Encounterlogs
Morgans Odd Encounter Sr Victoria 240829
In a late-night encounter within the colorful yet tension-filled ambiance of a community chapel, Fayad and Euphemia, representing the Disruptors, find themselves presented with an enigmatic offer by operatives of the Golden Shadow. These operatives propose the exchange of information regarding a powerful artifact hidden within Haven, capable of granting an immeasurable advantage in their struggle against corporate forces. However, the price for such knowledge is steep—either monetary compensation or the promise of a future favor. Fayad, bristling with skepticism and annoyance, leans towards a one-time, tangible payment, minimizing the risk of unforeseen obligations. Euphemia, displaying a mix of caution and inquisitiveness, demands further clarification on the motives behind the Golden Shadow's proposition, highlighting the operatives’ potential to exploit the artifact for their own ends.
Ultimately, after a charged dialogue filled with veiled threats and assurances, Fayad consents to the monetary arrangement, transferring the sum of 20,000 through a sleek, unmarked smartphone provided by the operatives. This decision marks a pivotal moment for the Disruptors, buying them a significant lead in their crusade but also entangling them in a web of mercenary ethics and shadowy agendas. As the Golden Shadow representatives disappear as quietly as they arrived, Fayad and Euphemia are left to ponder the implications of their newfound knowledge, the exact nature and power of the artifact, and the true cost of the deal they've just struck. The promised artifact, shrouded in mystery and danger, symbolizes both a formidable weapon and shield against their adversaries, promising a significant leverage but also foreshadowing a potentially perilous journey ahead in their fight against Vetr Global and its omnipresent influence.
(Morgan's odd encounter(SRVictoria):SRVictoria)
[Wed Aug 28 2024]
In The Forest
It is after dusk, about 90F(32C) degrees, There is a waning crescent moon.
(A group of supernatural hunters is out to get your target. Maybe for sport, maybe from ideology, in either case they need to survive for long enough that their allies can come and help them deal with the threat.
)
As Morgan is out hunting, she finds the darkness isnt an issue for her, and perhaps not even that chill to the air thats so odd, though something is. Something that is not a normal monster that shed be out looking for at this time. Once the last creature is dispatched, theres a snap of a twig, the crunch of a leaf, and finally, whispers that seem all too loud for being this far within the forests grasp. Hey, watch it! a gruff male voice hisses, only to receive a reply of equal measure in feminine tones, Its not like I can see too well out here!. Annoyed voices, creeping ever closer to her, encroaching on her very hunting spot.
As Morgan is out hunting, she finds the darkness isnt an issue for her, and perhaps not even that chill to the air thats so odd, though something is. Something that is not a normal monster that shed be out looking for at this time. Once the last creature is dispatched, theres a snap of a twig, the crunch of a leaf, and finally, whispers that seem all too loud for being this far within the forests grasp. Hey, watch it! a gruff male voice hisses, only to receive a reply of equal measure in feminine tones, Its not like I can see too well out here!. Annoyed voices, creeping ever closer to her, encroaching on her very hunting spot.
As Morgan is out hunting, she finds the darkness isnt an issue for her, and perhaps not even that chill to the air thats so odd, though something is. Something that is not a normal monster that shed be out looking for at this time. Once the last creature is dispatched, theres a snap of a twig, the crunch of a leaf, and finally, whispers that seem all too loud for being this far within the forests grasp. Hey, watch it! a gruff male voice hisses, only to receive a reply of equal measure in feminine tones, Its not like I can see too well out here!. Annoyed voices, creeping ever closer to her, encroaching on her very hunting spot.
Darkness creeps over the town as the sun goes down, making the woods all the more eerie and ominous. Shadows disappear with the sun, and theres a chill to the air uncharacteristic for Haven at this time of the year. Stars line the night sky in an effort to pierce the dark of the forest, though theyre obstructed by the tall trees and their limbs which cross every way possible to ensure glancing directly upwards becomes nearly impossible.
As Morgan is out hunting, she finds the darkness isnt an issue for her, and perhaps not even that chill to the air thats so odd, though something is. Something that is not a normal monster that shed be out looking for at this time. Once the last creature is dispatched, theres a snap of a twig, the crunch of a leaf, and finally, whispers that seem all too loud for being this far within the forests grasp. Hey, watch it! a gruff male voice hisses, only to receive a reply of equal measure in feminine tones, Its not like I can see too well out here!. Annoyed voices, creeping ever closer to her, encroaching on her very hunting spot.
You sure you saw them here? the feminine voice whispers in a sibilant tone. Of course Im sure, her male companion replies. We have to get them all, run them out of town. Theres a quick noise within the air- a noise that can only be one thing. The hammer of a gun as it cocks at the ready. Damn wolves anyways. Theyll make a much better carpet.
Are you sure were gonna get paid for this? a womans whisper asks, unsure. Then all falls quiet, footsteps stop. Theres one close.
Morgan sniffs the air and weathers feeling of her sole pack mate. The darkness is easily pierced by her strange eyes, more animal than human. But with the same perks of a human hunting eyes, tracking of movement. She goes still when the air about her is disturbed. The stars cast light to illuminate her new pray. She glides softly across the ground. She exhales soft, of course. Werewolf hunters? She almost rolls her eyes. These are professionals? She glides up into the world, a night silent change as she becomes a small cute little finch, fluttering up into the trees, moving to peer at her would be hunters
Professionals they may be, though not the best ones as they continue to thud feet upon the wooded ground, crunches and snaps heard very easily by Morgan as they continue what they believe to be a sneaky trek to locate a wolf- any wolf. As Morgan shifts and flits upwards, she catches a glimpse of blonde hair, not the most subtle thing in the forest, as well as two long barrels of shotguns that are pointed at her.
As impressive as the camouflage of the hunters outfits may be, its no match for the eyes of a wolf, and even as a finch Morgan can probably spot them way too easily. The man towers at just over six feet tall, peering at what he can see with narrowed eyes and a hat that falls a bit too much toward the lids of his eyes. In contrast the woman moves with more grace despite the folly of her hair being loose, and though she stands much shorter, theres an iron grip on the gun she holds. "Should have just set a trap, would have been easier than this," she groans before clapping a hand over her mouth.
Morgan is a generally considered calm person. She doesn't really lust for violence. She doesn't seem particularily pulled to hurting people. She doesn't rise to challenges that others seem well in hand and that's because she likes to give them a chance to handle their own business. She's a woman out of step with the natural world. She doesn't belong here, in this time. She belongs to an older one. She simply didn't have the decency to die. That's a problem in the here and now for these hunters because they are threatening hers, and there is nobody else here to deal with them but her.
It's a flutter of wings at first, but it shifts in the descent to a massive and black furred wolf. She picks her target, whomever is in the back. The guns are guns, she's less concerned with their limitations than a sudden and violent test of the capabilities than anything else. She lets out a deep and terrible howl of promised violence, and tears into her prey.
Both hunters freeze in place when Morgan lets loose that howl, and even the narrow-eyed mans expression changes. Theres a new scent in the air that Morgan can certainly pick up- one of fear. The woman flicks the barrel of her gun up irritably. "Why do you look like that? her voice hisses out, judgement in her tone. This is what we wanted."
"Theres a house back there not far," the man leans over to whisper to her, yanking his female companion quickly behind a nearby tree. "Maybe its one of theirs, and we should start there first." For all his bravado, he seems to change his tune entirely once faced with what may await him in the woods.
