Encounterlogs
Liams Odd Encounter Sr Mila 250111
In the unforgiving grip of Haven's winter, Liam finds himself abducted from the familiar comfort of his apartment, awakening in a stark, unfamiliar room designed to disorient and alarm. With his immediate reality abruptly transformed from one of mundane tranquility to stark confinement, Liam confronts the disquieting realization that he has become an unwitting participant in a mysterious and sinister game. The voices outside his door, indifferent to his fate and already considering him expendable, fuel Liam's determination to escape. As the door creaks open, offering a begrudging chance at freedom, Liam is hurled into a desperate flight through an alien forest, pursued by a form that does not tread with human steps.
The ensuing chase culminates in a violent encounter between Liam, in his transformative state as a wolf, and another, younger yet ferocious, wolf. The dance between predator and prey blurs lines of aggressiveness and survival, pushing Liam to his physical limits and beyond. Ultimately, his efforts to escape and defend himself falter, leaving him at the mercy of his captors once again. Miraculously returned to the streets from whence he was taken, Liam is left with lingering traces of his ordeal; fleeting glimpses of those same blue eyes and the colors of a wolf that had pursued him relentlessly. This ordeal leaves an indelible mark on Liam, weaving threads of uncertainty and fear into the fabric of his existence, and serving as a chilling reminder of the fragility of freedom and the ever-present shadows that skirt the peripheries of the aware society.
(Liam's odd encounter(SRMila):SRMila)
[Fri Jan 10 2025]
In Apartment 104's Bedroom
The bed is neatly made, with soft linens carefully tucked in, and the floor is spotless, free of any unnecessary clutter. The freshly painted white walls add brightness to the room, though a few faint bubbles and cracks remain, hinting at the room's age. Despite these minor imperfections, the paint job brings an overall sense of freshness and light, transforming the space into a peaceful sanctuary.
It is dawn, about -23F(-30C) degrees, and there are a few dark grey stormclouds in the sky. The area is wreathed in mist.
(Your target is abducted in their sleep, waking up alone in a locked room. They need to either escape or draw attention to them so their allies can come and provide assistance.
)
Liam is in his bedroom, blearily looking over his phone as he scans through some websites designed for the aware-society listings and public manifestos. He is sitting on one of a pair of twin beds, that used to be a bunk bed in a previous life, his back leaning against the wall. For whatever reason, he is fully dressed-maybe he just got in? or was preparing to leave? Either way, he's dressed for a day out, as opposed to sleeping in.
The brittle air of Haven's winter prickles at the skin, even indoors. It seeps in through the frosted windows, reaching like fingers beneath the sill. Beyond, the streets are cobbled and slick with a glaze of mist, disappearing seamlessly into a mottled grey sky. It's oppressive in its promise of nothingness: neither sun nor storm.
Only cold.
The world smells distantly of stone, of wood smoke curling from faraway chimneys, dissipating like the ghosts of warmer days. Somewhere in the distance, the bell tower tolls, the sound subdued by thick air.
Now, Liam could've been preparing to go out, but there's a peacefulness in the monotony that weighs upon him.
It cocoons him, pulls at his eyelids, coaxes and persuades into slumber.
Seems Liam may have just been coming in after all, and doing some last minute scrolling. The man allows sleep to take him without a fight, his phone dropping into his lap and his head sliding over to gently thunk into the mattess of his bed. He's asleep moments after, with his boots still on.
A sense of movement comes soon after sleep. Liam - with any last presence of mind mind - can feel the floor through a threadbare cloth he's being towed upon.
And then there's oblivion.
Maybe not sleep, after all, because when a white light blares into his vision, creating pinpricks of red behind closed eye lids, it feels like no time has passed at all.
The first thing that Liam might realize is that his bed is rather uncomfortable.
In fact, it isn't a bed at all, anymore. He's lying on a cold floor, staring up at a horrid popcorn ceiling.
The second thing that he might realize is that everything around him is foreign: the wooden chair in the corner, which while rather bland and unremarkable in design is alarming in its newness; the in-room AC unit, which appears to be blasting *cold* air; and lastly - perhaps most importantly - the barred window.
