Encounterlogs
Kahs Odd Encounter Sr Ash 241001
In a serene setting by the mouth of a cave, Kah, a man enjoying the simplicity of a sunny afternoon with a roasted cob of corn at Sidney beach, finds his peace interrupted by an odd and pivotal encounter. A man approaches him — not just any man, but a Harbinger entangled with the Sapphire Martyrs, a cult with dark intentions involving him in a sinister ritual unwillingly. This man, introduced as Jackson, appears both out of place and time, carrying the burden of unwanted destinies and seeking Kah's help to sever the ties that bind him to a fate he never chose. Jackson's peculiar appearance, straddling the line between disorder and sophistication, accompanied by his confession of being a reluctant host to a being that marks him as a harbinger of doom, sets the stage for Kah's decisive intervention.
Kah, confronted with a choice that would test his own convictions and abilities, assesses the situation with a blend of skepticism and intrigue. The conversation between Kah and Jackson reveals a complex confluence of desires for liberation from mortal and supernatural chains. Kah's internal deliberation swiftly leads to an unspoken resolution, prompting him to contact an ally with the capability to assist Jackson in his predicament. An orderly from White Oak arrives with unnerving promptness, administering a substance to Jackson that renders him unconscious, before taking him away with the promise of the freedom Jackson sought. Though this departure is shrouded in ambiguity, Kah's role as a facilitator of escape from tyranny, however mystically entangled, underscores a moment where destinies diverge, leaving him to return to the interrupted tranquility of his day, the sands of Sidney beach holding the memories of an odd encounter that transcended the ordinary.
(Kah's odd encounter(SRAsh):SRAsh)
[Mon Sep 30 2024]
At outside the mouth of the cave
It is afternoon, about 79F(26C) degrees, and the sky is covered by wispy white clouds.
(A member of The Sapphire Martyrs, clad in their traditional sapphire robes, approaches your target in a quiet corner of Haven. This member has been designated as a "Harbinger", their role is to spread the word of the coming end, not to recruit, but to prepare the world for its inevitable demise. However, this Harbinger has begun to doubt the teachings of the group and is considering desertion. They view the target as a potential ally who might be able to help them escape from The Sapphire Martyrs, but they are also afraid that the target might turn them in. The target must decide whether to help the Harbinger, potentially making an enemy of the powerful Sapphire Martyrs, or to turn them in, reinforcing the group's belief in their cause.)
Kah is sitting on the sands of Sidney beach, the afternoon sun still beaming down. It's a secluded area of the beach but anyone who walks far enough south along the sands will eventually find it, and locals from the town may know about the cave that rests here. He's relaxing somewhat - eating a cob of roasted corn that he's brought with him as a bit of a snack. The man's silver-white hair is braided tightly against his skin, so it no longer flows through the breeze when it blows by.
The warmth of afternoon is cozy, for the desert man, a familiar and nostalgic warmth sans the scorching heat - the humidity is tolerable with the Haven ocean breeze, preventing the air from lying like a wet blanket upon his shoulders. The waves in the bay come and go leisurely, with the soothing sounds of surf breaking upon the shore. Small crabs occasionally sidescroll their way across the sad, and for now, there is a moment of peace.
The cavern walls glisten with moisture, hard stone grooves and striations allowing small nooks for plants, fungi, and small animals to grow in, while the sand is soft - not quite powdery on this New English beach, but comfortable in its own way. The sunlight makes it yellow as the corn in Kah's hands warmed by hours now of heat. The taste of that corn is sweet against his toungue, the little kernals joutcy with enough meat to them to satisfy any omnivore. It's the sort of afternoon that would better fit a Sunday, in the way it feels like there's time enough to simply... enjoy the moment.
Your sect comms say, in a Tejano-Ebonic drawl, "So, did I ever tell y'all about the Harbinger? It was while I was in the hospital... this... cat came up to me, offered me a reprieve from pain in exchange for witnessing part of a ritual. To bring some 'Harbinger of... Something Incomprehensible'... from the Void to enter our world. I... am... not sure why it came to mind now, but I think the strings of Fate brought it to mind. Keep an eye out, fam. They were in the catacombs before, but who knows where they are now...."
Who knows, indeed? The Texan twink's words fall heavy as they blame fate for the omen, bringing a tenseness to the air. The air that stills, bringing with further weight by means of humidity, water tightening the air, grasping for the throat, covering the nose, climbing greedily into the mouth. The waves continue, inertia and tide more than wind, but are quiet enough that the sound of footsteps can be heard along the sand heading this way.
