Encounterlogs
Alexanders Odd Encounter Sr Tabitha 240302
One chilly night, as Alexander Murphy delved into his ritual practices within his cozy, bohemian-styled home, he was abruptly disturbed by the sound of intruders. Expecting it to be nothing more than the usual forest critters or perhaps another group of superstitious individuals with a bizarre request, Alexander covered his pentagram and approached the window to investigate. However, this night was different. Three masked men forcefully entered his home, immediately attacking Alexander in a bid to abduct him—believing falsely that he possessed the key to transforming them into supernatural beings. Despite Alexander's efforts to fend off the attackers using his environment and even a handgun, he was swiftly overwhelmed and bound by his assailants.
The kidnappers revealed their misguided belief that Alexander could grant them supernatural powers, having surveilled his association with the occult. Despite their rough approach and the damage caused to his home, Alexander attempted to explain his mundane human status and his novice level of experience with magic, which relied on study and practice rather than any inherent supernatural abilities. His captors, disappointed but still destructive, ultimately decided Alexander was not the wealth of occult knowledge they had hoped for, leaving him bound but alive in his own home. Alexander, now left alone, expressed his frustration and worry about the future, recognizing that this incident could potentially be the first of many such misunderstandings due to his dabbling in the magical arts.
(Alexander's odd encounter(SRTabitha):SRTabitha)
[Fri Mar 1 2024]
In a cozy little bedroom
Decorated and draped in a colorful array of fabrics, this bohemian room looks rich with it's jewel-toned hues. Though cramped, the room feels cozy, with walls painted a muted marigold and the cool tiled floor warmed by a thick, dark blue rug. While sparse, the furniture (comprised of a bed, a dresser and a mirrored vanity), is dark cherry wood and in good, but thrifted, condition. Each piece has been restored to reveal its original luster. The bed is only a double, but any larger and there would be only a sliver of walking space.
It is night, about 26F(-3C) degrees, and there are a few dark grey stormclouds in the sky. There is a last quarter moon.
(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.
)
Alexander sits within his home on the edge of the forest. He has a number of things lain out before him in his main sitting room. Experimentation, or more likely, rote practice of a ritual. He works through the steps and the forms, drawing out the patterns that come into his mind, trying to understand them with intent rather than relying upon them by reflex.
Something outside rustles. Crunches. Its probably nothing. Being on the edge of the forest, Alexander is likely used to hearing things, up to an including a bathroom spirit from time to time. This is not that, though. These are feet, two? Four? On all four? Its enough to catch his attention but perhaps not keep it.
In the living room, Alexander is likely sitting with his tools of a trade he's been focused on, within the circle drawn on the wood, a sign of a pentagram hinting at the possibility of drawing stronger power.
Alexander takes a deep breath as he hears the steps. It isn't the first time he's had people approach his house in numbers, even on four legs. It's a tiresome kind of breath he takes, covering his circle. He stands up slowly, trying to peer out a window
There is probably a good reason as to why this home which Alexander now resides was abandoned in the first place, even as cozy and warm as it is inviting. The furniture he'd have found inside when furst purchasing is a good indication of that. Perhaps for Alexander, this is like any other night when the wolves howl longingly to a moon that is no longer full. The pentagram is now covered up by the jeweled toned rug, rich and vibrant, hiding such a dark and curious symbol.
Cronch, cronch. Alexander cannot see anything specific from the window he's decided to look out of. Nothing but night.
"Listen! I'm not really in the mood for this tonight!" Alexander declares boldly to the night. "So if you could just try again another time!" A bit ludicrous as requests go, but he lets out a deep wearied sigh. It's never really -that- easy is it?
Much as Alexander may want it to be so easy, nothing ever is as easy as simply telling something to go away. They prod and poke and itch at the back of the brain. The whisper. They moan. They beg. This is not that kind of entity though. Nor is it any four legged furry friend wanting to take a bite out of pretty thrifted furniture again, or break jars to spill their oily and herbal contents across the kitchen. But ... there is a break. A sudden boom, as if someone has tried to ram the front door right off the hinges. Soon, a trio of people rush through the door. Their faces are obscured by ski-masks, their hands gloved, their features -- unknown. And once inside, they are rushing toward Alexander.
