Encounterlogs
Lorenzos Odd Encounter Sr Lilah 250413
Lorenzo, a figure of the supernatural world, hastily leaves his modern cabin in response to a crisis unfolding in the heart of Haven. A girl, victim of a werewolf attack, publicly screams about werewolves, threatening to expose the concealed existence of the supernatural community. Her cries of terror and the vivid evidence of her encounter—bloodied and torn—draw unwanted attention. Lorenzo finds her clinging to a light pole, her body a map of brutal injuries and defiance. Despite the pressing noon sun that challenges his vampiric nature, Lorenzo decides to intervene, realizing the gravity of the situation that not only risks the girl's life but the secrecy of their hidden world.
Lorenzo attempts to wield his persuasive abilities to calm the girl, suggesting her injuries were caused by wild dogs, not werewolves. His efforts prove futile as she resists his hypnotic suggestions, her mind too fractured by fear and pain. Aware of the growing audience and the imminent risk of exposing the supernatural realm, Lorenzo enacts a more commanding approach, using his strength and psychic persuasion to compel the girl into his car, promising her safety. The scenes culminate as Lorenzo drives away with the girl, her savior's intentions turning ominous as they speed away from the prying eyes of Haven's residents. In a chilling turn, the story closes on a grim note, leaving the reader pondering the girl's fate, now at the mercy of a vampire who considers her nothing more than a werewolf's leftovers, and a small reward for his efforts to maintain the secrecy of their world.
(Lorenzo's odd encounter(SRLilah):SRLilah)
[Sat Apr 12 2025]
At a walkway leading to a modern cabin
This single story home blends contemporary design with natural, earthy elements to create a warm and inviting cabin-like exterior. The home has rich, red cedar siding paired with a stone base and chimney. The floor-to-ceiling windows looking into the Livingroom sport dark greenish gray trim.
The gabled roof and covered porch that partially wraps around the home lends even further to the cozy cabin feel from the outside when paired with the forest that surrounds it.
A gray brick walkway leads from the porch stairs to the winding driveway
It is morning, about 46F(7C) degrees, and the sky is covered by dark grey stormclouds.
(Someone in Haven has found out about the supernatural and is freaking out about it. They're at risk of exposing the secret, hurting themselves, or hurting others. Your target and their allies are tasked with containing the situation.
)
Winter doesn't want to give up its stronghold over Haven, though the sun struggles through the dark grey clouds, granting just a little warmth to the land. In some places, those pretty rays light up the beach, or the front of a beautifully decorate storefront. In others, there's only dimness and dark, and it seems as if the sun is trying to avoid them altogether. In those dark, dank places, where rot festers, one expects the terrible to happen.
It's far less expected for such terrible things to happen on the brightly lit streets, or within the beautifully festooned shops, restaurants and diners of the town and yet that's what suddenly tears across the Hand's comms.
"Shitfuck, goddamn those wolves!" A voice snarls. "Looks like one of them did a shit job of actually killing their prey last night. Girl out front of Rosie's, torn all to fuck - don't know how she's not already dead - yelling about werewolves to any and all that'll stop and listen. Someone get down there and shut her the fuck up already!"
Comms are silent. Dead silent, after that. Maybe nobody's listening, this early in the day? It might all be up to Lorenzo, to cover up this mess.
Lorenzo curses sharply under his breath, muttering a quick, "Porca miseria," as he briskly steps from his porch. Annoyance radiates from his tense shoulders as he unlocks his Maserati MC20 Cielo, slipping inside with practiced ease. The engine rumbles to life, mirrors adjusting smoothly, sunglasses shielding his narrowed blue eyes. With a growl of irritation, he floors the accelerator, tires spitting gravel as he swiftly maneuvers onto the road. Steering towards Rosie's, he taps impatient fingers on the wheel, lips pressed tightly in frustration at yet another mess left for him to clean up, alone, at dawn.
It could be worse, right Lorenzo? The sun could be pushing its way to its zenith right now, and noon could be right around the corner! Oh wait. It is. But that nearly noontime sun struggles behind the clouds, it's pressure on vampiric senses a little muted, for that.
What isn't muted, is the shrill cries of a young woman, who clutches to a light pole for support, not too far away from someone' The scout over Hand's comms, while unprofessional in his description, certainly wasn't wrong. She looks like she's alive out of sheer force of will alone. Her blonde hair hangs in tangled curls around her face, glued in place by dried and drying blood. Her arms are torn by jagged bite marks, and one ankle looks as if it'll just fall away if she puts too much force on it, hanging by tendon and fractured bone alone. Claws have torn at her face and her abdomen, where all those juicy organs remain intact, though battered.
