Encounterlogs
Deans Odd Encounter Sr Victoria 240910
In the eerie dusk of Sanctuary Way, an unsettling encounter unfolds between Dean, a formidable figure with a disdain for vampires, and a distressed young man caught in the grip of a terrifying vampiric woman. Dean's unexpected appearance on the scene disrupts a tense moment, leading to a confrontation where the vampire, with icy, unblinking eyes, and a fierce hiss, briefly clashes with Dean before vanishing into thin air. The young man, paralyzed with fear, watches as Dean and the vampire engage in a lethal dance of power and resilience. Dean, unfazed by the vampire's attempt to wound him, exhibits his monstrous strength and toughness, capturing the vampire with a grip harsh enough to pull her into vulnerability before him and the horrified boy.
The confrontation escalates as Dean demonstrates his ruthlessness, not by killing the vampire outright but by systematically disabling her, showcasing a brutal lesson in power dynamics. While the defeated vampire lies beneath his boot, projecting threats of further danger, Dean turns the situation into a twisted teaching moment for the young boy. Tossing a knife before him, Dean offers the boy an ultimatum - to finish the vampire off or potentially become her prey. Without concern for the boy's decision, Dean departs, leaving behind a scene of mayhem and a significant, bloody choice. This encounter not only reveals the savagery lurking within the woods of Sanctuary Way but also hints at the merciless nature of its denizens, where survival and power rule above all.
(Dean's odd encounter(SRVictoria):SRVictoria)
[Mon Sep 9 2024]
On Sanctuary Way
A winding dirt road leads through the woods.
It is after dusk, about 67F(19C) degrees, There is a waxing crescent moon.
There's some benefit to being able to path so silently and accurately, even in the presence of a 'leech', as Dean would term her. He goes unnoticed right up until that arm wraps around the man's shoulders. It's met with a jump, a quick look at him. There's enough time for the woman to draw in a rather unnecessary breath, one that she nearly spits out as she intones, "Who the hell are you?"
If that man wasn't sure before, he's certainly not sure now. For all his bravado, his outward gruff image, once metal begins to bend he starts to visibly shake. "I...I-no. It'll kill me!" he exclaims, the best he can with fingers that threaten to crush the bones of his face at any moment. "I knew I shouldn't have done this..really.." his voice trails off with pleas and begging that more than likely falls on deaf ears at this point, as Dean is already involved. Either way, he seems quite hesitant to pull that trigger, instead trying to drop the gun altogether.
With the rifle ruined, the woman expels a low, vhement hiss, releasing the boy momentarily to turn her attention to Dean. As he faces her, she catches his gaze with unblinking, icy eyes that hold nothing but cruelty within their depths, marring an otherwise lovely visage. There's a sudden smirk, and she vanishes, seeming to drop straight into the ground itself, arms raised above her head as she disperses into inky blackness.
The boy, meanwhile, stays frozen in abject horror. Shaking, on hands and knees essentially on the ground, he slowly brings curious hazel eyes to Dean with the innocence of youth still lingering within his expression. His mouth opens as though he wants to speak, but he simply can't bring himself to, only to wonder if the new arrival wants to hurt him as well. Suddenly his eyes go even wider, a feat that's something in itself, and he's no longer staring at Dean. He's fixated on a point directly behind him, where the petite woman has formed seemingly intent on stopping the distraction to her plans for the evening.
With dusk falling on Haven, she's coming right into her element of the night, and she seems confident, a slender blade drawn in her hand as she swiftly moves to drive it into Dean wherever able to reach.
And so, it begins.
Mayhem.
The man, as he begins to plea, is still held. The fingers around his jaw start to tighten much the same way as the bent out rifle is left in Dean's hands. He truly doesn't look like he cares where the 'leech' has disappeared. He knows without looking at the boy's face. Vampires have no scent to speak of - nothing for him to trace, to follow - but they make sounds like any other. He hears it all the same, how the wind at his back is subtly influenced, occupied by something in its path. Then, while the kid stares - his fingers pull and twist and the poor man's jaw is torn asunder. Not ripped off, not killed. He isn't that kind of monster.
