Encounterlogs
Caseys Odd Encounter Sr Ethan
Casey was alone in the Pulse Fitness Center late at night during a massive power outage when she began to fill out an application for the gym. As the temperature inexplicably dropped, she noticed a strange, muscular shape in the mirror running on a treadmill where another woman's reflection should have been. As Casey tried to warn the woman about the malfunctioning treadmill, the woman disappeared, leaving Casey facing the dark shape that seemed to grow menacingly both in the mirror and in her perception.
Casey's dread intensified as people in the gym became gruesomely contorted and a sinister voice echoed in her head, urging her to surrender and offering a macabre “freedom” from her flesh. Panicked and desperate, Casey kicked the gym door, which remained unmoved, and with blood dripping from her nose, she reached for a kettlebell. With a concerted effort, she smashed the mirrored wall, disrupting the entity and causing it to recoil. As it attempted to reach out once more, Casey flung a second kettlebell, further enraging but weakening the being. The entity's threats faded, as did the disturbing presence, and Casey was left in silent darkness, surrounded only by the typical gym ambiance and the echoes of her terrifying encounter.
(Casey's odd encounter(SREthan):SREthan)
[Fri Nov 17 2023]
In the Pulse Fitness Center
The walls of this spacious, well-lit gym are adorned with motivational quotes and vibrant teal accents, igniting a sense of determination. The dark gray floor boasts a resilient rubberized surface, absorbing each footfall with a slight rebound. Mirrored walls stretch across the left side, offering a reflection of dedication and progress. The air is filled with the energizing hum of people pushing themselves to new heights, while upbeat music provides the perfect rhythm for intense workouts.
It is night, about 57F(13C) degrees, There is a waxing crescent moon.
(Your target is singled out by some sort of spirit that can only attack them through mirrors, it is up to them to survive long enough by avoiding mirrors/their reflection until their allies can help them find a way to defeat the monster.
)
As it was, Casey was hiked up at one of the tables in the fitness center, near the trainer desk. Cell phone out, her thumb was drifting over a webpage there, her brow furrowed as she uses her phone to fill in an application for the place. It was a quieter time, with it being the hour it was, the fitness center sparsely populated right now, or at least she imagined.
As Casey suspects, the Pulse Fitness Center is certainly dead this evening, especially with the massive power outage that the town is currently experiencing. Nonetheless, it does seem that some have come to use the facilities all the same, as evidenced by the smell of leftover sweat and the small amount of foot traffic through the center as a whole. Right now, however, Casey has the entire place to herself. The room seems rather cold, however, as if the air conditioning were running despite the lack of power.
A faint, scraping sound emits from a nearby wall.
That might be what was taking so long with Casey's cell phone, even. The coverage, without wi-fi? Kinda spotty. But seeing as she lived mostly in the Longhouse, this place had better insulation against the cold winters. And no one had told her to scram just yet. With her left hand still trying to fill out the forms, right hand fumbles with the zipper on her jacket, moving to try to tug it up. "...glad I'm not outside, I guess," she says, glancing up idly towards one of the others in the gym.
The woman exercising next to Casey merely nods her head in some kind of understanding, though seems thoroughly engrossed in her workout and it seems the gesture was more so out of politeness. Something, however, catches Casey's eyes as Casey looks past the woman and there is something strange upon the western wall where the woman's reflection should be. Barely discernible, there is something running on the very same treadmill that the woman is using, but whatever it is, it is utterly foreign in its shape. Muscular, and far larger than any woman could conceivably be, yet utterly shrouded by the lack of light permeating through the gym right now.
A faint, scraping sound emits from a nearby wall.
Engrossed in her application doodling, Casey glances up towards the woman who was exercising, favoring her with a brief smile. A smile that fades as she glances beyond her, noting that shape in the reflection. Almost immeadiately, one can see a response in Casey's posture. Shoulders up, body a bit tense, her blue eyes wide and alert as she looks at the shape. "Huh," she says. "You know..." she tells the woman. "I think that treadmill is breaking down a little bit. I think I hear a whiny noise - you should try another one!" she says, putting on a smile, although her eyes kept flickering to the shape in the reflection.
