Encounterlogs
Lydias Odd Encounter Sr Fayad 240803
Lydia's evening on Elm Street takes an eerie turn when she's approached by a mysterious, short man in a black hoodie, emerging from the shadows. Identifying Lydia through the name tag she inadvertently left on from work, he engages her with a mix of amusement and opaque intentions, eventually inviting her to a secluded and oddly arranged meeting in an alleyway. Despite her better judgment and a self-admitted history of curious decisions, Lydia follows, driven by a mix of fear and intrigue. The man introduces himself as a member of The Destined Host, offering Lydia a chance to escape the feelings of powerlessness enveloping her life in Haven. He proposes a deal that hints at untapped potential within Lydia, suggesting she could wield significant influence and autonomy in exchange for a favor to Mig'liraz, Prince of the Blasted Heap, though her ordinary life and sense of helplessness make the offer both appealing and suspicious.
The encounter escalates when the mysterious man reveals his true form. Beneath his hoodie and in the absence of any shirt, he showcases a grotesque, living tumor – an Excrescence – protruding from his side, a supposed source of magical power and a key to the deal offered to Lydia. The horror and revulsion Lydia feels at the revelation prompt a swift decline of the offer, despite the man's attempts to assure her of its benefits, including whispered secrets of magic and power. As she retreats from the alley and the unsettling offer, the man ominously warns Lydia of Prince Mig'liraz's memory and the potential consequences of her rejection. Lydia leaves the scene with a mix of relief and foreboding, her decision to refuse the dark deal leaving her to ponder the bizarre and dangerous undercurrents of life in Haven.
(Lydia's odd encounter(SRFayad):SRFayad)
[Fri Aug 2 2024]
On Elm Street
It is after dusk, about 88F(31C) degrees, There is a new moon.
(A member of The Destined Host approaches your target, offering a deal that seems too good to refuse. The deal, however, is a trap, and your target must navigate a series of tests and trials set by the demons in order to break free. The encounter culminates in a confrontation with the member of The Destined Host, who reveals their true form as a powerful demon. Your target must use their wits and skills to defeat the demon, or find a way to banish it back to its own realm.)
Lydia leans against her bike outside her appartment building, staring out into the night. The past few nights in Haven ahs brought her both exciting, hitherto unknown sensations as well as very real danger, and she is rather lost in contemplation, wondering if the one is worth the other, and what power she even has to shift the balance.
A short man, about five feet five inches, approaches Lydia from the shadows. He has a black hoodie on, and the hood up, obscuring his features slightly, and yet he raises a pale hand towards Lydia and speaks. "Lydia?", he quietly inquires, making sure Lydia knows exactly who he's here to speak with. Whatever pants he wears are as dark as his hoodie, and he looks as if he'd just melted out of a back alleyway's shadows into reality - the streetlamps failing to banish him back to the darkness he came from.
Lydia starts as she turns around, narrowing her eyes just a little as she watches the pale figure approach. A frown touches the young woman's face, her head tilted to the side. "Who are you? I'm getting a bit tired of people just knowing my name..."
He pauses a moment, then raises a finger and points at Lydia's chest, whereupon a name-tag is pinned upon the vast...tracts of land they conceal. "The first bit of advice is free," they genially inform, amusement suffusing a rich, deep tone to the man's voice despite his less-than-average height. "If you don't wish people to recognize your nomen, perhaps you should not bear it so openly?" Notably, he does not yet answer Lydia's question, instead seeking perhaps to embarass.
Lydia blinks and starts as she looks down, where the name tag from her place of work does indeed linger, pinned so close to that distracting cleavage one might imagine she did it on purpose. A faint flush of embarassment suffuses her pale cheeks, shoulders forcibly relaxing. "Yeah, okay. Sorry about that, I'm a bit jumpy. What do you want?"
Retracting the finger, he steeples his hands in front of himself, giving off an impression more of a monk chanting at a ritual circle than someone in dark clothing simply walking the streets at night. "I wish to offer you Venetian hospitality," he comments, "in a place less open to being overheard. I believe you'll very much enjoy conversing with me. My name is unimportant.", they smile, a flash of white beneath the hood. "Would the alleyway over there be convenient enough?", they ask, taking a step back and sweeping their arm as if in invitation.