Liam slowly comes back to himself, slapping a hand over his eyes with a groan at the piercing light being the first thing he sees. The man fumbles for his phone, for his bed, and finding only unfamiliar tile he grows still-finally recognizing something supremely odd has happened. He pushes himself up to his feet and gives the room a thorough scan, fighting off the fog of whatever had been used to keep him unconscious. What he finds leaves him with only a grim set to his face.
There's a bit of shuffling outside the door. A voice. No, voices. They're distinct from one another, although both deep, and both perceivably male. "...little overkill, yeah?" one of them can be heard saying.
The other one scoffs.
There's an impression that this argument's old hat.
"Look, you got a better idea? Either she learns, or not. Not like anyone's gonna miss this guy anyway if it goes south. Didn't seem like he was living with anyone."
"Didn't /seem like/? You didn't fucking check?"
Now, there are a few things that could be happening. It could be - could be! - that they're talking about some other random stranger they've abducted who's in the next room over, and who's due for a rather bad time.
...Or.
"..." Liam' lips raise in a silent snarl, attuned ears catching onto the conversation with relative ease, even through the doorway. He thinks to himself- 'Rowan'll bail me out, but who knows when she'll be back in the apartment. Or if she'll even clock me being gone as strange.' Liam begins quietly pacing back and forth, struggling with a silent debate.
Something even odder is happening outside the door now. There's a faint scratching. Nothing offensive to the ears, not like nails to a chalkboard, but like a dog scrabbling when it wants out.
Or in.
A keening whine begins, quieter than either voice had been.
"Hey, Freckles--"
That can't be directed at either of the two men -- or, it's unlikely, unless they've suddenly decided to do away with belligerence in favor of endearment. "We're gonna let him out. Track 'em, alright? But /catch/. No biting."
Well, that's rather funny. Maybe even sweet, if it weren't at Liam's expense. This is starting to read like a fundamentals lesson.
"And what do you do when you...?" The question tapers off, but from the grudging silence, the muted thump, and the subsequent "atta girl," the answer sufficed.
That's good news for Liam, surely.
The door squeaaaaaaaaaks open.
THAT can't be good. Liam is a hair trigger from turning, but the promise of 'no biting' seems to have lowered the threat rating of the situation enough that he squeezes by with just pulling out a multi-tool from his backback, and backing up against the far wall. Depending on what comes through the door...will decide the rest of his little adventure, and how bloody it gets.
"THIRTY SECOND HEAD START."
That's for Liam. "I'D TAKE IT IF I WERE YOU."
The door stays ajar, but opens no further. It seems that whoever's behind this, they've no intention of being any more helpful than they already have been.
All the same, no one comes storming through.
No one starts pelting the walls - and Liam - with bullets.
They're men of their word.
If Liam deigns to look outside, he'd see that there's a long hallway, at the end of which is a single solitary door, conveniently and aptly marked 'EMERGENCY EXIT.'
Beyond, there's a forest - not one that he's likely familiar with. The trees are thicker here than they would be at the outskirts of town, and the mist...
...well, there's no mist at all.
Not in Kansas anymore, Dorothy.
Thinking can be done while running. Liam bolts for the exit, doing his damdest to ignore the spike of pain running along his ribs with every high exertion step. He finds himself wishing he had time to pop a pain pill, and thankful that he was wearing the compression wrap Toni had prepared for him when he went to bed. Though in decent shape, Liam doesn't have much experience running-not on two legs, and it shows in his form.
Something careens around a corner and skitters, losing purchase against the hard floor. Whatever it is is in hard pursuit. Liam can almost feel breath at the nape of his neck. At the nip of cold air past the threshold, the sound of its gait quickens.
someone It doesn't sound like /it/ has two feet.
Beyond Liam, the trees loom closer and taller.
Closer.
Taller.
The ground is soggy beneath new snow, and the branches and leaves slippery. Every which way, the forest looks the same. It's just trees and bramble, bramble and trees.