"God. Would this make you feel better? At least if youre going to go, take one of these." Rummaging around in a bag slung over her in a crossbody fashion, the woman pulls out a collar, made of metal and electric. "Thats all you have to put on them." Theres a huff of breath, imperceptible to the normal ear that belays her irritation as she leans from the tree to attempt to survey and find out where that howl may be coming from, and how close.
The additional threat of violence toward her home is enough for Morgan to do whatever she can to kill these people. Now of course. There's the work of actually seeing them dead. They know of werewolves, so there's nothing for her to hold back. She looks for one with a handgun and springs towards them, aiming to tear into that one was a first off. She flexes her muscles, scars visible. See what happens with a collar, she dares.
As Morgan leaps towards the two again, powerful and driven by a need to protect whats hers, the tree provides little defense for the two who decided quick money was worth their time in the forest this evening. While the woman attempts a deflect to the left to get behind her, the man does something far more bold. He steps around to the right of the tree, arm extended with something in hand. Its not the shotgun, not even a handgun. What he fires off instead is a tranquilizer dart, aimed for any part of Morgan it can reach in desperation to slow her before she can tear them apart. That collar gets dropped to the ground as he moves, glinting among the foliage in the moonlight.
Morgan seems to grin. The darts might strike but it's going to take more than that to stop her. Before she slows she tears into the man with her jaw, attempting to ragdoll the man and hurl him aside. She begins to transform, if she can manage to disable him for a moment, where she reaches for a handgun and pivots, opening fire upon the other.
The scream of the tall hunter echoes through the woods as Morgan reaches him, and hes overpowered and quickly thrown aside with multiple injuries, tears and deep gouges to his skin. He hits the ground a short distance away, striking his head, and the smell of blood tinges the air. When Morgan shifts to grab that gun, her pivot finds empty air as the female companion has silently seemed to disappear.
It's not long, and Morgan sees a pair of eyes in the darkness. Ones that may rival her own as a wolf, and they share a secret with her about her hunters. Standing in place of the woman is now a jaguar, poised and ready to pounce. Theres a rumble within her throat, a low warning. As deadly as she may be, shes clearly out of place but wont go down without a fight with Morgan it seems. Gun and bag have been flung aside in her transformation, and as someone fingers reach that weapon, she bolts aside with surprising grace, disappearing for the moment but definitely not gone.
It's not long, and Morgan sees a pair of eyes in the darkness. Ones that may rival her own as a wolf, and they share a secret with her about her hunters. Standing in place of the woman is now a jaguar, poised and ready to pounce. Theres a rumble within her throat, a low warning. As deadly as she may be, shes clearly out of place but wont go down without a fight with Morgan it seems. Gun and bag have been flung aside in her transformation, and as Morgan's fingers reach that weapon, she bolts aside with surprising grace, disappearing for the moment but definitely not gone.
Morgan steps lightly on human feet, gliding about the trees with easy steps, eyes trailing towards the jaguar. She lobs the handgun aside and snags a knife. Her eyes are sharp, her head does a slow turn following motions, shrugging off, for the moment, the narcoleptic toxin in her system.
The unknown woman turned shapeshifter before someone eyes seems to be banking on those darts as she stalks through the woods at the edge of her vision, just managing to elude being pinned down to one location. Black fur mimics someone own as a wolf, and is marred only with occasional rosettes that create a pattern within, and the occasional glimpse of wicked, yellow orbs flicks through the darkness. Suddenly as Morgan closes fingers around a knife, her unknown assailant rushes her, moving to pounce with jaw spread wide and large, lethal fangs aiming for her skull.
The unknown woman turned shapeshifter before someone eyes seems to be banking on those darts as she stalks through the woods at the edge of her vision, just managing to elude being pinned down to one location. Black fur mimics Morgan's own as a wolf, and is marred only with occasional rosettes that create a pattern within, and the occasional glimpse of wicked, yellow orbs flicks through the darkness. Suddenly as Morgan closes fingers around a knife, her unknown assailant rushes her, moving to pounce with jaw spread wide and large, lethal fangs aiming for her skull.
The unknown woman turned shapeshifter before Morgan's eyes seems to be banking on those darts as she stalks through the woods at the edge of her vision, just managing to elude being pinned down to one location. Black fur mimics Morgan's own as a wolf, and is marred only with occasional rosettes that create a pattern within, and the occasional glimpse of wicked, yellow orbs flicks through the darkness. Suddenly as Morgan closes fingers around a knife, her unknown assailant rushes her, moving to pounce with jaw spread wide and large, lethal fangs aiming for her skull.
Morgan is not unlike this woman. A shapeshifter with a gift, a warrior, with strong instincts. Capable and fast, and powerful. But there's one thing she has this woman does not. Scars. She pivots, pulling the knife with her as she goes. In her hands it's a claw, an extension of her own striking hand. She doesn't try to interupt the strike. She lets those fangs close around her. But not her skull, her shoulder. Toughened skin slowing those fangs as she grabs around their head and attempts to jam the knife into her neck.
In all her murderous intent, the jaguar meets Morgan's shoulder with piercing teeth that grip her and attempt to yank hard to throw her against a nearby trunk of a tree. Barely letting go in time, she twists herself out of the grasp to her head, just managing to pull away, but not without injury. The knife that was meant for her neck does not plunge into her neck, but it does manage a scathing cut- one that draws a vicious snarl from Morgan's opponent as she leaps back into inky darkness to attempt to recover.
Morgan throws the knife to the ground and rolls her shoulders, one bleeds down the side of her uncovered body, but soon, skin makes way to fur, and claws tear into the ground as she lets out an unearthly howl, beckoning her challenge.
A deep, throaty growl comes from between two trees just in front of Morgan(wolf) when she shifts. The soft thud of oversized paws follows, and Morgan(wolf) soon sees the snarl of her opponent as she stalks within sight. Belongings forgotten and scattered in the fray, the mysterious woman turned jaguar seems determined to either take home the fur she came for, or at the least get out of the woods with her life, though which one is on her mind at the current moment remains to be seen. Matching that unearthly howl of Morgan(wolf) with her own bloodthirsty snarls, she draws low to the ground before leaping directly at Morgan(wolf), claws fully extended and teeth gnashing.
knows why this fight has to continue. Because if the jaguar turns her back to Morgan(wolf) to flee? Morgan(wolf) is going to hunt her down and kill her. She threatened her little wolf. And she has no intention of letting her leave alive. She springs off her backfoot, tacking her down attempting to tear into them.
The two shapeshifters clash as they hit one another, a frenzy of claws and fangs ripping through the otherwise quiet night in the mists of the forest, and theres an audible noise as the two crash into one another. Unfortunately for her, someone blow knocks her to the ground, slides her backwards, where she sees her companion in this adventure lying unconscious on the ground. Her eyes quickly flit to the collar glinting in the foliage, and she springs again. As nimble as Morgan(wolf) is, she finds the one who picked the fight to be slippery to pin as she pivots and bounces, electing to only attempt snapping at Morgan(wolf) after that initial attempt before drawing away, moving back toward the scattered belongings with purpose.
The two shapeshifters clash as they hit one another, a frenzy of claws and fangs ripping through the otherwise quiet night in the mists of the forest, and theres an audible noise as the two crash into one another. Unfortunately for her, Morgan(wolf)'s blow knocks her to the ground, slides her backwards, where she sees her companion in this adventure lying unconscious on the ground. Her eyes quickly flit to the collar glinting in the foliage, and she springs again. As nimble as Morgan(wolf) is, she finds the one who picked the fight to be slippery to pin as she pivots and bounces, electing to only attempt snapping at Morgan(wolf) after that initial attempt before drawing away, moving back toward the scattered belongings with purpose.
