Encounterlogs
Lucys Odd Encounter Sr Fiona 241207
In a chilling turn of events, Lucy, upon venturing deep into the forest under the cloak of night and severe cold, discovers a trail of destruction that leads her to a gravely injured, naked woman lying beside the remains of a 'wooden, womanlike creature'. The palpable sense of danger, coupled with the revolver in Lucy's hand, sets a tense atmosphere. The woman, identified only by the tattoo bearing the code '#044', reacts with fear and aggressive caution upon Lucy's approach. Despite the evident danger and the lurking shadow of her own uncertainties, Lucy makes a compassionate offer of help, promising safety and medical attention. Her actions underscore a moment of striking bravery as she confronts the unknown, prepared to extend aid where it is desperately needed.
The story culminates with Lucy's efforts to communicate and reassure the wounded woman, who is revealed to be a victim of cruel experiments designed to mutate her into a werewolf. As they engage in a wary dialogue, it becomes clear that Lucy is persuading not just the stranger before her, but also herself, of the possibility of rescue and retribution against the perpetrator of such inhuman acts. Lucy's determination sees them through the freezing night to the edge of safety, where the Shields of an organization, hinted to be 'The Order', take over. Although Lucy returns to college, the gravity of the encounter and the unresolved fate of the woman—now under the care of 'The Order'—leave a haunting impression of the profound intersections between compassion, courage, and the relentless quest for justice amidst darkness.
(Lucy's odd encounter(SRFiona):SRFiona)
[Fri Dec 6 2024]
In Room Six in Delta Delta Delta Sorority
This dorm room is a lively tapestry of college life and sisterhood, shared by two girls. On one wall, a DELTA DELTA DELTA tapestry takes center stage, surrounded by candid snapshots brimming with laughter and shared memories. Twin beds, each with plush, patterned bedding, are strategically positioned to maximize the space, their arrangement creating individual nooks of personality and comfort. A whiteboard calendar, bustling with color-coded events and deadlines, hangs near a makeshift vanity that's a collage of cosmetic treasures and strings of fairy lights surrounding a Wal-Mart mirror. Dressers sit at the foot of each bed, covered in stickers.
It is night, about 7F(-13C) degrees, and there are a few dark grey stormclouds in the sky. There is a waxing crescent moon.
Lucy lingers, her feet shifting against the gravel of the road. Her thoughts churn, indecision pulling her in two directions. Her hand tightens around the revolver at her side as she makes the profoundly unwise decision to step into the forest. She halts after a few steps, lifting her chin and calling out, her voice carrying but trembling at the edges, "Hey! I know you're out here!" She swallows hard, the revolver shaking slightly in her grasp, "I don't want to hurt you! I mean it. Just-just come out and talk to me. We can help, okay? You don't have to do this!"
The deeper into the forest that Lucy goes, the more wild the destruction is, even crunching through a few animals along the way -- no feasting, but a deer has had its ribs torn from its side and been left to bleed, a rabbit with its neck snapped. A path of pure destruction laid out in front of Lucy, and all that time, the scents getting stronger, pricking the hairs on the back of her head.
That is ... until the destruction suddenly ceases.
Where the underbrush had been torn into before, the path thins narrowly, and the path between the snapped branches becomes thin. Thin enough to allow a person through, but not much bigger than that.
Lucy pauses at the edge of the narrowed path, her breath catching in her throat, as she takes toward the thinned path, the sight making her hesitate. She shifts the revolver in her hand, yet it feels like too small a weapon for whatever might lie beyond.
A gust of wind blows through, the branches around Lucy rustling and shaking in the darkness of the night, the freezing cold air dropping even lower as frost is sprayed off of branches and onto Lucy's face and neck. There is the way in front, there's the way behind.
Lucy flinches as the cold gust of wind bites against her skin. Her gaze flicks over her shoulder toward the path behind her, the one that leads back to safety, back to everything she knows, but it's already distant. She can't go back. Not now. With a sharp exhale, she pushes the thoughts away-there's no turning back, and if she's going to face whatever's ahead, she can't waste another moment in doubt, her trainers crunching over leaves as she moves forward.