Something careens around a corner and skitters, losing purchase against the hard floor. Whatever it is is in hard pursuit. Liam can almost feel breath at the nape of his neck. At the nip of cold air past the threshold, the sound of its gait quickens.
It doesn't sound like /it/ has two feet.
Beyond Liam, the trees loom closer and taller.
Closer.
Taller.
The ground is soggy beneath new snow, and the branches and leaves slippery. Every which way, the forest looks the same. It's just trees and bramble, bramble and trees.
'Cheating Bastard.' Liam thinks to himself, jealousy overcoming his thoughts for a moment at the thought of his pursuer having the same advantages he wants right now. No outrunning a hunting dog, thats for fuckin sure. He scrambles his way through the bramble, feet stomping past snow and almost being sucked into the loamy soil with every step. His goal is simple: Break line of sight. He only needs a single moment. A trench. A particularly large tree. A boulder. He itches almost literally, pulsing with the need to change the nature of this game but held in check by bone deep paranoia in maintaining secrecy. Will he find an opportunity to change out of view of his pursuers...? Or will the hunter at his heel's bring him down first? He can't say, but he can pray.
There's a flash of textured brown and grey. It appears and reappears whenever there's a gap in the trees in Liam's peripheral vision. He's coming up on a dip in the terrain, just as he wanted. A single leap - or a few quick steps - could take him briefly out of sight.
Just as he nears it, a scent hits the air. It's not unpleasant. It niggles at the back of his head.
It's familiar.
In fact, all of it is, if he can just place it.
Liam stutters a step, simulatenously hit by the feeling that he's missing something, and that an opportunity has arisen. His path is split. Can he afford to take time to process the smells? To orient himself on the situation? Gather more information, plan, save himself the heartache? Or should he rely on the beast, and throw himself ahead blindly, accepting that his wolvish form will be able to solve whatever issue his memory is failing to bring to mind...? The man hesitates, and the Wolf answers. Too much adrenaline in too little time, instinct overcomes Liam and he leaps, diving into a roll. What lands on the other side, transitioned into in a blink of lost line of sight is a massive, bark-brown wolf, twisting to face its pursuer with teeth already bared.
Mottled brown and grey fur, with the darkest undertones at the back. It's unkempt, with a downy softness that even an ordinary human would recognize for relative youth. The face is long and angular, terminating in a somewhat rounded muzzle.
Pointed ears swivel backward, pressing down.
Teeth bare; hackles raise.
Blue eyes meet Liam(wolf)'s green.
Wolf.
As Liam(wolf) 's mind goes on in the background, Liam(wolf)' body moves on instinct. It has the advantage of surprise, and presses it, attempting to lunge out to snatch one of the other wolve's legs in its teeth-once its hobbled, it'd just be a waiting game.
The wolf feints left, just when Liam(wolf) goes for its - her - leg, and then, without sparing a second thought, dives in for Liam(wolf)'s flank. She was told not to bite; she clearly wasn't listening. That, or she doesn't have the requisite control to restrain herself. Her snarl rips through the air, spittle flicking from her maw. A warning.
Around them, the birds have flown the coop, rising en masse in a dark cloud. Their cawing and flapping is a distant distraction. In their wake, there's only this smaller wolf's rumbling.
Liam(wolf) dances back from the nip at his flank in an overly exaggerated motion, before freezing slightly as it realizes its mistake-its shown off a weakness. It can't take a hit on the ribs, and the blue eyed wolf knows it. Having failed his ambush, Liam(wolf) fights a defensive battle, attempting to continually make distance but struggling against his smaller, but faster opponent.
She snaps at Liam(wolf) as she drives him in, crowding him toward a lower elevation. All the while, she maintains the upper ground. She's herding him. To where, it's unclear, unless he should turn around -- then he'd see a rocky outcropping, with deep indents in its surface. Her claws cut long furrows into the ground.
No one else seems to have followed. No other wolves, not the other men. Now, they're not too far off, but she seems to have been trusted far enough as they can could throw - well, not her, but Liam(wolf).