Morgan(wolf) persues, swaying slightly and taking an extra moment to get on her feet as she shakes off the narcotic desire to rest. She bounds, trying to keep up with, or overtake. Force her to abandon her things if nothing else
The oversized cat seems to be headed straight for that collar when Morgan(wolf) moves after her, and with a quick turn around to bare her teeth in another warning, shes shifting again. Fur fades to feathers, and eventually the form of a vulture, black as the night is in front of that wolf, attempting to carry the collar into the sky with her. Wicked talons close around the metal, and large wings fan out into an impressive span as she regards Morgan(wolf) with avian pupils that rapidly expand and restrict before making her move to rise into the air.
Morgan(wolf) scowls. She could pursue as her winged form, but she hardly makes for a match to a predator like a vulture as a little finch. She shifts back human, and begins to make her way to race back home.
The woman's now avian form shifts as she rises, turning a keenly focused eye on Morgan(wolf) as she elects to head toward the house she has nearby. With a grip unrivaled upon the collar, within moments shes in the air, and it seems shes going to get away without Morgan(wolf) so much as knowing who she may be. Seeming content to leave her once companion upon the forest floor, she moves to leave, but the earlier injury inflicted by Morgan(wolf) proves fruitful and she falters, dropping that collar back onto the ground again within Morgan(wolf)'s view. As it falls, engraving is visible, though too small to make out and just barely seen through the scrapes and scratches left by the talons that held it aloft.
Morgan(wolf) moves swiftly to snatch as she makes her way, gazing toward it yet as she begins to travel away. Curious.
While there are no outward signs of outside involvement in this nighttime hunt gone wrong, once Morgan has that collar in her grasp she finds a small symbol engraved, as well as initials. On the left hand side, near the clasp, a fractured, tear-shaped blue sapphire has been crudely inscribed, while on the right, initials that have been deeply scratched rest within the metal. Almost unreadable, they appear to show as "V.M.", perhaps a reminder of who this particular collar was meant for. The large bird of prey retreats to a branch as high up as possible, her head hanging slightly in pain from earlier blows as she watches Morgan.
Morgan walks slowly gazing at the vulture. Seems she has a shot at them yet. She begins to circle, ironic. "Surrender and live," she offers generously
For the moment, the vulture atop the branches decides to take her chances, stretching wings and bravely attempting to bring her injured neck all the way up to appear intimidating. Her head twists one way, then the other as she watches Morgan make her way towards her, only moving again to stumble slightly as her head falls forward. Catching herself, within seconds shes shifted back and is a woman again, firmly gripping to the trunk of the tree for balance. "Take it," she says in a high-pitched tone that cuts through the stillness of the mist wreathed forest with ease. "We just wanted the payment we were promised," she nearly shouts to Morgan, one hand clasping the back of her neck. A thin line of blood trails between her fingers, running down her neck.
Morgan shakes her head as she stalks forward. "Do you know why I have to kill you?" she asks in a soft, reasonable tone. "Because you thought there was a reward in this world worth threatening my little wolf for." She sighs. "How are people going to learn if you survive?"
"I don't have any idea who your 'little wolf' is," the woman retorts with a defiant flick of blonde hair over a bare shoulder, "but if she brings as much payment as you, I hope you both turn to a fur coat." There's a taunting, sarcastic smile given to Morgan, and she brings her arms out from her sides as if daring the other woman to continue coming forward. After a long moment she begins to laugh, an unsettling sound, and simply falls backward from atop the branches of the tree. Just as it seems she may hit the ground, feathers overtake flesh once again and she swoops upward, disappearing into the night once glittering eyes are turned away. There's barely a sound, and if Morgan turns, she will see the woman's companion has vanished as well, the only sign of his existence the pooled blood where he had been. Belongings still scatter the ground, left without a care.
Morgan makes a lunge but just too slow it seems. She growls and gazes back at the body and throws a hand to the side. Frustrated. "Assholes, pray we don't cross paths again," She murmurs.
There's a soft noise in the air that sounds much like mocking laughter that fades away within moments, leaving Morgan back on her own within the woods.
Fayad is seething and arranging an attack on City Hall with Euphemia utilizing the psychic operations of the Disruptors, clenching an eviction notice in his right hand.
Euphemia seems to be attempting to reason with Fayad, one hand extended to gently coax him towards calm. She seems a little tired -- Her hoodie tied tightly around her waist, holding a small religous pendant clutched in her right hand.
The vibrant chapel of the community center is alive with colors, even in the late hours. West-facing windows filter in the dim light of the street, casting long shadows across the fiery-hued cloth on the altar. Bright banners with uplifting verses hang on the walls, contrasting sharply with the tension that now fills the room.@line
Rows of simple folding chairs are arranged facing the stage, where the well-worn pulpit stands silent. The air, which usually hums with contemporary praise music, now feels heavy with the weight of whats to come. Behind the pulpit, the golden tabernacle gleams under the faint light, a symbol of faith and stability that feels distant from the turmoil inside Fayad's mind.@line
The chapel is spotless, as if untouched by the outside world, but the seething energy from Fayad threatens to spill over. As he strategizes and Euphemia soothes, the air shifts, and they sense a presence.
someone The door to the chapel creaks open, regardless of any locks and two figures saunter in. Their movements are smooth, almost too quiet for the vibrant surroundings. Dressed in dark, tactical gear, they exude an air of detached confidence. The emblem of the Golden Shadowa golden dagger plunged through a shadowy globegleams faintly on their armor.
The taller of the two steps forward, their voice calm but carrying a weight that commands attention. "We are the Golden Shadow," they announce, eyes flicking between Fayad and Euphemia, but focus on the former. "Weve come with a proposition, Disruptors."
The vibrant chapel of the community center is alive with colors, even in the late hours. West-facing windows filter in the dim light of the street, casting long shadows across the fiery-hued cloth on the altar. Bright banners with uplifting verses hang on the walls, contrasting sharply with the tension that now fills the room.
Rows of simple folding chairs are arranged facing the stage, where the well-worn pulpit stands silent. The air, which usually hums with contemporary praise music, now feels heavy with the weight of whats to come. Behind the pulpit, the golden tabernacle gleams under the faint light, a symbol of faith and stability that feels distant from the turmoil inside Fayad's mind.
The chapel is spotless, as if untouched by the outside world, but the seething energy from Fayad threatens to spill over. As he strategizes and Euphemia soothes, the air shifts, and they sense a presence.
The door to the chapel creaks open, regardless of any locks and two figures saunter in. Their movements are smooth, almost too quiet for the vibrant surroundings. Dressed in dark, tactical gear, they exude an air of detached confidence. The emblem of the Golden Shadow - a golden dagger plunged through a shadowy globe - gleams faintly on their armor.
The taller of the two steps forward, their voice calm but carrying a weight that commands attention. "We are the Golden Shadow," they announce, eyes flicking between Fayad and Euphemia, but focus on the former. "We've come with a proposition, Disruptors."
(In the dead of night, your group is approached by a pair of Golden Shadow operatives. They seem to have no intention of engaging in combat, but they do offer you a deal. They've learned of a rare, powerful artifact, a supernatural weapon of sorts, that's located within Haven. They're willing to share its location with you, in exchange for a hefty fee, or perhaps, for a favor in the future. However, they neglect to mention that this artifact is protected by a blood pact, binding it to a powerful demon. Retrieving it will not only mean facing the demon, but potentially breaking a pact and triggering a supernatural fallout. The group must weigh the potential power against the risk and decide what to do.)
