Encounterlogs
Laurens Odd Encounter Sr Avriel 240422
Lauren's late-night shopping in the enchantingly unique Cair Paravel turns abruptly from a tranquil search through nostalgic merchandise into a live action scene straight out of a movie, except far more dangerous and with higher stakes. Initially drawn by the rare peace that shopping in the dead of night offers, she finds herself unexpectedly embroiled in a supernatural confrontation when a grievously wounded man adorned with a telltale signet ring and a formidable, soon-to-be anthropomorphic panther-shifter crash into her evening. The altercation that unfolds is not just a battle of brawn but one of moral judgment and strategic decision-making, as Lauren, guided by both instinct and an inherent desire to help, navigates the treacherous waters of negotiation with a panther poised on the thread-thin line between humanity and savage instinct.
The story crescendos to a heart-pounding conclusion as the panther-woman, frustrated and driven by a wild mix of fear, anger, and desperation, lashes out violently at Lauren, who employs a combination of quick wit, agility, and a hidden taser to defend herself. Lauren's attempts at diplomacy and healing are cut short by the shifter's brutal determination to escape, leading to a shocking display of violence that precipitates a desperate struggle for survival. In the end, it is Lauren's adaptability, clever use of her environment, and reliance on her supernatural abilities that allow her to momentarily turn the tables on her attacker. This encounter, set against the backdrop of a mystical shop and the quiet of night, leaves a lasting imprint on Lauren, a reminder of the latent dangers that coexist alongside the mundane in the world they inhabit.
(Lauren's odd encounter(SRAvriel):SRAvriel)
[Sun Apr 21 2024]
In Cair Paravel
The interior of the building is draped lavishly in clothing of all sorts
and rotary racks pepper the bulk of the available space like multicolored
trees. The walls here are obscured with wood paneling from which hangers
can be attached to display individual items and the floor is likewise
hardwood.
The southwestern section shifts from casual to formal as it approaches the
furthest point. Mirrors are quite common along the walls and give an
impression of vast space. The changing rooms are also located here and
labeled obscurely. One to the northwest reads "Sons of Adam" while the
other more directly to the west displays "Daughters of Eve".
It is night, about 48F(8C) degrees, and there are a few dark grey stormclouds in the sky. There is a waxing gibbous moon.
(Your target and their allies are charged with tracking down a supernatural criminal on the run from the factions, what they do with them then is up to the players to decide.
)
It's a sudden thing. Lauren has no need to be concerned, really - her latest shopping trip within the confines of the Narnia-themed general shop is going as peacefully, as banally, as could be expected. There are things for sale. Lauren can browse them and exchange currency to obtain said things. The joys of economic exchange are, in fact, fully available to her - and yet, there's just the faintest prickle of unease against the back of her neck, like someone else's hot breath. Is it her instincts, warning her about something amiss? Or is it just a learned response to the twists and turns of Haven's night life? Either way, the unease remains, very slowly building... and then, CRASH!
A figure drops from the ceiling out of nothingness, landing badly on a bolted-down rotary rack with a sound that can be described as both a sickening crack and a tearing squelch. The man's midsection appears torn through in many places - but most of this damage is pre-existing. And, notably, he bears a distinctive sword-and-scroll signet ring.
Another figure drops, now, to land on all fours over the heavily-wounded Orderite. She's large for a woman, but none of it is fat - sinew, muscle and blue-black fur limn her figure, with the latter rapidly receding into her skin, revealing bleeding wounds of her own; though they don't match the Orderite's in severity.
"You should have just let me go," growls the panther-shifter. "Now look at this fucking mess you've got us in." There's a low, bestial rumble from the hollow of her throat, and her head snaps up to scan Cair Paravel - and noticing Lauren in the process. Her lips twist into a displeased sneer, but there's wariness, too - where both of the newcomers' auras are a deep and bloody red, Lauren's still protected by Sanctuary, /and/ the panther-woman is wounded, on top of that.
"I don't know who you are," she begins, batting away the Orderite's hand as he grasps feebly for the panther's throat. "But run away, girl. I don't want more fighting - and you'll lose, if you try it."
There's nothing quite as heartening as a thrift-shopping spree to soothe a bout of insomnia, and she's looking through the racks as mundanely as can be on this very non-mundane, very early morning, one of her arms laden with layers upon layers of fabric she fully intends on trying on once she's finished scouring the place like a magpie on a hunt for anything shiny she can get her grubby hands upon. That is, up until there's people dropping out of the fucking ceiling.
