Encounterlogs
Ashs Odd Encounter Sr Fayad 240909
In the quaint, secretive town of Haven, Massachusetts, Ash finds themselves at the heart of a chilling plot by The Sapphire Martyrs, a group intent on conducting a dark ritual to sever Earth from other worlds. Ash’s night begins in the mundane setting of The Cauldron, an occult shop filled with assorted oddities, where they contemplate indulgences in light of a recent windfall. However, their browsing is interrupted by the sight of a local minister, an important figure to the town and The Hand , being kidnapped. Bound and visibly restrained within a vehicle adorned with flickering candles, the minister is under the control of a dark-robed Martyr, whose glance towards Ash carries a silent warning to abstain from interference. Despite this, Ash readies themselves, packing weapons into their leather sloth bag and setting off towards the forest that surrounds White Oak Institute, deciding on an unconventional approach to combat the Martyrs’ dark plans.
The tension escalates as Ash, draped in shadows under the cover of night and rain, prepares for a confrontation. They observe the Martyrs setting up their ritual beneath the Hanging Tree, a symbol of the town’s enduring strength and dark past. Discretion demands Ash resort to a blood ritual on the White Oak Union building roof, enhancing their shadowy capabilities without drawing attention. With the help of their fae partner, Boojum, Ash enacts a plan to rescue the minister amidst the chaotic backdrop of the Martyrs’ ritual. Boojum's attack provides the perfect distraction, allowing Ash to execute a shadowcloak and whisk the minister to safety instantaneously. The mission culminates with the minister’s gratitude, securing Ash commendation within The Hand, and Boojum’s spectral departure, ensuring Ash’s return to normalcy with a sense of accomplishment and relief.
(Ash's odd encounter(SRFayad):SRFayad)
[Sun Sep 8 2024]
In The Cauldron -- The Mundane
Recessed lighting shines from the wall directly opposing the entrance, and it proves to be the only source of light in this atmospheric foyer. It's dark; and any additional natural or artificial lighting is drowned out by shadows. The ceiling is supported by maple support beams, and a fan lazily spins overhead to provide a gentle breeze for the guests. Shelves and tables fill the space here, atop natural, hardwood flooring that has been scuffed by time.
An ornate full-length mirror hangs on the northern wall.
It is after dusk, about 80F(26C) degrees, There is a waxing crescent moon.
(The Sapphire Martyrs have kidnapped an important local figure, believing them to be a key in their plan to sever Earth from the other worlds. Your target and their allies must locate and free this individual. They might have to go up against members of the Martyrs who are fully prepared to die for their cause, making them dangerous and unpredictable adversaries.)
The cold autumn air sweeps through Haven, Massachusetts, rustling the brittle leaves that scatter across the quiet streets. It is a town that seems to cradle its secrets tightly, nestled among dense woods and rolling hills that swirled in shades of deep green and gold. The sky overhead was a slate gray, heavy with the promise of rain, and the setting sun cast long, haunting shadows that stretched like ghostly fingers through the narrow lanes upon Ash as Ash resides in the foyer of the Cauldron, a shop dedicated to the occult.
The towns heart, the old lighthouse, stands silent vigil, burning in the after-dusk hours as a witness.
A solitary figure, a local minister of significant importance to the local Chamber of Commerce and thus, likewise, the Hand, is driven by a chauffeur through the street outside, adding to the eerie tableau. This individual, a respected community leader known for their tireless dedication to local causes and their unwavering belief in hope and resilience... at least in public... is bound to the passenger chair with a set of straps and tie-downs, easily visible to Ash's enhanced senses. The seat is surrounded by a circle of dark, flickering candles that cast a distorted light over the minister's face. It seems that their driver has placed them all over the front and back seats as if warding the world against the man's presence, causing him to drive rather smoothly through the streets. At least here in Haven, tax dollars were generally spent on the roads being even.@line
The Sapphire Martyrs have made their chilling presence known. The driver is draped in somber, dark robes, the fabric catching the faint light of the candles and shimmering like shadows come to life. His face is obscured by a deep hood, but their eyes burn with an unsettling serenity, a stark contrast to the violent intent that fuels their actions. The Martyr wears a fractured, tear-shaped blue sapphire as a pendant, a symbol of their twisted devotion and belief in their cause.
