Encounterlogs
Lucianos Odd Encounter Sr Fiona 241111
In the somewhat dilapidated, yet cozy ambiance of The Alley’s bowling lanes, Luciano finds himself engaged in a solo sport, scoring modestly in a game meant for distraction. Even the mundane activity couldn't shield him from an odd encounter that was about to unfold. A woman, visibly distressed and out-of-place among the casual bowlers, appeared to fixate on Luciano, her actions laced with secrecy and nervousness. As she communicated through hushed tones into her phone, Luciano's intuition signaled a peculiar interest in him. Despite her cautious attempts to remain inconspicuous, the woman's presence and subsequent disappearance sparked Luciano's curiosity, pushing him to investigate the eerie calm that suddenly enveloped the space she once occupied.
Following her vanishing act, a cryptic note under a half-drunk beer mug beckoned Luciano with a plea for help, marked with a crude symbol resembling the sun, yet distinctly different. The urgency and the potential danger did not deter him; instead, it propelled him outside into the stormy night, where a revelation awaited. Confronted by a diverse group of individuals, all donning ragged cloaks and bearing the weight of desperation, the woman from The Alley emerged from their midst. Her approach was direct, seeking Luciano’s aid on behalf of her group, predicated on the belief in his benevolence and affiliations within the town. The encounter underscored a pivotal moment of decision for Luciano, where the lines between mistrust and the hope for collaboration began to blur, hinting at the unfolding of a larger narrative of allegiance and survival amidst brewing storms and cryptic alliances.
(Luciano's odd encounter(SRFiona):SRFiona)
[Sun Nov 10 2024]
In the Bowling Lanes of The Alley
Frayed and shadowy-coloured carpet gives way to hardwooden laminate flooring
that, unlike the majority of the establishment' floors, is still in acceptable
condition. A jukebox is set against the southern walls, its dark-red paint job
blending in a bit too well with the ruddy-red paint on the cracked walls, from
which a mix of classic rock-and-roll, 60s to 80s pop, and the occasional tunes
of old-school jazz plays. From the centre of the room all the way to the wall
in the west, six bowling lanes extend, their maple-wooden lanes the most shiny
thing to find in this entire shop. Each lane is equipped with a small monitor
that helps keep track of scorekeeping, as well as a cushioned booth to rest on
while waiting for one's turn to knock some pins down. Nearby, a set of shelves
holds quite the vast selection of bowling balls of varying weights to pick up.
It is night, about 46F(7C) degrees, and the sky is covered by dark grey stormclouds. It's raining outside. There is a waxing gibbous moon.
(One of the members of the Sapphire Martyrs has had a change of heart. Tired of waiting for the apocalypse, they want to live and are willing to take desperate measures to ensure they survive. They approach your target and their allies, seeking asylum and protection from their former comrades. The Martyr possesses valuable information about the group's plans, but can the characters trust them? Their loyalty will be tested, their secrets potentially exposed, and they'll have to decide quickly whether to risk their lives for a stranger or to turn their back on a potential ally.)
Luciano continued to bowl alone within The Alley. Lining himself up at the edge of the lane -- He was, admittedly, a sub-par bowler. Scoring barely above 145 as he threw his last go. Letting the marble-like blue ball down the lane... Just to gutter it completely. Luciano sucked wind through his teeth, cringing slightly as he walked back to his seat. Taking a small break as he leaned back in the booth.
The Alley. Kitschy music, cheap beer, and six lanes for the rank and file of the town to forget their troubles in a place that will just as easily forget about them when they're gone. An average score from Luciano should draw no attention from anyone, even the few who are around here.
And yet, there's one woman sitting nearby, looking even more bedraggled than the usual who frequent a place like this. Limp brown hair, ratty clothes, and a nervousness about her that's so easy to pick up, occasionally picking up her phone, glancing at Luciano, and speaking into it so low no one else can hear her.
Luciano closed his eyes for a moment as he leaned back, resting and enjoying the ambiance of far too strange STRIKE videos of pins being abused. A familiar feeling washed over him, though. Hairs rose upon the back of his neck, his toes curled slightly. An all too familiar feeling to a man used to paranoia. He lifted his head back up and opened his eyes, adjusting his glasses slightly as he took a casual look around the alley once more.