Liam(wolf) has no attention to pay to his surroundings, unfortunately, entirely focused on staying in one piece. He has only the one opponent, but she proves elusive and vicious. Its only when his tail is brushing against the outcropping that he realizes he's likely being pinned, and needs to make a change in order to have any chance of coming out of this ahead. It'll be a gamble-perhaps ending the fight immediately, perhaps giving him a small chance to escape further pursuit. Looking for the perfect timing, Liam(wolf) awaits a moment when the blue eyed wolf is coming in for a bite-then lunges in the opposite direction of her expectations, throwing his shoulder into her maw. If his gambit works, he might manage to sacrifice his shoulder for another shot at one of the female wolves legs-swinging things once more in his favor.
She's quick, she's aggressive, she's maybe even stronger -- but what she isn't is practiced. She's overeager in her attacks, and too quick to count her chickens. She snaps with abandon, like the job's done, and whatever she does, however she does it, will pay dividends.
Liam(wolf)'s shoulder meets her snout and she's pushed back.
She whines, low.
The next shot doesn't connect - she manages to back up just in time - but gives Liam(wolf) a wider berth than perhaps she wanted.
It might be Liam(wolf)'s imagining, but that last move was a little slower. She seems to be under fatigue, faster than would be expected.
Liam(wolf)' luck runs out. In the end, he was fighting an uphill battle, and it shows. The battlefield grows too chaotic, and even with the blue eyed wolf's inexperience, he raw physical superority wins out-he's shoulder checked himself, directly in his fractured ribs, and thrown to the ground writhing in pain. No fight left in him after that, only whines and whimpers of agony. It'd be up to the wolf if she finishes him off here, Ko's him, or simply guards the spot until the men arrive. Regardless, things don't look good for Liam(wolf).
With a low growl, she coils for another strike. Her muscles bunch -- and then she launches herself at Liam(wolf) again. Her claws swipe out as her paws meet either one of Liam(wolf)'s shoulders, pushing him down, down, down. There's a moment of impact, where Liam(wolf)'s head knocks against rocky ground; the impact rattles in his skull.
For the second time, although not the last of the day, the world starts to grow duller, before it cedes color to black.
There are moments of lucidity afterward.
He catches a glimpse of face: thick eyebrows, the same blue eyes.
Rope burns at his wrists.
The hours pass - or he can assume they do, as when he returns to that barred room, light filters through in bright yellow, then muted orange, then a quieter blue and purple.
Flashes of pain interrupt his unconsciousness, but...
Then he wakes, and it's standing on a familiar street again, somehow, some way, as if nothing had happened at all.
Every so often, though, across the course of the week, there's a flash of that brown and grey, or a familiar pair of eyes. It leaves room to question.
(Your target and their allies have been tasked to retrieve a stolen artifact of immense power known as the "Sapphire Tear". The artifact was stolen by a member of The Sapphire Martyrs who intends to use it to hasten the destruction of Earth. The characters must infiltrate a secret gathering of The Sapphire Martyrs to recover the artifact before it's too late. Here, they will come face to face with the chilling serenity and steadfast resolve of these individuals who are ready to sacrifice their lives for what they believe is a greater good. Can they retrieve the artifact and perhaps even sway some of the Martyrs from their path of destruction? Or will they too fall under the spell of this tragic and dangerous ideology?)
Somewhat unorthodox, but the lawn beside a mansion-esque, ominous, near forboding house is occupied by a limo. It's driver is busy with some work inside, whatever it may be, a weathered old man that bears the weight of driving around a creature such as Castiel, constantly on a phonecall or another.
Meanwhile, Castiel, he sits on the top of the vehicle while it remains idle, out of sight, off-the-road, not too far from the shores of Haven's bay stretching eastward with a few spot of thin trees in between and some buildings besides. His legs are drawn up enough to hang his arms over his knees while his eyes are cast up ahead to the dark clouds, smoldering in their molten hue in contrast to the brewing storms up in heaven.
The night is quiet, apart from that brewing storm. As Castiel sits there, he might be able to make out tiny figures, further out on the beach-side of the bay. Flash, flash, goes a light.