How could this wolf have missed so blatantly?
As Lorenzo approaches in his fancy car, the girl turns towards him, frantically waving her less-damaged arm, and pleading, "Stop! Stop please! You need to be careful!"
It could be worse, right Lorenzo? The sun could be pushing its way to its zenith right now, and noon could be right around the corner! Oh wait. It is. But that nearly noontime sun struggles behind the clouds, it's pressure on vampiric senses a little muted, for that.
What isn't muted, is the shrill cries of a young woman, who clutches to a light pole for support, not too far away from Rosie's. The scout over Hand's comms, while unprofessional in his description, certainly wasn't wrong. She looks like she's alive out of sheer force of will alone. Her blonde hair hangs in tangled curls around her face, glued in place by dried and drying blood. Her arms are torn by jagged bite marks, and one ankle looks as if it'll just fall away if she puts too much force on it, hanging by tendon and fractured bone alone. Claws have torn at her face and her abdomen, where all those juicy organs remain intact, though battered.
How could this wolf have missed so blatantly?
As Lorenzo approaches in his fancy car, the girl turns towards him, frantically waving her less-damaged arm, and pleading, "Stop! Stop please! You need to be careful!"
Lorenzo smoothly pulls up beside the battered girl, lowering his sunglasses just enough to reveal those vibrant blue eyes. His gaze briefly flicks over her ruined body, then his lips curl into a disarming, devilish smirk. "Careful?" he drawls softly, leaning casually across the passenger seat. "Sweetheart, careful left town the moment you met tall, dark, and furry. How about you hop in, and I get you to White Oak?" He nudges open the passenger door invitingly. "Promise I'll drive gentle. I'd hate to ruin the upholstery more than you already will." His smile widens, sharp yet oddly comforting.
"NO!" The girl shrieks at Lorenzo. His offer, while clearly kind and generous, has probably been turned down several times already today, or the scouts wouldn't have been so frantic about getting her off the scene.
Where's HSD?
The police probably have a myriad of other complaints after the rampages of the last few nights; animals killed, buildings shattered and broken into, children missing. Some of them are probably on vacation, out of town where wolves are less likely to strike. Maybe they just didn't have one left to spare for this particular girl's plight.
But Lorenzo is here, and so the girl begins her litany again. "W-were-werewolves, they're real. You have to hear me. They're REAL!" she shrieks. Her voice is ravaged, probably as much from screaming in pain as from screaming at passersby. "They're REAL!" she shouts again, staring at the vampire in front of her with no recognition for the monster she's face-to-face with. "They've got to be stopped! Look what they've done? You... please! You have to help. Get people to hunt them down!"
And then she starts to slump and sway, barely able to keep herself upright on that lamp post she leans against.
Lorenzo smoothly removes his sunglasses, locking his bright blue gaze with hers. His voice drops, low, syrupy, each word woven with subtle power. "Listen to me carefully. There are no werewolves, no monsters. You had an accident, that's all. Animals from the woods, probably wild dogs." His tone is calming, reassuring, each syllable sinking deeply into her mind, reshaping memories like clay beneath his fingertips. "You're safe now. Calm down, relax, breathe." He gives her a soft, reassuring smile, a warmth that's both convincing and completely false. "Now, let's get you somewhere quiet, hmm?" His gaze holds hers, unwavering.
Unfortunately for Lorenzo, this girl is too far gone out of her sane mind with pain and fear to be able to be that easily lulled. "There are!" she argues back at Lorenzo. "Mister, you and your fancy car and fancy clothes might not get it, but there are!" She sways again, then cries out in pain when she reaches out instinctively to stop her fall, and jars her torn up arm. Tears well in her eyes, dripping down her bloody cheeks. "Oh God," she sobs. "There are. There really are. Monsters are real! Werewolves... they're real!" At least the softness of his voice seems to have some power, and she does try to steady her breathing, though she's trembling with that shock and pain.
Unfortunately, as people leave their Saturday morning brunch gatherings, a few are starting to tune in and pay attention. Lorenzo can hear murmurings nearby. Hypnosis by itself isn't going to work; she's on her last legs, but what can he do to get this girl out of there swiftly?
