Encounterlogs
Antoinettes Odd Encounter Sr Peter 250222
Antoinette's morning takes a sinister turn when, after being disturbed by a furious knocking at her door, she finds herself confronted by a seemingly benign couple inquiring about a lost dog. However, the situation rapidly escalates when a diversion allows unknown assailants to abduct her. Waking up in a dimly-lit cellar, strapped to a surgery table, Antoinette discovers she is the target of a group obsessed with becoming supernatural beings. They believe her arcanist blood holds the key to transcending their humanity. Despite her attempts to reason with her captors, highlighting her human nature and suggesting alternatives to their misguided plan, she is met with fanatic zeal and a determination to use her blood for their transformation.
As the captors bicker among themselves, influenced by Antoinette's suggestions and questions, the nurse seizes a moment of distraction to negotiate her release. Promising them access to demon blood and asserting her value outside of captivity, she instigates a brawl between her captors, allowing her to escape their clutches. With one arm freed by the hopeful but naive couple, Antoinette quickly frees herself from the rest of her bindings and makes her way out of the cellar and into the daylight, leaving behind the chaos and the sound of violence. She ensures her escape by securing the cellar door behind her and begins her journey back to civilization, shaken but resilient, a testament to her wit and survival instincts in the face of unspeakable danger.
(Antoinette's odd encounter(SRPeter):SRPeter)
[Fri Feb 21 2025]
In a cozy, efficiently-organized cabin addition
Variegated lumber from the surrounding forest have been used to make this log cabin-esque addition to a building. This lends a hodgepodge patchwork of warm browns and golds to the color palette, with the paler woods comprising the floorboards and ceiling and the darker shades mottling the walls.
It is morning, about 2F(-16C) degrees, and the sky is covered by dark grey clouds.
(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.
)
Antoinette is laying in bed, curled up against a still-sleeping Malcolm and doing some texting. On the verge of getting out and on with her day but not quite there yet.
Antoinette hears a knock, then yeo
Antoinette hears a knock, and then two, at the front door. Strangely enough the redhead can feel as if she's being watched, however, from where? It's harder to say. Malcolm of course, doesn't stir as of yet, and while she lays in bed, if she keeps herself there, the knocks would get more and more furious, counting upward by exactly one, for each successive knock, like some mad-man's ritual.
"The hell?" Antoinette frowned, pushing herself up and out of the bed finally. She glances around with a tsk and a furrowed brow, bringing her necklace out to the fore just in case. No one knocks this furiously this early without at least -texting- her there's an emergency! Or some kind of chatter happening on one of the chats. Still, she's not -too- concerned yet. Maybe just annoyed that she's been forced away from the comfortable and cozy warmth of the bed! She reaches the front door, opening it up while saying, "Someone better be on the verge of their death bed for this." The door only coming fully open as she finishes talking and can take in the person (or persons) at the door.
The knocks cease the moment Antoinette touches the knob, they've halted for moments when it swings fully open. Revealed before her are a man and a woman, giving her a faint smile. "Hello," they speak, in nigh on unison. "We're wondering if you've seen our dog?"
Antoinette stares at the couple with a touch of disbelief and, yes, a tinge of annoyance. ""
Antoinette stares at the couple with a touch of disbelief and, yes, a tinge of annoyance. "I don't even know what your dog looks like. But no. I haven't seen any dogs. Now if you'll excuse me." She starts trying to close the door.
A sharp crack emanates from inside Antoinette's house. A window was just broken. And in a split second, the people outside, the man and the woman, their smiles become far more forced, their muscles are tensed. The emotion displayed upon their features is not by any means fear, but anxiety, worry, anticipation. Impatience. Thudding footsteps emerge in the direction the glass broke. It seems the nurse has very little time to figure out what to do in her predicament.
The first thought that runs through Antoinette's mind is that this was some kind of distraction to get her away from Malcolm so someone could break in through his exterior entrance and grab him. He wasn't a full-fledged Faeborn but it was still possible someone either didn't realize that or had found out about his faeborn heritage and thought they could use it?