Flash, Flash, Flash, goes a second light, further out, in the bay. A ship, large, but unmarked, at least, from what is percievable at this distance, is there.
A sloop seems to be lowered, and it's en route to the beach-side. Flash, flash, flash. A rythmn, maybe a code or maybe just signalling. The figure on the beach-side seems to be glancing about, likely quite unawares of something so much older than him beholding them.
The ensuing chase culminates in a violent encounter between Liam, in his transformative state as a wolf, and another, younger yet ferocious, wolf. The dance between predator and prey blurs lines of aggressiveness and survival, pushing Liam to his physical limits and beyond. Ultimately, his efforts to escape and defend himself falter, leaving him at the mercy of his captors once again. Miraculously returned to the streets from whence he was taken, Liam is left with lingering traces of his ordeal; fleeting glimpses of those same blue eyes and the colors of a wolf that had pursued him relentlessly. This ordeal leaves an indelible mark on Liam, weaving threads of uncertainty and fear into the fabric of his existence, and serving as a chilling reminder of the fragility of freedom and the ever-present shadows that skirt the peripheries of the aware society.
(Liam's odd encounter(SRMila):SRMila)
[Fri Jan 10 2025]
In Apartment 104's Bedroom
The bed is neatly made, with soft linens carefully tucked in, and the floor is spotless, free of any unnecessary clutter. The freshly painted white walls add brightness to the room, though a few faint bubbles and cracks remain, hinting at the room's age. Despite these minor imperfections, the paint job brings an overall sense of freshness and light, transforming the space into a peaceful sanctuary.
It is dawn, about -23F(-30C) degrees, and there are a few dark grey stormclouds in the sky. The area is wreathed in mist.
(Your target is abducted in their sleep, waking up alone in a locked room. They need to either escape or draw attention to them so their allies can come and provide assistance.
)
Liam is in his bedroom, blearily looking over his phone as he scans through some websites designed for the aware-society listings and public manifestos. He is sitting on one of a pair of twin beds, that used to be a bunk bed in a previous life, his back leaning against the wall. For whatever reason, he is fully dressed-maybe he just got in? or was preparing to leave? Either way, he's dressed for a day out, as opposed to sleeping in.
The brittle air of Haven's winter prickles at the skin, even indoors. It seeps in through the frosted windows, reaching like fingers beneath the sill. Beyond, the streets are cobbled and slick with a glaze of mist, disappearing seamlessly into a mottled grey sky. It's oppressive in its promise of nothingness: neither sun nor storm.
Only cold.
The world smells distantly of stone, of wood smoke curling from faraway chimneys, dissipating like the ghosts of warmer days. Somewhere in the distance, the bell tower tolls, the sound subdued by thick air.
Now, Liam could've been preparing to go out, but there's a peacefulness in the monotony that weighs upon him.
It cocoons him, pulls at his eyelids, coaxes and persuades into slumber.
Seems Liam may have just been coming in after all, and doing some last minute scrolling. The man allows sleep to take him without a fight, his phone dropping into his lap and his head sliding over to gently thunk into the mattess of his bed. He's asleep moments after, with his boots still on.
A sense of movement comes soon after sleep. Liam - with any last presence of mind mind - can feel the floor through a threadbare cloth he's being towed upon.
And then there's oblivion.
Maybe not sleep, after all, because when a white light blares into his vision, creating pinpricks of red behind closed eye lids, it feels like no time has passed at all.
The first thing that Liam might realize is that his bed is rather uncomfortable.
In fact, it isn't a bed at all, anymore. He's lying on a cold floor, staring up at a horrid popcorn ceiling.
The second thing that he might realize is that everything around him is foreign: the wooden chair in the corner, which while rather bland and unremarkable in design is alarming in its newness; the in-room AC unit, which appears to be blasting *cold* air; and lastly - perhaps most importantly - the barred window.
Liam slowly comes back to himself, slapping a hand over his eyes with a groan at the piercing light being the first thing he sees. The man fumbles for his phone, for his bed, and finding only unfamiliar tile he grows still-finally recognizing something supremely odd has happened. He pushes himself up to his feet and gives the room a thorough scan, fighting off the fog of whatever had been used to keep him unconscious. What he finds leaves him with only a grim set to his face.