Lorenzo steps in smoothly, cupping her chin gently, guiding her face upwards until her tear-filled eyes meet his. His vibrant blues shimmer, capturing her frayed attention like a moth drawn to flame. "Darling," he murmurs sweetly, each word wrapped in a honey command, "you're going to quietly get into the nice, fancy car, be quiet, and sit there pretty until we reach White Oak, understood?" His voice never rises, a soft caress that promises safety: and demands obedience. The subtle psychic pulse weaves around her mind, dominating fear, soothing panic. "Trust me. Everything's going to be just fine." He flashes a charming, boyish smile, effortlessly masking the predator beneath, before guiding her gently towards the Maserati, that isn't so gentle but over-powering. Str 3 and Psychic Persuasion used?
"No no no!" The girl cries again. "I have to wait here, I have to..." But strong as he is, and as wounded as she is, there's not really much resisting the vampire's pull. The girl finds herself swept away, into Lorenzo's car, though even with his strength holding her up, she barely makes it.
How could she have possibly gotten as far into town as she has?
From there, the terrified, brutally wounded girl is pretty much at the vampire's mercy. Is he actually going to be kind enough to drop her off at White Oak?
Lorenzo leans in with casual grace, securing the girl's seatbelt as if hes fastening jewelry around her broken frame. His gaze lingers on her terrified eyes, lips curving with a mischievous charm. "Relax, sweetheart," he reassures soothingly. "You're going to love this ride." Sliding into his seat, he revs the Maserati's engine: a thrilling growl that vibrates through the car, sending a delightful chill down his spine. His fingers brush the stereo controls, turning up 'Porn Star Dancing' until the bass throbs rhythmically. Doors locked with a decisive click, he glances at his passenger, gifting her a disarming smile that promises both safety and danger. "Hold tight, darling," he murmurs, flooring the accelerator as they roar away from Rosie's, tires screaming their own wicked song down Havens streets. Taking her far from the safety of sanctuary, far from anyones prying eyes, far from anything resembling security, and with the finality of seeing fangs flashed and an end of the warmth of her body being drained away.
It's a well known fact that one cannot take a person out of Sanctuary's grasp, if they have it. Given the severity of the injuries that this girl has suffered, one must assume that in this case, she doesn't, for whatever reason. Perhaps she's not a local; maybe she made the big mistake of visiting Haven while under the full moon, or maybe the werewolf dragged her further from her home than usual. Whatever it was, she's in no shape to fight Lorenzo off, anyway. A small reward, one must suppose, for keeping the supernatural freak-out to a minimum -- a werewolf's leftovers.
// Thanks for participating in the encounter with me. Do have a most lovely day!
Lorenzo attempts to wield his persuasive abilities to calm the girl, suggesting her injuries were caused by wild dogs, not werewolves. His efforts prove futile as she resists his hypnotic suggestions, her mind too fractured by fear and pain. Aware of the growing audience and the imminent risk of exposing the supernatural realm, Lorenzo enacts a more commanding approach, using his strength and psychic persuasion to compel the girl into his car, promising her safety. The scenes culminate as Lorenzo drives away with the girl, her savior's intentions turning ominous as they speed away from the prying eyes of Haven's residents. In a chilling turn, the story closes on a grim note, leaving the reader pondering the girl's fate, now at the mercy of a vampire who considers her nothing more than a werewolf's leftovers, and a small reward for his efforts to maintain the secrecy of their world.
(Lorenzo's odd encounter(SRLilah):SRLilah)
[Sat Apr 12 2025]
At a walkway leading to a modern cabin
This single story home blends contemporary design with natural, earthy elements to create a warm and inviting cabin-like exterior. The home has rich, red cedar siding paired with a stone base and chimney. The floor-to-ceiling windows looking into the Livingroom sport dark greenish gray trim.
The gabled roof and covered porch that partially wraps around the home lends even further to the cozy cabin feel from the outside when paired with the forest that surrounds it.
A gray brick walkway leads from the porch stairs to the winding driveway
It is morning, about 46F(7C) degrees, and the sky is covered by dark grey stormclouds.
(Someone in Haven has found out about the supernatural and is freaking out about it. They're at risk of exposing the secret, hurting themselves, or hurting others. Your target and their allies are tasked with containing the situation.
)
Winter doesn't want to give up its stronghold over Haven, though the sun struggles through the dark grey clouds, granting just a little warmth to the land. In some places, those pretty rays light up the beach, or the front of a beautifully decorate storefront. In others, there's only dimness and dark, and it seems as if the sun is trying to avoid them altogether. In those dark, dank places, where rot festers, one expects the terrible to happen.