The Martyr drives with a grim sense of purpose, the vehicle echoing off the cobblestones in a rhythmic cadence of wheel-over-wheel that seems to resonate with the very pulse of the town. The driver glances to the side, preternaturally locking eyes with Ash and frowning, apparantly in recognition. They are tall and imposing, their presence exuding an aura of finality and resolution. His gaze seems to scream, 'stay out of this if you know what's good for you.' Whether Ash intended to take that advice was, naturally, entirely up to them.@line
He drives for a massive, ancient oak tree that looms in the distance, the Hanging Tree well-known to those who attend the White Oak Institute, its gnarled branches reaching out like skeletal arms. This tree, a symbol of the towns enduring strength and sordid past, now seems to stand as a silent witness to the unfolding horror. Beneath its shadow, the ground is marred by strange, arcane symbols carved into the earth, their meaning lost to all but the Martyrs and hinting at the dark rituals they are prepared to perform utilizing the minister of the chamber of commerce as a sacrifice, to close the Gates and force Earth to die on its own, instead of bringing the multiverse down with it.
The sky grows darker, the first drops of rain beginning to fall. The quiet is broken only by the distant murmur of the rain, a somber soundtrack to the events about to unfold this evening.
Ash wanders through the racks, taking in the dim, shadow-filled ambiance of The Cauldron. The recessed lighting casts long, mysterious shadows over the array of clothing, perfumes, and jewelry that line the shelves. They carefully inspect the items, their footsteps almost silent on the scuffed hardwood floor. For once, they have money, and a strange mix of excitement and hesitation bubbles within them as they feel the urge to spend it.
It's a rare treat to have the freedom to browse without worrying about the cost, and today, theyre determined to indulge themselves. They look through the clothes here, understanding that they don't have a broad array - but Savage Style isn't an option, which forces them to try every other shop in town, including this one. Ash ponders their options, mentally running through a checklist. Pajamas? Maybe. Something to catch their beloved's eye? Definitely tempting. A suit jacket, though - thats the promise they made to Yana. Something professional, something expensive... and maybe something else cozy afterward, a balance of work and leisure.
But as they browse, Ash knows deep down that the smarter choice would be to wait. Payday is around the corner, and it would be wise to hold off on extravagant purchases until then. For now, just the jacket will do. They sigh, realizing that this shop - dark and atmospheric as it is - might not have what theyre looking for in that department. But they could't resist checking if Tabatha has gotten any new plants in. Sadly, a quick glance tells them that the selection is unchanged. Still, it's why they came here first, of all of the other shops.
With a final look around, they decide to move on, ready to continue their search elsewhere in the city - except, things are never that easy, are they? They watch the comedic, clownish display of the Sapphire Martyr's with a cool, indifferent expression as they drive their fancy car with... untinted windows in public during the active hours of the evening. To Ash, they are broadcasting the man strapped in the back seat, the flickering candles announcing to the world that, 'hey, this man is being kidnapped for spooky sacrificial shit' and the gaze means, 'and you're invited, honey'.
So, Ash twirls a finger around one of their dreadlocks, one of many dreadlock beads inching closer to their face, as they whisper to the Hand the situation, target, and intent as they walk out the door, watching out for anyone who might overhear. They move to their rusty scooter, painted all over, and pull out weapons. They slide a rifle and sabre into their leather sloth bag, the duffel-like shape accomodating even the gun, and take off their shirt, slapping their vest on underneath. Sliding their shirt back on, they head over to the woods that surround White Oak, planning to climb up a tree and approach through the treetops or the building rooftop. Unconventional, after all, is their brand.
The rain begins to fall in earnest as Ash exits The Cauldron, the droplets scattering in thin, silvery lines against the pale light of the streetlamps. The evening has taken on a more ominous hue, with the sky now a brooding tapestry of dark clouds that hang heavily over Haven, Massachusetts. The quiet murmur of the rain creates a backdrop of melancholy, mingling with the distant rumble of thunder that seems to echo the sense of foreboding settling over the town.
Ash's footsteps echo faintly as they tread through the narrow, winding streets, their leather boots tapping rhythmically against the wet cobblestones. Their thoughts are a whirlwind of calculations and strategies, each step taken with purpose and resolve. The sight of the Sapphire Martyrs' vehicle, its dark silhouette punctuated by the flickering candles within, has evidently set Ash's pulse racing. The Martyrs' presence, so conspicuous and deliberate, feels like a challenge, a sinister invitation to intervene in the unfolding drama.