The woman that Casey was speaking to is no longer there, seemingly having disappeared without a trace. Yet, in the distant mirror, the shape can still be seen running on the treadmill, running in place. Strangely, the treadmill itself seems to be slowly inching closer towards its mirror counterpart. As it draws closer, the head of the shape running upon it begins to jerk and convulse with spastic motions and the sound of cracking bone and sinew echoes unnaturally throughout the gym.
The scratching noises now feel as if they were coming from inside Casey's own head.
LET ME SING THE CRIMSON SONGS, OPEN YOUR HEART, PLACE IT UPON THE MIRRORED ALTAR AND LET ME SAVOR YOUR LIFEBLOOD
"Bluuuuh, not again," Casey says, bringing her hand up to rub against the side of her head as she sees the shifting shape. "I know, I *know*," she says, perhaps looking mildly insane to the remainder of the people there, her eyes frequently darting towards the remainder of the patrons as she treads the line between harsh whisper and shout. "... I'd like for you to try words, or... shapes or... I just can't help if it's just this..." A shudder runs through her, and she clutches her phone with a white-knuckled grip. The scratching noises - so easy to ignore, become much less so as those noises become words. Thoughts, perhaps. The color drains from Casey's face, and her eyes dart towards the entrance of the gym. She bolts - pushing off from the counter, biting back a scream as she charges towards the same. "Salt and suffering, salt and suffering...!" she repeats to herself, like a mantra.
What people remain in the gym are similarly convulsing around Casey, their heads snapping in grotesque and unnatural angles. All the while, the shape in the mirror begins to reach out towards Casey's reflection. The scratching and droning that fills Casey's head grows into a crescendo and as the figure touches Casey's face, Casey can fill something damp drip from Casey's nose. A blossoming pain fills Casey's sinuses, as if a hot nail had plunged itself in the cavities behind Casey's nose. The door is apprehensive towards Casey's attempts at opening it, resisting Casey's pull and remaining steadfastly shut. "DO NOT FLEE, FOR I SHALL FREE YOU FROM BURDEN OF YOUR BLOOD. OF YOUR SINEW. OF YOUR BONE. LET US SING THE CRIMSON SONGS. APPROACH THE MIRRORED ALTAR. SURRENDER UNTO ME." The droning is demanding, incessant, and each of the figures convulsing around Casey continue to wrack their bodies into malformed shapes and where once there was flesh, now there sprouts bloodied ulcers upon their bodies.
With eyes wide, Casey recognizes that blood and sinew are both things she'd rather keep for herself. "GO AWAY!" she screams at the reflection, bringing up her sneakered foot to kick at the lower pane of the gym. "I'M NOT INTERESTED!" Bringing up her hand, she grasps a handful of her dark hair as she clutches her ear, hunching forward as she shrinks into herself. It was about that moment that the hot pain begins, and she rolls her eyes upwards as the shock of the same rocks her head back. "NO! DON'T! PLEASE?" she says, bringing her hand up to touch that dampness, bringing her hand down. "PLEASEPLEASEPLEASE?" she says, a newfound desperation fueling her kicks at the glass of the door, the woman briefly glancing over her shoulder to check on the status of her reflection.
Someone, or something, begins to dig at the mirrored wall, the mirror unnaturally contorting in resistance like it was a thin layer of flesh that barely constrained whatever was pushing at its boundaries. The pain stops for a moment as the pane is kicked by Casey, but the moment Casey glances over Casey's shoulder to check on the status of Casey's reflection it is there that the muscular shadow, twisted and convulsing, has pulled Casey's reflection into an embrace. It holds Casey's reflection tenderly like a lover, longing and loving. The arms of whatever holds Casey's reflection have elongated, each of its three hands bearing a multitude of wriggling digits of varying length. "THERE IS NO NEED TO CRY. NO NEED TO FEEL ANYTHING. COME TO ME. I SHALL FREE YOU." The voice is loud, yet each syllable is delivered in a sing-song manner as they reverberate within Casey's skull.
The pressure builds behind Casey's eyes as Casey continues to look at the mirror.