Luciano' eyes settled on the glancing woman as she spoke onto the phone. Quickly turning his attention else where before she could catch on as he stood up. Picking up a few empty water cups and a plastic food boat. Casually cleaning up his surroundings and continuing to steal looks at the stranger when he felt safe to do so.
The first time Luciano looks, she is still there. The second time? She's vanished, not even present in the crowd, no sense of forgetfulness that might imply that someone had managed to enter into the Nightmare. The lights and sounds and loud rolling sound of a ball hitting pins continue as before -- as if she was never there. No sign of her except for a half-empty mug of cheap beer sitting on the table, and a pink ball in the lane's rack.
Luciano looks up and immediately notices the disappearance. Standing upright and tipping his head back to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Son of a bitch, holy fuck..." He muttered beneath his breath. Adjusting the cuffs of his shirt as he turned his head from side to side. Glancing around the room for any sort of hint where the woman went. He quickly dug around his pockets, feeling for something... Just to let out an exasperated sigh, letting out a groan as he lifted his hands back up and brushed them down his chest.
The man immediately withdrew his phone and began typing with one hand. Walking towards where the woman formerly was as he made his way to investigate.
As Luciano approaches the lane next to his, there's a small note that's pinned underneath the drink. The condensation has started to roll down the side of the mug, staining the paper below, but it reads in a shaky hand:
HELP US. IN ALLEY AROUND CORNER.
A poorly drawn symbol of a sun is at the bottom, an attempt at the mark of the Temple, but with notable, visible differences.
Luciano picked up the paper and read it over quickly, lifting his head up to look around quickly. "Ffffuck." He hissed under his breath. Reaching around the back of his waist to feel the concealed pistol tucked into his waistband. He gave it a self reassuring tap and quickly made his way towards the door.
Outside the door, well, the storm that has been plaguing the town continues, rain pouring down as that strange voice seems to sob through it now and then, strange voices offering advice or pleas. But around the corner, there's a small group of five people wrapped in ragged cloaks, all of them looking like they are from different walks of life, tribal gear or strange, almost ethereal-seeming clothing -- all of them soaked through.
The one whom Luciano had seen before turns, and walks right up to him, grabbing his coat. "You --" she says, her voice thick with an unplaceable accent. "You are new in town, but with strong group, yes? Good person, yes?"
Following her vanishing act, a cryptic note under a half-drunk beer mug beckoned Luciano with a plea for help, marked with a crude symbol resembling the sun, yet distinctly different. The urgency and the potential danger did not deter him; instead, it propelled him outside into the stormy night, where a revelation awaited. Confronted by a diverse group of individuals, all donning ragged cloaks and bearing the weight of desperation, the woman from The Alley emerged from their midst. Her approach was direct, seeking Luciano’s aid on behalf of her group, predicated on the belief in his benevolence and affiliations within the town. The encounter underscored a pivotal moment of decision for Luciano, where the lines between mistrust and the hope for collaboration began to blur, hinting at the unfolding of a larger narrative of allegiance and survival amidst brewing storms and cryptic alliances.
(Luciano's odd encounter(SRFiona):SRFiona)
[Sun Nov 10 2024]
In the Bowling Lanes of The Alley
Frayed and shadowy-coloured carpet gives way to hardwooden laminate flooring
that, unlike the majority of the establishment' floors, is still in acceptable
condition. A jukebox is set against the southern walls, its dark-red paint job
blending in a bit too well with the ruddy-red paint on the cracked walls, from
which a mix of classic rock-and-roll, 60s to 80s pop, and the occasional tunes
of old-school jazz plays. From the centre of the room all the way to the wall
in the west, six bowling lanes extend, their maple-wooden lanes the most shiny
thing to find in this entire shop. Each lane is equipped with a small monitor
that helps keep track of scorekeeping, as well as a cushioned booth to rest on
while waiting for one's turn to knock some pins down. Nearby, a set of shelves
holds quite the vast selection of bowling balls of varying weights to pick up.
