Encounterlogs
Iriss Odd Encounter Sr Toro 241211
On a seemingly typical afternoon, Iris finds herself entangled in a peculiar missing person's case, prompted by an SMS from James Still, a traffic beat cop unexpectedly assigned to investigate. The missing individual, Jimmy Jameson, a college dropout from a wealthy family, had vanished near Haven while on a vacation spree. Driven by a blend of duty and the opportunity to assist an old friend, Iris, after gearing up and ensuring her readiness, embarks on her mission to locate Jimmy. Starting from her sparsely furnished, newly occupied bedroom, she heads towards the Lodge, a well-known local establishment frequented by tourists, which was mentioned in James' message as the last known location Jimmy was suspected to have been. Iris' journey is underscored by her determined and methodical approach, disregarding the lack of substantial information and the broad daylight complaints from James.
The Lodge acts as a pivotal scene for the search, as Iris' inquiries among passersby lead nowhere, prompting her to shift her focus to the employees within. Her straightforward, assertive demeanor helps her gain crucial information from a particularly helpful clerk, despite an initially tense exchange. The clerk recalls Jimmy's disruptive visit, including an intention to camp in the woods to the west of the longhouse, a common starting point for local campers. Armed with this new lead and choosing to ignore the clerk's flirtatious undertones, Iris decides to push forward, setting her sights on the trails westward. Her resolve remains unshaken even as the search transitions from a vehicle-supported to a foot-based endeavor, showcasing her tenacious spirit and readiness to delve into the unknown to resolve the case at hand. The narrative encapsulates Iris' unwavering commitment to the search, propelled by scant but valuable leads, setting a course into the dense woods with the hope of uncovering Jimmy's fate.
(Iris's odd encounter(SRToro):SRToro)
[Tue Dec 10 2024]
In a slowly coming together bedroom
This bedroom has a tasteful off-white paintjob on the walls that compliment the delicate blue carpeting throughout the space. It's clear that it's new occupant is still in the process of moving it and settling down. Rather than bedside tables, the dark frame of the bed is flanked by two unpacked boxes. To the right side of the room is a small door leading to a shallow closet containing a steel rod that spans the walls, and a good number of clothes hanging upon it. The room itself is still rather sparse and lacking some personality
It is afternoon, about 33F(0C) degrees, and there are a few dark grey stormclouds in the sky.
(Your target's been contacted to help find a civilian who's become lost in the woods.
)
It's afternoon and Iris was lounging around the bed, yawning loudly into the back of her hand while listening to some music on her Motorola-branded shitphone.
Iris' motorola vibrates, it's a message from James Still. However and whyever, the traffic beat cop has found tangentially connected to a missing persons' case that linked to Haven. A bit of information, albeit not much, just whatever he could fit in your typical SMS, lists the individual as a 'Jimmy Jameson'. What a name. A college dropout with far too rich of a family and too much time on his hands what passed by Haven on a vacationing spree, before vanishing.
Iris snapped out her phone and looked at it, pausing the bluegrass western folkpunk sadcore music she was listening to and reading through the SMS. It was her old friend, James Still 'Standing', giving her the most recent scoop on what the buzz was, what was happening. Standing up from her bed and suiting in her usual attire, Iris checked her workbag for its glock and then stepped out to the last known position listed in the SMS, if there was one that is.
James Still is more than eager to provide Iris with any extra data on this shitshow of an investigation. He's more than happy to take the time in complaining about how he's just a beat cop and 'why would they assign me to a missing person', along with sending lines and lines of nonsensical, near-illiterate lines on the uselessness of the Haven Sheriff's Department in assisting with this, mixing lower and higher caps seemingly arbitrarily. Eventually, he must've calmed down, because he finally tells Iris 'the Lodge'. Near the historic district, more than a couple of tourists pass through the long time business for some of the 'famous' localities.
That was James alright, he was usually out there busting perps for snorting whatsit and drinking whosit, but turns out he was assigned to a missing person's case, probably because it was low priority. Didn't matter much, it was a chance to help out a friend and that's all that Iris needed to get her going. Everyone know what the Lodge was and where it was, so it was easy for Iris to drive there in her totally sickass red van, parking it close to the Lodge and stepping off to start looking around for anything suspicious.
Iris phone keeps vibrating long past when it should. She'd gotten about all she needed to get to work, but Officer Still continued to complain for another message or two, then a few more on how he was 'cool' and 'chill' now, and a double digit multiple of five more on if she'd watch the most recent WWE matches, something about a ladder match, and belts. The Lodge is the Lodge. The place itself isn't suspicious, but she's likely more than well aware that anyone that comes here is a suspect. Amidst the ramblings, the beat cop eventually remembers to forward Iris a photo of the missing person. A generic, douchey-looking rich kid, blonde, blue eyes, buzz cut, and chains beyond number to assure everyone that he is really, really tough.