He's worse.
Dean cracks the man's jaw to inflict him the most earthshattering pain he has ever felt before letting him and his rifle go - so he can curl into fetal position, sob, scream, create all manner of noise that will undoubtedly sound like dinner bells ringing this deep in the forest to any creature almost as bad as he is. But, really, they aren't as bad as he is. Often only 'almost'. With the man out of commission, Dean really has no time to pull himself out of the way. More so because he doesn't try. The slender blade enters his side, right beneath his shoulderblades, comes out the other side. All that it proves is that Dean hardly needs armor - he has a natural toughness - a body that fights like it is incapable of quitting. All that the boy would see, is lips splitting in a smirk. A far too fanged visage - and Dean whispers. "Got her."
His hand shoots over his shoulder in their forced, close proximity. The vampire is sought to be taken straight in her locks of hair at the top of her head, held tight in a cruel grip that pulls harshly. Yanks her as a whole in an attempt to throw her over his shoulder, and down on her back in front of him - between himself and the boy. If that succeeds - what should naturally follow is his boot, smashing down on her unnecessary windpipe, and staying there to keep her extremely still.
Curling into a ball with a noise that isn't quite a scream, but is instead a mixture of screaming, groaning, every unpleasant sound a human could make- that is exactly what that man does. As if the pain itself wasn't bad enough, the audible crack of bone that gives a crisp snap through the air only contributes to the anguish he feels as he hits the ground. He's left for a time writhing next to Dean, his rifle destroyed and forgotten for the time being.
Overly agitated, the vampire drives that blade in, twisting with a smirk before she's unceremoniously gripped by the hair with no regard to even look at her. A hiss of surprise, disdain, and she's flipped over in front of Dean, but not without a rather skilled attempt to sink fangs into his arm on the way to the ground. Trapped beneath a surprisingly heavy boot, her face twists in further disdain. While she's kept still, she manages to choke out incoherent words that only sound like cursing, before she finally spits, "We should have started with you." It seems she's at Dean's mercy, then, but she's sure to throw him a very pointed look. She's not the last one that will come for them. He could choose to kill her and risk even more hunters descending on the forest, so close to the homes of many of his own pack, or let her go, perhaps to warn whoever she's working with that something more volatile exists in the woods.
The boy, meanwhile, gives a confused yet grateful look to Dean and appears poised to start running at any moment, though it seems he can't tear his eyes from the scene. Barefoot, wet and cold, he very, very slowly stands himself up, his posture tense.
Wounded, but undeterred - What Dean does is simple. While that vampire spits her vitriol, the expression on Dean's face fades. That lack of any humane look to his eyes wanes - and now it is the boy that gets ignored, for now. What he does to these out of town hunters, and the leech, is simple. But first, he reaches around. The slender blade's been stabbed with is grabbed with a bend of that bitten arm. Whatever venom the vmpire may have had, a kiss that could've been threatening enough to turn another - Dean does not give a damn. He's too much wolf to ever worry of anything a such, and it shows when he pulls the knife out, twists it around his fingers, then lands it in a reverse grip.
He doesn't use it, he merely slams his boot down to the leech's face in a disorienting strike. First of many, but the least of the rest. He his heel is driven to the elbow of her left arm first, broken -- then the next, same as the last. A vampire can take a punishment, and Dean knows it too well. Nothing of the sort would be too severe for her. Only debilitating, handicapping. Then, he chucks the blade ahead.
It stabss into the ground in front of the boy - and it sounds like he intends to make a lesson out of all this. "Hurt them, really, really bad." The command, it comes with a draw away of his cruel attention, Dean turns away. "Or kill them. I don't care. I would be quick, the blood is going to attract things." As things stand, he's making the boy a culprit and not a witness. Forcing him to take up a knife for his own wicked amusement that doesn't show on his features. All that he does is give a fang to a predator that may or may not have the will to grow. If it is the latter - and the vampire kills the boy after he's departed -- Dean doesn't care. Not while the stakes are high, and this experience could mold another wolf, harden their heart, lead them to survival.