Not even a scream manages to escape Lauren - she's well beyond that point. Screaming is for when there's a lizard scurrying by your feet in the kitchen when you got up at midnight for a drink of water. When there's bloodied individuals falling from the ceiling of a thrift store, all she can manage is wide eyes and a losing of the balance she had carefully been maintaining on the pile of clothes - all of them go sliding right down her arm and to the ground. Great. "Holy shit," she says, aptly.
It's a good thing Lauren's very aware of the supernatural, because she's lost enough already without having to come to terms with the fact that that's a very furry woman. In fact, she may just have said that out loud. "That's a very furry woman." Yup.
Lauren's hands go up in the air, eyes slowly blinking at the two individuals. "Oooookay," she decides, once she's caught a glimpse of the man's ring - she may not be the most perceptive of individuals, but you learn to look out for certain things in Haven. "How 'bout you let sir Jerry over there go and we can talk this out like adults, yeah? I've got a bandage in here somewhere, probably..." There's a hopeful smile flashed at the woman - she's got about zero hope of that working, but that's not going to stop her from trying.
The wounded Orderite glances warily over at Lauren, but even that seems taxing for him, right now. Supernatural healing or not, he's deeply wounded, and in no fit state to continue fighting - and with his Sanctuary stripped, very vulnerable. Whatever he's thinking about warning Lauren, though, doesn't come out; just a wet, bloody cough, sounding as if something's torn deep inside his chest.
The panther-woman's eyes narrow at the the little symbol pierced through the lobe of Lauren's ears, and that growling deepens, far beyond anything human. It sounds as if she might have a motorcycle engine in her chest. Still, she doesn't remove herself from the violent straddle she has over 'Jerry', staying ready to put the man down permanently if he tries anything. "It's a little late for de-escalation," she responds, her voice jagged and inhuman through whatever hybridisation her vocal cords have undergone. "I'm offering you one chance before the sheriffs get here and things turn ugly. Go. Leave. I am tired of being chased. Walk away, and I'll even let big boy here live. I'll go back into the nightmare, flee this place. You'll have saved his life. That's what you care about, isn't it?"
Jerry's eyes snap open and stare at you, pleading - but, as far as Lauren can infer, not for his own life. He cares about this woman being caught. That's about all he can communicate, unfortunately.
Lauren grimaces at the noise of the man's cough, and at the blood that blooms in its wake, seeming indecisive for a few moments. She's not an expert eye-reader by any means, but the other Orderite's plea may manage to make its way to her. Maybe. "Yeeeeeeeah," she starts, slow while she stalls to figure out the optimal conflict resolution strategy here. Lauren has never been to a conflict resolution seminar, unfortunately.
"Well, see, I can't just take your word for it," she points out to the woman, very logically. "I mean, not saying you're a liar, but not calling you a truther either, y'know? Sure, you could be a woman of your word, but, uh, I don't think you /letting/ mister Cat Toy there live if I leave is going to do much for him if he's gonna croak anyway. Internal injuries and all that. I took a first-aid class once, so I definitely know what I'm talking about, so I don't think I'm gonna make like a tree."
She takes a step closer. Just one, single step that barely avoids tripping over her discarded pile of clothes. "How 'bout... you lemme bandage him up a little, and then I'll leave." There's a fluttering of eyelashes the catwoman's way, as though acts of flirtation are more likely to make her agree.
Squelch. The Orderite finally makes some form of verbalisation - a strangled scream of pain, as his eyes roll up into the back of his head. The panther-woman just punched her hand into her prey's gut, and the smell of blood and shit hits the air instantly: she's ripped his intestines open. He's not dead, but he's now dying, and blue-black fur once more begins to erupt into being along the woman's figure as she grows taller and stronger, adopting a hybrid form. "I fucking warned you," she snarls, right before her mouth gives way to a snout and very many, very pointy fangs. That single step forward was provocation enough, it seems, for the panicked shifter - and she springs towards Lauren in a burst of speed, batting the young faeborn's skull to the side. She doesn't have her claws out, thankfully, but she could give Hercules a run for his money with all the strength in the blow, easily knocking Lauren back - and, with the clothes behind her, and her own sense of balance, right onto her ass. Best be careful, now - it looks like the woman knows how to fight within the constraints of Haven's sanctuary spell.