It is night, about 46F(7C) degrees, and the sky is covered by dark grey stormclouds. It's raining outside. There is a waxing gibbous moon.
(One of the members of the Sapphire Martyrs has had a change of heart. Tired of waiting for the apocalypse, they want to live and are willing to take desperate measures to ensure they survive. They approach your target and their allies, seeking asylum and protection from their former comrades. The Martyr possesses valuable information about the group's plans, but can the characters trust them? Their loyalty will be tested, their secrets potentially exposed, and they'll have to decide quickly whether to risk their lives for a stranger or to turn their back on a potential ally.)
Luciano continued to bowl alone within The Alley. Lining himself up at the edge of the lane -- He was, admittedly, a sub-par bowler. Scoring barely above 145 as he threw his last go. Letting the marble-like blue ball down the lane... Just to gutter it completely. Luciano sucked wind through his teeth, cringing slightly as he walked back to his seat. Taking a small break as he leaned back in the booth.
The Alley. Kitschy music, cheap beer, and six lanes for the rank and file of the town to forget their troubles in a place that will just as easily forget about them when they're gone. An average score from Luciano should draw no attention from anyone, even the few who are around here.
And yet, there's one woman sitting nearby, looking even more bedraggled than the usual who frequent a place like this. Limp brown hair, ratty clothes, and a nervousness about her that's so easy to pick up, occasionally picking up her phone, glancing at Luciano, and speaking into it so low no one else can hear her.
Luciano closed his eyes for a moment as he leaned back, resting and enjoying the ambiance of far too strange STRIKE videos of pins being abused. A familiar feeling washed over him, though. Hairs rose upon the back of his neck, his toes curled slightly. An all too familiar feeling to a man used to paranoia. He lifted his head back up and opened his eyes, adjusting his glasses slightly as he took a casual look around the alley once more.
Luciano' eyes settled on the glancing woman as she spoke onto the phone. Quickly turning his attention else where before she could catch on as he stood up. Picking up a few empty water cups and a plastic food boat. Casually cleaning up his surroundings and continuing to steal looks at the stranger when he felt safe to do so.
The first time Luciano looks, she is still there. The second time? She's vanished, not even present in the crowd, no sense of forgetfulness that might imply that someone had managed to enter into the Nightmare. The lights and sounds and loud rolling sound of a ball hitting pins continue as before -- as if she was never there. No sign of her except for a half-empty mug of cheap beer sitting on the table, and a pink ball in the lane's rack.
Luciano looks up and immediately notices the disappearance. Standing upright and tipping his head back to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Son of a bitch, holy fuck..." He muttered beneath his breath. Adjusting the cuffs of his shirt as he turned his head from side to side. Glancing around the room for any sort of hint where the woman went. He quickly dug around his pockets, feeling for something... Just to let out an exasperated sigh, letting out a groan as he lifted his hands back up and brushed them down his chest.
The man immediately withdrew his phone and began typing with one hand. Walking towards where the woman formerly was as he made his way to investigate.
As Luciano approaches the lane next to his, there's a small note that's pinned underneath the drink. The condensation has started to roll down the side of the mug, staining the paper below, but it reads in a shaky hand:
HELP US. IN ALLEY AROUND CORNER.
A poorly drawn symbol of a sun is at the bottom, an attempt at the mark of the Temple, but with notable, visible differences.
Luciano picked up the paper and read it over quickly, lifting his head up to look around quickly. "Ffffuck." He hissed under his breath. Reaching around the back of his waist to feel the concealed pistol tucked into his waistband. He gave it a self reassuring tap and quickly made his way towards the door.
Outside the door, well, the storm that has been plaguing the town continues, rain pouring down as that strange voice seems to sob through it now and then, strange voices offering advice or pleas. But around the corner, there's a small group of five people wrapped in ragged cloaks, all of them looking like they are from different walks of life, tribal gear or strange, almost ethereal-seeming clothing -- all of them soaked through.
The one whom Luciano had seen before turns, and walks right up to him, grabbing his coat. "You --" she says, her voice thick with an unplaceable accent. "You are new in town, but with strong group, yes? Good person, yes?"