Fayad turns, aggravated. "What is it? Are you planning on dealing with Vetr for us, or something?", he sighs. "I don't think I've ever seen any of you in person," he mutters, calming down. "I'll tell you the story of how I became aware later," he mentions to Euphemia. "They leave cursed objects around places and charge people to break the curse as a money-raising scheme," he snorts. "I fell afoul of one without knowing what it was."
They pause, letting the silence stretch for a moment. "No... no, we've come to help. You see... theres an Object Of immense Power hidden within Haven - a tool that could turn the tide in your favor. We know where it is. But information like this comes with a price. Pay us, or owe us a favor. The choice is yours."@line
Their gaze sharpens as they add, "A sect just beginning, against such a corporate conglomerate... you could use this hand up. A gift that amplifies your power in the nightmare realm."
The vibrant chapel seems to close in around them, the lively atmosphere at odds with the dangerous decision before Fayad and Euphemia. The Golden Shadow operatives stand still, awaiting their answer, smiling softly with arrogant assumptions.
Euphemia glances down at Fayad's gauntlet, before turning her attention to the encroaching congregation. She smiles warmly, slipping one hand into a pocket, as she steps in front of Fayad - positioning herself between these unfamiliar strangers and the man standing behind her. She glances over her shoulder, tilting her head to Fayad expectantly. "...I think-" She murmurs, turning her attention to the tactically dressed ops. "...We need to hear more."
Fayad squints. "What are you looking to be paid in?", he comments, apparantly weighing the risks of collaboration against the risks of owing a favor.
The Golden Shadow agents exchange a quick glance, their faces unreadable behind the dark tactical gear. The taller operative, who has been leading the conversation, steps forward slightly, offering a smooth, practiced smile that doesnt quite reach their eyes.
"Were flexible," the operative begins, their tone light but calculated. "Money always talks, of course. But in times like these, currency is just one form of leverage. Information, connections, resources... we value all of these. And, as you seem to already understand, favors are often the most valuable currency of all."
They pause, letting the weight of that statement sink in. The second agent, who has remained silent until now, leans in slightly, adding, "Were looking for something... mutually beneficial. Something that ensures we both get what we want out of this crumbling world."
The taller operative tilts their head, their gaze now locking with Fayad's. "Think of it this wayif youre successful in your endeavors, and we help make that happen, wed simply want to be able to call on you when the time is right. Nothing more, nothing less."
They don't push too hard, allowing Fayad to consider the offer on his own terms, but the underlying message is clear: They are offering power, but they expect something of equal value in return - be it information, resources, or a promise that binds him to them when they need it most.
Fayad glances uncertainly at Euphemia and takes Euphemia's lead, permitting his angelic bodyguard to step in for him. "What do you think?", he mutters.
Euphemia says, lowering her voice, "...Depends on how much you think you can accomplish on your own. They're right, you've only just scrounged the group together -- and I doubt you have any influence after throwing away all of our connections to Gonthorian."
Euphemia says, still speaking quietly, "...I don't know this corporate bumbag. I don't know how difficult you expect this to be. But if you take this deal, you could be obligating yourself to an agenda you don't fully support."
Fayad says "...We'll pay. In money."
Fayad says "At least that's single-time and known."
The taller operative meets his partner's eyes, their silent communication conveying disappointment and resignation. His partner, a quieter figure with a sharp gaze, exhales softly, the sound barely audible in the chapel's stillness. Though the choice of payment doesn't entirely satisfy them, they understand the value of closing this deal. The taller operative turns back to Fayad and Euphemia, the faintest hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips.
"Very well," he begins, his voice smooth and measured, as if he's practiced this very moment a thousand times. "For information of this magnitude, the price is 20,000. A fair exchange, considering what were offering - and what you stand to gain."
His words carry an undercurrent of calculated persuasion, designed to reinforce Fayad's decision. The chapel, with its vibrant banners and the quiet presence of faith, seems to hold its breath as the weight of the transaction presses down on the room. The operatives eyes flicker toward the eviction notice still clutched in someone hand, and he uses it as a pivot for his next statement.
"You've made a wise choice, Disruptors. With this knowledge, youll have the upper hand against Voss and his insufferable egregore. This wont just be a protest - itll be a reckoning, the kind that shakes the foundations of power. Vetr will remember this day for years to come, and so will anyone foolish enough to stand in your way."
He pauses, letting his words settle into the charged air between them. There's an edge of dark anticipation in his tone, as if he's as eager as Fayad to see the fallout from this decision. The shorter operative, who has been watching the exchange with a critical eye, briefly narrows his gaze at his partner's choice of words - too blunt, too revealing. But professionalism prevails, and he steps forward, taking control of the conversation with a more measured, precise tone.
"But there's more to this than just Voss," the shorter operative adds, his voice smooth and detached, like a scalpel cutting through the tension. "This artifact were leading you to - it isn't just a weapon of destruction. It's a shield, a safeguard against forces that even the most powerful among us struggle to contend with."
The taller operative meets his partner's eyes, their silent communication conveying disappointment and resignation. His partner, a quieter figure with a sharp gaze, exhales softly, the sound barely audible in the chapel's stillness. Though the choice of payment doesn't entirely satisfy them, they understand the value of closing this deal. The taller operative turns back to Fayad and Euphemia, the faintest hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips.
"Very well," he begins, his voice smooth and measured, as if he's practiced this very moment a thousand times. "For information of this magnitude, the price is 20,000. A fair exchange, considering what were offering - and what you stand to gain."
His words carry an undercurrent of calculated persuasion, designed to reinforce Fayad's decision. The chapel, with its vibrant banners and the quiet presence of faith, seems to hold its breath as the weight of the transaction presses down on the room. The operatives eyes flicker toward the eviction notice still clutched in Fayad's hand, and he uses it as a pivot for his next statement.
"You've made a wise choice, Disruptors. With this knowledge, youll have the upper hand against Voss and his insufferable egregore. This wont just be a protest - itll be a reckoning, the kind that shakes the foundations of power. Vetr will remember this day for years to come, and so will anyone foolish enough to stand in your way."
He pauses, letting his words settle into the charged air between them. There's an edge of dark anticipation in his tone, as if he's as eager as Fayad to see the fallout from this decision. The shorter operative, who has been watching the exchange with a critical eye, briefly narrows his gaze at his partner's choice of words - too blunt, too revealing. But professionalism prevails, and he steps forward, taking control of the conversation with a more measured, precise tone.
"But there's more to this than just Voss," the shorter operative adds, his voice smooth and detached, like a scalpel cutting through the tension. "This artifact were leading you to - it isn't just a weapon of destruction. It's a shield, a safeguard against forces that even the most powerful among us struggle to contend with."
He glances at Euphemia, as he mentions protection and safety again the powerful, the strong. "The field this device generates - it creates a dead zone for Primal spirits. Its toxic to any being tied to the natural world. You'll be untouchable, even to the dragon. His wrath will be powerless against you, should he care to send it. This isn't just about strength, Fayad - it's about ensuring that no one can take what youve built."
His words are carefully chosen, crafted to appeal to the protective instincts both Fayad and Euphemia might harbor - not just for their cause, but for the underdogs they work to protect. He lets the implications of his statement linger in the air, before reaching into his jacket and pulling out a small, nondescript smartphone. The device is sleek, black, with no distinguishing marks - a stark contrast to the vibrant surroundings of the chapel.
