Encounterlogs
Lydias Odd Encounter Sr Kylia
Lydia's mundane morning in her hotel room takes a sinister turn when she senses an unnatural presence. The air grows tense and a ghostly force hijacks her body, compelling her to sketch a frenzied scene with the word "murderer" repeated ominously. As Lydia struggles against the unseen invader, objects begin to defy gravity, hovering with an eerie levitation, and suddenly a voice accuses her of murder, indicating the presence of a vengeful spirit. The poltergeist's power grows as Lydia fights desperately to reclaim control, her willpower pitted against the spectral entity determined to harm her, building towards a climax of flying objects and chilling accusations.
The confrontation escalates as the ghost channels its rage into a physical assault, throwing a bed in Lydia's direction with lethal intent. In a hair-raising escape, Lydia evades crushing death by mere inches. Her successful retreat to the hallway marks a turning point as the ghost's energy fades, succumbing to some otherworldly call that pulls it away from the mortal plane. The vengeful spirit's strength ebbs away, leaving behind an eerie calm and a room in disarray, evidence of the otherworldly struggle that occurred between the living and the specter.
(Lydia's odd encounter(SRKylia):SRKylia)
[Sun Nov 19 2023]
In room 104
A lone sleigh bed entices visitors to rest, complete with fluffed white
pillows and a soft cream comforter. The petite room boasts simplicity at
it's finest. Caramel curtains cascade over two arched windows, matching a
study desk set to the side which gives renters a convenient workspace. A
single closet provides space for clothes, standing beside a door which leads
into a complete bathroom.
It is afternoon, about 46F(7C) degrees, and the sky is covered by dark grey stormclouds.
(A ghost with only fragments of memory that have driven them near insane is attacking your target. They must either defeat it or find a way to calm it down.
)
The morning sunlight spills through the curtains of the room, casting a warm glow on the familiar surroundings. As Lydia goes about her daily routine, a peculiar chill descends. Lydia feels a faint whisper of a breeze, stirring the air in the room where the windows remain firmly shut. The hairs on the back of Lydia's neck prickle as she catches glimpses of shadows dancing at the periphery of her vision though every time she looks toward them they dissipate and return to normality. Objects shift ever so slightly, and a delicate murmur reaches her ears a sound that echoes like distant laughter.
A delicate breath of cool air brushes against Lydia's skin. The air carries a faint tension, and Lydia's intuition sends quiet signals that something is off-kilter. Yet, despite Lydia's instincts, nothing seems to immediately spring up that might explain that feeling. Perhaps it's just her imagination.
Lydia is sitting at a desk, idly working on a drawing, a pale figure dancing on a stage bathed in darkness. As a faint shiver runs down her spine she glances up, looking around her hotel room, frowning a little as she gazes at the shut windows, trying to shake the odd feeling from her mind.
Midstroke, Lydia's hand freezes above the paper. Lydia's hand moves against her will, seemingly guided by an invisible hand, and her drawing veers away from the dancer's graceful movements. In a grotesque turn, it sketches the pale dancer now writhing in anguish, surrounded by shadows that seem to close in with every stroke.
Lydia's hand moves mechanically by itself, the pencil scrawling the word "murderer" across the paper in an unsettling repetition, an involuntary act that Lydia may desperately try to resist, but the oppressive force in her drawing arm seems to be too much. Simultaneously, the room around her pulses with an ominous energy. Objects tremble on surfaces, defying gravity as they lift into the air with an eerie levitation.
Lydia stares down at her arm as it forced across the paper. "What the fuck..." she whispers, trying vainly to gain control of her arm, to wrench it away with her thought. As the room starts to vibrate against her she looks up from the constantly repeated words on the paper, her face paler than usual. "What... what's going on? I'm not who you want!"
For a moment, Lydia's body is no longer her own; it moves under the control of a relentless ghostly force. In a horrifying trance, Lydia finds herself compelled to press the tip of the pencil closer to her eye, the possessed hand moving with a cruel insistence, the sharp pencil inching perilously closer to the delicate orb of Lydia's eye. Every muscle strains against the spectral grip, a battle between wills that plays out within the confines of Lydia's own flesh. With a surge of determination, Lydia summons a strength she didn't know she possessed, and in a desperate struggle, she begins to reclaim ownership of her own limbs. The ghost fights back, its ethereal presence resisting expulsion with a grip that claws at her very essence. Pain courses through Lydia, an agonizing symphony as she grapples with the otherworldly invader. Inch by painful inch, she manages to push the ghost out, feeling it recoil like a wraith reluctantly departing its host.