The ancient oak tree, the Hanging Tree, looms in the distance, its twisted branches reaching out like the skeletal fingers of some forgotten deity. Ash's eyes are drawn to the gnarled limbs that creak and groan in the growing storm, their shadowed forms casting eerie patterns on the ground below. The arcane symbols etched into the earth beneath the tree are both fascinating and terrifying, their meaning an enigma to all but the most initiated. Thankfully, the purpose is a lot more obvious than the sigil's exact meaning. They hint at a dark ritual that threatens not just the town but the very reason it is a useful place to the Hand.
Navigating through the rain-soaked streets, Ash reaches their scooter, its rusty frame a stark contrast to the polished luxury of the Martyrs' vehicle. The scooter's paint job, an explosion of vibrant colors and intricate designs, stands out in the gloom, a beacon of individuality amid the encroaching darkness. Ash's movements are swift and practiced as they prepare for the impending confrontation. They carefully stow their rifle and sabre in the leather sloth bag, their fingers brushing over the worn surface with a sense of familiarity and readiness.
With their shirt off and vest in place, Ash's reflection in a nearby puddle reveals a figure poised for action, a blend of practicality and defiance against the encroaching shadows. The vest, a piece of armor that offers both protection and a tactical advantage, feels reassuringly solid against their torso. They slide their shirt back on, the fabric sticking briefly to their damp skin before settling into place. The decision to approach via the treetops or rooftops is a calculated one. Ash is well aware of the tactical advantage of such unconventional methods. Climbing the trees or scaling the rooftops will provide a vantage point, a chance to observe and strike from above. Their movements are deliberate and silent as they make their way towards the dense woods that border the White Oak Institute. The rain continues to fall, its rhythmic patter blending with the occasional rumble of thunder, creating a symphony of natural and supernatural tension.
As Ash reaches the edge of the woods, the surroundings invade Ash's senses. The forest is alive with the sounds of the storm, the rustling of leaves and the distant hoot of an owl adding to the eerie ambiance. The trees, tall and imposing, seem to whisper secrets as the wind weaves through their branches. Ash's gaze sweeps over the landscape, searching for the best route to approach the Hanging Tree. Choosing a sturdy oak as their starting point, Ash begins their ascent. The climb is arduous, their fingers gripping the rough bark as they pull themselves upward. The rain has made the surface slick, but Ash's determination and superhuman body propels them forward. Each movement is calculated, each step taken with the precision of someone who is a little better in every way than the average person. Reaching a high branch, Ash can survey the scene below. The Hanging Tree stands in its grim majesty, the symbols on the ground now more visible from their elevated position. The Sapphire Martyrs are setting up their ritual with meticulous care, their dark robes swaying with the wind. The minister, bound and illuminated by the flickering candlelight, looks both vulnerable and defiant, a stark contrast to the Martyrs' grim purpose.
The ritual seems to be to sacrifice him at the Hanging Tree as a ritualistic closing of trade deals with the outer worlds, a step for the Martyr's goals to closing the gates of Haven. Of course, like most rituals, it's scheduled to reach its climax at three AM, so Ash has all night.
Ash, satisfied by their observation, retreats, taking a roundabout ambulatory route to the top of the White Oak Union building. Barefoot - as they almost always are - they use their reflexes and dexterity to move despite the rain. Though, if they did fall, they are quite capable of surviving with little injury, recovering quickly from whatever pain they do end up suffering. It's not as if this is the first time they've wandered through the treetop or campus roof - possibly not even the first time in the rain, since it's one of their favorite things to do on campus.
When they eventually do make it onto the roof, they start their own ritual. Normally, they cast in light - their energy given out to summon will o' wisps that they have complete mastery over, able to form strings and orbs from them, painting their fingers and toes in light in order to perform a dance ritual. They form 3 dimensional circles with arcane sigils and runes glowing with light with both the casting - physical incantation of a sort - and the light itself embodiments of their energy. It's a ritual method that they've developed themself, learning light rituals, arcane geometry, and how to cast rituals while muted from their mentor, taking it to a level that reflects their artistry.