"This is your conduit," he says, holding it out to Fayad with a deliberate, almost ceremonial gesture. "The phone is named 'Golden Shadow.' Wire the funds to the account on this device, and the information is yours. Simple as that." He seems to presume that Fayad is tech-savvy enough to be able to set up his phone to tap theirs, and send.
He pauses, giving Fayad and Euphemia time to absorb the gravity of the transaction. The smartphone, so unassuming in appearance, now feels like a weighty artifact in its own right - a physical manifestation of the path they're about to choose. The shorter operative's gaze flicks to Fayad's clenched fist, the eviction notice still crumpled within it, and then back to Euphemia, standing protectively by his side. There's a brief moment where the operatives seem to blend into the chapel's shadows, becoming extensions of the looming decisions that Fayad must now confront.
His partner gives a slow, deliberate nod, reinforcing the message. The Golden Shadow agents remain poised, professional, yet theres an undeniable sense that they are waiting with a certain cold patience, confident that the deal will be sealed. All that remains is for Fayad and Euphemia to take that final step.
Fayad takes the phone and fiddles with it, operating the transfer of resources quietly. "There," he mutters. "The only reason I'm trusting you is because you're all fucking mercenaries and if you stiff me then everyone will know."
Euphemia' eyes narrow as the representative delves into the full nature of this artifact, flicking almost immediately to the silent individual standing in silence to the side. Her hand moves to stop Fayad before he can take the phone - and she takes it herself, flipping the device open. "...What exactly do you gain from sharing this information? That's a lot of money, sure. But you COULD use this artifact for your own means."
Fayad says "O-oh. "
Fayad steps back, wide-eyed, letting Euphemia take control. He...blushes. Yeah. Okay. It's clear who's in control now.
The taller operative's smile doesn't falter, but his eyes sharpen slightly as Euphemia intercepts Fayad's phone from connecting. Her words hang in the air, a challenge that cuts through the smooth flow of their negotiation. The shorter operative, who had been standing quietly until now, shifts his weight subtly, his gaze never leaving Euphemia. It's clear they were expecting questions, but the directness catches them off guard.
The taller operative is the first to respond, his tone calm and measured. "A fair question," he acknowledges, his smile still in place but now with a hint of something more - respect, perhaps, or a recognition of Euphemia's sharp instincts. "But you have to understand - our business is information, not possession. The Golden Shadow thrives on deals, not hoarding power. Using such an artifact ourselves... well, that would paint a target on our backs. And in a world like this, the fewer targets you carry, the better."
He lets that sink in before continuing, his voice carrying the weight of experience. "We operate in the shadows for a reason. We deal in power, but we don't flaunt it. It's far more profitable - and far less risky - to share the knowledge with those who can make use of it. You want to bring down Voss, make your statement. We want to facilitate that. We gain by making sure our clients succeed."
The shorter operative, still silent, nods in agreement before adding in a low, even tone, "And let's be honest - the artifact in question, while powerful, isn't suited to our particular skill set. We're not in the business of getting involved with... certain forces. You, on the other hand, have the means and the ambition to use it to its full potential. That's why we're offering it to you."
There's a moment of silence as they let their words sink in, the unspoken truth hovering between them. They aren't just selling information - they're ensuring that the artifact ends up in hands capable of wielding it, hands that won't threaten their own operations. And these brand new Disruptors wouldn't be such a threat.
The taller operative finally leans in slightly, his voice dropping just enough to convey sincerity. "At the end of the day, we're mercenaries, miss. We profit by empowering others, not by claiming power for ourselves. We've done our research, and we believe this is a win-win for both of us."
He steps back, letting her process his words, the phone still held out, the deal now resting on her judgment.
That taller operative's smile doesn't falter, but his eyes sharpen slightly as Euphemia intercepts the phone. Her words hang in the air, a challenge that cuts through the smooth flow of their negotiation. The shorter operative, who had been standing quietly until now, shifts his weight subtly, his gaze never leaving Euphemia. It's clear they were expecting questions, but the directness catches them off guard.
The taller operative is the first to respond, his tone calm and measured. "A fair question," he acknowledges, his smile still in place but now with a hint of something more - respect, perhaps, or a recognition of Euphemia's sharp instincts. "But you have to understand - our business is information, not possession. The Golden Shadow thrives on deals, not hoarding power. Using such an artifact ourselves... well, that would paint a target on our backs. And in a world like this, the fewer targets you carry, the better."
He lets that sink in before continuing, his voice carrying the weight of experience. "We operate in the shadows for a reason. We deal in power, but we don't flaunt it. It's far more profitable - and far less risky - to share the knowledge with those who can make use of it. You want to bring down Voss, make your statement. We want to facilitate that. We gain by making sure our clients succeed."
The shorter operative, still silent, nods in agreement before adding in a low, even tone, "And let's be honest - the artifact in question, while powerful, isn't suited to our particular skill set. We're not in the business of getting involved with... certain forces. You, on the other hand, have the means and the ambition to use it to its full potential. That's why we're offering it to you."
There's a moment of silence as they let their words sink in, the unspoken truth hovering between them. They aren't just selling information - they're ensuring that the artifact ends up in hands capable of wielding it, hands that won't threaten their own operations. And these brand new Disruptors wouldn't be such a threat.
The taller operative finally leans in slightly, his voice dropping just enough to convey sincerity. "At the end of the day, we're mercenaries, miss. We profit by empowering others, not by claiming power for ourselves. We've done our research, and we believe this is a win-win for both of us."
He steps back, letting her process his words, the phone still in her hand, the deal now resting on her judgment.
Euphemia still seems somewhat skeptical to the agreement, her eyes lingering between the two with a frigid, icy intensity that seems to hang by a thimble. But eventually... the tension snaps, as her warm smile returns, and she returns the device to the man who had offered it, stepping away to retreat back to Fayad's side. She lays a hand on his shoulder... leaning closer to murmur in his ear.
Euphemia still seems somewhat skeptical to the agreement, her eyes lingering
Euphemia still seems somewhat skeptical to the agreement, her eyes lingering between the two with a frigid, icy intensity that seems to hang by a thimble. But eventually... the tension snaps, as her warm smile returns, and she lowers her hand, stepping away to retreat back to Fayad's side. She lays a hand on his shoulder... leaning closer to murmur in his ear.
Fayad quietly nods. "That's what I thought, too.", he says, finishing the transaction.
Operative number two, the taller of the set, watches Fayad and Euphemia with a sharp, calculating gaze as he completes the transfer. When she gives them that look, seemingly laced with both distrust and pragmatism, the operatives exchange another quick glance - this time with a hint of amusement.
The shorter operative is the first to respond, his tone measured and calm, as if he's felt this sentiment many times before. "Smart thinking, both of you. "You're making waves, Disruptors. The kind we like to see. We're all about ensuring those waves crash exactly where you want them to."
The shorter operative nods in agreement, then steps back slightly after sending a set of 3D coordinates over the same connection between phones, signaling that the transaction is complete and their business here is done. "You'll find the information worth every penny. Now, you've got the means to make your move."
As they prepare to leave, the taller operative adds one final comment, almost as a casual afterthought. "Remember - when you're ready for the next step, I'm sure you can figure out where to find us."