It wasn't going to be an easy one, that's for sure, but sometimes you got to follow your gut, and Iris' gut told her to do what she was best at, being brazen and confident. Passerbies were shown the the photo on her phone and asked if they had seen this man, Iris showing little restraint on who she asked and how.
Passerbyers would mostly ignore Iris, this isn't the first time in this town they've had to deal with some stranger walking around with the photo of someone who's been spirited away. A few stop in their tracks, either allured to the sight of a woman in need or earnestly feeling tugged by what they suppose is her plight and a lost loved one of hers. None have seen him, but a few recommend that, maybe, someone inside the Lodge. After all, the place has plenty of employees, if he stopped by, someone must've caught wind of a loudmouthed outsider.
Time to move on from folks to employees and that's just what Iris did, marching into the Lodge with the authoritative step of a mall cop and walking up to the desk. The photo on the phone was presented alongside the words "Excuse me, ma'am, have you seen this young man? He's presumed lost." She asked of what could very much be a male clerk.
The clerk, standing at the highest steps of six feet, built out of chiseled, mountain-mined stone, and with a jawline to match, glares at Iris for a few, tense seconds, before cracking a friendly smile. "Lemme see," he says, gently, before folding his arms in front of himself, leaning over the phone to get a better look. "Ho'. Forgot my glasses, sorry 'bout tha', ma'am." It takes him a squint of the eyes and a slew of scrunched expressions, he's focusing as hard as he can on the request, even as he multitasks a few, currently, less important chores. For a second, dejection spreads: maybe he hasn't, but then something in the photo must strike a memorable note, because his face relaxes and brightens. He gives the woman a nod and a smirk. "Guessin' he ain't related to someone as sweet as yourselve, ma'am, because - politely - he was kinda a prick. Stopped by, got himself a bite with a posse, tried to start a bunch of fights, mentioned somethin' about camping off in the woods. So, if I had to guess? Probably went too far West from the longhouse. Wouldn't be the first time someone got overconfident in their survivalist knack," his own words knock the grin off his lips.
Iris sucked her teeth at the sight of the man and then looked back at her phone, a blush spreading across her chocolate cheeks upon hearing the attempt at a flirt "Huh? The woods, eh? Did they mention anything past just going out far west? Any direction or something like that? What music were they listening to?"
The clerk slides a hand across his low-cut mohawk four digits through the hair, thumb through a shaved side. "Uh. Not particularly. They just had their campin' gear on 'em. You know, like they were afraid someone was gonna nab it. They... might've mentioned the longhouse? Just the place campers typically go and... ya know? Plenty of camping land if ya hike West." He purses his lips then just gives Iris a confused glare. "Music? Don't think they were listenin' to no music. Just came here I guess to eat breakfast and maybe get into some trouble!"
A few nods later, Iris said "Got it, time to head to the west." With that out of the way, Iris stepped out of the Lounge and then got in her van to get as far west as she could before taking it on foot, starting the Oregon Trail westward, trying to keep her eyes out for the man that was gone with the wind.
The Lodge acts as a pivotal scene for the search, as Iris' inquiries among passersby lead nowhere, prompting her to shift her focus to the employees within. Her straightforward, assertive demeanor helps her gain crucial information from a particularly helpful clerk, despite an initially tense exchange. The clerk recalls Jimmy's disruptive visit, including an intention to camp in the woods to the west of the longhouse, a common starting point for local campers. Armed with this new lead and choosing to ignore the clerk's flirtatious undertones, Iris decides to push forward, setting her sights on the trails westward. Her resolve remains unshaken even as the search transitions from a vehicle-supported to a foot-based endeavor, showcasing her tenacious spirit and readiness to delve into the unknown to resolve the case at hand. The narrative encapsulates Iris' unwavering commitment to the search, propelled by scant but valuable leads, setting a course into the dense woods with the hope of uncovering Jimmy's fate.
(Iris's odd encounter(SRToro):SRToro)
[Tue Dec 10 2024]
In a slowly coming together bedroom
This bedroom has a tasteful off-white paintjob on the walls that compliment the delicate blue carpeting throughout the space. It's clear that it's new occupant is still in the process of moving it and settling down. Rather than bedside tables, the dark frame of the bed is flanked by two unpacked boxes. To the right side of the room is a small door leading to a shallow closet containing a steel rod that spans the walls, and a good number of clothes hanging upon it. The room itself is still rather sparse and lacking some personality
It is afternoon, about 33F(0C) degrees, and there are a few dark grey stormclouds in the sky.
(Your target's been contacted to help find a civilian who's become lost in the woods.
)
It's afternoon and Iris was lounging around the bed, yawning loudly into the back of her hand while listening to some music on her Motorola-branded shitphone.
Iris' motorola vibrates, it's a message from James Still. However and whyever, the traffic beat cop has found tangentially connected to a missing persons' case that linked to Haven. A bit of information, albeit not much, just whatever he could fit in your typical SMS, lists the individual as a 'Jimmy Jameson'. What a name. A college dropout with far too rich of a family and too much time on his hands what passed by Haven on a vacationing spree, before vanishing.
