a moment. Now in a tactical mindset. "Smoke?" He wonders.

		Ability Report:Thomas
	he can supernaturally induce fear.

Eyes widening, the tribal man points right at Thomas and shouts something in a Wildling tongue, backing away and clutching an amulet hanging around his neck. The two hounds snarl and lunge forward.

As the first hound charges towards Thomas, he crouches down to use the moment of the large golden hound, attempting to hook around its neck to hurt it over his back and past him in a judo-like move.

With the Wildling covered in smoke, perhaps disorienting the frightened figure so that no arrows are fired at Dale and Thomas along with the hounds charging, Dale also tosses his hound, shotgun pointed in it's belly before he pulls the trigger as he sends it flying overhead.

You can hear the Wildling coughing and stumbling, and indeed no arrows or spears or any other primitive weapons come flying at you. The hounds have already raced past the area where the smoking is spreading. The hounds are both hurled over the men by their martial arts skills. Dale's shot seems to be largely absorbed by the hounds' supernaturally tough hide. The beasts are directly behind you, already scrambling to their feet. The cloud of smoke is ahead of you, and in it the halpless victim and the Wildling.

Blam! Blam! Dale fires off towards the hound that is focused on him, as he starts sprinting towards the victim and the Wildling in that haze of smoke. One arm pumping his shotgun each time he needs to, getting closer and closer to his destination.

Thomas lunges at the dog, attempting to take advantage of what he has hoped knocked the wind of the animal as he begins stabbing into it repeatedly, hoping to make the blade strike true.

Thomas jumps into a melee with the first hound while Dale fires behind him while charging into the cloud of smoke. Unless he has a gas mask, he'll find his sight obscured. All he can hear in the cloud is the coughing of the Wildling and now the panicked screams of the Earthling.

As he continues to thrust the blade into the hound, once the hound no longer offers any resistance, Thomas stands up to look into the cloud of smoke to assess the situation.

Indeed, Dale has a gas mask he pulls on. The first order of business, is to cut the human loose, which he promptly then grapples with before starting to tug out of the smoke, but pausing. "Take care of that second dog thing, yet?!" Dale calls out.

		Ability Report:Dale
	he knows how to grapple with someone to stop them leaving.

Thomas emerges from the melee, scrapes and dents in his armor and a very dead hound at his feet. Dale finds the squirming form of the victim, who is bound hand and foot. The man can easily carry the poor sap out of the smoke. It sounds like the Wildling is crashing through the woods in the opposite direction, blind and terrified. Meanwhile, the second hound is racing for Thomas now.

Shoving the form of the victim to the ground now that he knows he's bound, having the time to properly observe the poor man, Dale pulls off his shotgun once more. Ready to tangle with whatever comes next to finish off the defenceless man before him. Thomas can take care of himself.

Thomas pulls his pistol from his holster, firing off several shots with the rapid strokes upon the hammer of his pistol, unloading each chamber of the pistol into the hound with lightning speed.

Nothing emerges from the cloud. Meanwhile, the bullets hit the hound, wounding it, but then it's on Thomas, tearing savagely at his armor. The man on the ground, in his early twenties, has a nasty gash in his side. His eyes are wide and he keeps muttering "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." over and over again.

"Grrr..." Dale looks back and forth between Thomas and the man on the ground, before charging in to help out the man with the hound ontop of him. He swings his sword at the hound, a few times on the back. Making several harsh chopping motions with it.

The force shield keeps the beast at bay. Between the hacking of the two men the beast is brought low. By now the smoke has dissipated. The man on the ground still mutters to himself, clearly horrified. The Wildling is gone, but Thomas can hear several distant voices, yelling to eachother in this Wildling dialect.

Thomas cleans off his blade quickly on the fur of the hound before returning it to his sheath. He begins reloading his pistol, dropping casings to the ground as he moves back towards the gate, "We need to go." He says to Dale, glancing over his shoulder a few times.

With the creature apparently dead? Dale turns around before plucking up the man on the ground, over one of his shoulders. He starts to march after Thomas.

The beast is either dead or well on the way to being so. Using Thomas's compass, the two mean and their quarry can quickly backtrack toward the gate, fading voices of shouting Wildlings fading behind them. Soon they find that the trees look more normal, and the damaged camcorder is laying against a rock nearby. It seems you've returned to Haven's outer forest. Now, what to do with this man who has seen too much...?

Thomas turns to the natural man that indeed did see too much. He pulls his blade back out again, looking to the would be Blair Witch Project film maker and Dale, "Alright, put him down, we have to have a quick talk with him."

Dale abruptly drops the man.

The guy hits the ground like a sack of potatoes. "I wanna to home," he mutters. "Please. Please. Please."

Thomas approaches the man with his knife drawn, crouching down to look at him, radius the psychic pressure, throwing an artificial dread into him, "You had a bad dream. There is nothing in this forest. Right? Because I would have to hate to have to come and remind you that there is nothing out there. After I would be done. I would take you to the clinic and they would throw you in a cell and forget about you. If you tell this tale, they will think you are mad and if you get the idea to come back out here with a camera again, next time I am not coming for you. Understand?"

The man nods, whimpering.

There is nothing that Dale has to offer himself, being new to this shit himself. Sort of new. He wipes a hand through his sweaty, unkempt brown hair as he watches Thomas and the squirmy guy with only a little interest. Every now and then, he looks around, to make sure they aren't surrounded.

Thomas grabs the man by the arm, leading him to the edge of the forest and likely to all their vehicles.

There seem to be no other monsters lurking nigh as Thomas and Dale drag the poor bastard to the edge of the woods. Indeed, vehicles are parked here- including a Vespa that obviously belongs to your mark. Assuming he is released, he runs for it and speeds down Swift Street toward Haven proper.