But, not today, not tonight. Tonight, they need subtlety, and so they are forced to take up the old arcanist standby: blood. They praise the rain for dampening the scent, even while cursing it as it forces them to use extra focus and energy to keep the blood from washing away. Still, they make it work. And with the mystical gifts they've trained by studying White Oak's mystical ward, their speed via chanted incantation is quickened, the life force required lessened, and with hardly any weakening of themself, they finish the ritual in less than the projected 15 minutes.
They take one last look at the ritual performed by the tree, blessing themself as they twist the lines of their fate, and their own ritual is completed. It takes only seconds for them to summon their feathered partner, the fae snark they've lovingly - and ironically - named Boojum. Ash runs and leaps off of the roof, rolling as they land, right back onto their feet as they aim for where they last saw the minister. They drop Boo, who starts for the nearest Martyr, sharing her gift of violence before, should she not be captured, heading for the woods. She is there to cause chaos and panic, not to martyr herself for the martyr - should all go according to plan. Their ritual's intention because evident as they move, using their advanced hearing and scent to ensure that they are on the right path - it was a shadowcloak rituals, and the area is blanketed by darkness, candles snuffed. They pull out their sabre, but don't dare swing it as they make their way to the minister.
Shouts ring out as Boojum draws blood from one of the Sapphire Martyrs, the cultist snarling in annoyance as he slashes the side of the snark with his ritual knife - the splatter of pink-purple blood staining the ground around the tree as it shrieks, drawing a great deal of attention as it utilizes the man's nose as a springboard to launch itself off towards the forest, leaving a trail of blood behind itself. The distraction was certainly successful - every head is turned towards the woods, the people murmuring "What the fuck was that?" in various levels of explicitness as Ash manages to approach the bound minister.
Ash grabs the minister unceremoniously, lifting him up over their shoulder... and *-BAMF!-* Their shadowcloak is followed by a shadowwalk - whisking them across town in a shadowy instant, leading them into a concrete room. Almost immediately, they open a window and pull the man through, which is followed by them entering the nightmare. From there, it's a matter of bringing him to a secure location, whether it be a higher level Hand agent, or a safe room - though they're heading for the former. It's not until he is taken care of - medically, and mentally, should he require any syringes or hypnotism - that they head back to the apartment to see how Boojum is doing.
The man is grievously grateful to the Hand for his rescue, winning Ash some good intern points, Boojum, meanwhile, squeaks and fades away into nothingness as soon as Ash makes it through the door - seems it was lingering around before dissipating back into spirit form just to make sure Ash would still be alright.
The tension escalates as Ash, draped in shadows under the cover of night and rain, prepares for a confrontation. They observe the Martyrs setting up their ritual beneath the Hanging Tree, a symbol of the town’s enduring strength and dark past. Discretion demands Ash resort to a blood ritual on the White Oak Union building roof, enhancing their shadowy capabilities without drawing attention. With the help of their fae partner, Boojum, Ash enacts a plan to rescue the minister amidst the chaotic backdrop of the Martyrs’ ritual. Boojum's attack provides the perfect distraction, allowing Ash to execute a shadowcloak and whisk the minister to safety instantaneously. The mission culminates with the minister’s gratitude, securing Ash commendation within The Hand, and Boojum’s spectral departure, ensuring Ash’s return to normalcy with a sense of accomplishment and relief.
(Ash's odd encounter(SRFayad):SRFayad)
[Sun Sep 8 2024]
In The Cauldron -- The Mundane
Recessed lighting shines from the wall directly opposing the entrance, and it proves to be the only source of light in this atmospheric foyer. It's dark; and any additional natural or artificial lighting is drowned out by shadows. The ceiling is supported by maple support beams, and a fan lazily spins overhead to provide a gentle breeze for the guests. Shelves and tables fill the space here, atop natural, hardwood flooring that has been scuffed by time.
An ornate full-length mirror hangs on the northern wall.
It is after dusk, about 80F(26C) degrees, There is a waxing crescent moon.
(The Sapphire Martyrs have kidnapped an important local figure, believing them to be a key in their plan to sever Earth from the other worlds. Your target and their allies must locate and free this individual. They might have to go up against members of the Martyrs who are fully prepared to die for their cause, making them dangerous and unpredictable adversaries.)