The pain, the dripping - the pressure. Casey could barely think. Snot or blood - probably blood on her hands, she didn't know. There was some part of her that understood that if this was all in her head, she was two steps away from being arrested by the police. But she didn't care. Turning her eyes away from the reflection as the pressure builds, she lurches - lurches towards the last location of something that she remembers seeing - a kettlebell. With both hands, she grasps the weight and yanks it up, twisting before she swings it towards the mirrored surface. It was hard to see, between the sensation of her brain and the the throbbing everypain. But she felt she could still swing. She had to. For what would happen if she didn't?
As the kettleball is released from Casey's grip, it flies towards the mirrored wall with a solid 'CRACK'. The room itself feels as if its shudders and finally Casey is released from the vice of whatever felt as if it was digging into the recesses of Casey's sinus cavity. "CEASE.," the droning commands, no longer tender, no longer sing-song. It is harsh, demanding, guttural in its order. Whatever it was that was digging into the mirror, trying to break its way through, withdraws whatever it was plunging forward and the figure that was embracing Casey in the reflection now seems to be avoiding the damaged area of the mirror entirely. Yet, despite this setback, the figure sprouts more digits and attempts to reach out towards Casey's reflection with its elongated arms. "I FORGIVE YOU. COME TO ME.," the voice coos.
Just don't aim at anything that might be people. Just walls. Walls were okay. Usually. Right? Right. The second kettlebell was picked up, and Casey heads closer to one of the other mirrors. She shakes her head, trying to think past the needles and pins in her mind. "New deal," she says. "You go back to hiding in the mirrors, and go to sleep for a... year, or I break this one, too," she says, her voice cracking, but her shaking hands holding the weight aloft again. "Salt, and suffering," she murmurs to herself. "...just... you can talk. Most of you can't talk! Why don't you... try *good* things! Just try them once, instead of...!" Was she making sense, not likely, but she lifts the weight anyways, as if going to follow through with her threat regardless.
The second kettleball flies and the entity recoils once more as it flies towards something that resembles one of its leg. Seemingly incensed, a loud roar permeates through the room, rumbling through every corner and shaking the equipment. The windows rattle, the equipment vibrates, nearly everything in this room subjected to the wroth of whatever it is that Casey has enraged. "YOU FEED US. YOU FEED US," the entity demands, its voice reverberating yet noticeably more weaker than before in Casey's head. The twisting figures that once shared the room with Casey have all but disappeared now, winked away in an instant, as if they had never been at all. "WHY MUST YOU WRITHE SO? DEATH IS EASIER," the voice coos again, its voice simultaneously alluring while sounding like long fingernails scratching against a blackboard.
"Go then," says Casey, bringing up her hand as she apparently threw the second kettlebell. "Get out of here, okay? Or I'll do it again," she says, her face twisting into a frown, ignoring the writhing chaos around herself to make another severe gesture towards the reflection.
The roaring lowers in intensity as whatever it is that was encroaching so fervently upon Casey's reflection seems to finally be taking Casey's threats to heart. "WHEN YOUR SKIN ROTS AWAY AND YOUR BONES TURN TO DUST," the voice croons, the tone like a mother wailing after losing her child, "WHEN YOU ARE NOTHING, YOU SHALL KNOW REGRET IN NOT OFFERING YOURSELF TO ME." Where once there was roaring, now becomes a familiar scratching that first sounds as if it were still whittling away at the bone of Casey's skull, then finally it dies down into that incessant scratching, and soon even then fades to an uncomfortable quiet as Casey is left in the room on her lonesome, accompanied only darkness and that familiar smell of sweat in the air.
(fixed) That once unbearable roaring lowers in intensity as whatever it is that was encroaching so fervently upon Casey's reflection seems to finally be taking Casey's threats to heart. "WHEN YOUR SKIN ROTS AWAY AND YOUR BONES TURN TO DUST," the voice croons, the tone like a mother wailing after losing her child, "WHEN YOU ARE NOTHING, YOU SHALL KNOW REGRET IN NOT OFFERING YOURSELF TO ME." Where once there was roaring, now becomes a familiar scratching that first sounds as if it were still whittling away at the bone of Casey's skull, then finally it dies down into that incessant scratching, and soon even then fades to an uncomfortable quiet as Casey is left in the room on her lonesome, accompanied only darkness and that familiar smell of sweat in the air.