There's a bit of shuffling outside the door. A voice. No, voices. They're distinct from one another, although both deep, and both perceivably male. "...little overkill, yeah?" one of them can be heard saying.
The other one scoffs.
There's an impression that this argument's old hat.
"Look, you got a better idea? Either she learns, or not. Not like anyone's gonna miss this guy anyway if it goes south. Didn't seem like he was living with anyone."
"Didn't /seem like/? You didn't fucking check?"
Now, there are a few things that could be happening. It could be - could be! - that they're talking about some other random stranger they've abducted who's in the next room over, and who's due for a rather bad time.
...Or.
"..." Liam' lips raise in a silent snarl, attuned ears catching onto the conversation with relative ease, even through the doorway. He thinks to himself- 'Rowan'll bail me out, but who knows when she'll be back in the apartment. Or if she'll even clock me being gone as strange.' Liam begins quietly pacing back and forth, struggling with a silent debate.
Something even odder is happening outside the door now. There's a faint scratching. Nothing offensive to the ears, not like nails to a chalkboard, but like a dog scrabbling when it wants out.
Or in.
A keening whine begins, quieter than either voice had been.
"Hey, Freckles--"
That can't be directed at either of the two men -- or, it's unlikely, unless they've suddenly decided to do away with belligerence in favor of endearment. "We're gonna let him out. Track 'em, alright? But /catch/. No biting."
Well, that's rather funny. Maybe even sweet, if it weren't at Liam's expense. This is starting to read like a fundamentals lesson.
"And what do you do when you...?" The question tapers off, but from the grudging silence, the muted thump, and the subsequent "atta girl," the answer sufficed.
That's good news for Liam, surely.
The door squeaaaaaaaaaks open.
THAT can't be good. Liam is a hair trigger from turning, but the promise of 'no biting' seems to have lowered the threat rating of the situation enough that he squeezes by with just pulling out a multi-tool from his backback, and backing up against the far wall. Depending on what comes through the door...will decide the rest of his little adventure, and how bloody it gets.
"THIRTY SECOND HEAD START."
That's for Liam. "I'D TAKE IT IF I WERE YOU."
The door stays ajar, but opens no further. It seems that whoever's behind this, they've no intention of being any more helpful than they already have been.
All the same, no one comes storming through.
No one starts pelting the walls - and Liam - with bullets.
They're men of their word.
If Liam deigns to look outside, he'd see that there's a long hallway, at the end of which is a single solitary door, conveniently and aptly marked 'EMERGENCY EXIT.'
Beyond, there's a forest - not one that he's likely familiar with. The trees are thicker here than they would be at the outskirts of town, and the mist...
...well, there's no mist at all.
Not in Kansas anymore, Dorothy.
Thinking can be done while running. Liam bolts for the exit, doing his damdest to ignore the spike of pain running along his ribs with every high exertion step. He finds himself wishing he had time to pop a pain pill, and thankful that he was wearing the compression wrap Toni had prepared for him when he went to bed. Though in decent shape, Liam doesn't have much experience running-not on two legs, and it shows in his form.
Something careens around a corner and skitters, losing purchase against the hard floor. Whatever it is is in hard pursuit. Liam can almost feel breath at the nape of his neck. At the nip of cold air past the threshold, the sound of its gait quickens.
someone It doesn't sound like /it/ has two feet.
Beyond Liam, the trees loom closer and taller.
Closer.
Taller.
The ground is soggy beneath new snow, and the branches and leaves slippery. Every which way, the forest looks the same. It's just trees and bramble, bramble and trees.
Something careens around a corner and skitters, losing purchase against the hard floor. Whatever it is is in hard pursuit. Liam can almost feel breath at the nape of his neck. At the nip of cold air past the threshold, the sound of its gait quickens.
It doesn't sound like /it/ has two feet.
Beyond Liam, the trees loom closer and taller.
Closer.
Taller.