"Oh, fu-" Lauren's words are cut off when the panther-woman comes launching herself right at her, sending her reeling back and down, fall thankfully softened by the pile of clothes. She may not have the best sense of balance, but what she /does/ have on her side is the power of panicked flailing and some quick thinking - which is why she abruptly vanishes from the woman's vision, nothingness left where Lauren once stood - or, well, sat on her ass. She's got her taser in her pocket, which finds its way easily into her hand and Lauren lunges forward on her knees to find the nearest exposed bit of skin to deliver an incapacitating surge of electricity to, hoping that the woman is taken off-guard by Lauren's vanishing trick enough to not let her other senses fill in before then, because Lauren has absolutely zero chance of beating her in a physical match otherwise, especially without a more traditional weapon in hand.
The story crescendos to a heart-pounding conclusion as the panther-woman, frustrated and driven by a wild mix of fear, anger, and desperation, lashes out violently at Lauren, who employs a combination of quick wit, agility, and a hidden taser to defend herself. Lauren's attempts at diplomacy and healing are cut short by the shifter's brutal determination to escape, leading to a shocking display of violence that precipitates a desperate struggle for survival. In the end, it is Lauren's adaptability, clever use of her environment, and reliance on her supernatural abilities that allow her to momentarily turn the tables on her attacker. This encounter, set against the backdrop of a mystical shop and the quiet of night, leaves a lasting imprint on Lauren, a reminder of the latent dangers that coexist alongside the mundane in the world they inhabit.
(Lauren's odd encounter(SRAvriel):SRAvriel)
[Sun Apr 21 2024]
In Cair Paravel
The interior of the building is draped lavishly in clothing of all sorts
and rotary racks pepper the bulk of the available space like multicolored
trees. The walls here are obscured with wood paneling from which hangers
can be attached to display individual items and the floor is likewise
hardwood.
The southwestern section shifts from casual to formal as it approaches the
furthest point. Mirrors are quite common along the walls and give an
impression of vast space. The changing rooms are also located here and
labeled obscurely. One to the northwest reads "Sons of Adam" while the
other more directly to the west displays "Daughters of Eve".
It is night, about 48F(8C) degrees, and there are a few dark grey stormclouds in the sky. There is a waxing gibbous moon.
(Your target and their allies are charged with tracking down a supernatural criminal on the run from the factions, what they do with them then is up to the players to decide.
)
It's a sudden thing. Lauren has no need to be concerned, really - her latest shopping trip within the confines of the Narnia-themed general shop is going as peacefully, as banally, as could be expected. There are things for sale. Lauren can browse them and exchange currency to obtain said things. The joys of economic exchange are, in fact, fully available to her - and yet, there's just the faintest prickle of unease against the back of her neck, like someone else's hot breath. Is it her instincts, warning her about something amiss? Or is it just a learned response to the twists and turns of Haven's night life? Either way, the unease remains, very slowly building... and then, CRASH!
A figure drops from the ceiling out of nothingness, landing badly on a bolted-down rotary rack with a sound that can be described as both a sickening crack and a tearing squelch. The man's midsection appears torn through in many places - but most of this damage is pre-existing. And, notably, he bears a distinctive sword-and-scroll signet ring.
Another figure drops, now, to land on all fours over the heavily-wounded Orderite. She's large for a woman, but none of it is fat - sinew, muscle and blue-black fur limn her figure, with the latter rapidly receding into her skin, revealing bleeding wounds of her own; though they don't match the Orderite's in severity.
"You should have just let me go," growls the panther-shifter. "Now look at this fucking mess you've got us in." There's a low, bestial rumble from the hollow of her throat, and her head snaps up to scan Cair Paravel - and noticing Lauren in the process. Her lips twist into a displeased sneer, but there's wariness, too - where both of the newcomers' auras are a deep and bloody red, Lauren's still protected by Sanctuary, /and/ the panther-woman is wounded, on top of that.
"I don't know who you are," she begins, batting away the Orderite's hand as he grasps feebly for the panther's throat. "But run away, girl. I don't want more fighting - and you'll lose, if you try it."
There's nothing quite as heartening as a thrift-shopping spree to soothe a bout of insomnia, and she's looking through the racks as mundanely as can be on this very non-mundane, very early morning, one of her arms laden with layers upon layers of fabric she fully intends on trying on once she's finished scouring the place like a magpie on a hunt for anything shiny she can get her grubby hands upon. That is, up until there's people dropping out of the fucking ceiling.
Not even a scream manages to escape Lauren - she's well beyond that point. Screaming is for when there's a lizard scurrying by your feet in the kitchen when you got up at midnight for a drink of water. When there's bloodied individuals falling from the ceiling of a thrift store, all she can manage is wide eyes and a losing of the balance she had carefully been maintaining on the pile of clothes - all of them go sliding right down her arm and to the ground. Great. "Holy shit," she says, aptly.