The bitter cold comes deeper and more thoroughly as another wind blows, chilling Lucy to the bone, until she pushes past one last branch and opens into a clearing. There, lying on the ground next to the shattered corpse of a strange, wooden, womanlike creature kneels another woman, one hand on her flank, her hair bedraggled, shivering heavily as blood drains from the wound on her side. Not a shred of clothing on her, even in this cold, and she's glowing red, with no Sanctuary around her. The spell doesn't extend its coverage. Not yet.
"Hey." Lucy says, her voice a little rough from the cold and the strain of everything she's been through, "You... you need help." Her eyes flick to the wound, the blood pooling around her, and then back to the woman. Her hands shake as she lowers her revolver carefully, ensuring it won't accidentally discharge, before she steps closer, offering a hand, her gaze softening as she speaks again, "Let me take you back. I can get you some clothes, get that wound looked at. You don't have to stay out here like this."
The woman turns as soon as she hears Lucy's voice, twisting, and her teeth bare in a snarl even as she quickly tries to back off, against a tree, keeping the student in her line of sight as she does so. Scars cross her body, frequently, and visible now along the bicep of her right arm is a tattoo -- a large, potentially scannable bar code, with a three digit number below it:
#044.
There's a wildness to her eyes. Perhaps the ritual lingering, perhaps something else, but she positions crouched, panicked, desperate.
Lucy's eyes flicker to the woman, assessing the situation quickly. Her hand hovers near the phone, fingers trembling ever so slightly, but she forces herself to stay calm. She knows this could go south fast, but the reality is she can't afford to let it escalate, "Hey, I'm not here to cause trouble. Just... just help." She mutters to herself, as much to reassure herself as the woman in front of her. The cold is seeping deeper into her skin, but she pushes through, trying to keep her mind clear.
Lucy holds her palms open, the gesture as non-threatening as she can make it. As she tucks her revolver away, she draws her phone, flicking it open and trying to scan the code, "What's your name?" she asks softly, trying to keep her voice steady, despite the tension in the air.
"Why are you out here?" Lucy asks again, though the question is more for herself than anything. She doesn't expect a coherent response from a werewolf in this state, especially not with the Lunacy wreaking havoc on her mind, it's a distraction, time bought for her the phone to complete the scan.
The woman is breathing rapidly, nearly hyperventilating, and there's another growl -- but she doesn't charge forward, still keeping one hand against her wound. Her nostrils flare in suspicion as the phone is raised, but the information is pulled quickly -- it seems like it may be embedded into the tattoo itself.
SUBJECT #044
Exposed to lycanthrope mutation via standard method 10/4/2005. Exposed again 11/3/2005 after first attempt failed.
11/16/2005: Infection confirmed. Lunar levels brought about expected results. Begin resilience testing.
Past that, line after line is in difficult to understand medical coding, details of dozens of experiments done, carefully noted, logged and tracked. One line at the bottom, though, indicates something different:
11/30/2024. Subject #043 escaped due to outside intervention. Long-term close companion of subject #044. Expecting similar methods to be employed shortly. Deploying extra security.
Lucy' blue eyes shift, darkening as they begin to redden, the wolf's influence seeping through the cracks in her control as she reads over the report. A fleeting moment of ferocity flickers behind her gaze, a flash of raw emotion that has nothing to do with reason or comfort. She swallows hard, breathing out shakily, trying to reign in the surge of emotions. She presses her earpiece tightly, lowering her voice to a near whisper as she speaks into the mic, "I found a woman. Used for werewolf experiments.. in the forest by Mariner's." She mutters, the words feeling like a heavy burden on her tongue, "Can you send some shields over? She's suffering from lunacy. She's not gonna come quiet." Her voice softens, a note of reassurance slipping in as she watches the woman's eyes, reading the fear there, "I'm a werewolf too." She says, her tone calm, but firm. "There's a few of us in this town. Whatever they've done to you, it doesn't define you. You're not alone, okay?" Of course, these sweet nothings are just her trying to waste enough time for help to arrive.