With that, the Golden Shadow agents turn, blending back into the shadows of the chapel, leaving Fayad and Euphemia with the weight of their decision and the power now in their hands. What's waiting at those coordinates? Is there a trick at play? What could this mean for the Disruptors, especially with Vetr Global turning their hungry eyes on that fragile community center?
Find out next time on Rise of the Disruptors, Episode 2: Print So Fine, It's Unwritten!"
(ooc Thanks for putting up with me! I'll look forward to continuing this if you like - it's a fantastic prompt.)
Ultimately, after a charged dialogue filled with veiled threats and assurances, Fayad consents to the monetary arrangement, transferring the sum of 20,000 through a sleek, unmarked smartphone provided by the operatives. This decision marks a pivotal moment for the Disruptors, buying them a significant lead in their crusade but also entangling them in a web of mercenary ethics and shadowy agendas. As the Golden Shadow representatives disappear as quietly as they arrived, Fayad and Euphemia are left to ponder the implications of their newfound knowledge, the exact nature and power of the artifact, and the true cost of the deal they've just struck. The promised artifact, shrouded in mystery and danger, symbolizes both a formidable weapon and shield against their adversaries, promising a significant leverage but also foreshadowing a potentially perilous journey ahead in their fight against Vetr Global and its omnipresent influence.
(Morgan's odd encounter(SRVictoria):SRVictoria)
[Wed Aug 28 2024]
In The Forest
It is after dusk, about 90F(32C) degrees, There is a waning crescent moon.
(A group of supernatural hunters is out to get your target. Maybe for sport, maybe from ideology, in either case they need to survive for long enough that their allies can come and help them deal with the threat.
)
As Morgan is out hunting, she finds the darkness isnt an issue for her, and perhaps not even that chill to the air thats so odd, though something is. Something that is not a normal monster that shed be out looking for at this time. Once the last creature is dispatched, theres a snap of a twig, the crunch of a leaf, and finally, whispers that seem all too loud for being this far within the forests grasp. Hey, watch it! a gruff male voice hisses, only to receive a reply of equal measure in feminine tones, Its not like I can see too well out here!. Annoyed voices, creeping ever closer to her, encroaching on her very hunting spot.
As Morgan is out hunting, she finds the darkness isnt an issue for her, and perhaps not even that chill to the air thats so odd, though something is. Something that is not a normal monster that shed be out looking for at this time. Once the last creature is dispatched, theres a snap of a twig, the crunch of a leaf, and finally, whispers that seem all too loud for being this far within the forests grasp. Hey, watch it! a gruff male voice hisses, only to receive a reply of equal measure in feminine tones, Its not like I can see too well out here!. Annoyed voices, creeping ever closer to her, encroaching on her very hunting spot.
As Morgan is out hunting, she finds the darkness isnt an issue for her, and perhaps not even that chill to the air thats so odd, though something is. Something that is not a normal monster that shed be out looking for at this time. Once the last creature is dispatched, theres a snap of a twig, the crunch of a leaf, and finally, whispers that seem all too loud for being this far within the forests grasp. Hey, watch it! a gruff male voice hisses, only to receive a reply of equal measure in feminine tones, Its not like I can see too well out here!. Annoyed voices, creeping ever closer to her, encroaching on her very hunting spot.
Darkness creeps over the town as the sun goes down, making the woods all the more eerie and ominous. Shadows disappear with the sun, and theres a chill to the air uncharacteristic for Haven at this time of the year. Stars line the night sky in an effort to pierce the dark of the forest, though theyre obstructed by the tall trees and their limbs which cross every way possible to ensure glancing directly upwards becomes nearly impossible.
As Morgan is out hunting, she finds the darkness isnt an issue for her, and perhaps not even that chill to the air thats so odd, though something is. Something that is not a normal monster that shed be out looking for at this time. Once the last creature is dispatched, theres a snap of a twig, the crunch of a leaf, and finally, whispers that seem all too loud for being this far within the forests grasp. Hey, watch it! a gruff male voice hisses, only to receive a reply of equal measure in feminine tones, Its not like I can see too well out here!. Annoyed voices, creeping ever closer to her, encroaching on her very hunting spot.
You sure you saw them here? the feminine voice whispers in a sibilant tone. Of course Im sure, her male companion replies. We have to get them all, run them out of town. Theres a quick noise within the air- a noise that can only be one thing. The hammer of a gun as it cocks at the ready. Damn wolves anyways. Theyll make a much better carpet.
Are you sure were gonna get paid for this? a womans whisper asks, unsure. Then all falls quiet, footsteps stop. Theres one close.
Morgan sniffs the air and weathers feeling of her sole pack mate. The darkness is easily pierced by her strange eyes, more animal than human. But with the same perks of a human hunting eyes, tracking of movement. She goes still when the air about her is disturbed. The stars cast light to illuminate her new pray. She glides softly across the ground. She exhales soft, of course. Werewolf hunters? She almost rolls her eyes. These are professionals? She glides up into the world, a night silent change as she becomes a small cute little finch, fluttering up into the trees, moving to peer at her would be hunters
Professionals they may be, though not the best ones as they continue to thud feet upon the wooded ground, crunches and snaps heard very easily by Morgan as they continue what they believe to be a sneaky trek to locate a wolf- any wolf. As Morgan shifts and flits upwards, she catches a glimpse of blonde hair, not the most subtle thing in the forest, as well as two long barrels of shotguns that are pointed at her.
As impressive as the camouflage of the hunters outfits may be, its no match for the eyes of a wolf, and even as a finch Morgan can probably spot them way too easily. The man towers at just over six feet tall, peering at what he can see with narrowed eyes and a hat that falls a bit too much toward the lids of his eyes. In contrast the woman moves with more grace despite the folly of her hair being loose, and though she stands much shorter, theres an iron grip on the gun she holds. "Should have just set a trap, would have been easier than this," she groans before clapping a hand over her mouth.
Morgan is a generally considered calm person. She doesn't really lust for violence. She doesn't seem particularily pulled to hurting people. She doesn't rise to challenges that others seem well in hand and that's because she likes to give them a chance to handle their own business. She's a woman out of step with the natural world. She doesn't belong here, in this time. She belongs to an older one. She simply didn't have the decency to die. That's a problem in the here and now for these hunters because they are threatening hers, and there is nobody else here to deal with them but her.
It's a flutter of wings at first, but it shifts in the descent to a massive and black furred wolf. She picks her target, whomever is in the back. The guns are guns, she's less concerned with their limitations than a sudden and violent test of the capabilities than anything else. She lets out a deep and terrible howl of promised violence, and tears into her prey.
Both hunters freeze in place when Morgan lets loose that howl, and even the narrow-eyed mans expression changes. Theres a new scent in the air that Morgan can certainly pick up- one of fear. The woman flicks the barrel of her gun up irritably. "Why do you look like that? her voice hisses out, judgement in her tone. This is what we wanted."
"Theres a house back there not far," the man leans over to whisper to her, yanking his female companion quickly behind a nearby tree. "Maybe its one of theirs, and we should start there first." For all his bravado, he seems to change his tune entirely once faced with what may await him in the woods.
"God. Would this make you feel better? At least if youre going to go, take one of these." Rummaging around in a bag slung over her in a crossbody fashion, the woman pulls out a collar, made of metal and electric. "Thats all you have to put on them." Theres a huff of breath, imperceptible to the normal ear that belays her irritation as she leans from the tree to attempt to survey and find out where that howl may be coming from, and how close.