She turns to try and rush back toward his bedroom, leaving the front door wide open of course. Because not for one single second did it cross her mind that -she- might be the target in whatever is actually going on. Not considering herself very significant at all in that regard. This, naturally, leaves her fairly defenseless in the moment of panic.
Sweet. Ether. An odor that emanates from the rag suddenly pressed to Antoinette's face from behind. The liquid soaked in would taste sweet, should the redhead open her mouth and lash the cloth with her tongue if she screamed at all. Rushing before her, where her eyes can see, is a man masked with a burlap sack and eyeholes cut out, a long with a sort of stitched up smile upon such a mask. He's burly, beefy, unlike the other two, who are skinny, slender folk, almost like twigs, almost like they haven't eaten. But that burly man thudding, thundering along, slamming boots to ground and sprinting directly at her, is the last thing Antoinette sees before it all goes dark.
And then she wakes, somewhere with a dim lightbulb hanging over her head. Earth lines the ceiling. If she tried to move in her daze, she would find her arms and legs strapped to a surgery bed by leather straps and buckles. She's binded to it tightly. Alone, as far as she can see. Should she try to move her neck, it too would be bound, a little more loosely, to the bed.
Antoinette looks shocked, eyes wide as the rag goes over her mouth. She's too stunned to even try to struggle in those few short moments before she goes out. There's a groan as she wakes up, grimacing at the dim bulb, trying to assess her situation through the grogginess. "Wh-...fuck." A breathless laugh escapes, somewhere between disbelief and irony. Sure there's some fear and trepidation in there too but, "You know." She tries to crane her neck a little see more, to see if there's anyone else here. "When I have dreams like these, I'm usually the one doing the operating!" Lifting her voice to be heard (maybe) as her head thuds lightly back down against the table. She strains momentarily against her bonds but, as she constantly is pointing out to people, she's just a human. She's not breaking out of these on strength alone.
"Antoinette Daniels, is this correct?" a voice, raspy and cruel, rings out from the dark, directed towards Antoinette of course. "Don't bother answering, I've read your ID." Footsteps click and clack forward. Tile floor? When the nurse struggles against the bindings, there's a soft laugh, from a woman, that echoes forth from the innards of what appears to be a cellar. Roots strangle themselves to hang down from the ceiling of course. Beams barely hold up the earth above. "We believe your blood can help us, Miss Daniels. You're an Arcanist, aren't you?"
The sounds of the raspy voice brings Antoinette's attention toward it. Eyes moving even if her head can't fully. "My blood?" She questions. "I am an Arcanist, yes. But you do realize that the ability to do the arcane arts comes more from book smarts than innate talent, right? I've tested my blood. There's nothing special going on there." She tries to spot the speaker but can't quite. "Depending on what you're after, I'm probably more useful to you outside the bindings." She insists. Antoinette would be the one already thinking about work and research-related endeavors even while strapped to an operating table.
"The Gods were humans once too," growls out the speaker, who approaches into the views of Antoinette's peripherals. It appears he's dressed in black rags, with a brown hood over his head. "And I think I shall decide how useful you are outside your bindings or not." The voice's tone switches from something calm, to something clearly irritated. Once more, a woman's voice rises up in a shrill cackle. And another voice joins in. Something deep, sonorous, but a guffaw none the same. Three people, at the very least, appears to be the company the redhead has in the cellar.
Antoinette exhales slowly as the speaker makes himself known. Her nose wrinkles at that shrill cackle and she tries to crane her neck in the direction of the rag-clad man. "If you know enough to know that I'm an arcanist, then you also must know that I'm an alchemist, an experimenter, almost a chemist. If it's power you want, I can help you get there." There's a beat of pause and then she ventures to ask. "What would you even -do- with my blood?"
"Think," the man growls at Antoinette as he looms over the table, staring down with dark, tired, maniacal eyes at the redhead. "If the gods were humans before, what changed them so that their descendents would not only inherit the changes from flesh-forming, but a fraction of their powers too?" There's a bit of a stretch here, and it may very well be that the man is getting some things wrong. However the rest of what he says is mostly accurate. "I want to find out how to flesh-form ourselves to that level. We may be humans now, but we can become more."