It's a good thing Lauren's very aware of the supernatural, because she's lost enough already without having to come to terms with the fact that that's a very furry woman. In fact, she may just have said that out loud. "That's a very furry woman." Yup.
Lauren's hands go up in the air, eyes slowly blinking at the two individuals. "Oooookay," she decides, once she's caught a glimpse of the man's ring - she may not be the most perceptive of individuals, but you learn to look out for certain things in Haven. "How 'bout you let sir Jerry over there go and we can talk this out like adults, yeah? I've got a bandage in here somewhere, probably..." There's a hopeful smile flashed at the woman - she's got about zero hope of that working, but that's not going to stop her from trying.
The wounded Orderite glances warily over at Lauren, but even that seems taxing for him, right now. Supernatural healing or not, he's deeply wounded, and in no fit state to continue fighting - and with his Sanctuary stripped, very vulnerable. Whatever he's thinking about warning Lauren, though, doesn't come out; just a wet, bloody cough, sounding as if something's torn deep inside his chest.
The panther-woman's eyes narrow at the the little symbol pierced through the lobe of Lauren's ears, and that growling deepens, far beyond anything human. It sounds as if she might have a motorcycle engine in her chest. Still, she doesn't remove herself from the violent straddle she has over 'Jerry', staying ready to put the man down permanently if he tries anything. "It's a little late for de-escalation," she responds, her voice jagged and inhuman through whatever hybridisation her vocal cords have undergone. "I'm offering you one chance before the sheriffs get here and things turn ugly. Go. Leave. I am tired of being chased. Walk away, and I'll even let big boy here live. I'll go back into the nightmare, flee this place. You'll have saved his life. That's what you care about, isn't it?"
Jerry's eyes snap open and stare at you, pleading - but, as far as Lauren can infer, not for his own life. He cares about this woman being caught. That's about all he can communicate, unfortunately.
Lauren grimaces at the noise of the man's cough, and at the blood that blooms in its wake, seeming indecisive for a few moments. She's not an expert eye-reader by any means, but the other Orderite's plea may manage to make its way to her. Maybe. "Yeeeeeeeah," she starts, slow while she stalls to figure out the optimal conflict resolution strategy here. Lauren has never been to a conflict resolution seminar, unfortunately.
"Well, see, I can't just take your word for it," she points out to the woman, very logically. "I mean, not saying you're a liar, but not calling you a truther either, y'know? Sure, you could be a woman of your word, but, uh, I don't think you /letting/ mister Cat Toy there live if I leave is going to do much for him if he's gonna croak anyway. Internal injuries and all that. I took a first-aid class once, so I definitely know what I'm talking about, so I don't think I'm gonna make like a tree."
She takes a step closer. Just one, single step that barely avoids tripping over her discarded pile of clothes. "How 'bout... you lemme bandage him up a little, and then I'll leave." There's a fluttering of eyelashes the catwoman's way, as though acts of flirtation are more likely to make her agree.
Squelch. The Orderite finally makes some form of verbalisation - a strangled scream of pain, as his eyes roll up into the back of his head. The panther-woman just punched her hand into her prey's gut, and the smell of blood and shit hits the air instantly: she's ripped his intestines open. He's not dead, but he's now dying, and blue-black fur once more begins to erupt into being along the woman's figure as she grows taller and stronger, adopting a hybrid form. "I fucking warned you," she snarls, right before her mouth gives way to a snout and very many, very pointy fangs. That single step forward was provocation enough, it seems, for the panicked shifter - and she springs towards Lauren in a burst of speed, batting the young faeborn's skull to the side. She doesn't have her claws out, thankfully, but she could give Hercules a run for his money with all the strength in the blow, easily knocking Lauren back - and, with the clothes behind her, and her own sense of balance, right onto her ass. Best be careful, now - it looks like the woman knows how to fight within the constraints of Haven's sanctuary spell.
"Oh, fu-" Lauren's words are cut off when the panther-woman comes launching herself right at her, sending her reeling back and down, fall thankfully softened by the pile of clothes. She may not have the best sense of balance, but what she /does/ have on her side is the power of panicked flailing and some quick thinking - which is why she abruptly vanishes from the woman's vision, nothingness left where Lauren once stood - or, well, sat on her ass. She's got her taser in her pocket, which finds its way easily into her hand and Lauren lunges forward on her knees to find the nearest exposed bit of skin to deliver an incapacitating surge of electricity to, hoping that the woman is taken off-guard by Lauren's vanishing trick enough to not let her other senses fill in before then, because Lauren has absolutely zero chance of beating her in a physical match otherwise, especially without a more traditional weapon in hand.