Casey's dread intensified as people in the gym became gruesomely contorted and a sinister voice echoed in her head, urging her to surrender and offering a macabre “freedom” from her flesh. Panicked and desperate, Casey kicked the gym door, which remained unmoved, and with blood dripping from her nose, she reached for a kettlebell. With a concerted effort, she smashed the mirrored wall, disrupting the entity and causing it to recoil. As it attempted to reach out once more, Casey flung a second kettlebell, further enraging but weakening the being. The entity's threats faded, as did the disturbing presence, and Casey was left in silent darkness, surrounded only by the typical gym ambiance and the echoes of her terrifying encounter.
(Casey's odd encounter(SREthan):SREthan)
[Fri Nov 17 2023]
In the Pulse Fitness Center
The walls of this spacious, well-lit gym are adorned with motivational quotes and vibrant teal accents, igniting a sense of determination. The dark gray floor boasts a resilient rubberized surface, absorbing each footfall with a slight rebound. Mirrored walls stretch across the left side, offering a reflection of dedication and progress. The air is filled with the energizing hum of people pushing themselves to new heights, while upbeat music provides the perfect rhythm for intense workouts.
It is night, about 57F(13C) degrees, There is a waxing crescent moon.
(Your target is singled out by some sort of spirit that can only attack them through mirrors, it is up to them to survive long enough by avoiding mirrors/their reflection until their allies can help them find a way to defeat the monster.
)
As it was, Casey was hiked up at one of the tables in the fitness center, near the trainer desk. Cell phone out, her thumb was drifting over a webpage there, her brow furrowed as she uses her phone to fill in an application for the place. It was a quieter time, with it being the hour it was, the fitness center sparsely populated right now, or at least she imagined.
As Casey suspects, the Pulse Fitness Center is certainly dead this evening, especially with the massive power outage that the town is currently experiencing. Nonetheless, it does seem that some have come to use the facilities all the same, as evidenced by the smell of leftover sweat and the small amount of foot traffic through the center as a whole. Right now, however, Casey has the entire place to herself. The room seems rather cold, however, as if the air conditioning were running despite the lack of power.
A faint, scraping sound emits from a nearby wall.
That might be what was taking so long with Casey's cell phone, even. The coverage, without wi-fi? Kinda spotty. But seeing as she lived mostly in the Longhouse, this place had better insulation against the cold winters. And no one had told her to scram just yet. With her left hand still trying to fill out the forms, right hand fumbles with the zipper on her jacket, moving to try to tug it up. "...glad I'm not outside, I guess," she says, glancing up idly towards one of the others in the gym.
The woman exercising next to Casey merely nods her head in some kind of understanding, though seems thoroughly engrossed in her workout and it seems the gesture was more so out of politeness. Something, however, catches Casey's eyes as Casey looks past the woman and there is something strange upon the western wall where the woman's reflection should be. Barely discernible, there is something running on the very same treadmill that the woman is using, but whatever it is, it is utterly foreign in its shape. Muscular, and far larger than any woman could conceivably be, yet utterly shrouded by the lack of light permeating through the gym right now.
A faint, scraping sound emits from a nearby wall.
Engrossed in her application doodling, Casey glances up towards the woman who was exercising, favoring her with a brief smile. A smile that fades as she glances beyond her, noting that shape in the reflection. Almost immeadiately, one can see a response in Casey's posture. Shoulders up, body a bit tense, her blue eyes wide and alert as she looks at the shape. "Huh," she says. "You know..." she tells the woman. "I think that treadmill is breaking down a little bit. I think I hear a whiny noise - you should try another one!" she says, putting on a smile, although her eyes kept flickering to the shape in the reflection.
The woman that Casey was speaking to is no longer there, seemingly having disappeared without a trace. Yet, in the distant mirror, the shape can still be seen running on the treadmill, running in place. Strangely, the treadmill itself seems to be slowly inching closer towards its mirror counterpart. As it draws closer, the head of the shape running upon it begins to jerk and convulse with spastic motions and the sound of cracking bone and sinew echoes unnaturally throughout the gym.