"Okay, I see your point, I do." Antoinette tries to sound reassuring even as she gets less confident in her ability to talk her way out of this. "But even so, I don't think my blood is what you're looking for. It's just normal human blood. Really. You'd be much better off with a-demonborn or demigod or something like that." She insists. "I could even show you the fleshforming clinic in the goblin market, I bet they'd have some good information for you if you don't have any qualms about using infant hearts as part of the process."
"Yes, if we didn't wish to study the differences between potential and the result," the man intones, holding up a rather large syringe, made for blood transfusions. His dark eyes peer from behind the burlap hood, only his voice echoed by the woman and man that lurk in the darkness. "Also, demons aren't humans, or related to humans. They are weapons. It would be far easier to test the differences between demigod and human blood."
Antoinette closes her eyes for a moment, just taking a beat. "Demonborn are literally half-human." She just can't help correcting the man, but at least she quickly follows up with - "Fine. Fine. If you want to take some of my blood, then take it. You know. I even know a demigod who would be more than happy to donate a sample too. So long as you let me go. And maybe even keep updated on how your research goes. I can't discount a fellow researcher." fingers curling some against her bindings.
"I said demons," snarls the man who looms above, leaning closer. "Demonborn are half human, I know this," he says softly afterwards, raising the syringe. "And, like it or not, you have little choice over the situati-" There's a pause here as the woman, who's stopped with her insane cackling, suddenly asks a question. "Demons are weapons, but Demonborn are humans? How does that work?" Then the other man, sonorous, melodic in his voice and cadence, asks, "Can't we just take demon blood and inject ourselves with it." The flurry of questions, a barrage of verbal vomit and ignorance come forth afterwards, as they begin asking and asking more and more questions, apparently having their own curiosity roused by Antoinette. They step forth, those same half-starved looking couple who looks as if they've been homeless for a while.
Antoinette listens more than watches as the barrage of questions comes from the other two. She tries to find a brief opportunity to interrupt in order to say, more toward the couple than the man with the syringe, if you let me go I can get you demon blood even. I have quite the store. Like I was trying to tell this man - I'm much more useful outside the bindings. I'd be happy to help you get stronger but I can't do that from here." "
Antoinette listens more than watches as the barrage of questions comes from the other two. She tries to find a brief opportunity to interrupt in order to say, more toward the couple than the man with the syringe, "If you let me go I can get you demon blood even. I have quite the store. Like I was trying to tell this man - I'm much more useful outside the bindings. I'd be happy to help you get stronger but I can't do that from here." (fix)
"Don't listen to her," the man cries out in a snarl, "Ruth, Daryll, she's trying to deceive you for freedom-" And it seems Antoinette's words work, filling the two others with hope, or perhaps, more aptly, letting them empty further questions. The woman asks, "Will I become a supernatural then? The superior species?" Then the man (without a bag on his head), asks, "I'll become stronger right? I won't feel so sick and weak anymore?" It doesn't take too long for hope to become obsession, and the woman lunges to free the nurse from her bindings, only at the dismay of the bagged fellow, who attempts to stab her with the syringe. A moment later? It devolves into a brawl, with the beefy fellow against the weaker couple. At the very least, the redhead's left arm is freed.
An opportunity presents itself and Antoinette takes it. As the fighting breaks out, she swiftly works to undo her bindings First her neck, then her other arm. Ankles next. Good thing she's got all that practice with them from working at the clinic! She swings her legs off the table - the side opposite where the fighting is happening. "Come find me again and I'll help you!" She insists to the couple. Or maybe to all three of them? Hard to tell. She's beelining for the exit.
The three duking it out to, apparently, get demon blood inside of them somehow (except for the bagged man, who's trying to lunge after Antoinette continue to do so, with minimal attention paid towards the nurse. Stairs present themselves in the dark, and with ease they can be crawled up and opened, the cellar door unbolted from the side the nurse is on, to lead upward to freedom and light. Still, and still, the delusional trio fights behind her, her offers of help mostly ignored as, the woman gets that syringe thrust into her eyeball. "Die you wretched fools," cries the bagged man. And then, the scenery is behind Antoinette, and she has earned freedom.