The ground is soggy beneath new snow, and the branches and leaves slippery. Every which way, the forest looks the same. It's just trees and bramble, bramble and trees.
'Cheating Bastard.' Liam thinks to himself, jealousy overcoming his thoughts for a moment at the thought of his pursuer having the same advantages he wants right now. No outrunning a hunting dog, thats for fuckin sure. He scrambles his way through the bramble, feet stomping past snow and almost being sucked into the loamy soil with every step. His goal is simple: Break line of sight. He only needs a single moment. A trench. A particularly large tree. A boulder. He itches almost literally, pulsing with the need to change the nature of this game but held in check by bone deep paranoia in maintaining secrecy. Will he find an opportunity to change out of view of his pursuers...? Or will the hunter at his heel's bring him down first? He can't say, but he can pray.
There's a flash of textured brown and grey. It appears and reappears whenever there's a gap in the trees in Liam's peripheral vision. He's coming up on a dip in the terrain, just as he wanted. A single leap - or a few quick steps - could take him briefly out of sight.
Just as he nears it, a scent hits the air. It's not unpleasant. It niggles at the back of his head.
It's familiar.
In fact, all of it is, if he can just place it.
Liam stutters a step, simulatenously hit by the feeling that he's missing something, and that an opportunity has arisen. His path is split. Can he afford to take time to process the smells? To orient himself on the situation? Gather more information, plan, save himself the heartache? Or should he rely on the beast, and throw himself ahead blindly, accepting that his wolvish form will be able to solve whatever issue his memory is failing to bring to mind...? The man hesitates, and the Wolf answers. Too much adrenaline in too little time, instinct overcomes Liam and he leaps, diving into a roll. What lands on the other side, transitioned into in a blink of lost line of sight is a massive, bark-brown wolf, twisting to face its pursuer with teeth already bared.
Mottled brown and grey fur, with the darkest undertones at the back. It's unkempt, with a downy softness that even an ordinary human would recognize for relative youth. The face is long and angular, terminating in a somewhat rounded muzzle.
Pointed ears swivel backward, pressing down.
Teeth bare; hackles raise.
Blue eyes meet Liam(wolf)'s green.
Wolf.
As Liam(wolf) 's mind goes on in the background, Liam(wolf)' body moves on instinct. It has the advantage of surprise, and presses it, attempting to lunge out to snatch one of the other wolve's legs in its teeth-once its hobbled, it'd just be a waiting game.
The wolf feints left, just when Liam(wolf) goes for its - her - leg, and then, without sparing a second thought, dives in for Liam(wolf)'s flank. She was told not to bite; she clearly wasn't listening. That, or she doesn't have the requisite control to restrain herself. Her snarl rips through the air, spittle flicking from her maw. A warning.
Around them, the birds have flown the coop, rising en masse in a dark cloud. Their cawing and flapping is a distant distraction. In their wake, there's only this smaller wolf's rumbling.
Liam(wolf) dances back from the nip at his flank in an overly exaggerated motion, before freezing slightly as it realizes its mistake-its shown off a weakness. It can't take a hit on the ribs, and the blue eyed wolf knows it. Having failed his ambush, Liam(wolf) fights a defensive battle, attempting to continually make distance but struggling against his smaller, but faster opponent.
She snaps at Liam(wolf) as she drives him in, crowding him toward a lower elevation. All the while, she maintains the upper ground. She's herding him. To where, it's unclear, unless he should turn around -- then he'd see a rocky outcropping, with deep indents in its surface. Her claws cut long furrows into the ground.
No one else seems to have followed. No other wolves, not the other men. Now, they're not too far off, but she seems to have been trusted far enough as they can could throw - well, not her, but Liam(wolf).
Liam(wolf) has no attention to pay to his surroundings, unfortunately, entirely focused on staying in one piece. He has only the one opponent, but she proves elusive and vicious. Its only when his tail is brushing against the outcropping that he realizes he's likely being pinned, and needs to make a change in order to have any chance of coming out of this ahead. It'll be a gamble-perhaps ending the fight immediately, perhaps giving him a small chance to escape further pursuit. Looking for the perfect timing, Liam(wolf) awaits a moment when the blue eyed wolf is coming in for a bite-then lunges in the opposite direction of her expectations, throwing his shoulder into her maw. If his gambit works, he might manage to sacrifice his shoulder for another shot at one of the female wolves legs-swinging things once more in his favor.