Lucy probably said that into the Order's channel rather than the channel it was originally reported from.
"The Order," the woman says, her voice shaky and weak, no recognition on her face as she holds onto her side. There is a lingering Russian accent in her voice, mostly faded through years of exposure elsewhere, but ... She can't be more than thirty years old, which means that, judging by the dates on the report...
Her eyes, still wild, flit from side-to-side. "You are like me? We run, we kill the oppressors, we take down those who make us into this, then want to put us in chains, like this is our fault?" she asks.
Lucy's expression shifts as the woman starts to speak, her eyes widening in surprise. She hadn't expected her to open up, not so soon. But this is it-the moment where everything could change. She leans forward, her voice low but urgent, tinged with a newfound determination, "That's why you need to come with me," She says, a sharp edge to her words. "Whoever did this to you, whoever's behind all of this-they're going to get dealt with. But for that to happen, we need to know everything you know. The shields are gonna need it, and I promise you, we'll take care of this." She extends her hand, her fingers slightly trembling, "Are you ready?"
Assuming the woman takes the offered hand, she'd lead them back to the town, making sure they got the full care-bear treatment.
"You will help me?" the woman asks, not taking the hand just yet, eyes wild and voice still shaking -- but she's cold, she's bleeding, she's alone. There's not a lot of hope for her if she doesn't. "You and I, we will run through the keeper's tents, and tear their throats out and drink their blood and howl in glory at our triumph?" She seems unsure of Lucy, unsure of whether to trust her or not.
Lucy's voice falters as she speaks, her words slipping out like she's trying to convince herself as much as the woman walking beside her. She avoids making eye contact, "I'm going to help you by taking you to the Order. They'll... they'll make sure the people who did this to you face justice." She says, but her words are delivered in a way that sound almost hollow.
"The Order," the woman says, thoughtful, shivering hard now.
It's not long before they make it close enough to Mariner's that the Shields arrive, that they get the woman into a van -- not before heavily sedating her, and keeping silvered chains ready just in case. Lucy's debriefing is quick. The woman will be treated, and they will try to determine where these experiments were being done, but she could have been from anywhere, really, if she had pathed here.
She's given a ride back, and soon, she's back in front of the College, even more sleepless than she had bene before.
The story culminates with Lucy's efforts to communicate and reassure the wounded woman, who is revealed to be a victim of cruel experiments designed to mutate her into a werewolf. As they engage in a wary dialogue, it becomes clear that Lucy is persuading not just the stranger before her, but also herself, of the possibility of rescue and retribution against the perpetrator of such inhuman acts. Lucy's determination sees them through the freezing night to the edge of safety, where the Shields of an organization, hinted to be 'The Order', take over. Although Lucy returns to college, the gravity of the encounter and the unresolved fate of the woman—now under the care of 'The Order'—leave a haunting impression of the profound intersections between compassion, courage, and the relentless quest for justice amidst darkness.
(Lucy's odd encounter(SRFiona):SRFiona)
[Fri Dec 6 2024]
In Room Six in Delta Delta Delta Sorority
This dorm room is a lively tapestry of college life and sisterhood, shared by two girls. On one wall, a DELTA DELTA DELTA tapestry takes center stage, surrounded by candid snapshots brimming with laughter and shared memories. Twin beds, each with plush, patterned bedding, are strategically positioned to maximize the space, their arrangement creating individual nooks of personality and comfort. A whiteboard calendar, bustling with color-coded events and deadlines, hangs near a makeshift vanity that's a collage of cosmetic treasures and strings of fairy lights surrounding a Wal-Mart mirror. Dressers sit at the foot of each bed, covered in stickers.
It is night, about 7F(-13C) degrees, and there are a few dark grey stormclouds in the sky. There is a waxing crescent moon.