Antoinette grimaces as she hears the squelch of the eyeball but she's already pushing that cellar door open and stumbling up and out to see where the hell she is. There's a few deep breaths taken in and then she slams the cellar door shut. If there's a stick or anything nearby, she'll also use that to jam between the handles and make it at least more difficult to break open even if it's unlatched. She rakes a hand through her hair to take stock of where she is and then starts quickly off in the direction of the nearest road.
As the captors bicker among themselves, influenced by Antoinette's suggestions and questions, the nurse seizes a moment of distraction to negotiate her release. Promising them access to demon blood and asserting her value outside of captivity, she instigates a brawl between her captors, allowing her to escape their clutches. With one arm freed by the hopeful but naive couple, Antoinette quickly frees herself from the rest of her bindings and makes her way out of the cellar and into the daylight, leaving behind the chaos and the sound of violence. She ensures her escape by securing the cellar door behind her and begins her journey back to civilization, shaken but resilient, a testament to her wit and survival instincts in the face of unspeakable danger.
(Antoinette's odd encounter(SRPeter):SRPeter)
[Fri Feb 21 2025]
In a cozy, efficiently-organized cabin addition
Variegated lumber from the surrounding forest have been used to make this log cabin-esque addition to a building. This lends a hodgepodge patchwork of warm browns and golds to the color palette, with the paler woods comprising the floorboards and ceiling and the darker shades mottling the walls.
It is morning, about 2F(-16C) degrees, and the sky is covered by dark grey clouds.
(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.
)
Antoinette is laying in bed, curled up against a still-sleeping Malcolm and doing some texting. On the verge of getting out and on with her day but not quite there yet.
Antoinette hears a knock, then yeo
Antoinette hears a knock, and then two, at the front door. Strangely enough the redhead can feel as if she's being watched, however, from where? It's harder to say. Malcolm of course, doesn't stir as of yet, and while she lays in bed, if she keeps herself there, the knocks would get more and more furious, counting upward by exactly one, for each successive knock, like some mad-man's ritual.
"The hell?" Antoinette frowned, pushing herself up and out of the bed finally. She glances around with a tsk and a furrowed brow, bringing her necklace out to the fore just in case. No one knocks this furiously this early without at least -texting- her there's an emergency! Or some kind of chatter happening on one of the chats. Still, she's not -too- concerned yet. Maybe just annoyed that she's been forced away from the comfortable and cozy warmth of the bed! She reaches the front door, opening it up while saying, "Someone better be on the verge of their death bed for this." The door only coming fully open as she finishes talking and can take in the person (or persons) at the door.
The knocks cease the moment Antoinette touches the knob, they've halted for moments when it swings fully open. Revealed before her are a man and a woman, giving her a faint smile. "Hello," they speak, in nigh on unison. "We're wondering if you've seen our dog?"
Antoinette stares at the couple with a touch of disbelief and, yes, a tinge of annoyance. ""
Antoinette stares at the couple with a touch of disbelief and, yes, a tinge of annoyance. "I don't even know what your dog looks like. But no. I haven't seen any dogs. Now if you'll excuse me." She starts trying to close the door.
A sharp crack emanates from inside Antoinette's house. A window was just broken. And in a split second, the people outside, the man and the woman, their smiles become far more forced, their muscles are tensed. The emotion displayed upon their features is not by any means fear, but anxiety, worry, anticipation. Impatience. Thudding footsteps emerge in the direction the glass broke. It seems the nurse has very little time to figure out what to do in her predicament.
The first thought that runs through Antoinette's mind is that this was some kind of distraction to get her away from Malcolm so someone could break in through his exterior entrance and grab him. He wasn't a full-fledged Faeborn but it was still possible someone either didn't realize that or had found out about his faeborn heritage and thought they could use it?
She turns to try and rush back toward his bedroom, leaving the front door wide open of course. Because not for one single second did it cross her mind that -she- might be the target in whatever is actually going on. Not considering herself very significant at all in that regard. This, naturally, leaves her fairly defenseless in the moment of panic.