Without another word, Dean lifts blood-dripping arm to wave his hand over his shoulder, put his other in his pocket, and start to wander away. Back out of the forest, back to the beaten path - walk back to where he came from, or elsewhere. Who knows where really, while he fades into a dark silhouette that's leisurely getting out of sight.
The confrontation escalates as Dean demonstrates his ruthlessness, not by killing the vampire outright but by systematically disabling her, showcasing a brutal lesson in power dynamics. While the defeated vampire lies beneath his boot, projecting threats of further danger, Dean turns the situation into a twisted teaching moment for the young boy. Tossing a knife before him, Dean offers the boy an ultimatum - to finish the vampire off or potentially become her prey. Without concern for the boy's decision, Dean departs, leaving behind a scene of mayhem and a significant, bloody choice. This encounter not only reveals the savagery lurking within the woods of Sanctuary Way but also hints at the merciless nature of its denizens, where survival and power rule above all.
(Dean's odd encounter(SRVictoria):SRVictoria)
[Mon Sep 9 2024]
On Sanctuary Way
A winding dirt road leads through the woods.
It is after dusk, about 67F(19C) degrees, There is a waxing crescent moon.
There's some benefit to being able to path so silently and accurately, even in the presence of a 'leech', as Dean would term her. He goes unnoticed right up until that arm wraps around the man's shoulders. It's met with a jump, a quick look at him. There's enough time for the woman to draw in a rather unnecessary breath, one that she nearly spits out as she intones, "Who the hell are you?"
If that man wasn't sure before, he's certainly not sure now. For all his bravado, his outward gruff image, once metal begins to bend he starts to visibly shake. "I...I-no. It'll kill me!" he exclaims, the best he can with fingers that threaten to crush the bones of his face at any moment. "I knew I shouldn't have done this..really.." his voice trails off with pleas and begging that more than likely falls on deaf ears at this point, as Dean is already involved. Either way, he seems quite hesitant to pull that trigger, instead trying to drop the gun altogether.
With the rifle ruined, the woman expels a low, vhement hiss, releasing the boy momentarily to turn her attention to Dean. As he faces her, she catches his gaze with unblinking, icy eyes that hold nothing but cruelty within their depths, marring an otherwise lovely visage. There's a sudden smirk, and she vanishes, seeming to drop straight into the ground itself, arms raised above her head as she disperses into inky blackness.
The boy, meanwhile, stays frozen in abject horror. Shaking, on hands and knees essentially on the ground, he slowly brings curious hazel eyes to Dean with the innocence of youth still lingering within his expression. His mouth opens as though he wants to speak, but he simply can't bring himself to, only to wonder if the new arrival wants to hurt him as well. Suddenly his eyes go even wider, a feat that's something in itself, and he's no longer staring at Dean. He's fixated on a point directly behind him, where the petite woman has formed seemingly intent on stopping the distraction to her plans for the evening.
With dusk falling on Haven, she's coming right into her element of the night, and she seems confident, a slender blade drawn in her hand as she swiftly moves to drive it into Dean wherever able to reach.
And so, it begins.
Mayhem.
The man, as he begins to plea, is still held. The fingers around his jaw start to tighten much the same way as the bent out rifle is left in Dean's hands. He truly doesn't look like he cares where the 'leech' has disappeared. He knows without looking at the boy's face. Vampires have no scent to speak of - nothing for him to trace, to follow - but they make sounds like any other. He hears it all the same, how the wind at his back is subtly influenced, occupied by something in its path. Then, while the kid stares - his fingers pull and twist and the poor man's jaw is torn asunder. Not ripped off, not killed. He isn't that kind of monster.
He's worse.