The cold autumn air sweeps through Haven, Massachusetts, rustling the brittle leaves that scatter across the quiet streets. It is a town that seems to cradle its secrets tightly, nestled among dense woods and rolling hills that swirled in shades of deep green and gold. The sky overhead was a slate gray, heavy with the promise of rain, and the setting sun cast long, haunting shadows that stretched like ghostly fingers through the narrow lanes upon Ash as Ash resides in the foyer of the Cauldron, a shop dedicated to the occult.
The towns heart, the old lighthouse, stands silent vigil, burning in the after-dusk hours as a witness.
A solitary figure, a local minister of significant importance to the local Chamber of Commerce and thus, likewise, the Hand, is driven by a chauffeur through the street outside, adding to the eerie tableau. This individual, a respected community leader known for their tireless dedication to local causes and their unwavering belief in hope and resilience... at least in public... is bound to the passenger chair with a set of straps and tie-downs, easily visible to Ash's enhanced senses. The seat is surrounded by a circle of dark, flickering candles that cast a distorted light over the minister's face. It seems that their driver has placed them all over the front and back seats as if warding the world against the man's presence, causing him to drive rather smoothly through the streets. At least here in Haven, tax dollars were generally spent on the roads being even.@line
The Sapphire Martyrs have made their chilling presence known. The driver is draped in somber, dark robes, the fabric catching the faint light of the candles and shimmering like shadows come to life. His face is obscured by a deep hood, but their eyes burn with an unsettling serenity, a stark contrast to the violent intent that fuels their actions. The Martyr wears a fractured, tear-shaped blue sapphire as a pendant, a symbol of their twisted devotion and belief in their cause.
The Martyr drives with a grim sense of purpose, the vehicle echoing off the cobblestones in a rhythmic cadence of wheel-over-wheel that seems to resonate with the very pulse of the town. The driver glances to the side, preternaturally locking eyes with Ash and frowning, apparantly in recognition. They are tall and imposing, their presence exuding an aura of finality and resolution. His gaze seems to scream, 'stay out of this if you know what's good for you.' Whether Ash intended to take that advice was, naturally, entirely up to them.@line
He drives for a massive, ancient oak tree that looms in the distance, the Hanging Tree well-known to those who attend the White Oak Institute, its gnarled branches reaching out like skeletal arms. This tree, a symbol of the towns enduring strength and sordid past, now seems to stand as a silent witness to the unfolding horror. Beneath its shadow, the ground is marred by strange, arcane symbols carved into the earth, their meaning lost to all but the Martyrs and hinting at the dark rituals they are prepared to perform utilizing the minister of the chamber of commerce as a sacrifice, to close the Gates and force Earth to die on its own, instead of bringing the multiverse down with it.
The sky grows darker, the first drops of rain beginning to fall. The quiet is broken only by the distant murmur of the rain, a somber soundtrack to the events about to unfold this evening.
Ash wanders through the racks, taking in the dim, shadow-filled ambiance of The Cauldron. The recessed lighting casts long, mysterious shadows over the array of clothing, perfumes, and jewelry that line the shelves. They carefully inspect the items, their footsteps almost silent on the scuffed hardwood floor. For once, they have money, and a strange mix of excitement and hesitation bubbles within them as they feel the urge to spend it.
It's a rare treat to have the freedom to browse without worrying about the cost, and today, theyre determined to indulge themselves. They look through the clothes here, understanding that they don't have a broad array - but Savage Style isn't an option, which forces them to try every other shop in town, including this one. Ash ponders their options, mentally running through a checklist. Pajamas? Maybe. Something to catch their beloved's eye? Definitely tempting. A suit jacket, though - thats the promise they made to Yana. Something professional, something expensive... and maybe something else cozy afterward, a balance of work and leisure.
But as they browse, Ash knows deep down that the smarter choice would be to wait. Payday is around the corner, and it would be wise to hold off on extravagant purchases until then. For now, just the jacket will do. They sigh, realizing that this shop - dark and atmospheric as it is - might not have what theyre looking for in that department. But they could't resist checking if Tabatha has gotten any new plants in. Sadly, a quick glance tells them that the selection is unchanged. Still, it's why they came here first, of all of the other shops.