Lucy lingers, her feet shifting against the gravel of the road. Her thoughts churn, indecision pulling her in two directions. Her hand tightens around the revolver at her side as she makes the profoundly unwise decision to step into the forest. She halts after a few steps, lifting her chin and calling out, her voice carrying but trembling at the edges, "Hey! I know you're out here!" She swallows hard, the revolver shaking slightly in her grasp, "I don't want to hurt you! I mean it. Just-just come out and talk to me. We can help, okay? You don't have to do this!"
The deeper into the forest that Lucy goes, the more wild the destruction is, even crunching through a few animals along the way -- no feasting, but a deer has had its ribs torn from its side and been left to bleed, a rabbit with its neck snapped. A path of pure destruction laid out in front of Lucy, and all that time, the scents getting stronger, pricking the hairs on the back of her head.
That is ... until the destruction suddenly ceases.
Where the underbrush had been torn into before, the path thins narrowly, and the path between the snapped branches becomes thin. Thin enough to allow a person through, but not much bigger than that.
Lucy pauses at the edge of the narrowed path, her breath catching in her throat, as she takes toward the thinned path, the sight making her hesitate. She shifts the revolver in her hand, yet it feels like too small a weapon for whatever might lie beyond.
A gust of wind blows through, the branches around Lucy rustling and shaking in the darkness of the night, the freezing cold air dropping even lower as frost is sprayed off of branches and onto Lucy's face and neck. There is the way in front, there's the way behind.
Lucy flinches as the cold gust of wind bites against her skin. Her gaze flicks over her shoulder toward the path behind her, the one that leads back to safety, back to everything she knows, but it's already distant. She can't go back. Not now. With a sharp exhale, she pushes the thoughts away-there's no turning back, and if she's going to face whatever's ahead, she can't waste another moment in doubt, her trainers crunching over leaves as she moves forward.
The bitter cold comes deeper and more thoroughly as another wind blows, chilling Lucy to the bone, until she pushes past one last branch and opens into a clearing. There, lying on the ground next to the shattered corpse of a strange, wooden, womanlike creature kneels another woman, one hand on her flank, her hair bedraggled, shivering heavily as blood drains from the wound on her side. Not a shred of clothing on her, even in this cold, and she's glowing red, with no Sanctuary around her. The spell doesn't extend its coverage. Not yet.
"Hey." Lucy says, her voice a little rough from the cold and the strain of everything she's been through, "You... you need help." Her eyes flick to the wound, the blood pooling around her, and then back to the woman. Her hands shake as she lowers her revolver carefully, ensuring it won't accidentally discharge, before she steps closer, offering a hand, her gaze softening as she speaks again, "Let me take you back. I can get you some clothes, get that wound looked at. You don't have to stay out here like this."
The woman turns as soon as she hears Lucy's voice, twisting, and her teeth bare in a snarl even as she quickly tries to back off, against a tree, keeping the student in her line of sight as she does so. Scars cross her body, frequently, and visible now along the bicep of her right arm is a tattoo -- a large, potentially scannable bar code, with a three digit number below it:
#044.
There's a wildness to her eyes. Perhaps the ritual lingering, perhaps something else, but she positions crouched, panicked, desperate.
Lucy's eyes flicker to the woman, assessing the situation quickly. Her hand hovers near the phone, fingers trembling ever so slightly, but she forces herself to stay calm. She knows this could go south fast, but the reality is she can't afford to let it escalate, "Hey, I'm not here to cause trouble. Just... just help." She mutters to herself, as much to reassure herself as the woman in front of her. The cold is seeping deeper into her skin, but she pushes through, trying to keep her mind clear.
Lucy holds her palms open, the gesture as non-threatening as she can make it. As she tucks her revolver away, she draws her phone, flicking it open and trying to scan the code, "What's your name?" she asks softly, trying to keep her voice steady, despite the tension in the air.
"Why are you out here?" Lucy asks again, though the question is more for herself than anything. She doesn't expect a coherent response from a werewolf in this state, especially not with the Lunacy wreaking havoc on her mind, it's a distraction, time bought for her the phone to complete the scan.