It's far less expected for such terrible things to happen on the brightly lit streets, or within the beautifully festooned shops, restaurants and diners of the town and yet that's what suddenly tears across the Hand's comms.
"Shitfuck, goddamn those wolves!" A voice snarls. "Looks like one of them did a shit job of actually killing their prey last night. Girl out front of Rosie's, torn all to fuck - don't know how she's not already dead - yelling about werewolves to any and all that'll stop and listen. Someone get down there and shut her the fuck up already!"
Comms are silent. Dead silent, after that. Maybe nobody's listening, this early in the day? It might all be up to Lorenzo, to cover up this mess.
Lorenzo curses sharply under his breath, muttering a quick, "Porca miseria," as he briskly steps from his porch. Annoyance radiates from his tense shoulders as he unlocks his Maserati MC20 Cielo, slipping inside with practiced ease. The engine rumbles to life, mirrors adjusting smoothly, sunglasses shielding his narrowed blue eyes. With a growl of irritation, he floors the accelerator, tires spitting gravel as he swiftly maneuvers onto the road. Steering towards Rosie's, he taps impatient fingers on the wheel, lips pressed tightly in frustration at yet another mess left for him to clean up, alone, at dawn.
It could be worse, right Lorenzo? The sun could be pushing its way to its zenith right now, and noon could be right around the corner! Oh wait. It is. But that nearly noontime sun struggles behind the clouds, it's pressure on vampiric senses a little muted, for that.
What isn't muted, is the shrill cries of a young woman, who clutches to a light pole for support, not too far away from someone' The scout over Hand's comms, while unprofessional in his description, certainly wasn't wrong. She looks like she's alive out of sheer force of will alone. Her blonde hair hangs in tangled curls around her face, glued in place by dried and drying blood. Her arms are torn by jagged bite marks, and one ankle looks as if it'll just fall away if she puts too much force on it, hanging by tendon and fractured bone alone. Claws have torn at her face and her abdomen, where all those juicy organs remain intact, though battered.
How could this wolf have missed so blatantly?
As Lorenzo approaches in his fancy car, the girl turns towards him, frantically waving her less-damaged arm, and pleading, "Stop! Stop please! You need to be careful!"
It could be worse, right Lorenzo? The sun could be pushing its way to its zenith right now, and noon could be right around the corner! Oh wait. It is. But that nearly noontime sun struggles behind the clouds, it's pressure on vampiric senses a little muted, for that.
What isn't muted, is the shrill cries of a young woman, who clutches to a light pole for support, not too far away from Rosie's. The scout over Hand's comms, while unprofessional in his description, certainly wasn't wrong. She looks like she's alive out of sheer force of will alone. Her blonde hair hangs in tangled curls around her face, glued in place by dried and drying blood. Her arms are torn by jagged bite marks, and one ankle looks as if it'll just fall away if she puts too much force on it, hanging by tendon and fractured bone alone. Claws have torn at her face and her abdomen, where all those juicy organs remain intact, though battered.
How could this wolf have missed so blatantly?
As Lorenzo approaches in his fancy car, the girl turns towards him, frantically waving her less-damaged arm, and pleading, "Stop! Stop please! You need to be careful!"
Lorenzo smoothly pulls up beside the battered girl, lowering his sunglasses just enough to reveal those vibrant blue eyes. His gaze briefly flicks over her ruined body, then his lips curl into a disarming, devilish smirk. "Careful?" he drawls softly, leaning casually across the passenger seat. "Sweetheart, careful left town the moment you met tall, dark, and furry. How about you hop in, and I get you to White Oak?" He nudges open the passenger door invitingly. "Promise I'll drive gentle. I'd hate to ruin the upholstery more than you already will." His smile widens, sharp yet oddly comforting.
"NO!" The girl shrieks at Lorenzo. His offer, while clearly kind and generous, has probably been turned down several times already today, or the scouts wouldn't have been so frantic about getting her off the scene.
Where's HSD?
The police probably have a myriad of other complaints after the rampages of the last few nights; animals killed, buildings shattered and broken into, children missing. Some of them are probably on vacation, out of town where wolves are less likely to strike. Maybe they just didn't have one left to spare for this particular girl's plight.