With a final look around, they decide to move on, ready to continue their search elsewhere in the city - except, things are never that easy, are they? They watch the comedic, clownish display of the Sapphire Martyr's with a cool, indifferent expression as they drive their fancy car with... untinted windows in public during the active hours of the evening. To Ash, they are broadcasting the man strapped in the back seat, the flickering candles announcing to the world that, 'hey, this man is being kidnapped for spooky sacrificial shit' and the gaze means, 'and you're invited, honey'.
So, Ash twirls a finger around one of their dreadlocks, one of many dreadlock beads inching closer to their face, as they whisper to the Hand the situation, target, and intent as they walk out the door, watching out for anyone who might overhear. They move to their rusty scooter, painted all over, and pull out weapons. They slide a rifle and sabre into their leather sloth bag, the duffel-like shape accomodating even the gun, and take off their shirt, slapping their vest on underneath. Sliding their shirt back on, they head over to the woods that surround White Oak, planning to climb up a tree and approach through the treetops or the building rooftop. Unconventional, after all, is their brand.
The rain begins to fall in earnest as Ash exits The Cauldron, the droplets scattering in thin, silvery lines against the pale light of the streetlamps. The evening has taken on a more ominous hue, with the sky now a brooding tapestry of dark clouds that hang heavily over Haven, Massachusetts. The quiet murmur of the rain creates a backdrop of melancholy, mingling with the distant rumble of thunder that seems to echo the sense of foreboding settling over the town.
Ash's footsteps echo faintly as they tread through the narrow, winding streets, their leather boots tapping rhythmically against the wet cobblestones. Their thoughts are a whirlwind of calculations and strategies, each step taken with purpose and resolve. The sight of the Sapphire Martyrs' vehicle, its dark silhouette punctuated by the flickering candles within, has evidently set Ash's pulse racing. The Martyrs' presence, so conspicuous and deliberate, feels like a challenge, a sinister invitation to intervene in the unfolding drama.
The ancient oak tree, the Hanging Tree, looms in the distance, its twisted branches reaching out like the skeletal fingers of some forgotten deity. Ash's eyes are drawn to the gnarled limbs that creak and groan in the growing storm, their shadowed forms casting eerie patterns on the ground below. The arcane symbols etched into the earth beneath the tree are both fascinating and terrifying, their meaning an enigma to all but the most initiated. Thankfully, the purpose is a lot more obvious than the sigil's exact meaning. They hint at a dark ritual that threatens not just the town but the very reason it is a useful place to the Hand.
Navigating through the rain-soaked streets, Ash reaches their scooter, its rusty frame a stark contrast to the polished luxury of the Martyrs' vehicle. The scooter's paint job, an explosion of vibrant colors and intricate designs, stands out in the gloom, a beacon of individuality amid the encroaching darkness. Ash's movements are swift and practiced as they prepare for the impending confrontation. They carefully stow their rifle and sabre in the leather sloth bag, their fingers brushing over the worn surface with a sense of familiarity and readiness.
With their shirt off and vest in place, Ash's reflection in a nearby puddle reveals a figure poised for action, a blend of practicality and defiance against the encroaching shadows. The vest, a piece of armor that offers both protection and a tactical advantage, feels reassuringly solid against their torso. They slide their shirt back on, the fabric sticking briefly to their damp skin before settling into place. The decision to approach via the treetops or rooftops is a calculated one. Ash is well aware of the tactical advantage of such unconventional methods. Climbing the trees or scaling the rooftops will provide a vantage point, a chance to observe and strike from above. Their movements are deliberate and silent as they make their way towards the dense woods that border the White Oak Institute. The rain continues to fall, its rhythmic patter blending with the occasional rumble of thunder, creating a symphony of natural and supernatural tension.
As Ash reaches the edge of the woods, the surroundings invade Ash's senses. The forest is alive with the sounds of the storm, the rustling of leaves and the distant hoot of an owl adding to the eerie ambiance. The trees, tall and imposing, seem to whisper secrets as the wind weaves through their branches. Ash's gaze sweeps over the landscape, searching for the best route to approach the Hanging Tree. Choosing a sturdy oak as their starting point, Ash begins their ascent. The climb is arduous, their fingers gripping the rough bark as they pull themselves upward. The rain has made the surface slick, but Ash's determination and superhuman body propels them forward. Each movement is calculated, each step taken with the precision of someone who is a little better in every way than the average person. Reaching a high branch, Ash can survey the scene below. The Hanging Tree stands in its grim majesty, the symbols on the ground now more visible from their elevated position. The Sapphire Martyrs are setting up their ritual with meticulous care, their dark robes swaying with the wind. The minister, bound and illuminated by the flickering candlelight, looks both vulnerable and defiant, a stark contrast to the Martyrs' grim purpose.