Alexander yelps, close to the forest he acts quick, trying to call up the power of nature to grab at one of him. He snags a knife from his cloak tucked around his arms and slashes out to fend them off. "Oh for fucks...!" he shouts.
Alexander can probably grab one, but he is ultimately outnumbered by two more men. They are not exactly thin, bulked up, and determined. The one he manages to ensnare cusses loudly as a knife of their own seeks to cut through the vines that have creeped around his legs, sending sap like blood to to the floor. The other two seek to circle Alexander, sparring off with knives of their own. "Don't fight us, Alex," one says, knowing who he is, and what he does. "We don't want to hurt you..." And yet, they come rushing into his house, uninvited, umwelcomed. They continue a dance with Alexander, closing in with the very real possibility that one takes a knife to the knee.
Alexander isn't a slouch when it comes to a straight up fight, but he's no terror. He tries to keep his distance, trying to pull his handgun free in his other hand and bring it to bear, firing off a warning round. But, such as it is, there's little chance he could keep this up in such a crowded space.
It is the warning round that makes one of the three men to pause, and ask, "You sure this is worth it Max?" The one clearly named Max says, "I told you, we don't use our real names, man. I'm Alpha Romero!" The last exhales and says, loudly, "Jesus Christ." That is the one, perhaps the brain of the task force lunges, seeking to take Alexander down, while not matching the same knowledge the man has with various forms of tackling, but there is the hope that Alexander is too distracted by the gunfire that has sent a nice little bit of plaster down from the ceiling into his hair, and the duo.
"Okay! Listen! You're not the first group of dumbasses to-" Alexander doesn't get to finish that sentence as he is tackled to the ground. "Fuck!" he shouts.
It is probably likely that someone has. Or, that the house came with some history of its own before Alexander had ever bought the place. Homes have histories like that, afterall. Alexander is knocked down to the ground and the air is taken from him with that force. Two bumbling duo approach, and pull out some zip ties. His hands are then bounc, and his feet too. He is luckily not blindfolded, and the trio doesn't actually seem keen on leaving this pretty little home in the dark, not-so-deep forest. But Alexander is picked up and tossed onto a piece of furniture with very little ceremony.
Alexander flails and fights, and strikes. It's a pointless battle, but frankly, Alexander is all about that shit. He growls and curses and vows blood vendettas and deep violence upon them and everyone they know until he is blinded and hauls. Then he begins to calm, trying to focus
Before the trio can get Alexander fully settled, Alexander lashes out with both hands together, striking one of the men. Who in turn brings their hand across Alexander's face. There is a globule of bloody spit expelled onto the man's nice enough floors, where a very powerful symbol lies hidden and in wait for all the vendettas in which Alexander has sworn. "Mister Murphy," the man says while padding the back of his hand along his mouth. "We have on good word, from those on the streets, that you have a hand and knowledge into the supernatural world. We want want you know. We want to become." The man jostles Alexander to get him to sit upright, then crouches down before him. "What you are."
Alexander closes his eyes and shakes his head. "Listen man. I take requests? I take calls. I take texts. I'll even check my email from time to time. And I'd love nothing more than to tell you to shove that desire up your own ass and choke on it," vivid, maybe a little nonsensical. He gazes away, not that he can see. "I'm human, dumb ass. Through and through. Only thing weird about me is a talent for the weird. I've got no fucking clue how to make anyone into anything."
Whether or not this trio has their information wrong, they aren't going to admit to it, but they will continue to prod. "Human or not, you know the occult world. We've been watching you. Waiting. You control it, we've seen you control a wolf." The man crouches stands, rubbing at his jaw as he considers his next line of questioning or action. He spins and looks back to Alexander. "How do you do it? You are not quite human. You lie to us about that."
The two bumbling oafs have taken to wandering around the trailer's living space, picking at a few things that are here and there. Signs of Alexander's 'weird'. Tools are touched, fondled, and not put back into place where Alexander had carefully lain them out. There is a crash of glass, who knows what it is. "Oops, sorry.." one says, only to suddenly have something else crash to the ground.
Alexander scoffs. "I'm human, I got a latent talent for magic. Maybe my grand pops was merlin. I don't know man. I've been in this shit for a month, a month and a half at MOS-" he scowls. "Don't fucking TOUCH THAT! Idiots!" He takes a deep sharp breath. Wheels turning. "Alright...wait, how the fuck did you know I controlled a wolf?" he asks.