But Lorenzo is here, and so the girl begins her litany again. "W-were-werewolves, they're real. You have to hear me. They're REAL!" she shrieks. Her voice is ravaged, probably as much from screaming in pain as from screaming at passersby. "They're REAL!" she shouts again, staring at the vampire in front of her with no recognition for the monster she's face-to-face with. "They've got to be stopped! Look what they've done? You... please! You have to help. Get people to hunt them down!"
And then she starts to slump and sway, barely able to keep herself upright on that lamp post she leans against.
Lorenzo smoothly removes his sunglasses, locking his bright blue gaze with hers. His voice drops, low, syrupy, each word woven with subtle power. "Listen to me carefully. There are no werewolves, no monsters. You had an accident, that's all. Animals from the woods, probably wild dogs." His tone is calming, reassuring, each syllable sinking deeply into her mind, reshaping memories like clay beneath his fingertips. "You're safe now. Calm down, relax, breathe." He gives her a soft, reassuring smile, a warmth that's both convincing and completely false. "Now, let's get you somewhere quiet, hmm?" His gaze holds hers, unwavering.
Unfortunately for Lorenzo, this girl is too far gone out of her sane mind with pain and fear to be able to be that easily lulled. "There are!" she argues back at Lorenzo. "Mister, you and your fancy car and fancy clothes might not get it, but there are!" She sways again, then cries out in pain when she reaches out instinctively to stop her fall, and jars her torn up arm. Tears well in her eyes, dripping down her bloody cheeks. "Oh God," she sobs. "There are. There really are. Monsters are real! Werewolves... they're real!" At least the softness of his voice seems to have some power, and she does try to steady her breathing, though she's trembling with that shock and pain.
Unfortunately, as people leave their Saturday morning brunch gatherings, a few are starting to tune in and pay attention. Lorenzo can hear murmurings nearby. Hypnosis by itself isn't going to work; she's on her last legs, but what can he do to get this girl out of there swiftly?
Lorenzo steps in smoothly, cupping her chin gently, guiding her face upwards until her tear-filled eyes meet his. His vibrant blues shimmer, capturing her frayed attention like a moth drawn to flame. "Darling," he murmurs sweetly, each word wrapped in a honey command, "you're going to quietly get into the nice, fancy car, be quiet, and sit there pretty until we reach White Oak, understood?" His voice never rises, a soft caress that promises safety: and demands obedience. The subtle psychic pulse weaves around her mind, dominating fear, soothing panic. "Trust me. Everything's going to be just fine." He flashes a charming, boyish smile, effortlessly masking the predator beneath, before guiding her gently towards the Maserati, that isn't so gentle but over-powering. Str 3 and Psychic Persuasion used?
"No no no!" The girl cries again. "I have to wait here, I have to..." But strong as he is, and as wounded as she is, there's not really much resisting the vampire's pull. The girl finds herself swept away, into Lorenzo's car, though even with his strength holding her up, she barely makes it.
How could she have possibly gotten as far into town as she has?
From there, the terrified, brutally wounded girl is pretty much at the vampire's mercy. Is he actually going to be kind enough to drop her off at White Oak?
Lorenzo leans in with casual grace, securing the girl's seatbelt as if hes fastening jewelry around her broken frame. His gaze lingers on her terrified eyes, lips curving with a mischievous charm. "Relax, sweetheart," he reassures soothingly. "You're going to love this ride." Sliding into his seat, he revs the Maserati's engine: a thrilling growl that vibrates through the car, sending a delightful chill down his spine. His fingers brush the stereo controls, turning up 'Porn Star Dancing' until the bass throbs rhythmically. Doors locked with a decisive click, he glances at his passenger, gifting her a disarming smile that promises both safety and danger. "Hold tight, darling," he murmurs, flooring the accelerator as they roar away from Rosie's, tires screaming their own wicked song down Havens streets. Taking her far from the safety of sanctuary, far from anyones prying eyes, far from anything resembling security, and with the finality of seeing fangs flashed and an end of the warmth of her body being drained away.
It's a well known fact that one cannot take a person out of Sanctuary's grasp, if they have it. Given the severity of the injuries that this girl has suffered, one must assume that in this case, she doesn't, for whatever reason. Perhaps she's not a local; maybe she made the big mistake of visiting Haven while under the full moon, or maybe the werewolf dragged her further from her home than usual. Whatever it was, she's in no shape to fight Lorenzo off, anyway. A small reward, one must suppose, for keeping the supernatural freak-out to a minimum -- a werewolf's leftovers.
// Thanks for participating in the encounter with me. Do have a most lovely day!