She's quick, she's aggressive, she's maybe even stronger -- but what she isn't is practiced. She's overeager in her attacks, and too quick to count her chickens. She snaps with abandon, like the job's done, and whatever she does, however she does it, will pay dividends.
Liam(wolf)'s shoulder meets her snout and she's pushed back.
She whines, low.
The next shot doesn't connect - she manages to back up just in time - but gives Liam(wolf) a wider berth than perhaps she wanted.
It might be Liam(wolf)'s imagining, but that last move was a little slower. She seems to be under fatigue, faster than would be expected.
Liam(wolf)' luck runs out. In the end, he was fighting an uphill battle, and it shows. The battlefield grows too chaotic, and even with the blue eyed wolf's inexperience, he raw physical superority wins out-he's shoulder checked himself, directly in his fractured ribs, and thrown to the ground writhing in pain. No fight left in him after that, only whines and whimpers of agony. It'd be up to the wolf if she finishes him off here, Ko's him, or simply guards the spot until the men arrive. Regardless, things don't look good for Liam(wolf).
With a low growl, she coils for another strike. Her muscles bunch -- and then she launches herself at Liam(wolf) again. Her claws swipe out as her paws meet either one of Liam(wolf)'s shoulders, pushing him down, down, down. There's a moment of impact, where Liam(wolf)'s head knocks against rocky ground; the impact rattles in his skull.
For the second time, although not the last of the day, the world starts to grow duller, before it cedes color to black.
There are moments of lucidity afterward.
He catches a glimpse of face: thick eyebrows, the same blue eyes.
Rope burns at his wrists.
The hours pass - or he can assume they do, as when he returns to that barred room, light filters through in bright yellow, then muted orange, then a quieter blue and purple.
Flashes of pain interrupt his unconsciousness, but...
Then he wakes, and it's standing on a familiar street again, somehow, some way, as if nothing had happened at all.
Every so often, though, across the course of the week, there's a flash of that brown and grey, or a familiar pair of eyes. It leaves room to question.
(Your target and their allies have been tasked to retrieve a stolen artifact of immense power known as the "Sapphire Tear". The artifact was stolen by a member of The Sapphire Martyrs who intends to use it to hasten the destruction of Earth. The characters must infiltrate a secret gathering of The Sapphire Martyrs to recover the artifact before it's too late. Here, they will come face to face with the chilling serenity and steadfast resolve of these individuals who are ready to sacrifice their lives for what they believe is a greater good. Can they retrieve the artifact and perhaps even sway some of the Martyrs from their path of destruction? Or will they too fall under the spell of this tragic and dangerous ideology?)
Somewhat unorthodox, but the lawn beside a mansion-esque, ominous, near forboding house is occupied by a limo. It's driver is busy with some work inside, whatever it may be, a weathered old man that bears the weight of driving around a creature such as Castiel, constantly on a phonecall or another.
Meanwhile, Castiel, he sits on the top of the vehicle while it remains idle, out of sight, off-the-road, not too far from the shores of Haven's bay stretching eastward with a few spot of thin trees in between and some buildings besides. His legs are drawn up enough to hang his arms over his knees while his eyes are cast up ahead to the dark clouds, smoldering in their molten hue in contrast to the brewing storms up in heaven.
The night is quiet, apart from that brewing storm. As Castiel sits there, he might be able to make out tiny figures, further out on the beach-side of the bay. Flash, flash, goes a light.
Flash, Flash, Flash, goes a second light, further out, in the bay. A ship, large, but unmarked, at least, from what is percievable at this distance, is there.
A sloop seems to be lowered, and it's en route to the beach-side. Flash, flash, flash. A rythmn, maybe a code or maybe just signalling. The figure on the beach-side seems to be glancing about, likely quite unawares of something so much older than him beholding them.