A guttural scream echoes through the hotel room, a sound that chills the very air. Suddenly, objects within the room begin to tremble before hurtling through the air with malicious intent. someone is caught in the maelstrom, frantically ducking and dodging as the room transforms into a tempest of flying belongings.
"I DIED HERE! YOU DID THIS! YOU DID THIS!!!" Declares an unseen ghostly voice, steeped unresolved rage, erupts in an otherworldly scream that pierces through the room like a banshee's wail. The air quivers with the intensity of it's fury, an unearthly force unleashed in an anguished howl.
For a moment, Lydia's body is no longer her own; it moves under the control of a relentless ghostly force. In a horrifying trance, Lydia finds herself compelled to press the tip of the pencil closer to her eye, the possessed hand moving with a cruel insistence, the sharp pencil inching perilously closer to the delicate orb of Lydia's eye. Every muscle strains against the spectral grip, a battle between wills that plays out within the confines of Lydia's own flesh. With a surge of determination, Lydia summons a strength she didn't know she possessed, and in a desperate struggle, she begins to reclaim ownership of her own limbs. The ghost fights back, its ethereal presence resisting expulsion with a grip that claws at her very essence. Pain courses through Lydia, an agonizing symphony as she grapples with the otherworldly invader. Inch by painful inch, she manages to push the ghost out, feeling it recoil like a wraith reluctantly departing its host.
A guttural scream echoes through the hotel room, a sound that chills the very air. Suddenly, objects within the room begin to tremble before hurtling through the air with malicious intent. Lydia is caught in the maelstrom, frantically ducking and dodging as the room transforms into a tempest of flying belongings.
"I DIED HERE! YOU DID THIS! YOU DID THIS!!!" Declares an unseen ghostly voice, steeped unresolved rage, erupts in an otherworldly scream that pierces through the room like a banshee's wail. The air quivers with the intensity of it's fury, an unearthly force unleashed in an anguished howl.
Lydia screams as she grasps her own wrist with her free hand, steadily forcing away her arm with the desperation of her struggle, eye fixed on the sharp end of her pencil. "No!" she cries out as the objects hurtle around her and she drops down to her belly. "Please! I'm new here! It wasn't me, I swear!"
With good instinct, Lydia drops down to her belly, seeking refuge from the spectral onslaught. The air crackles with an otherworldly energy as she crawls, low and desperate, avoiding the trajectory of each airborne object. As the poltergeist's furious rampage continues, Lydia senses a subtle shift in the air. The once unrestrained energy seems to wane, and she intuits a weariness in the spectral force. The objects thrown about lose their earlier intensity, the crashes becoming less frequent. Instinctively, she recognizes the telltale signs of a manifestation on the verge of exhaustion.
"You did this to me!" The poltergeist's voice reverberates with that accusing fury, "Your hands stained with my blood, and you dare to live, to breathe, as if my life meant nothing! Murderer!!!" The words carry the weight of unresolved anguish as the ghostly presence seethes with resentment.
With a With surge of malevolent energy, the poltergeist unleashes it's the last legs wrath, hurtling the bed toward the Lydia with a terrifying force. The heavy frame moves through the air, propelled by unseen hands, aiming to crush her beneath its weight. And it just might if she doesn't scramble out of the way quickly enough.
Lydia screams in terror as the bet hurls toward her. She throws herself to the side, doing her best to try and avoid the heavy object and scrabble for the door at the same time.
Reacting on pure instinct, Lydia manages to scramble out of the bed's path just in the nick of time. The heavy frame crashes to the ground with a deafening thud, missing Lydia by mere inches. Heart pounding, Lydia retreats into the hallway, the ghostly onslaught still reverberating within the room. The air crackles with residual energy as she takes refuge in the corridor.