They are wearing shoes - no, boots. Heavy... steel toe? By the gait... a male, likely heavyset, and powerful. They occasionally shift and slide along the bank of the sand, as if unused to it, with feet not very sure. They are likely, then, from out of town, somewhere without beaches. A stranger, in a strange land... yet, they are coming for where Kah is. Unsure may be their steps, but they are making a beeline for this cave, as if they know that it's there.
Curious, perhaps... or worrisome. Well... perhaps worrisome if this wasn't Kah. Even still, is this reason to remain calm? A guest approaches, and the words of the faeborn still echo in his mind, whether he chooses to focus on it or not.
Lifting his head slowly, Kah tilts it to one side as if cocking an ear to the wind. The sound of boots come to him, the soft crunching of the sand occasionally interchanged with that sushing sound as whoever it is slides where the small bits have collected, small miniature dunes collapsing beneath those boots and shifting his center of balance. Nostrils flaring, Kah tests the wind here too - breathing in slowly but cautiously to take in what should and should not belong around him. The sound coming closer doesn't send him into full alert, but the words of his friend seem to hang in the back of his mind as he makes a sudden decision without quite knowing why. He casually presses one heel against the other, slipping the sneakers that cover his feet off and catching the socks along with them. He leaves them on the beach, as if he'd taken them off at his arrival and turns his attention toward the direction those sounds come from with a small frown beginning to cross his lips.
Now, Kah stands up slowly, rising with practiced form from his cross-legged position on the sand. First a glance behind him, assessing the cave and the escapes or advantages it may offer. Then his gaze turns skyward with a small sigh, watching as the last of the wispy white clouds begin to trail off with the next swell of breeze or wind that moves inland from the waters of the Bay. "Announce yourself" he decides to announce, calling out at last. His soft-spoken baritone melody of voice lifts its tone enough to carry out over the sound of waves lapping at the sand and the general murmur of the town beyond. "Or 'ware the danger!"
The man that emerges is... far shorter than one would expect. He's still male, but with a slight form, thin, whose caramel skin is unblemished by acne, scars, or wrinkles, from the sun or age. His skin is soft, supple... his chin is the roughest part of him, lined with stubble as a beard tries to manifest, though his mustache seems to be growing in just fine. His almond eyes are an earthy brown, still easy to observe behind half-rimmed glasses, which sit just slightly tilted with one ear higher than the other. Black wavy hair is both long and short enough to be brushed back from the forehead to sit comfortably behind the ear in a masculine haircut - except for how ruffled and messy it is now, evident bedhead given complete disregard.
His attire resembles his hair - the potential for class, in a long-sleeved button-up white dress shirt, expensive gray-brown slacks, a Rolex on his wrists... but then, he's wearing military boots that have his slacks half tucked in. So is the shirt, half-tucked, half-loose. And even more so, he wears a trenchcoat, cream colored, that falls open. Classy, but messy, ill-worn. The jacket is too big for him - it seems fit to the size of man Kah heard, rather than what he sees when the man comes.
When the man calls out, his reedy voice comes off as more impactful, more resonant, more authoritative than the expectation one might have, given stereotypes, for a higher pitched masculine voice. His accent is also... odd. And wavers. It something takes a Spanish staccato, before fading away into something hard to place. But, he does speak, just before he rounds the corner.
"Oh, sorry, didn't meant to scare ya - I come in peace, Desert Soul. I'm actually, ah, here for your help... If one of your skill and strength deem me worthy." There's a strange see-sawing to the way he speaks. The man raises both hands immediately, fear flashing across his expression, while he stands firmly, head high, with confidence in his pose. His widened eyes take Kah in, but the pupils do not dilate, seeming calm, unconcerned. Most notably, there's not a hint of taste from him. There's nothing to drain from him.
At least there's something to smell now, the breeze returning after his reveal. He smells male, human, with some sweat from wearing long sleeves and a heavy jacket in this warm weather. There's the fading aftermath of cologne - something with mesquite, leather, iron... but fading, as if sprayed on maybe a day or so before. Nothing additive to fit his personality, nothing that indicates a supernatural flavor. Just boring, human male.
There are some details that seem to cause Kah pause, immediately. Those tundral blue eyes narrow in a more blatant suspicion at the man who approaches but that's the only outward sign of what he thinks. Standing still casually munching on a piece of his corn, he takes a last bite before tossing the remainder of the corn cob aside. "The cause is more prudent than the messenger. Speak your mind quickly, you've interrupted my lunch." The man speaks with that same soft-spoken relaxed tone but there's a sense of expectation in his own tone of voice. Whether this man is protected, or even someone who may match him in age and strength the expectation is the same: To be heeded.