The ritual seems to be to sacrifice him at the Hanging Tree as a ritualistic closing of trade deals with the outer worlds, a step for the Martyr's goals to closing the gates of Haven. Of course, like most rituals, it's scheduled to reach its climax at three AM, so Ash has all night.
Ash, satisfied by their observation, retreats, taking a roundabout ambulatory route to the top of the White Oak Union building. Barefoot - as they almost always are - they use their reflexes and dexterity to move despite the rain. Though, if they did fall, they are quite capable of surviving with little injury, recovering quickly from whatever pain they do end up suffering. It's not as if this is the first time they've wandered through the treetop or campus roof - possibly not even the first time in the rain, since it's one of their favorite things to do on campus.
When they eventually do make it onto the roof, they start their own ritual. Normally, they cast in light - their energy given out to summon will o' wisps that they have complete mastery over, able to form strings and orbs from them, painting their fingers and toes in light in order to perform a dance ritual. They form 3 dimensional circles with arcane sigils and runes glowing with light with both the casting - physical incantation of a sort - and the light itself embodiments of their energy. It's a ritual method that they've developed themself, learning light rituals, arcane geometry, and how to cast rituals while muted from their mentor, taking it to a level that reflects their artistry.
But, not today, not tonight. Tonight, they need subtlety, and so they are forced to take up the old arcanist standby: blood. They praise the rain for dampening the scent, even while cursing it as it forces them to use extra focus and energy to keep the blood from washing away. Still, they make it work. And with the mystical gifts they've trained by studying White Oak's mystical ward, their speed via chanted incantation is quickened, the life force required lessened, and with hardly any weakening of themself, they finish the ritual in less than the projected 15 minutes.
They take one last look at the ritual performed by the tree, blessing themself as they twist the lines of their fate, and their own ritual is completed. It takes only seconds for them to summon their feathered partner, the fae snark they've lovingly - and ironically - named Boojum. Ash runs and leaps off of the roof, rolling as they land, right back onto their feet as they aim for where they last saw the minister. They drop Boo, who starts for the nearest Martyr, sharing her gift of violence before, should she not be captured, heading for the woods. She is there to cause chaos and panic, not to martyr herself for the martyr - should all go according to plan. Their ritual's intention because evident as they move, using their advanced hearing and scent to ensure that they are on the right path - it was a shadowcloak rituals, and the area is blanketed by darkness, candles snuffed. They pull out their sabre, but don't dare swing it as they make their way to the minister.
Shouts ring out as Boojum draws blood from one of the Sapphire Martyrs, the cultist snarling in annoyance as he slashes the side of the snark with his ritual knife - the splatter of pink-purple blood staining the ground around the tree as it shrieks, drawing a great deal of attention as it utilizes the man's nose as a springboard to launch itself off towards the forest, leaving a trail of blood behind itself. The distraction was certainly successful - every head is turned towards the woods, the people murmuring "What the fuck was that?" in various levels of explicitness as Ash manages to approach the bound minister.
Ash grabs the minister unceremoniously, lifting him up over their shoulder... and *-BAMF!-* Their shadowcloak is followed by a shadowwalk - whisking them across town in a shadowy instant, leading them into a concrete room. Almost immediately, they open a window and pull the man through, which is followed by them entering the nightmare. From there, it's a matter of bringing him to a secure location, whether it be a higher level Hand agent, or a safe room - though they're heading for the former. It's not until he is taken care of - medically, and mentally, should he require any syringes or hypnotism - that they head back to the apartment to see how Boojum is doing.
The man is grievously grateful to the Hand for his rescue, winning Ash some good intern points, Boojum, meanwhile, squeaks and fades away into nothingness as soon as Ash makes it through the door - seems it was lingering around before dissipating back into spirit form just to make sure Ash would still be alright.