{"id":29610,"date":"2026-04-07T22:23:08","date_gmt":"2026-04-08T02:23:08","guid":{"rendered":""},"modified":"2026-04-07T22:23:08","modified_gmt":"2026-04-08T02:23:08","slug":"encounter-1370","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/havenrpg.net\/newsite\/2026\/04\/07\/encounter-1370\/","title":{"rendered":"Selene&#8217;s Tuesday morning odd encounter(Selene)"},"content":{"rendered":"<style>\n    .edgt-post-text-inner p {\n        margin-bottom: 35px !important;\n    }\n    <\/style>\n<p><strong>Date:<\/strong> 2026-04-07 10:20<\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><span style=\"color:#008000\">               (<\/span>Selene&#8217;s Tuesday morning odd encounter(Selene):Selene<span style=\"color:#008000\">)<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"color:#008080\">        [<\/span>Tue Apr  7 2026<span style=\"color:#008080\">]<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"color:#875f00\">In <span style=\"color:#875f00\">a &#8220;mast<b>36er&#8221; bed<span style=\"color:#875f00\">room, i<b>36f it can<span style=\"color:#875f00\"> be cal<b>36led that<\/b\/b\/span>\/span<br \/><i>44Positioned just beyond the uniform shop, the student study hall is meant to offer a focused, <i>42low-distraction environment for individual and small group work. Charcoal acoustic panels soften ambient <span style=\"color:#5f5f87\">sound, while linear LED fixtures provide glare-free lighting. Furniture is minimal and intentional: <span style=\"color:#5f5faf\">walnut desks with integrated power access, matte black task chairs, and a lounge seating zone along <span style=\"color:#5f5fd7\">the northern wall featuring low-profile couches and club chairs in black, grey, and navy upholstery.<span style=\"color:#c0c0c0\"><\/p>\n<p><i>44  A locked walnut door on the southern wall leads to <i>42the teachers&#8217; lounge, reserved for faculty use or <span style=\"color:#5f5f87\">the curious student. To the southwest, a wide stone <span style=\"color:#5f5faf\">arch opens into the cafeteria, offering a subtle <span style=\"color:#5f5fd7\">transition from quiet concentration to communal energy.<span style=\"color:#c0c0c0\"><\/p>\n<p>It is about <span style=\"color:#0000ff\">50\/i>\/i<\/span\/spanF(<span style=\"color:#0000ff\">10<\/span>C) degrees.  The mist is heaviest <span style=\"color:#a6ceff\">A<span style=\"color:#a4ccf9\">t<span style=\"color:#a2cbf3\"> <span style=\"color:#a0caed\">P<span style=\"color:#9ec9e7\">l<span style=\"color:#9cc7e1\">y<span style=\"color:#9ac6db\">m<span style=\"color:#98c5d5\">o<span style=\"color:#95c4d0\">u<span style=\"color:#93c2ca\">t<span style=\"color:#91c1c4\">h<span style=\"color:#8fc0be\"> <span style=\"color:#8cbfb9\">a<span style=\"color:#8abdb3\">n<span style=\"color:#88bcad\">d<span style=\"color:#85bba7\"> <span style=\"color:#83baa2\">D<span style=\"color:#80b89c\">a<span style=\"color:#7db796\">r<span style=\"color:#7bb691\">k<span style=\"color:#78b58b\">w<span style=\"color:#75b385\">a<span style=\"color:#72b280\">t<span style=\"color:#6fb17a\">e<span style=\"color:#6cb074\">r<\/span\/span>\/span<\/p>\n<p>(Your target falls into some of the subway tunnels only to realize there are other creatures down here in the dark with them.<br \/>\n)<\/p>\n<p>Wouldn&#8217;t you know it; Even in the local academy, trouble could just be around the corner. Everything seemed normal today, with students and faculty going about their daily business as per usual. Nothing out of the ordinary going on, and it&#8217;s only 10 in the morning after all. Students filtering in and out of their classrooms, youth chatting in the hallways, and people hanging out around the student hall just to catch up on some socialization needs.  <\/p>\n<p>One of these students is Sylvia, innocently minding her own business. However, fate would not seem to grant her an uneventful day. It begins with a noise, a sound coming from a nearby janitor&#8217;s closet. A quiet, distant sound that she shouldn&#8217;t be hearing. She&#8217;s wearing AirPods, after all. But for some reason, this sound seems to ignore these obstructions in her ear. Allowing her to hear&#8230;  <\/p>\n<p>Is that mewing? A whole litter of kittens..? <\/p>\n<p>Sylvia is humming along to the melody in her ears as she hears the meowing that stops her dead in her tracks. Was she imagining it? Was it part of the song? For a few moments she stood there indecisively with her head pounding from the headache she had woken up with today after another night of partying. As the mewing continued she reluctantly took ou t one of her AirPods, looked around if anyone else had stopped and finally stepped over to the door of the janitor&#8217;s closet to knock on it. Once. Twice. &#8220;Hello?