The scratching noises now feel as if they were coming from inside Casey's own head.
LET ME SING THE CRIMSON SONGS, OPEN YOUR HEART, PLACE IT UPON THE MIRRORED ALTAR AND LET ME SAVOR YOUR LIFEBLOOD
"Bluuuuh, not again," Casey says, bringing her hand up to rub against the side of her head as she sees the shifting shape. "I know, I *know*," she says, perhaps looking mildly insane to the remainder of the people there, her eyes frequently darting towards the remainder of the patrons as she treads the line between harsh whisper and shout. "... I'd like for you to try words, or... shapes or... I just can't help if it's just this..." A shudder runs through her, and she clutches her phone with a white-knuckled grip. The scratching noises - so easy to ignore, become much less so as those noises become words. Thoughts, perhaps. The color drains from Casey's face, and her eyes dart towards the entrance of the gym. She bolts - pushing off from the counter, biting back a scream as she charges towards the same. "Salt and suffering, salt and suffering...!" she repeats to herself, like a mantra.
What people remain in the gym are similarly convulsing around Casey, their heads snapping in grotesque and unnatural angles. All the while, the shape in the mirror begins to reach out towards Casey's reflection. The scratching and droning that fills Casey's head grows into a crescendo and as the figure touches Casey's face, Casey can fill something damp drip from Casey's nose. A blossoming pain fills Casey's sinuses, as if a hot nail had plunged itself in the cavities behind Casey's nose. The door is apprehensive towards Casey's attempts at opening it, resisting Casey's pull and remaining steadfastly shut. "DO NOT FLEE, FOR I SHALL FREE YOU FROM BURDEN OF YOUR BLOOD. OF YOUR SINEW. OF YOUR BONE. LET US SING THE CRIMSON SONGS. APPROACH THE MIRRORED ALTAR. SURRENDER UNTO ME." The droning is demanding, incessant, and each of the figures convulsing around Casey continue to wrack their bodies into malformed shapes and where once there was flesh, now there sprouts bloodied ulcers upon their bodies.
With eyes wide, Casey recognizes that blood and sinew are both things she'd rather keep for herself. "GO AWAY!" she screams at the reflection, bringing up her sneakered foot to kick at the lower pane of the gym. "I'M NOT INTERESTED!" Bringing up her hand, she grasps a handful of her dark hair as she clutches her ear, hunching forward as she shrinks into herself. It was about that moment that the hot pain begins, and she rolls her eyes upwards as the shock of the same rocks her head back. "NO! DON'T! PLEASE?" she says, bringing her hand up to touch that dampness, bringing her hand down. "PLEASEPLEASEPLEASE?" she says, a newfound desperation fueling her kicks at the glass of the door, the woman briefly glancing over her shoulder to check on the status of her reflection.
Someone, or something, begins to dig at the mirrored wall, the mirror unnaturally contorting in resistance like it was a thin layer of flesh that barely constrained whatever was pushing at its boundaries. The pain stops for a moment as the pane is kicked by Casey, but the moment Casey glances over Casey's shoulder to check on the status of Casey's reflection it is there that the muscular shadow, twisted and convulsing, has pulled Casey's reflection into an embrace. It holds Casey's reflection tenderly like a lover, longing and loving. The arms of whatever holds Casey's reflection have elongated, each of its three hands bearing a multitude of wriggling digits of varying length. "THERE IS NO NEED TO CRY. NO NEED TO FEEL ANYTHING. COME TO ME. I SHALL FREE YOU." The voice is loud, yet each syllable is delivered in a sing-song manner as they reverberate within Casey's skull.
The pressure builds behind Casey's eyes as Casey continues to look at the mirror.