Sweet. Ether. An odor that emanates from the rag suddenly pressed to Antoinette's face from behind. The liquid soaked in would taste sweet, should the redhead open her mouth and lash the cloth with her tongue if she screamed at all. Rushing before her, where her eyes can see, is a man masked with a burlap sack and eyeholes cut out, a long with a sort of stitched up smile upon such a mask. He's burly, beefy, unlike the other two, who are skinny, slender folk, almost like twigs, almost like they haven't eaten. But that burly man thudding, thundering along, slamming boots to ground and sprinting directly at her, is the last thing Antoinette sees before it all goes dark.
And then she wakes, somewhere with a dim lightbulb hanging over her head. Earth lines the ceiling. If she tried to move in her daze, she would find her arms and legs strapped to a surgery bed by leather straps and buckles. She's binded to it tightly. Alone, as far as she can see. Should she try to move her neck, it too would be bound, a little more loosely, to the bed.
Antoinette looks shocked, eyes wide as the rag goes over her mouth. She's too stunned to even try to struggle in those few short moments before she goes out. There's a groan as she wakes up, grimacing at the dim bulb, trying to assess her situation through the grogginess. "Wh-...fuck." A breathless laugh escapes, somewhere between disbelief and irony. Sure there's some fear and trepidation in there too but, "You know." She tries to crane her neck a little see more, to see if there's anyone else here. "When I have dreams like these, I'm usually the one doing the operating!" Lifting her voice to be heard (maybe) as her head thuds lightly back down against the table. She strains momentarily against her bonds but, as she constantly is pointing out to people, she's just a human. She's not breaking out of these on strength alone.
"Antoinette Daniels, is this correct?" a voice, raspy and cruel, rings out from the dark, directed towards Antoinette of course. "Don't bother answering, I've read your ID." Footsteps click and clack forward. Tile floor? When the nurse struggles against the bindings, there's a soft laugh, from a woman, that echoes forth from the innards of what appears to be a cellar. Roots strangle themselves to hang down from the ceiling of course. Beams barely hold up the earth above. "We believe your blood can help us, Miss Daniels. You're an Arcanist, aren't you?"
The sounds of the raspy voice brings Antoinette's attention toward it. Eyes moving even if her head can't fully. "My blood?" She questions. "I am an Arcanist, yes. But you do realize that the ability to do the arcane arts comes more from book smarts than innate talent, right? I've tested my blood. There's nothing special going on there." She tries to spot the speaker but can't quite. "Depending on what you're after, I'm probably more useful to you outside the bindings." She insists. Antoinette would be the one already thinking about work and research-related endeavors even while strapped to an operating table.
"The Gods were humans once too," growls out the speaker, who approaches into the views of Antoinette's peripherals. It appears he's dressed in black rags, with a brown hood over his head. "And I think I shall decide how useful you are outside your bindings or not." The voice's tone switches from something calm, to something clearly irritated. Once more, a woman's voice rises up in a shrill cackle. And another voice joins in. Something deep, sonorous, but a guffaw none the same. Three people, at the very least, appears to be the company the redhead has in the cellar.
Antoinette exhales slowly as the speaker makes himself known. Her nose wrinkles at that shrill cackle and she tries to crane her neck in the direction of the rag-clad man. "If you know enough to know that I'm an arcanist, then you also must know that I'm an alchemist, an experimenter, almost a chemist. If it's power you want, I can help you get there." There's a beat of pause and then she ventures to ask. "What would you even -do- with my blood?"
"Think," the man growls at Antoinette as he looms over the table, staring down with dark, tired, maniacal eyes at the redhead. "If the gods were humans before, what changed them so that their descendents would not only inherit the changes from flesh-forming, but a fraction of their powers too?" There's a bit of a stretch here, and it may very well be that the man is getting some things wrong. However the rest of what he says is mostly accurate. "I want to find out how to flesh-form ourselves to that level. We may be humans now, but we can become more."
"Okay, I see your point, I do." Antoinette tries to sound reassuring even as she gets less confident in her ability to talk her way out of this. "But even so, I don't think my blood is what you're looking for. It's just normal human blood. Really. You'd be much better off with a-demonborn or demigod or something like that." She insists. "I could even show you the fleshforming clinic in the goblin market, I bet they'd have some good information for you if you don't have any qualms about using infant hearts as part of the process."