Lydia frowns a little. "Right, so I was right that things would get weird." It's unclear if she even understands enough to know what those words entail. "I don't usually follow strange men into dark alleys..." she murmurs, with just a hint of a hitch in her voice that might suggest this is not entirely as true as it perhaps used to be. Curiousity is a deadly vice of hers, though, and she mutters "Fine, just make it quick..."
Greeted with a smile, the encounter is brought into the alleyway - where, anachronistically, a pair of ornate chairs have been set up. Clearly, he has prepared for this - otherwise the town's rabid homeless population would have already pawned such antiques. The cushions are comfortable enough. "Please sit," he asks, "as we discuss your future. You have been feeling...powerless, yes? Cast adrift on the winds of fortune?" He crosses his legs, removing his hood, revealing a handsome face with classical, aquiline features. Notably, he bears an earring dangling from his right ear - a hand clasping onto some sort of halo is all that can be discerned from this distance, an elaboration on a hoop earring.
Lydia stares at the strange setup, slowly stepping forward and seating herself in one of the strange chairs. She shifts a little, watching the man carefully. "Well. Yeah. Kinda. It's what this town does to you..."
They raise a finger, shaking their head. "It is what this town does to YOU," he corrects, with a smug air. "And it is what I am offering you freedom from. You see, I believe you may have...potential," he drawls out the word, aiming to entice Lydia. "Potential to become something more. To stand firm in the gales. Direct them to your will, even, perhaps. For only a slight favor in return."
Lydia tilts her head faintly "I... really? Everything's been pointing to me being pretty damn ordinary and helpless..."
Chortling, he nods. "Everyone starts somewhere," the handsome man replies. "Ore is in the dirt until it's refined, and jewels are raw unless cut. Tell me, have you heard of Mig'liraz, Prince of the Blasted Heap?", he tilts his head, curiously.
Lydia pauses at that, leaning back from the man a little. "No... can't say I have. It's not a very... confidence-inspiring name, though."
Clearly displeased by the immediate reaction, his mouth turns down in a faint little scowl before he carefully marshals his expression back into careful, jovial neutrality. "He offers great power to those willing to perform a small favor for him on Earth," the man explains. "Power enough that you will be able to fight off the predation of others, here in Haven. Power enough to have confidence in your OWN name, at the least."
Lydia watches the man carefully, the wheels spinning behind her eyes. She shifts back a little further in her chair, briefly biting her lower lip. "Yeah? What kind of favor?"
He spreads wide his hands. "Only to host a small portion of His power, to bring His influence deeper upon the Earth. A friend, of sorts. You'll not be alone again. You even get to choose the location you bear it upon. I would show you mine, but I do not think you are yet ready."
Lydia parts her lips, hesitating from a moment, then lets out a deep breath. "I... y-yeah, I don't think so. It's already getting to crowded in here" she murmurs, gesturing to her temple. "I'm not sure never being alone is what I'm after."
Pursing his lips, the man mentions, "The Excrescence is a valuable ally. I do not speak of hosting something WITHIN you. But something...WITHOUT." And at that, he taps his fingers against his knee, considering his next words. "May I show you?"
Lydia grimaces a little "Yeah, you're not making him sound any more appealing..." She tilts her head a little, narrowing her eyes at the moment. "I guess so. Cause I have no idea what you're talking about..."
Revelation. The man is wearing such baggy clothing for a reason - as he draws off his hoodie, revealing that he was wearing nothing underneath, a rather attractive masculine form is revealed, except for the horrifyingly strong stench of rot and the putrescent living tumor that sprouts from the man's side. Laying across his chest, it gives a gurgling little bark, the symbiont the size of a cat - a fat one. No visible method of ocular acuity is on its featureless head, but it certainly has a maw from which to speak and to ooze, crafted from putrescent flesh as it is. "The Excrescence whispers the secrets of magic and of power to all of the Prince's followers. All it requires is regular feeding in return," the man attempts to sell Lydia on hosting such an abomination. "I could give you a piece, right now..."
Lydia starts back a little as the creature is revealed, a look of horror spreading across her face. Weird as she is, this is rather over the line for hers. "Yeah, uh... thanks but no thanks. Try the student dorms or something. They're all kinda gross there, might be more responsive." Doing her best to cover her fear with such quips, she quickly gets to her feet, starting to back out of the alley.
Demonic cries are smothered once more as the man shrugs his hoodie back on. "How disappointing," he murmurs. "You'll never amount to anything if simple disgust prevents you from grasping at the levers of power, Lydia. How disappointing indeed. Prince Mag'liraz will remember your name when His heath spreads through the city, and He will remember your rejection," the man warns Lydia. "If you leave now, be prepared that there may never be another peacable chance."