The brains wheels back to Alexander. "I told you, we've been following you. It is not hard to find out what anyone has been up to in this town if you have the right contacts. The right ears to the grindstone. The right way to coax it out of someone." They are, however, not doing the best job it themselves. The fact that Alexander has called them idiots, however true it may ring out, makes one of the men scowl, and while making eye contact with Alexander, puts his finger on something breakable, and like a cat, swats it off its shelf to crash onto the hardwood flooring and spread like cutting water. Thick soled boots walk over the glass. Crunch crunch. Stomp stomp. "The way you act about it, from our standpoint," the smart(er) one says, "Has us thinking you're lying, again." He's getting frustrated, and paces. "How did you get into magic then? What made you want it?" Maybe its what -they- want too.
Alexander growls. He can't see eye contact, but he tries to make it. "Asshole! You guys fucking SUCK at asking for favors! If you want to learn, you need to stop breaking my shit!" He strains at the zipties a moment then relaxes back. "I studied! You know, books!?" He takes a slow deep breath. "...Anyone can with the right practice, and focus, but it can come at a terrible price."
SRTabitha says "emote "And what is your price, Mister Murphy?" the man asks, storing his knife into the sheath at his belt. He upnods his bruisers, "Chill out, shit." Lucky for him, they do. So instead they go to stand beside the couch, either side of @alex, arms crossed. "
Alexander takes a deep breath and relaxes. "I don't need to charge, I can only teach people who aren't going to use it for reckless shit, like, I don't know, breaking in to peoples homes and kidnapping them?" He exhales the breath. "Why do you need this?" he asks
SRTabitha says "emote "We want to join in on the fight," the man lies to @alex. Maybe lies? It's hard to tell since his facial features are hidden by a mask. "But if you're only just learning yourself, then you are not what we thought you were. You can't teach when you barely understand it yourself." The man orders his goons, "Roll out." While leaving @alex there still ties up, figuring that he'll have his own way to get free of the bindings they've wrapped about his wrists and ankles. They leave through the broken front door, and one of the idiots in question does at least try to close it enough, crookedly, on broken hinges."
SRTabitha says "tell alexander Sorry, I know it was running long so I wanted to close it out. But I do hope that you had fun!"
"I KNOW YOU-" Alexander stops himself and tries to hope to a corner to try to snap off his zipties, letting them go. What does it matter! He grumbles. Some other crew of punks are going to kidnap him before long! Still, he got a name.
There are a lot of Max's in town. But good luck to Alexander
The kidnappers revealed their misguided belief that Alexander could grant them supernatural powers, having surveilled his association with the occult. Despite their rough approach and the damage caused to his home, Alexander attempted to explain his mundane human status and his novice level of experience with magic, which relied on study and practice rather than any inherent supernatural abilities. His captors, disappointed but still destructive, ultimately decided Alexander was not the wealth of occult knowledge they had hoped for, leaving him bound but alive in his own home. Alexander, now left alone, expressed his frustration and worry about the future, recognizing that this incident could potentially be the first of many such misunderstandings due to his dabbling in the magical arts.
(Alexander's odd encounter(SRTabitha):SRTabitha)
[Fri Mar 1 2024]
In a cozy little bedroom
Decorated and draped in a colorful array of fabrics, this bohemian room looks rich with it's jewel-toned hues. Though cramped, the room feels cozy, with walls painted a muted marigold and the cool tiled floor warmed by a thick, dark blue rug. While sparse, the furniture (comprised of a bed, a dresser and a mirrored vanity), is dark cherry wood and in good, but thrifted, condition. Each piece has been restored to reveal its original luster. The bed is only a double, but any larger and there would be only a sliver of walking space.
It is night, about 26F(-3C) degrees, and there are a few dark grey stormclouds in the sky. There is a last quarter moon.
(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.
)
Alexander sits within his home on the edge of the forest. He has a number of things lain out before him in his main sitting room. Experimentation, or more likely, rote practice of a ritual. He works through the steps and the forms, drawing out the patterns that come into his mind, trying to understand them with intent rather than relying upon them by reflex.
Something outside rustles. Crunches. Its probably nothing. Being on the edge of the forest, Alexander is likely used to hearing things, up to an including a bathroom spirit from time to time. This is not that, though. These are feet, two? Four? On all four? Its enough to catch his attention but perhaps not keep it.