Dean cracks the man's jaw to inflict him the most earthshattering pain he has ever felt before letting him and his rifle go - so he can curl into fetal position, sob, scream, create all manner of noise that will undoubtedly sound like dinner bells ringing this deep in the forest to any creature almost as bad as he is. But, really, they aren't as bad as he is. Often only 'almost'. With the man out of commission, Dean really has no time to pull himself out of the way. More so because he doesn't try. The slender blade enters his side, right beneath his shoulderblades, comes out the other side. All that it proves is that Dean hardly needs armor - he has a natural toughness - a body that fights like it is incapable of quitting. All that the boy would see, is lips splitting in a smirk. A far too fanged visage - and Dean whispers. "Got her."
His hand shoots over his shoulder in their forced, close proximity. The vampire is sought to be taken straight in her locks of hair at the top of her head, held tight in a cruel grip that pulls harshly. Yanks her as a whole in an attempt to throw her over his shoulder, and down on her back in front of him - between himself and the boy. If that succeeds - what should naturally follow is his boot, smashing down on her unnecessary windpipe, and staying there to keep her extremely still.
Curling into a ball with a noise that isn't quite a scream, but is instead a mixture of screaming, groaning, every unpleasant sound a human could make- that is exactly what that man does. As if the pain itself wasn't bad enough, the audible crack of bone that gives a crisp snap through the air only contributes to the anguish he feels as he hits the ground. He's left for a time writhing next to Dean, his rifle destroyed and forgotten for the time being.
Overly agitated, the vampire drives that blade in, twisting with a smirk before she's unceremoniously gripped by the hair with no regard to even look at her. A hiss of surprise, disdain, and she's flipped over in front of Dean, but not without a rather skilled attempt to sink fangs into his arm on the way to the ground. Trapped beneath a surprisingly heavy boot, her face twists in further disdain. While she's kept still, she manages to choke out incoherent words that only sound like cursing, before she finally spits, "We should have started with you." It seems she's at Dean's mercy, then, but she's sure to throw him a very pointed look. She's not the last one that will come for them. He could choose to kill her and risk even more hunters descending on the forest, so close to the homes of many of his own pack, or let her go, perhaps to warn whoever she's working with that something more volatile exists in the woods.
The boy, meanwhile, gives a confused yet grateful look to Dean and appears poised to start running at any moment, though it seems he can't tear his eyes from the scene. Barefoot, wet and cold, he very, very slowly stands himself up, his posture tense.
Wounded, but undeterred - What Dean does is simple. While that vampire spits her vitriol, the expression on Dean's face fades. That lack of any humane look to his eyes wanes - and now it is the boy that gets ignored, for now. What he does to these out of town hunters, and the leech, is simple. But first, he reaches around. The slender blade's been stabbed with is grabbed with a bend of that bitten arm. Whatever venom the vmpire may have had, a kiss that could've been threatening enough to turn another - Dean does not give a damn. He's too much wolf to ever worry of anything a such, and it shows when he pulls the knife out, twists it around his fingers, then lands it in a reverse grip.
He doesn't use it, he merely slams his boot down to the leech's face in a disorienting strike. First of many, but the least of the rest. He his heel is driven to the elbow of her left arm first, broken -- then the next, same as the last. A vampire can take a punishment, and Dean knows it too well. Nothing of the sort would be too severe for her. Only debilitating, handicapping. Then, he chucks the blade ahead.
It stabss into the ground in front of the boy - and it sounds like he intends to make a lesson out of all this. "Hurt them, really, really bad." The command, it comes with a draw away of his cruel attention, Dean turns away. "Or kill them. I don't care. I would be quick, the blood is going to attract things." As things stand, he's making the boy a culprit and not a witness. Forcing him to take up a knife for his own wicked amusement that doesn't show on his features. All that he does is give a fang to a predator that may or may not have the will to grow. If it is the latter - and the vampire kills the boy after he's departed -- Dean doesn't care. Not while the stakes are high, and this experience could mold another wolf, harden their heart, lead them to survival.
Without another word, Dean lifts blood-dripping arm to wave his hand over his shoulder, put his other in his pocket, and start to wander away. Back out of the forest, back to the beaten path - walk back to where he came from, or elsewhere. Who knows where really, while he fades into a dark silhouette that's leisurely getting out of sight.