&#8221; Another knock, then she tried the door handle to see if the door was locked. <\/p>\n<p>There it is again. It&#8217;s clearly not part of her music, and as if responding to her voice, the mewing grows a bit louder even, a bit more desperate. Like kittens who have spotted the little carton of kitten milk being brought over. There&#8217;s even faint clawing heard, against the wooden surface of the very door Sylvia is stood before. The door handle, oddly enough, doesn&#8217;t seem to want to give way. The door doesn&#8217;t seem locked, but the handle is acting tough. Requiring a bit of struggling, a bit of force, to actually push down. Perhaps, if not for that headache, a sharper mind would&#8217;ve questioned if this door should even be here. Was there even a janitor&#8217;s closet here, before?  <\/p>\n<p>Thankfully, rattling the door handle for a while will allow someone to push open the door. Cold air filters through, uncannily cold even. And the meowing is still heard, from somewhere deeper inside the closet. It is dark in here, though. There&#8217;s a light-switch nearby, though. Could try flicking it, and pray the lights work. <\/p>\n<p>There it is again. It&#8217;s clearly not part of her music, and as if responding to her voice, the mewing grows a bit louder even, a bit more desperate. Like kittens who have spotted the little carton of kitten milk being brought over. There&#8217;s even faint clawing heard, against the wooden surface of the very door Sylvia is stood before. The door handle, oddly enough, doesn&#8217;t seem to want to give way. The door doesn&#8217;t seem locked, but the handle is acting tough. Requiring a bit of struggling, a bit of force, to actually push down. Perhaps, if not for that headache, a sharper mind would&#8217;ve questioned if this door should even be here. Was there even a janitor&#8217;s closet here, before?  <\/p>\n<p>Thankfully, rattling the door handle for a while will allow Sylvia to push open the door. Cold air filters through, uncannily cold even. And the meowing is still heard, from somewhere deeper inside the closet. It is dark in here, though. There&#8217;s a light-switch nearby, though. Could try flicking it, and pray the lights work. <\/p>\n<p>With her head aching, <span style=\"color:#ffffff\">Sylvia<\/span> did not question if the door had been here before. It was a miracle that she had even showed up on campus today at all, but even she had to show a minimum of attendance for fear of being cut off from her parental funding. <\/p>\n<p>With her head aching, <span style=\"color:#ffffff\">Sylvia<\/span> did not question if the door had been here before. It was a miracle that she had even showed up on campus today at all, but even she had to show a minimum of attendance for fear of being cut off from her parental funding. A shiver takes Sylvia&#8217;s body as the chilly air hits her and for a moment she hesitates. Even in her hungover state she sensed that something was amiss. Her first step into the darkness is hesitant and even more hesitant is the second step that brings her fully beyond the doorstep. She lets go of the strange door to reach for the light-switch and flick it while her eyes stare into the darkness. &#8211;fix <\/p>\n<p>Well. Big surprise here. The lightswitch doesn&#8217;t work properly. For but a brief moment, the lightbulb hanging overhead flickered to life, but a mere heartbeat worth of a second later, it dies with a soft &#8216;PATS&#8217;. In that brief moment, a single object in the back of the closet might stand out. A big, cardboard box, its lid opened and a likely candidate as the source where the orchestra of meowing came from.  <\/p>\n<p>Their meowing, however, has quieted down some. There&#8217;s hardly a mew, hardly a scratch, heard the second Sylvia opened the door. What replaces it, even audible to the &#8216;regular&#8217; ears of this student, is something else in the background. A faint clicking sound, firing off in rapid successions of four clicks before a pause of an easy ten seconds falls. And in those ten seconds, something&#8230; else.. is heard. Is it a guttural sound? A raspy sort of breathing? Is it the ventilation system or air conditioning of the campus making background ruckus. Hard to tell. <\/p>\n<p>&#8220;Hello?&#8221; <span style=\"color:#ffffff\">Sylvia&#8217;s<\/span> heart starts pounding a little and her aching head starts throbbing with it. &#8220;Ugh&#8230; fuck my life&#8230;&#8221;, she curses and takes a deep breath. &#8220;I am not scared of some kittens and a dark room&#8230;&#8221;, she mumbles right after as she rubs her temples, as if she needs to convince herself. And with a gulp she steps deeper into the room to try and grab the box from the shelf, blindly grasping for the spot she saw for a moment before the light died. <\/p>\n<p>That&#8217;s weird. Even just taking two steps into the room feels off. A glance over the shoulder reveals why. Because that door she just opened and stepped through is right there. An easy twenty steps away now. The light once pouring through the doorway barely even seems to want to cross the border between this room and the hallway by now. And where previously it would have only taken, what, maybe four big, brave steps to reach that cardboard box, it still seems equally far removed as before. But her efforts seem noticed, and appreciated, with a sudden outcry of attention-demanding meowing echoing back out from the box.  <\/p>\n<p>This, however, also seems to be making that other noise more.. agitated. The clicking sounds grow louder, and its pattern gets less and less rhythmical with each repetition. There&#8217;s a reply, even, which seems to silence the litter inside the cardboard box for a while. A sound best described as a growl, but one vocalized through a very damaged throat.  <\/p>\n<p>And that&#8217;s when something happens that might startle Sylvia. Out of nowhere, a wetness is suddenly felt on her left shoulder. The ceiling is dripping, and it doesn&#8217;t exactly feel like water. It&#8217;s far more viscous. <\/p>\n<p>&#8220;AAAAH!&#8221;, <span style=\"color:#ffffff\">Sylvia<\/span> startles as she feels the substance touch her shoulder and instinctively she reaches to touch it and wipe it off. &#8220;Fuck&#8230;&#8221;, the curse passes her lips along with agitated panting. &#8220;Oh, fuck&#8230;&#8221;  <\/p>\n<p>Even through her throbbing head she realizes that something is terribly wrong here and she takes a first step back, then a second and in her hurry she stumbles over her own feet and falls backwards down. <\/p>\n<p>Screaming sure seems to have agitated that clicker more. The screams itself fail to echo off any walls, as if the room itself is trying to hush Sylvia, whether for her sake or for the sake of whatever else is lurking out there. Because this is no ceiling leakage in an innocent janitor&#8217;s closet. Whatever is dripping drool from the ceiling is very much a living thing of sorts. In a response to the outcry of shock, it responds with a hiss, a hiss that borders on being downright painful to the eardrums. Particularly painful to someone already struggling with a headache.  <\/p>\n<p>And it&#8217;s all done to startle her back. To disturb and distract her. Claws can now be heard scurrying across the wall, like frozen bristles of a brush being dragged across a chalkboard. It moves rapidly, gaining distance from the girl in mere moments. And it&#8217;s moving somewhere between her and the passageway back out of this closet.  <\/p>\n<p>And then its shape is made apparent. Somehow, likely via a tail of sorts, this creature is keeping itself rooted to the ceiling, letting its body hang down. One could easily liken it to something akin to a xenomorph from the Aliens franchise. A physique uncannily slender yet clearly full of potential power, its elongated head plated in dark chitin-like material turning around to try and locate what it heard in the dark, and at least four limbs by its torso&#8217;s side, each armed with claws the length of a stiletto.  <\/p>\n<p>It doesn&#8217;t exactly seem&#8230; overtly hostile. It&#8217;s hissing, it&#8217;s clicking, it&#8217;s raggedly breathing out growls, but it doesn&#8217;t exactly brandish any claws or weapons nor bellow out an intimidating hiss. However, it does seem to be searching. <\/p>\n<p>Something tugs at the core of Sylvia. It isn&#8217;t an understanding. It isn&#8217;t a request understood. It isn&#8217;t a connection of any sorts. But, despite the clearly monstrous appearance of this grotesque thing that totally should NOT be on school grounds, there is something that the girl might start to &#8216;feel&#8217; inside of her. Something likely very familiar, as any person with Angelic blood has grown very accustomed to. There is a sense of empathic longing. There is hunger. A lot of hunger. But it isn&#8217;t a hunger for humans. This.. beast.. itself is not hungry. But it wants food. Maybe, this discarded cardboard box and the litter of kittens within has been found by whatever stalks in the dark, and has been accepted as her new brood. So all that meowing could have perhaps been the outcries of hunger of the kittens, and this matronly monster is desperate to help them to food of sorts.. <\/p>\n<p>&#8220;Fuck&#8230; fuck&#8230; fuck&#8230;&#8221;, <span style=\"color:#ffffff\">Sylvia<\/span> keeps panting out, now on the verge of panic. The desire at her core is something still unfamiliar for the former demonborn, but instinctively she follows it and reaches into her bag to pull out a strip of old, dried meat that she tosses towards the creature while crawling away from it on the floor and as such away from the doorway and towards the cardboard box. <\/p>\n<p>Isn&#8217;t that just the luckiest turn of events; Sylvia was oddly prepared for this run-in. Out comes some meat, its scent instantly attracting the attention of this stalker in the dark. Its maw is seen opening, perhaps sampling scents in the air better this way, before another succession of quick clicks is heard. Its powerful tail curls, hoisting the body of the creature back up towards the ceiling. And out of the way of the doorway, clearing it fully for anyone inside to make a dash for it. Those claws heard scurrying across the ceiling are heard again, though its pace is slow now, traveling overhead and past where the girl is stood. This is when, for the first time in this god-forsaken closet, its actual cry is heard. A screech, a rattle, a wail whose nature can only be described as horrifically monstrous.  <\/p>\n<p>Is it its way of saying thank you? Is it telling her to kindly leave her brood be, grant them some privacy while they enjoy their breakfast. Or is it just trying to square up, and defend the piece of tossed-over meat from other would-be hungry things.  <\/p>\n<p>Importantly, the direct threat seems defused. You could quickly make for that door, slip through, close it behind you, and never have to come back. <\/p>\n<p>Sylvia is barely thinking straight at this point. As soon as the creature moves away, seemingly mollified by the meat, she scrambles to her feet and rushes towards the rectangle of light where she entered from, that promises life to her now. <\/p>\n<p>It takes only eight or so seconds of running before escape is found. This time, you can actually reach the door, and aren&#8217;t seemingly warped further away with every step taken. There&#8217;s no more threatening sounds hurled at her from whatever that thing was. Instead, it even is heard&#8230; purring. It isn&#8217;t exactly a cat&#8217;s purring, but a sound mimicking the sound it must&#8217;ve heard the kitten make when they&#8217;re all content and cozy.  <\/p>\n<p>And that should conclude the encounter today. Not only has Sylvia escaped potential danger and harm, she has also made the oddest of Mother Cats happy, and helped a hungry brood of mistery kittens to a good meal. Once she&#8217;s stepped away from the janitor&#8217;s closet, it also just.. doesn&#8217;t seem to be there anymore. Like a closet to Narnia, this door must have acted as an odd, temporary doorway. Probably makes it difficult to explain this run-in, or alert officials towards its presence &#8212; and, more importantly perhaps, the presence within it. Your assistance, nevertheless, is very appreciated. Whether by the encountered monster, or the unseen forces directing this turn of fates Sylvia&#8217;s way. <\/p>\n<p>Sylvia collapses outside the &#8220;door&#8221; and lets loose a loud shriek &#8220;Aaaaaah!&#8221;, that only gradually wanes into panting. &#8220;Fuck&#8230;.&#8221;, she whispers to herself and finally looks back to where the door was. &#8220;Fuck&#8230; I need to stop taking acid&#8230;&#8221;, she pants after a few more moments and rubs her eyes. <\/p>\n<p>Thanks for your participation. Have a good one! <br \/><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Date: 2026-04-07 10:20 (Selene&#8217;s Tuesday morning odd encounter(Selene):Selene) [Tue Apr 7 2026] In a &#8220;mast36er&#8221; bedroom, i36f it can be cal36led that\/span44Positioned just beyond the uniform shop, the student study hall is meant to offer a focused, 42low-distraction environment for individual and small group work&#8230;.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_bbp_topic_count":0,"_bbp_reply_count":0,"_bbp_total_topic_count":0,"_bbp_total_reply_count":0,"_bbp_voice_count":0,"_bbp_anonymous_reply_count":0,"_bbp_topic_count_hidden":0,"_bbp_reply_count_hidden":0,"_bbp_forum_subforum_count":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[134],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-29610","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-encounterlog"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/havenrpg.net\/newsite\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/29610","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/havenrpg.net\/newsite\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/havenrpg.net\/newsite\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/havenrpg.net\/newsite\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/havenrpg.net\/newsite\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=29610"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/havenrpg.net\/newsite\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/29610\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/havenrpg.net\/newsite\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=29610"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/havenrpg.net\/newsite\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=29610"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/havenrpg.net\/newsite\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=29610"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}