The man smiles, looking relieved for a moment before his face unconsciously falls to boredom. His hands fall slowly, before he starts fiddling with his watch. "This one - I mean, me... Jackson... wishes to break free from this awful containment forced upon me. I, ah... joined a cult. Well, by join, I mean they kidnapped me because my business assets were so great - they made this vessel worthy of the Gift. But, um... I didn't volunteer for the ritual, and I didn't... For reasons incomprehensible to me, this one has found itself with a... roommate? Roommate, yes."
It's more obvious now... a more modern, awkward personality with an imperious one, one better fitting the weight in the sand, the power in that voice. 'Roommate' certainly is a term... together, they declare, "We are now the Harbinger of-" And Kah can *almost* make out the name... perhaps he actually can. The human mouth trying to say it can only manage so much, however. "Help me, and you shall be rewarded. Please.."
There's a small blink, "How am I to help you?" Kah asks of the man, as his own internal thoughts begins to swirl.
The man, Jackson and... the Harbinger... both request, "Free me from him." After a moment, the human in the vessel explains, "I don't want to be in this... cult, let alone become what they want me to be. I don't *want* to be a martyr... and I'm afraid that they're going to realize that I'm still in here, and... Idunno, they seem... dangerous. He said you -" The voice shifts, now impatient and bored. "You have power. And you have... ability. I am not here to play that cults pithy little games. Much as we have disturbed your rest, they have disturbed mine. I wish free of this prison."
They technically want the same things... but how can they both be fulfilled?
"I see" Kah says, and then he's offering a large wolfish grin toward this man. "I know what to do" he says, as he pulls the cellphone from his pocket. "Freedom is a gift for all" he says, and there's a tilting of his head as if listening to something but it's just an animalistic tic from the giant of a man. Sending off a message he points toward the other person before he puts the phone back into his pocket. "There are people here who can separate the pair of you, and give you both freedom. I will free you" he says to this man, his blue eyes flashing with his inner thoughts.
There's a mix of relief and suspicion on Jackson-Harbinger's face. "Thanks-" he starts, before he interrupts himeslf with, "You speak in open words, which could be easily-" And he passes out. An orderly from White Oak is *already* behind him, with a syringe whose liquid does... not look human compatible. She nods to Kah before bending down and over, lifting the man over her shoulder with obvious difficulty. "He's... heavier than he looks, golly gee. Well, thank you for your donation, sir, and have a good day." She clearly means that Jackson is the donation... and she turns in her impractical high heels, and marches off through the sands... the sounds of her footsteps stop just as she turns the corner. And yet... you can tell. She's gone.
Kah simply gives an easy nod, before watching with caution as the woman marches the man off.
Kah, confronted with a choice that would test his own convictions and abilities, assesses the situation with a blend of skepticism and intrigue. The conversation between Kah and Jackson reveals a complex confluence of desires for liberation from mortal and supernatural chains. Kah's internal deliberation swiftly leads to an unspoken resolution, prompting him to contact an ally with the capability to assist Jackson in his predicament. An orderly from White Oak arrives with unnerving promptness, administering a substance to Jackson that renders him unconscious, before taking him away with the promise of the freedom Jackson sought. Though this departure is shrouded in ambiguity, Kah's role as a facilitator of escape from tyranny, however mystically entangled, underscores a moment where destinies diverge, leaving him to return to the interrupted tranquility of his day, the sands of Sidney beach holding the memories of an odd encounter that transcended the ordinary.
(Kah's odd encounter(SRAsh):SRAsh)
[Mon Sep 30 2024]
At outside the mouth of the cave
It is afternoon, about 79F(26C) degrees, and the sky is covered by wispy white clouds.
(A member of The Sapphire Martyrs, clad in their traditional sapphire robes, approaches your target in a quiet corner of Haven. This member has been designated as a "Harbinger", their role is to spread the word of the coming end, not to recruit, but to prepare the world for its inevitable demise. However, this Harbinger has begun to doubt the teachings of the group and is considering desertion. They view the target as a potential ally who might be able to help them escape from The Sapphire Martyrs, but they are also afraid that the target might turn them in. The target must decide whether to help the Harbinger, potentially making an enemy of the powerful Sapphire Martyrs, or to turn them in, reinforcing the group's belief in their cause.)
Kah is sitting on the sands of Sidney beach, the afternoon sun still beaming down. It's a secluded area of the beach but anyone who walks far enough south along the sands will eventually find it, and locals from the town may know about the cave that rests here. He's relaxing somewhat - eating a cob of roasted corn that he's brought with him as a bit of a snack. The man's silver-white hair is braided tightly against his skin, so it no longer flows through the breeze when it blows by.