In the living room, Alexander is likely sitting with his tools of a trade he's been focused on, within the circle drawn on the wood, a sign of a pentagram hinting at the possibility of drawing stronger power.
Alexander takes a deep breath as he hears the steps. It isn't the first time he's had people approach his house in numbers, even on four legs. It's a tiresome kind of breath he takes, covering his circle. He stands up slowly, trying to peer out a window
There is probably a good reason as to why this home which Alexander now resides was abandoned in the first place, even as cozy and warm as it is inviting. The furniture he'd have found inside when furst purchasing is a good indication of that. Perhaps for Alexander, this is like any other night when the wolves howl longingly to a moon that is no longer full. The pentagram is now covered up by the jeweled toned rug, rich and vibrant, hiding such a dark and curious symbol.
Cronch, cronch. Alexander cannot see anything specific from the window he's decided to look out of. Nothing but night.
"Listen! I'm not really in the mood for this tonight!" Alexander declares boldly to the night. "So if you could just try again another time!" A bit ludicrous as requests go, but he lets out a deep wearied sigh. It's never really -that- easy is it?
Much as Alexander may want it to be so easy, nothing ever is as easy as simply telling something to go away. They prod and poke and itch at the back of the brain. The whisper. They moan. They beg. This is not that kind of entity though. Nor is it any four legged furry friend wanting to take a bite out of pretty thrifted furniture again, or break jars to spill their oily and herbal contents across the kitchen. But ... there is a break. A sudden boom, as if someone has tried to ram the front door right off the hinges. Soon, a trio of people rush through the door. Their faces are obscured by ski-masks, their hands gloved, their features -- unknown. And once inside, they are rushing toward Alexander.
Alexander yelps, close to the forest he acts quick, trying to call up the power of nature to grab at one of him. He snags a knife from his cloak tucked around his arms and slashes out to fend them off. "Oh for fucks...!" he shouts.
Alexander can probably grab one, but he is ultimately outnumbered by two more men. They are not exactly thin, bulked up, and determined. The one he manages to ensnare cusses loudly as a knife of their own seeks to cut through the vines that have creeped around his legs, sending sap like blood to to the floor. The other two seek to circle Alexander, sparring off with knives of their own. "Don't fight us, Alex," one says, knowing who he is, and what he does. "We don't want to hurt you..." And yet, they come rushing into his house, uninvited, umwelcomed. They continue a dance with Alexander, closing in with the very real possibility that one takes a knife to the knee.
Alexander isn't a slouch when it comes to a straight up fight, but he's no terror. He tries to keep his distance, trying to pull his handgun free in his other hand and bring it to bear, firing off a warning round. But, such as it is, there's little chance he could keep this up in such a crowded space.
It is the warning round that makes one of the three men to pause, and ask, "You sure this is worth it Max?" The one clearly named Max says, "I told you, we don't use our real names, man. I'm Alpha Romero!" The last exhales and says, loudly, "Jesus Christ." That is the one, perhaps the brain of the task force lunges, seeking to take Alexander down, while not matching the same knowledge the man has with various forms of tackling, but there is the hope that Alexander is too distracted by the gunfire that has sent a nice little bit of plaster down from the ceiling into his hair, and the duo.
"Okay! Listen! You're not the first group of dumbasses to-" Alexander doesn't get to finish that sentence as he is tackled to the ground. "Fuck!" he shouts.
It is probably likely that someone has. Or, that the house came with some history of its own before Alexander had ever bought the place. Homes have histories like that, afterall. Alexander is knocked down to the ground and the air is taken from him with that force. Two bumbling duo approach, and pull out some zip ties. His hands are then bounc, and his feet too. He is luckily not blindfolded, and the trio doesn't actually seem keen on leaving this pretty little home in the dark, not-so-deep forest. But Alexander is picked up and tossed onto a piece of furniture with very little ceremony.
Alexander flails and fights, and strikes. It's a pointless battle, but frankly, Alexander is all about that shit. He growls and curses and vows blood vendettas and deep violence upon them and everyone they know until he is blinded and hauls. Then he begins to calm, trying to focus
Before the trio can get Alexander fully settled, Alexander lashes out with both hands together, striking one of the men. Who in turn brings their hand across Alexander's face. There is a globule of bloody spit expelled onto the man's nice enough floors, where a very powerful symbol lies hidden and in wait for all the vendettas in which Alexander has sworn. "Mister Murphy," the man says while padding the back of his hand along his mouth. "We have on good word, from those on the streets, that you have a hand and knowledge into the supernatural world. We want want you know. We want to become." The man jostles Alexander to get him to sit upright, then crouches down before him. "What you are."