The additional threat of violence toward her home is enough for Morgan to do whatever she can to kill these people. Now of course. There's the work of actually seeing them dead. They know of werewolves, so there's nothing for her to hold back. She looks for one with a handgun and springs towards them, aiming to tear into that one was a first off. She flexes her muscles, scars visible. See what happens with a collar, she dares.
As Morgan leaps towards the two again, powerful and driven by a need to protect whats hers, the tree provides little defense for the two who decided quick money was worth their time in the forest this evening. While the woman attempts a deflect to the left to get behind her, the man does something far more bold. He steps around to the right of the tree, arm extended with something in hand. Its not the shotgun, not even a handgun. What he fires off instead is a tranquilizer dart, aimed for any part of Morgan it can reach in desperation to slow her before she can tear them apart. That collar gets dropped to the ground as he moves, glinting among the foliage in the moonlight.
Morgan seems to grin. The darts might strike but it's going to take more than that to stop her. Before she slows she tears into the man with her jaw, attempting to ragdoll the man and hurl him aside. She begins to transform, if she can manage to disable him for a moment, where she reaches for a handgun and pivots, opening fire upon the other.
The scream of the tall hunter echoes through the woods as Morgan reaches him, and hes overpowered and quickly thrown aside with multiple injuries, tears and deep gouges to his skin. He hits the ground a short distance away, striking his head, and the smell of blood tinges the air. When Morgan shifts to grab that gun, her pivot finds empty air as the female companion has silently seemed to disappear.
It's not long, and Morgan sees a pair of eyes in the darkness. Ones that may rival her own as a wolf, and they share a secret with her about her hunters. Standing in place of the woman is now a jaguar, poised and ready to pounce. Theres a rumble within her throat, a low warning. As deadly as she may be, shes clearly out of place but wont go down without a fight with Morgan it seems. Gun and bag have been flung aside in her transformation, and as someone fingers reach that weapon, she bolts aside with surprising grace, disappearing for the moment but definitely not gone.
It's not long, and Morgan sees a pair of eyes in the darkness. Ones that may rival her own as a wolf, and they share a secret with her about her hunters. Standing in place of the woman is now a jaguar, poised and ready to pounce. Theres a rumble within her throat, a low warning. As deadly as she may be, shes clearly out of place but wont go down without a fight with Morgan it seems. Gun and bag have been flung aside in her transformation, and as Morgan's fingers reach that weapon, she bolts aside with surprising grace, disappearing for the moment but definitely not gone.
Morgan steps lightly on human feet, gliding about the trees with easy steps, eyes trailing towards the jaguar. She lobs the handgun aside and snags a knife. Her eyes are sharp, her head does a slow turn following motions, shrugging off, for the moment, the narcoleptic toxin in her system.
The unknown woman turned shapeshifter before someone eyes seems to be banking on those darts as she stalks through the woods at the edge of her vision, just managing to elude being pinned down to one location. Black fur mimics someone own as a wolf, and is marred only with occasional rosettes that create a pattern within, and the occasional glimpse of wicked, yellow orbs flicks through the darkness. Suddenly as Morgan closes fingers around a knife, her unknown assailant rushes her, moving to pounce with jaw spread wide and large, lethal fangs aiming for her skull.
The unknown woman turned shapeshifter before someone eyes seems to be banking on those darts as she stalks through the woods at the edge of her vision, just managing to elude being pinned down to one location. Black fur mimics Morgan's own as a wolf, and is marred only with occasional rosettes that create a pattern within, and the occasional glimpse of wicked, yellow orbs flicks through the darkness. Suddenly as Morgan closes fingers around a knife, her unknown assailant rushes her, moving to pounce with jaw spread wide and large, lethal fangs aiming for her skull.
The unknown woman turned shapeshifter before Morgan's eyes seems to be banking on those darts as she stalks through the woods at the edge of her vision, just managing to elude being pinned down to one location. Black fur mimics Morgan's own as a wolf, and is marred only with occasional rosettes that create a pattern within, and the occasional glimpse of wicked, yellow orbs flicks through the darkness. Suddenly as Morgan closes fingers around a knife, her unknown assailant rushes her, moving to pounce with jaw spread wide and large, lethal fangs aiming for her skull.
Morgan is not unlike this woman. A shapeshifter with a gift, a warrior, with strong instincts. Capable and fast, and powerful. But there's one thing she has this woman does not. Scars. She pivots, pulling the knife with her as she goes. In her hands it's a claw, an extension of her own striking hand. She doesn't try to interupt the strike. She lets those fangs close around her. But not her skull, her shoulder. Toughened skin slowing those fangs as she grabs around their head and attempts to jam the knife into her neck.
In all her murderous intent, the jaguar meets Morgan's shoulder with piercing teeth that grip her and attempt to yank hard to throw her against a nearby trunk of a tree. Barely letting go in time, she twists herself out of the grasp to her head, just managing to pull away, but not without injury. The knife that was meant for her neck does not plunge into her neck, but it does manage a scathing cut- one that draws a vicious snarl from Morgan's opponent as she leaps back into inky darkness to attempt to recover.
Morgan throws the knife to the ground and rolls her shoulders, one bleeds down the side of her uncovered body, but soon, skin makes way to fur, and claws tear into the ground as she lets out an unearthly howl, beckoning her challenge.
A deep, throaty growl comes from between two trees just in front of Morgan(wolf) when she shifts. The soft thud of oversized paws follows, and Morgan(wolf) soon sees the snarl of her opponent as she stalks within sight. Belongings forgotten and scattered in the fray, the mysterious woman turned jaguar seems determined to either take home the fur she came for, or at the least get out of the woods with her life, though which one is on her mind at the current moment remains to be seen. Matching that unearthly howl of Morgan(wolf) with her own bloodthirsty snarls, she draws low to the ground before leaping directly at Morgan(wolf), claws fully extended and teeth gnashing.
knows why this fight has to continue. Because if the jaguar turns her back to Morgan(wolf) to flee? Morgan(wolf) is going to hunt her down and kill her. She threatened her little wolf. And she has no intention of letting her leave alive. She springs off her backfoot, tacking her down attempting to tear into them.
The two shapeshifters clash as they hit one another, a frenzy of claws and fangs ripping through the otherwise quiet night in the mists of the forest, and theres an audible noise as the two crash into one another. Unfortunately for her, someone blow knocks her to the ground, slides her backwards, where she sees her companion in this adventure lying unconscious on the ground. Her eyes quickly flit to the collar glinting in the foliage, and she springs again. As nimble as Morgan(wolf) is, she finds the one who picked the fight to be slippery to pin as she pivots and bounces, electing to only attempt snapping at Morgan(wolf) after that initial attempt before drawing away, moving back toward the scattered belongings with purpose.
The two shapeshifters clash as they hit one another, a frenzy of claws and fangs ripping through the otherwise quiet night in the mists of the forest, and theres an audible noise as the two crash into one another. Unfortunately for her, Morgan(wolf)'s blow knocks her to the ground, slides her backwards, where she sees her companion in this adventure lying unconscious on the ground. Her eyes quickly flit to the collar glinting in the foliage, and she springs again. As nimble as Morgan(wolf) is, she finds the one who picked the fight to be slippery to pin as she pivots and bounces, electing to only attempt snapping at Morgan(wolf) after that initial attempt before drawing away, moving back toward the scattered belongings with purpose.