As the ghostly tantrum reaches it's crescendo, Lydia senses a subtle shift in the energy around her. The once frenetic activity begins to wane, the poltergeist's supernatural fury dissipates, the call from what awaits beyond managing to override it's scorn. The objects that were once flung about now settle into an uneasy stillness. The air, thick with spectral tension, calms. The room is now back to normal - if extremely messy, with an overturned bed and a few objects broken here and there.
The confrontation escalates as the ghost channels its rage into a physical assault, throwing a bed in Lydia's direction with lethal intent. In a hair-raising escape, Lydia evades crushing death by mere inches. Her successful retreat to the hallway marks a turning point as the ghost's energy fades, succumbing to some otherworldly call that pulls it away from the mortal plane. The vengeful spirit's strength ebbs away, leaving behind an eerie calm and a room in disarray, evidence of the otherworldly struggle that occurred between the living and the specter.
(Lydia's odd encounter(SRKylia):SRKylia)
[Sun Nov 19 2023]
In room 104
A lone sleigh bed entices visitors to rest, complete with fluffed white
pillows and a soft cream comforter. The petite room boasts simplicity at
it's finest. Caramel curtains cascade over two arched windows, matching a
study desk set to the side which gives renters a convenient workspace. A
single closet provides space for clothes, standing beside a door which leads
into a complete bathroom.
It is afternoon, about 46F(7C) degrees, and the sky is covered by dark grey stormclouds.
(A ghost with only fragments of memory that have driven them near insane is attacking your target. They must either defeat it or find a way to calm it down.
)
The morning sunlight spills through the curtains of the room, casting a warm glow on the familiar surroundings. As Lydia goes about her daily routine, a peculiar chill descends. Lydia feels a faint whisper of a breeze, stirring the air in the room where the windows remain firmly shut. The hairs on the back of Lydia's neck prickle as she catches glimpses of shadows dancing at the periphery of her vision though every time she looks toward them they dissipate and return to normality. Objects shift ever so slightly, and a delicate murmur reaches her ears a sound that echoes like distant laughter.
A delicate breath of cool air brushes against Lydia's skin. The air carries a faint tension, and Lydia's intuition sends quiet signals that something is off-kilter. Yet, despite Lydia's instincts, nothing seems to immediately spring up that might explain that feeling. Perhaps it's just her imagination.
Lydia is sitting at a desk, idly working on a drawing, a pale figure dancing on a stage bathed in darkness. As a faint shiver runs down her spine she glances up, looking around her hotel room, frowning a little as she gazes at the shut windows, trying to shake the odd feeling from her mind.
Midstroke, Lydia's hand freezes above the paper. Lydia's hand moves against her will, seemingly guided by an invisible hand, and her drawing veers away from the dancer's graceful movements. In a grotesque turn, it sketches the pale dancer now writhing in anguish, surrounded by shadows that seem to close in with every stroke.
Lydia's hand moves mechanically by itself, the pencil scrawling the word "murderer" across the paper in an unsettling repetition, an involuntary act that Lydia may desperately try to resist, but the oppressive force in her drawing arm seems to be too much. Simultaneously, the room around her pulses with an ominous energy. Objects tremble on surfaces, defying gravity as they lift into the air with an eerie levitation.
Lydia stares down at her arm as it forced across the paper. "What the fuck..." she whispers, trying vainly to gain control of her arm, to wrench it away with her thought. As the room starts to vibrate against her she looks up from the constantly repeated words on the paper, her face paler than usual. "What... what's going on? I'm not who you want!"
For a moment, Lydia's body is no longer her own; it moves under the control of a relentless ghostly force. In a horrifying trance, Lydia finds herself compelled to press the tip of the pencil closer to her eye, the possessed hand moving with a cruel insistence, the sharp pencil inching perilously closer to the delicate orb of Lydia's eye. Every muscle strains against the spectral grip, a battle between wills that plays out within the confines of Lydia's own flesh. With a surge of determination, Lydia summons a strength she didn't know she possessed, and in a desperate struggle, she begins to reclaim ownership of her own limbs. The ghost fights back, its ethereal presence resisting expulsion with a grip that claws at her very essence. Pain courses through Lydia, an agonizing symphony as she grapples with the otherworldly invader. Inch by painful inch, she manages to push the ghost out, feeling it recoil like a wraith reluctantly departing its host.