Iris snapped out her phone and looked at it, pausing the bluegrass western folkpunk sadcore music she was listening to and reading through the SMS. It was her old friend, James Still 'Standing', giving her the most recent scoop on what the buzz was, what was happening. Standing up from her bed and suiting in her usual attire, Iris checked her workbag for its glock and then stepped out to the last known position listed in the SMS, if there was one that is.
James Still is more than eager to provide Iris with any extra data on this shitshow of an investigation. He's more than happy to take the time in complaining about how he's just a beat cop and 'why would they assign me to a missing person', along with sending lines and lines of nonsensical, near-illiterate lines on the uselessness of the Haven Sheriff's Department in assisting with this, mixing lower and higher caps seemingly arbitrarily. Eventually, he must've calmed down, because he finally tells Iris 'the Lodge'. Near the historic district, more than a couple of tourists pass through the long time business for some of the 'famous' localities.
That was James alright, he was usually out there busting perps for snorting whatsit and drinking whosit, but turns out he was assigned to a missing person's case, probably because it was low priority. Didn't matter much, it was a chance to help out a friend and that's all that Iris needed to get her going. Everyone know what the Lodge was and where it was, so it was easy for Iris to drive there in her totally sickass red van, parking it close to the Lodge and stepping off to start looking around for anything suspicious.
Iris phone keeps vibrating long past when it should. She'd gotten about all she needed to get to work, but Officer Still continued to complain for another message or two, then a few more on how he was 'cool' and 'chill' now, and a double digit multiple of five more on if she'd watch the most recent WWE matches, something about a ladder match, and belts. The Lodge is the Lodge. The place itself isn't suspicious, but she's likely more than well aware that anyone that comes here is a suspect. Amidst the ramblings, the beat cop eventually remembers to forward Iris a photo of the missing person. A generic, douchey-looking rich kid, blonde, blue eyes, buzz cut, and chains beyond number to assure everyone that he is really, really tough.
It wasn't going to be an easy one, that's for sure, but sometimes you got to follow your gut, and Iris' gut told her to do what she was best at, being brazen and confident. Passerbies were shown the the photo on her phone and asked if they had seen this man, Iris showing little restraint on who she asked and how.
Passerbyers would mostly ignore Iris, this isn't the first time in this town they've had to deal with some stranger walking around with the photo of someone who's been spirited away. A few stop in their tracks, either allured to the sight of a woman in need or earnestly feeling tugged by what they suppose is her plight and a lost loved one of hers. None have seen him, but a few recommend that, maybe, someone inside the Lodge. After all, the place has plenty of employees, if he stopped by, someone must've caught wind of a loudmouthed outsider.
Time to move on from folks to employees and that's just what Iris did, marching into the Lodge with the authoritative step of a mall cop and walking up to the desk. The photo on the phone was presented alongside the words "Excuse me, ma'am, have you seen this young man? He's presumed lost." She asked of what could very much be a male clerk.
The clerk, standing at the highest steps of six feet, built out of chiseled, mountain-mined stone, and with a jawline to match, glares at Iris for a few, tense seconds, before cracking a friendly smile. "Lemme see," he says, gently, before folding his arms in front of himself, leaning over the phone to get a better look. "Ho'. Forgot my glasses, sorry 'bout tha', ma'am." It takes him a squint of the eyes and a slew of scrunched expressions, he's focusing as hard as he can on the request, even as he multitasks a few, currently, less important chores. For a second, dejection spreads: maybe he hasn't, but then something in the photo must strike a memorable note, because his face relaxes and brightens. He gives the woman a nod and a smirk. "Guessin' he ain't related to someone as sweet as yourselve, ma'am, because - politely - he was kinda a prick. Stopped by, got himself a bite with a posse, tried to start a bunch of fights, mentioned somethin' about camping off in the woods. So, if I had to guess? Probably went too far West from the longhouse. Wouldn't be the first time someone got overconfident in their survivalist knack," his own words knock the grin off his lips.
Iris sucked her teeth at the sight of the man and then looked back at her phone, a blush spreading across her chocolate cheeks upon hearing the attempt at a flirt "Huh? The woods, eh? Did they mention anything past just going out far west? Any direction or something like that? What music were they listening to?"
The clerk slides a hand across his low-cut mohawk four digits through the hair, thumb through a shaved side. "Uh. Not particularly. They just had their campin' gear on 'em. You know, like they were afraid someone was gonna nab it. They... might've mentioned the longhouse? Just the place campers typically go and... ya know? Plenty of camping land if ya hike West." He purses his lips then just gives Iris a confused glare. "Music? Don't think they were listenin' to no music. Just came here I guess to eat breakfast and maybe get into some trouble!"
A few nods later, Iris said "Got it, time to head to the west." With that out of the way, Iris stepped out of the Lounge and then got in her van to get as far west as she could before taking it on foot, starting the Oregon Trail westward, trying to keep her eyes out for the man that was gone with the wind.