"Yes, if we didn't wish to study the differences between potential and the result," the man intones, holding up a rather large syringe, made for blood transfusions. His dark eyes peer from behind the burlap hood, only his voice echoed by the woman and man that lurk in the darkness. "Also, demons aren't humans, or related to humans. They are weapons. It would be far easier to test the differences between demigod and human blood."
Antoinette closes her eyes for a moment, just taking a beat. "Demonborn are literally half-human." She just can't help correcting the man, but at least she quickly follows up with - "Fine. Fine. If you want to take some of my blood, then take it. You know. I even know a demigod who would be more than happy to donate a sample too. So long as you let me go. And maybe even keep updated on how your research goes. I can't discount a fellow researcher." fingers curling some against her bindings.
"I said demons," snarls the man who looms above, leaning closer. "Demonborn are half human, I know this," he says softly afterwards, raising the syringe. "And, like it or not, you have little choice over the situati-" There's a pause here as the woman, who's stopped with her insane cackling, suddenly asks a question. "Demons are weapons, but Demonborn are humans? How does that work?" Then the other man, sonorous, melodic in his voice and cadence, asks, "Can't we just take demon blood and inject ourselves with it." The flurry of questions, a barrage of verbal vomit and ignorance come forth afterwards, as they begin asking and asking more and more questions, apparently having their own curiosity roused by Antoinette. They step forth, those same half-starved looking couple who looks as if they've been homeless for a while.
Antoinette listens more than watches as the barrage of questions comes from the other two. She tries to find a brief opportunity to interrupt in order to say, more toward the couple than the man with the syringe, if you let me go I can get you demon blood even. I have quite the store. Like I was trying to tell this man - I'm much more useful outside the bindings. I'd be happy to help you get stronger but I can't do that from here." "
Antoinette listens more than watches as the barrage of questions comes from the other two. She tries to find a brief opportunity to interrupt in order to say, more toward the couple than the man with the syringe, "If you let me go I can get you demon blood even. I have quite the store. Like I was trying to tell this man - I'm much more useful outside the bindings. I'd be happy to help you get stronger but I can't do that from here." (fix)
"Don't listen to her," the man cries out in a snarl, "Ruth, Daryll, she's trying to deceive you for freedom-" And it seems Antoinette's words work, filling the two others with hope, or perhaps, more aptly, letting them empty further questions. The woman asks, "Will I become a supernatural then? The superior species?" Then the man (without a bag on his head), asks, "I'll become stronger right? I won't feel so sick and weak anymore?" It doesn't take too long for hope to become obsession, and the woman lunges to free the nurse from her bindings, only at the dismay of the bagged fellow, who attempts to stab her with the syringe. A moment later? It devolves into a brawl, with the beefy fellow against the weaker couple. At the very least, the redhead's left arm is freed.
An opportunity presents itself and Antoinette takes it. As the fighting breaks out, she swiftly works to undo her bindings First her neck, then her other arm. Ankles next. Good thing she's got all that practice with them from working at the clinic! She swings her legs off the table - the side opposite where the fighting is happening. "Come find me again and I'll help you!" She insists to the couple. Or maybe to all three of them? Hard to tell. She's beelining for the exit.
The three duking it out to, apparently, get demon blood inside of them somehow (except for the bagged man, who's trying to lunge after Antoinette continue to do so, with minimal attention paid towards the nurse. Stairs present themselves in the dark, and with ease they can be crawled up and opened, the cellar door unbolted from the side the nurse is on, to lead upward to freedom and light. Still, and still, the delusional trio fights behind her, her offers of help mostly ignored as, the woman gets that syringe thrust into her eyeball. "Die you wretched fools," cries the bagged man. And then, the scenery is behind Antoinette, and she has earned freedom.
Antoinette grimaces as she hears the squelch of the eyeball but she's already pushing that cellar door open and stumbling up and out to see where the hell she is. There's a few deep breaths taken in and then she slams the cellar door shut. If there's a stick or anything nearby, she'll also use that to jam between the handles and make it at least more difficult to break open even if it's unlatched. She rakes a hand through her hair to take stock of where she is and then starts quickly off in the direction of the nearest road.