A guttural scream echoes through the hotel room, a sound that chills the very air. Suddenly, objects within the room begin to tremble before hurtling through the air with malicious intent. someone is caught in the maelstrom, frantically ducking and dodging as the room transforms into a tempest of flying belongings.
"I DIED HERE! YOU DID THIS! YOU DID THIS!!!" Declares an unseen ghostly voice, steeped unresolved rage, erupts in an otherworldly scream that pierces through the room like a banshee's wail. The air quivers with the intensity of it's fury, an unearthly force unleashed in an anguished howl.
For a moment, Lydia's body is no longer her own; it moves under the control of a relentless ghostly force. In a horrifying trance, Lydia finds herself compelled to press the tip of the pencil closer to her eye, the possessed hand moving with a cruel insistence, the sharp pencil inching perilously closer to the delicate orb of Lydia's eye. Every muscle strains against the spectral grip, a battle between wills that plays out within the confines of Lydia's own flesh. With a surge of determination, Lydia summons a strength she didn't know she possessed, and in a desperate struggle, she begins to reclaim ownership of her own limbs. The ghost fights back, its ethereal presence resisting expulsion with a grip that claws at her very essence. Pain courses through Lydia, an agonizing symphony as she grapples with the otherworldly invader. Inch by painful inch, she manages to push the ghost out, feeling it recoil like a wraith reluctantly departing its host.
A guttural scream echoes through the hotel room, a sound that chills the very air. Suddenly, objects within the room begin to tremble before hurtling through the air with malicious intent. Lydia is caught in the maelstrom, frantically ducking and dodging as the room transforms into a tempest of flying belongings.
"I DIED HERE! YOU DID THIS! YOU DID THIS!!!" Declares an unseen ghostly voice, steeped unresolved rage, erupts in an otherworldly scream that pierces through the room like a banshee's wail. The air quivers with the intensity of it's fury, an unearthly force unleashed in an anguished howl.
Lydia screams as she grasps her own wrist with her free hand, steadily forcing away her arm with the desperation of her struggle, eye fixed on the sharp end of her pencil. "No!" she cries out as the objects hurtle around her and she drops down to her belly. "Please! I'm new here! It wasn't me, I swear!"
With good instinct, Lydia drops down to her belly, seeking refuge from the spectral onslaught. The air crackles with an otherworldly energy as she crawls, low and desperate, avoiding the trajectory of each airborne object. As the poltergeist's furious rampage continues, Lydia senses a subtle shift in the air. The once unrestrained energy seems to wane, and she intuits a weariness in the spectral force. The objects thrown about lose their earlier intensity, the crashes becoming less frequent. Instinctively, she recognizes the telltale signs of a manifestation on the verge of exhaustion.
"You did this to me!" The poltergeist's voice reverberates with that accusing fury, "Your hands stained with my blood, and you dare to live, to breathe, as if my life meant nothing! Murderer!!!" The words carry the weight of unresolved anguish as the ghostly presence seethes with resentment.
With a With surge of malevolent energy, the poltergeist unleashes it's the last legs wrath, hurtling the bed toward the Lydia with a terrifying force. The heavy frame moves through the air, propelled by unseen hands, aiming to crush her beneath its weight. And it just might if she doesn't scramble out of the way quickly enough.
Lydia screams in terror as the bet hurls toward her. She throws herself to the side, doing her best to try and avoid the heavy object and scrabble for the door at the same time.
Reacting on pure instinct, Lydia manages to scramble out of the bed's path just in the nick of time. The heavy frame crashes to the ground with a deafening thud, missing Lydia by mere inches. Heart pounding, Lydia retreats into the hallway, the ghostly onslaught still reverberating within the room. The air crackles with residual energy as she takes refuge in the corridor.
As the ghostly tantrum reaches it's crescendo, Lydia senses a subtle shift in the energy around her. The once frenetic activity begins to wane, the poltergeist's supernatural fury dissipates, the call from what awaits beyond managing to override it's scorn. The objects that were once flung about now settle into an uneasy stillness. The air, thick with spectral tension, calms. The room is now back to normal - if extremely messy, with an overturned bed and a few objects broken here and there.