The woman is breathing rapidly, nearly hyperventilating, and there's another growl -- but she doesn't charge forward, still keeping one hand against her wound. Her nostrils flare in suspicion as the phone is raised, but the information is pulled quickly -- it seems like it may be embedded into the tattoo itself.
SUBJECT #044
Exposed to lycanthrope mutation via standard method 10/4/2005. Exposed again 11/3/2005 after first attempt failed.
11/16/2005: Infection confirmed. Lunar levels brought about expected results. Begin resilience testing.
Past that, line after line is in difficult to understand medical coding, details of dozens of experiments done, carefully noted, logged and tracked. One line at the bottom, though, indicates something different:
11/30/2024. Subject #043 escaped due to outside intervention. Long-term close companion of subject #044. Expecting similar methods to be employed shortly. Deploying extra security.
Lucy' blue eyes shift, darkening as they begin to redden, the wolf's influence seeping through the cracks in her control as she reads over the report. A fleeting moment of ferocity flickers behind her gaze, a flash of raw emotion that has nothing to do with reason or comfort. She swallows hard, breathing out shakily, trying to reign in the surge of emotions. She presses her earpiece tightly, lowering her voice to a near whisper as she speaks into the mic, "I found a woman. Used for werewolf experiments.. in the forest by Mariner's." She mutters, the words feeling like a heavy burden on her tongue, "Can you send some shields over? She's suffering from lunacy. She's not gonna come quiet." Her voice softens, a note of reassurance slipping in as she watches the woman's eyes, reading the fear there, "I'm a werewolf too." She says, her tone calm, but firm. "There's a few of us in this town. Whatever they've done to you, it doesn't define you. You're not alone, okay?" Of course, these sweet nothings are just her trying to waste enough time for help to arrive.
Lucy probably said that into the Order's channel rather than the channel it was originally reported from.
"The Order," the woman says, her voice shaky and weak, no recognition on her face as she holds onto her side. There is a lingering Russian accent in her voice, mostly faded through years of exposure elsewhere, but ... She can't be more than thirty years old, which means that, judging by the dates on the report...
Her eyes, still wild, flit from side-to-side. "You are like me? We run, we kill the oppressors, we take down those who make us into this, then want to put us in chains, like this is our fault?" she asks.
Lucy's expression shifts as the woman starts to speak, her eyes widening in surprise. She hadn't expected her to open up, not so soon. But this is it-the moment where everything could change. She leans forward, her voice low but urgent, tinged with a newfound determination, "That's why you need to come with me," She says, a sharp edge to her words. "Whoever did this to you, whoever's behind all of this-they're going to get dealt with. But for that to happen, we need to know everything you know. The shields are gonna need it, and I promise you, we'll take care of this." She extends her hand, her fingers slightly trembling, "Are you ready?"
Assuming the woman takes the offered hand, she'd lead them back to the town, making sure they got the full care-bear treatment.
"You will help me?" the woman asks, not taking the hand just yet, eyes wild and voice still shaking -- but she's cold, she's bleeding, she's alone. There's not a lot of hope for her if she doesn't. "You and I, we will run through the keeper's tents, and tear their throats out and drink their blood and howl in glory at our triumph?" She seems unsure of Lucy, unsure of whether to trust her or not.
Lucy's voice falters as she speaks, her words slipping out like she's trying to convince herself as much as the woman walking beside her. She avoids making eye contact, "I'm going to help you by taking you to the Order. They'll... they'll make sure the people who did this to you face justice." She says, but her words are delivered in a way that sound almost hollow.
"The Order," the woman says, thoughtful, shivering hard now.
It's not long before they make it close enough to Mariner's that the Shields arrive, that they get the woman into a van -- not before heavily sedating her, and keeping silvered chains ready just in case. Lucy's debriefing is quick. The woman will be treated, and they will try to determine where these experiments were being done, but she could have been from anywhere, really, if she had pathed here.
She's given a ride back, and soon, she's back in front of the College, even more sleepless than she had bene before.