The pain, the dripping - the pressure. Casey could barely think. Snot or blood - probably blood on her hands, she didn't know. There was some part of her that understood that if this was all in her head, she was two steps away from being arrested by the police. But she didn't care. Turning her eyes away from the reflection as the pressure builds, she lurches - lurches towards the last location of something that she remembers seeing - a kettlebell. With both hands, she grasps the weight and yanks it up, twisting before she swings it towards the mirrored surface. It was hard to see, between the sensation of her brain and the the throbbing everypain. But she felt she could still swing. She had to. For what would happen if she didn't?
As the kettleball is released from Casey's grip, it flies towards the mirrored wall with a solid 'CRACK'. The room itself feels as if its shudders and finally Casey is released from the vice of whatever felt as if it was digging into the recesses of Casey's sinus cavity. "CEASE.," the droning commands, no longer tender, no longer sing-song. It is harsh, demanding, guttural in its order. Whatever it was that was digging into the mirror, trying to break its way through, withdraws whatever it was plunging forward and the figure that was embracing Casey in the reflection now seems to be avoiding the damaged area of the mirror entirely. Yet, despite this setback, the figure sprouts more digits and attempts to reach out towards Casey's reflection with its elongated arms. "I FORGIVE YOU. COME TO ME.," the voice coos.
Just don't aim at anything that might be people. Just walls. Walls were okay. Usually. Right? Right. The second kettlebell was picked up, and Casey heads closer to one of the other mirrors. She shakes her head, trying to think past the needles and pins in her mind. "New deal," she says. "You go back to hiding in the mirrors, and go to sleep for a... year, or I break this one, too," she says, her voice cracking, but her shaking hands holding the weight aloft again. "Salt, and suffering," she murmurs to herself. "...just... you can talk. Most of you can't talk! Why don't you... try *good* things! Just try them once, instead of...!" Was she making sense, not likely, but she lifts the weight anyways, as if going to follow through with her threat regardless.
The second kettleball flies and the entity recoils once more as it flies towards something that resembles one of its leg. Seemingly incensed, a loud roar permeates through the room, rumbling through every corner and shaking the equipment. The windows rattle, the equipment vibrates, nearly everything in this room subjected to the wroth of whatever it is that Casey has enraged. "YOU FEED US. YOU FEED US," the entity demands, its voice reverberating yet noticeably more weaker than before in Casey's head. The twisting figures that once shared the room with Casey have all but disappeared now, winked away in an instant, as if they had never been at all. "WHY MUST YOU WRITHE SO? DEATH IS EASIER," the voice coos again, its voice simultaneously alluring while sounding like long fingernails scratching against a blackboard.
"Go then," says Casey, bringing up her hand as she apparently threw the second kettlebell. "Get out of here, okay? Or I'll do it again," she says, her face twisting into a frown, ignoring the writhing chaos around herself to make another severe gesture towards the reflection.
The roaring lowers in intensity as whatever it is that was encroaching so fervently upon Casey's reflection seems to finally be taking Casey's threats to heart. "WHEN YOUR SKIN ROTS AWAY AND YOUR BONES TURN TO DUST," the voice croons, the tone like a mother wailing after losing her child, "WHEN YOU ARE NOTHING, YOU SHALL KNOW REGRET IN NOT OFFERING YOURSELF TO ME." Where once there was roaring, now becomes a familiar scratching that first sounds as if it were still whittling away at the bone of Casey's skull, then finally it dies down into that incessant scratching, and soon even then fades to an uncomfortable quiet as Casey is left in the room on her lonesome, accompanied only darkness and that familiar smell of sweat in the air.
(fixed) That once unbearable roaring lowers in intensity as whatever it is that was encroaching so fervently upon Casey's reflection seems to finally be taking Casey's threats to heart. "WHEN YOUR SKIN ROTS AWAY AND YOUR BONES TURN TO DUST," the voice croons, the tone like a mother wailing after losing her child, "WHEN YOU ARE NOTHING, YOU SHALL KNOW REGRET IN NOT OFFERING YOURSELF TO ME." Where once there was roaring, now becomes a familiar scratching that first sounds as if it were still whittling away at the bone of Casey's skull, then finally it dies down into that incessant scratching, and soon even then fades to an uncomfortable quiet as Casey is left in the room on her lonesome, accompanied only darkness and that familiar smell of sweat in the air.