Lydia exhales sharply as she mutters to herself "And to think I used to get disappointed at not being noticed." She straightens up and says "Duly noted. I'll uh... live out my hollow life as a walking represenation of how empty one's life is without the... Excrescence to keep you company. Right. Bye." and with that she turns, heading for the main road about as quickly as is safe in her heels.
The encounter escalates when the mysterious man reveals his true form. Beneath his hoodie and in the absence of any shirt, he showcases a grotesque, living tumor – an Excrescence – protruding from his side, a supposed source of magical power and a key to the deal offered to Lydia. The horror and revulsion Lydia feels at the revelation prompt a swift decline of the offer, despite the man's attempts to assure her of its benefits, including whispered secrets of magic and power. As she retreats from the alley and the unsettling offer, the man ominously warns Lydia of Prince Mig'liraz's memory and the potential consequences of her rejection. Lydia leaves the scene with a mix of relief and foreboding, her decision to refuse the dark deal leaving her to ponder the bizarre and dangerous undercurrents of life in Haven.
(Lydia's odd encounter(SRFayad):SRFayad)
[Fri Aug 2 2024]
On Elm Street
It is after dusk, about 88F(31C) degrees, There is a new moon.
(A member of The Destined Host approaches your target, offering a deal that seems too good to refuse. The deal, however, is a trap, and your target must navigate a series of tests and trials set by the demons in order to break free. The encounter culminates in a confrontation with the member of The Destined Host, who reveals their true form as a powerful demon. Your target must use their wits and skills to defeat the demon, or find a way to banish it back to its own realm.)
Lydia leans against her bike outside her appartment building, staring out into the night. The past few nights in Haven ahs brought her both exciting, hitherto unknown sensations as well as very real danger, and she is rather lost in contemplation, wondering if the one is worth the other, and what power she even has to shift the balance.
A short man, about five feet five inches, approaches Lydia from the shadows. He has a black hoodie on, and the hood up, obscuring his features slightly, and yet he raises a pale hand towards Lydia and speaks. "Lydia?", he quietly inquires, making sure Lydia knows exactly who he's here to speak with. Whatever pants he wears are as dark as his hoodie, and he looks as if he'd just melted out of a back alleyway's shadows into reality - the streetlamps failing to banish him back to the darkness he came from.
Lydia starts as she turns around, narrowing her eyes just a little as she watches the pale figure approach. A frown touches the young woman's face, her head tilted to the side. "Who are you? I'm getting a bit tired of people just knowing my name..."
He pauses a moment, then raises a finger and points at Lydia's chest, whereupon a name-tag is pinned upon the vast...tracts of land they conceal. "The first bit of advice is free," they genially inform, amusement suffusing a rich, deep tone to the man's voice despite his less-than-average height. "If you don't wish people to recognize your nomen, perhaps you should not bear it so openly?" Notably, he does not yet answer Lydia's question, instead seeking perhaps to embarass.
Lydia blinks and starts as she looks down, where the name tag from her place of work does indeed linger, pinned so close to that distracting cleavage one might imagine she did it on purpose. A faint flush of embarassment suffuses her pale cheeks, shoulders forcibly relaxing. "Yeah, okay. Sorry about that, I'm a bit jumpy. What do you want?"
Retracting the finger, he steeples his hands in front of himself, giving off an impression more of a monk chanting at a ritual circle than someone in dark clothing simply walking the streets at night. "I wish to offer you Venetian hospitality," he comments, "in a place less open to being overheard. I believe you'll very much enjoy conversing with me. My name is unimportant.", they smile, a flash of white beneath the hood. "Would the alleyway over there be convenient enough?", they ask, taking a step back and sweeping their arm as if in invitation.
Lydia frowns a little. "Right, so I was right that things would get weird." It's unclear if she even understands enough to know what those words entail. "I don't usually follow strange men into dark alleys..." she murmurs, with just a hint of a hitch in her voice that might suggest this is not entirely as true as it perhaps used to be. Curiousity is a deadly vice of hers, though, and she mutters "Fine, just make it quick..."