The warmth of afternoon is cozy, for the desert man, a familiar and nostalgic warmth sans the scorching heat - the humidity is tolerable with the Haven ocean breeze, preventing the air from lying like a wet blanket upon his shoulders. The waves in the bay come and go leisurely, with the soothing sounds of surf breaking upon the shore. Small crabs occasionally sidescroll their way across the sad, and for now, there is a moment of peace.
The cavern walls glisten with moisture, hard stone grooves and striations allowing small nooks for plants, fungi, and small animals to grow in, while the sand is soft - not quite powdery on this New English beach, but comfortable in its own way. The sunlight makes it yellow as the corn in Kah's hands warmed by hours now of heat. The taste of that corn is sweet against his toungue, the little kernals joutcy with enough meat to them to satisfy any omnivore. It's the sort of afternoon that would better fit a Sunday, in the way it feels like there's time enough to simply... enjoy the moment.
Your sect comms say, in a Tejano-Ebonic drawl, "So, did I ever tell y'all about the Harbinger? It was while I was in the hospital... this... cat came up to me, offered me a reprieve from pain in exchange for witnessing part of a ritual. To bring some 'Harbinger of... Something Incomprehensible'... from the Void to enter our world. I... am... not sure why it came to mind now, but I think the strings of Fate brought it to mind. Keep an eye out, fam. They were in the catacombs before, but who knows where they are now...."
Who knows, indeed? The Texan twink's words fall heavy as they blame fate for the omen, bringing a tenseness to the air. The air that stills, bringing with further weight by means of humidity, water tightening the air, grasping for the throat, covering the nose, climbing greedily into the mouth. The waves continue, inertia and tide more than wind, but are quiet enough that the sound of footsteps can be heard along the sand heading this way.
They are wearing shoes - no, boots. Heavy... steel toe? By the gait... a male, likely heavyset, and powerful. They occasionally shift and slide along the bank of the sand, as if unused to it, with feet not very sure. They are likely, then, from out of town, somewhere without beaches. A stranger, in a strange land... yet, they are coming for where Kah is. Unsure may be their steps, but they are making a beeline for this cave, as if they know that it's there.
Curious, perhaps... or worrisome. Well... perhaps worrisome if this wasn't Kah. Even still, is this reason to remain calm? A guest approaches, and the words of the faeborn still echo in his mind, whether he chooses to focus on it or not.
Lifting his head slowly, Kah tilts it to one side as if cocking an ear to the wind. The sound of boots come to him, the soft crunching of the sand occasionally interchanged with that sushing sound as whoever it is slides where the small bits have collected, small miniature dunes collapsing beneath those boots and shifting his center of balance. Nostrils flaring, Kah tests the wind here too - breathing in slowly but cautiously to take in what should and should not belong around him. The sound coming closer doesn't send him into full alert, but the words of his friend seem to hang in the back of his mind as he makes a sudden decision without quite knowing why. He casually presses one heel against the other, slipping the sneakers that cover his feet off and catching the socks along with them. He leaves them on the beach, as if he'd taken them off at his arrival and turns his attention toward the direction those sounds come from with a small frown beginning to cross his lips.
Now, Kah stands up slowly, rising with practiced form from his cross-legged position on the sand. First a glance behind him, assessing the cave and the escapes or advantages it may offer. Then his gaze turns skyward with a small sigh, watching as the last of the wispy white clouds begin to trail off with the next swell of breeze or wind that moves inland from the waters of the Bay. "Announce yourself" he decides to announce, calling out at last. His soft-spoken baritone melody of voice lifts its tone enough to carry out over the sound of waves lapping at the sand and the general murmur of the town beyond. "Or 'ware the danger!"
The man that emerges is... far shorter than one would expect. He's still male, but with a slight form, thin, whose caramel skin is unblemished by acne, scars, or wrinkles, from the sun or age. His skin is soft, supple... his chin is the roughest part of him, lined with stubble as a beard tries to manifest, though his mustache seems to be growing in just fine. His almond eyes are an earthy brown, still easy to observe behind half-rimmed glasses, which sit just slightly tilted with one ear higher than the other. Black wavy hair is both long and short enough to be brushed back from the forehead to sit comfortably behind the ear in a masculine haircut - except for how ruffled and messy it is now, evident bedhead given complete disregard.