Alexander closes his eyes and shakes his head. "Listen man. I take requests? I take calls. I take texts. I'll even check my email from time to time. And I'd love nothing more than to tell you to shove that desire up your own ass and choke on it," vivid, maybe a little nonsensical. He gazes away, not that he can see. "I'm human, dumb ass. Through and through. Only thing weird about me is a talent for the weird. I've got no fucking clue how to make anyone into anything."
Whether or not this trio has their information wrong, they aren't going to admit to it, but they will continue to prod. "Human or not, you know the occult world. We've been watching you. Waiting. You control it, we've seen you control a wolf." The man crouches stands, rubbing at his jaw as he considers his next line of questioning or action. He spins and looks back to Alexander. "How do you do it? You are not quite human. You lie to us about that."
The two bumbling oafs have taken to wandering around the trailer's living space, picking at a few things that are here and there. Signs of Alexander's 'weird'. Tools are touched, fondled, and not put back into place where Alexander had carefully lain them out. There is a crash of glass, who knows what it is. "Oops, sorry.." one says, only to suddenly have something else crash to the ground.
Alexander scoffs. "I'm human, I got a latent talent for magic. Maybe my grand pops was merlin. I don't know man. I've been in this shit for a month, a month and a half at MOS-" he scowls. "Don't fucking TOUCH THAT! Idiots!" He takes a deep sharp breath. Wheels turning. "Alright...wait, how the fuck did you know I controlled a wolf?" he asks.
The brains wheels back to Alexander. "I told you, we've been following you. It is not hard to find out what anyone has been up to in this town if you have the right contacts. The right ears to the grindstone. The right way to coax it out of someone." They are, however, not doing the best job it themselves. The fact that Alexander has called them idiots, however true it may ring out, makes one of the men scowl, and while making eye contact with Alexander, puts his finger on something breakable, and like a cat, swats it off its shelf to crash onto the hardwood flooring and spread like cutting water. Thick soled boots walk over the glass. Crunch crunch. Stomp stomp. "The way you act about it, from our standpoint," the smart(er) one says, "Has us thinking you're lying, again." He's getting frustrated, and paces. "How did you get into magic then? What made you want it?" Maybe its what -they- want too.
Alexander growls. He can't see eye contact, but he tries to make it. "Asshole! You guys fucking SUCK at asking for favors! If you want to learn, you need to stop breaking my shit!" He strains at the zipties a moment then relaxes back. "I studied! You know, books!?" He takes a slow deep breath. "...Anyone can with the right practice, and focus, but it can come at a terrible price."
SRTabitha says "emote "And what is your price, Mister Murphy?" the man asks, storing his knife into the sheath at his belt. He upnods his bruisers, "Chill out, shit." Lucky for him, they do. So instead they go to stand beside the couch, either side of @alex, arms crossed. "
Alexander takes a deep breath and relaxes. "I don't need to charge, I can only teach people who aren't going to use it for reckless shit, like, I don't know, breaking in to peoples homes and kidnapping them?" He exhales the breath. "Why do you need this?" he asks
SRTabitha says "emote "We want to join in on the fight," the man lies to @alex. Maybe lies? It's hard to tell since his facial features are hidden by a mask. "But if you're only just learning yourself, then you are not what we thought you were. You can't teach when you barely understand it yourself." The man orders his goons, "Roll out." While leaving @alex there still ties up, figuring that he'll have his own way to get free of the bindings they've wrapped about his wrists and ankles. They leave through the broken front door, and one of the idiots in question does at least try to close it enough, crookedly, on broken hinges."
SRTabitha says "tell alexander Sorry, I know it was running long so I wanted to close it out. But I do hope that you had fun!"
"I KNOW YOU-" Alexander stops himself and tries to hope to a corner to try to snap off his zipties, letting them go. What does it matter! He grumbles. Some other crew of punks are going to kidnap him before long! Still, he got a name.
There are a lot of Max's in town. But good luck to Alexander