Greeted with a smile, the encounter is brought into the alleyway - where, anachronistically, a pair of ornate chairs have been set up. Clearly, he has prepared for this - otherwise the town's rabid homeless population would have already pawned such antiques. The cushions are comfortable enough. "Please sit," he asks, "as we discuss your future. You have been feeling...powerless, yes? Cast adrift on the winds of fortune?" He crosses his legs, removing his hood, revealing a handsome face with classical, aquiline features. Notably, he bears an earring dangling from his right ear - a hand clasping onto some sort of halo is all that can be discerned from this distance, an elaboration on a hoop earring.
Lydia stares at the strange setup, slowly stepping forward and seating herself in one of the strange chairs. She shifts a little, watching the man carefully. "Well. Yeah. Kinda. It's what this town does to you..."
They raise a finger, shaking their head. "It is what this town does to YOU," he corrects, with a smug air. "And it is what I am offering you freedom from. You see, I believe you may have...potential," he drawls out the word, aiming to entice Lydia. "Potential to become something more. To stand firm in the gales. Direct them to your will, even, perhaps. For only a slight favor in return."
Lydia tilts her head faintly "I... really? Everything's been pointing to me being pretty damn ordinary and helpless..."
Chortling, he nods. "Everyone starts somewhere," the handsome man replies. "Ore is in the dirt until it's refined, and jewels are raw unless cut. Tell me, have you heard of Mig'liraz, Prince of the Blasted Heap?", he tilts his head, curiously.
Lydia pauses at that, leaning back from the man a little. "No... can't say I have. It's not a very... confidence-inspiring name, though."
Clearly displeased by the immediate reaction, his mouth turns down in a faint little scowl before he carefully marshals his expression back into careful, jovial neutrality. "He offers great power to those willing to perform a small favor for him on Earth," the man explains. "Power enough that you will be able to fight off the predation of others, here in Haven. Power enough to have confidence in your OWN name, at the least."
Lydia watches the man carefully, the wheels spinning behind her eyes. She shifts back a little further in her chair, briefly biting her lower lip. "Yeah? What kind of favor?"
He spreads wide his hands. "Only to host a small portion of His power, to bring His influence deeper upon the Earth. A friend, of sorts. You'll not be alone again. You even get to choose the location you bear it upon. I would show you mine, but I do not think you are yet ready."
Lydia parts her lips, hesitating from a moment, then lets out a deep breath. "I... y-yeah, I don't think so. It's already getting to crowded in here" she murmurs, gesturing to her temple. "I'm not sure never being alone is what I'm after."
Pursing his lips, the man mentions, "The Excrescence is a valuable ally. I do not speak of hosting something WITHIN you. But something...WITHOUT." And at that, he taps his fingers against his knee, considering his next words. "May I show you?"
Lydia grimaces a little "Yeah, you're not making him sound any more appealing..." She tilts her head a little, narrowing her eyes at the moment. "I guess so. Cause I have no idea what you're talking about..."
Revelation. The man is wearing such baggy clothing for a reason - as he draws off his hoodie, revealing that he was wearing nothing underneath, a rather attractive masculine form is revealed, except for the horrifyingly strong stench of rot and the putrescent living tumor that sprouts from the man's side. Laying across his chest, it gives a gurgling little bark, the symbiont the size of a cat - a fat one. No visible method of ocular acuity is on its featureless head, but it certainly has a maw from which to speak and to ooze, crafted from putrescent flesh as it is. "The Excrescence whispers the secrets of magic and of power to all of the Prince's followers. All it requires is regular feeding in return," the man attempts to sell Lydia on hosting such an abomination. "I could give you a piece, right now..."
Lydia starts back a little as the creature is revealed, a look of horror spreading across her face. Weird as she is, this is rather over the line for hers. "Yeah, uh... thanks but no thanks. Try the student dorms or something. They're all kinda gross there, might be more responsive." Doing her best to cover her fear with such quips, she quickly gets to her feet, starting to back out of the alley.
Demonic cries are smothered once more as the man shrugs his hoodie back on. "How disappointing," he murmurs. "You'll never amount to anything if simple disgust prevents you from grasping at the levers of power, Lydia. How disappointing indeed. Prince Mag'liraz will remember your name when His heath spreads through the city, and He will remember your rejection," the man warns Lydia. "If you leave now, be prepared that there may never be another peacable chance."
Lydia exhales sharply as she mutters to herself "And to think I used to get disappointed at not being noticed." She straightens up and says "Duly noted. I'll uh... live out my hollow life as a walking represenation of how empty one's life is without the... Excrescence to keep you company. Right. Bye." and with that she turns, heading for the main road about as quickly as is safe in her heels.