His attire resembles his hair - the potential for class, in a long-sleeved button-up white dress shirt, expensive gray-brown slacks, a Rolex on his wrists... but then, he's wearing military boots that have his slacks half tucked in. So is the shirt, half-tucked, half-loose. And even more so, he wears a trenchcoat, cream colored, that falls open. Classy, but messy, ill-worn. The jacket is too big for him - it seems fit to the size of man Kah heard, rather than what he sees when the man comes.
When the man calls out, his reedy voice comes off as more impactful, more resonant, more authoritative than the expectation one might have, given stereotypes, for a higher pitched masculine voice. His accent is also... odd. And wavers. It something takes a Spanish staccato, before fading away into something hard to place. But, he does speak, just before he rounds the corner.
"Oh, sorry, didn't meant to scare ya - I come in peace, Desert Soul. I'm actually, ah, here for your help... If one of your skill and strength deem me worthy." There's a strange see-sawing to the way he speaks. The man raises both hands immediately, fear flashing across his expression, while he stands firmly, head high, with confidence in his pose. His widened eyes take Kah in, but the pupils do not dilate, seeming calm, unconcerned. Most notably, there's not a hint of taste from him. There's nothing to drain from him.
At least there's something to smell now, the breeze returning after his reveal. He smells male, human, with some sweat from wearing long sleeves and a heavy jacket in this warm weather. There's the fading aftermath of cologne - something with mesquite, leather, iron... but fading, as if sprayed on maybe a day or so before. Nothing additive to fit his personality, nothing that indicates a supernatural flavor. Just boring, human male.
There are some details that seem to cause Kah pause, immediately. Those tundral blue eyes narrow in a more blatant suspicion at the man who approaches but that's the only outward sign of what he thinks. Standing still casually munching on a piece of his corn, he takes a last bite before tossing the remainder of the corn cob aside. "The cause is more prudent than the messenger. Speak your mind quickly, you've interrupted my lunch." The man speaks with that same soft-spoken relaxed tone but there's a sense of expectation in his own tone of voice. Whether this man is protected, or even someone who may match him in age and strength the expectation is the same: To be heeded.
The man smiles, looking relieved for a moment before his face unconsciously falls to boredom. His hands fall slowly, before he starts fiddling with his watch. "This one - I mean, me... Jackson... wishes to break free from this awful containment forced upon me. I, ah... joined a cult. Well, by join, I mean they kidnapped me because my business assets were so great - they made this vessel worthy of the Gift. But, um... I didn't volunteer for the ritual, and I didn't... For reasons incomprehensible to me, this one has found itself with a... roommate? Roommate, yes."
It's more obvious now... a more modern, awkward personality with an imperious one, one better fitting the weight in the sand, the power in that voice. 'Roommate' certainly is a term... together, they declare, "We are now the Harbinger of-" And Kah can *almost* make out the name... perhaps he actually can. The human mouth trying to say it can only manage so much, however. "Help me, and you shall be rewarded. Please.."
There's a small blink, "How am I to help you?" Kah asks of the man, as his own internal thoughts begins to swirl.
The man, Jackson and... the Harbinger... both request, "Free me from him." After a moment, the human in the vessel explains, "I don't want to be in this... cult, let alone become what they want me to be. I don't *want* to be a martyr... and I'm afraid that they're going to realize that I'm still in here, and... Idunno, they seem... dangerous. He said you -" The voice shifts, now impatient and bored. "You have power. And you have... ability. I am not here to play that cults pithy little games. Much as we have disturbed your rest, they have disturbed mine. I wish free of this prison."
They technically want the same things... but how can they both be fulfilled?
"I see" Kah says, and then he's offering a large wolfish grin toward this man. "I know what to do" he says, as he pulls the cellphone from his pocket. "Freedom is a gift for all" he says, and there's a tilting of his head as if listening to something but it's just an animalistic tic from the giant of a man. Sending off a message he points toward the other person before he puts the phone back into his pocket. "There are people here who can separate the pair of you, and give you both freedom. I will free you" he says to this man, his blue eyes flashing with his inner thoughts.
There's a mix of relief and suspicion on Jackson-Harbinger's face. "Thanks-" he starts, before he interrupts himeslf with, "You speak in open words, which could be easily-" And he passes out. An orderly from White Oak is *already* behind him, with a syringe whose liquid does... not look human compatible. She nods to Kah before bending down and over, lifting the man over her shoulder with obvious difficulty. "He's... heavier than he looks, golly gee. Well, thank you for your donation, sir, and have a good day." She clearly means that Jackson is the donation... and she turns in her impractical high heels, and marches off through the sands... the sounds of her footsteps stop just as she turns the corner. And yet... you can tell. She's gone.
Kah simply gives an easy nod, before watching with caution as the woman marches the man off.