Morgan(wolf) persues, swaying slightly and taking an extra moment to get on her feet as she shakes off the narcotic desire to rest. She bounds, trying to keep up with, or overtake. Force her to abandon her things if nothing else
The oversized cat seems to be headed straight for that collar when Morgan(wolf) moves after her, and with a quick turn around to bare her teeth in another warning, shes shifting again. Fur fades to feathers, and eventually the form of a vulture, black as the night is in front of that wolf, attempting to carry the collar into the sky with her. Wicked talons close around the metal, and large wings fan out into an impressive span as she regards Morgan(wolf) with avian pupils that rapidly expand and restrict before making her move to rise into the air.
Morgan(wolf) scowls. She could pursue as her winged form, but she hardly makes for a match to a predator like a vulture as a little finch. She shifts back human, and begins to make her way to race back home.
The woman's now avian form shifts as she rises, turning a keenly focused eye on Morgan(wolf) as she elects to head toward the house she has nearby. With a grip unrivaled upon the collar, within moments shes in the air, and it seems shes going to get away without Morgan(wolf) so much as knowing who she may be. Seeming content to leave her once companion upon the forest floor, she moves to leave, but the earlier injury inflicted by Morgan(wolf) proves fruitful and she falters, dropping that collar back onto the ground again within Morgan(wolf)'s view. As it falls, engraving is visible, though too small to make out and just barely seen through the scrapes and scratches left by the talons that held it aloft.
Morgan(wolf) moves swiftly to snatch as she makes her way, gazing toward it yet as she begins to travel away. Curious.
While there are no outward signs of outside involvement in this nighttime hunt gone wrong, once Morgan has that collar in her grasp she finds a small symbol engraved, as well as initials. On the left hand side, near the clasp, a fractured, tear-shaped blue sapphire has been crudely inscribed, while on the right, initials that have been deeply scratched rest within the metal. Almost unreadable, they appear to show as "V.M.", perhaps a reminder of who this particular collar was meant for. The large bird of prey retreats to a branch as high up as possible, her head hanging slightly in pain from earlier blows as she watches Morgan.
Morgan walks slowly gazing at the vulture. Seems she has a shot at them yet. She begins to circle, ironic. "Surrender and live," she offers generously
For the moment, the vulture atop the branches decides to take her chances, stretching wings and bravely attempting to bring her injured neck all the way up to appear intimidating. Her head twists one way, then the other as she watches Morgan make her way towards her, only moving again to stumble slightly as her head falls forward. Catching herself, within seconds shes shifted back and is a woman again, firmly gripping to the trunk of the tree for balance. "Take it," she says in a high-pitched tone that cuts through the stillness of the mist wreathed forest with ease. "We just wanted the payment we were promised," she nearly shouts to Morgan, one hand clasping the back of her neck. A thin line of blood trails between her fingers, running down her neck.
Morgan shakes her head as she stalks forward. "Do you know why I have to kill you?" she asks in a soft, reasonable tone. "Because you thought there was a reward in this world worth threatening my little wolf for." She sighs. "How are people going to learn if you survive?"
"I don't have any idea who your 'little wolf' is," the woman retorts with a defiant flick of blonde hair over a bare shoulder, "but if she brings as much payment as you, I hope you both turn to a fur coat." There's a taunting, sarcastic smile given to Morgan, and she brings her arms out from her sides as if daring the other woman to continue coming forward. After a long moment she begins to laugh, an unsettling sound, and simply falls backward from atop the branches of the tree. Just as it seems she may hit the ground, feathers overtake flesh once again and she swoops upward, disappearing into the night once glittering eyes are turned away. There's barely a sound, and if Morgan turns, she will see the woman's companion has vanished as well, the only sign of his existence the pooled blood where he had been. Belongings still scatter the ground, left without a care.
Morgan makes a lunge but just too slow it seems. She growls and gazes back at the body and throws a hand to the side. Frustrated. "Assholes, pray we don't cross paths again," She murmurs.
There's a soft noise in the air that sounds much like mocking laughter that fades away within moments, leaving Morgan back on her own within the woods.
Fayad is seething and arranging an attack on City Hall with Euphemia utilizing the psychic operations of the Disruptors, clenching an eviction notice in his right hand.
Euphemia seems to be attempting to reason with Fayad, one hand extended to gently coax him towards calm. She seems a little tired -- Her hoodie tied tightly around her waist, holding a small religous pendant clutched in her right hand.
The vibrant chapel of the community center is alive with colors, even in the late hours. West-facing windows filter in the dim light of the street, casting long shadows across the fiery-hued cloth on the altar. Bright banners with uplifting verses hang on the walls, contrasting sharply with the tension that now fills the room.@line
Rows of simple folding chairs are arranged facing the stage, where the well-worn pulpit stands silent. The air, which usually hums with contemporary praise music, now feels heavy with the weight of whats to come. Behind the pulpit, the golden tabernacle gleams under the faint light, a symbol of faith and stability that feels distant from the turmoil inside Fayad's mind.@line
The chapel is spotless, as if untouched by the outside world, but the seething energy from Fayad threatens to spill over. As he strategizes and Euphemia soothes, the air shifts, and they sense a presence.
someone The door to the chapel creaks open, regardless of any locks and two figures saunter in. Their movements are smooth, almost too quiet for the vibrant surroundings. Dressed in dark, tactical gear, they exude an air of detached confidence. The emblem of the Golden Shadowa golden dagger plunged through a shadowy globegleams faintly on their armor.
The taller of the two steps forward, their voice calm but carrying a weight that commands attention. "We are the Golden Shadow," they announce, eyes flicking between Fayad and Euphemia, but focus on the former. "Weve come with a proposition, Disruptors."
The vibrant chapel of the community center is alive with colors, even in the late hours. West-facing windows filter in the dim light of the street, casting long shadows across the fiery-hued cloth on the altar. Bright banners with uplifting verses hang on the walls, contrasting sharply with the tension that now fills the room.
Rows of simple folding chairs are arranged facing the stage, where the well-worn pulpit stands silent. The air, which usually hums with contemporary praise music, now feels heavy with the weight of whats to come. Behind the pulpit, the golden tabernacle gleams under the faint light, a symbol of faith and stability that feels distant from the turmoil inside Fayad's mind.
The chapel is spotless, as if untouched by the outside world, but the seething energy from Fayad threatens to spill over. As he strategizes and Euphemia soothes, the air shifts, and they sense a presence.
The door to the chapel creaks open, regardless of any locks and two figures saunter in. Their movements are smooth, almost too quiet for the vibrant surroundings. Dressed in dark, tactical gear, they exude an air of detached confidence. The emblem of the Golden Shadow - a golden dagger plunged through a shadowy globe - gleams faintly on their armor.
The taller of the two steps forward, their voice calm but carrying a weight that commands attention. "We are the Golden Shadow," they announce, eyes flicking between Fayad and Euphemia, but focus on the former. "We've come with a proposition, Disruptors."
(In the dead of night, your group is approached by a pair of Golden Shadow operatives. They seem to have no intention of engaging in combat, but they do offer you a deal. They've learned of a rare, powerful artifact, a supernatural weapon of sorts, that's located within Haven. They're willing to share its location with you, in exchange for a hefty fee, or perhaps, for a favor in the future. However, they neglect to mention that this artifact is protected by a blood pact, binding it to a powerful demon. Retrieving it will not only mean facing the demon, but potentially breaking a pact and triggering a supernatural fallout. The group must weigh the potential power against the risk and decide what to do.)
Fayad turns, aggravated. "What is it? Are you planning on dealing with Vetr for us, or something?", he sighs. "I don't think I've ever seen any of you in person," he mutters, calming down. "I'll tell you the story of how I became aware later," he mentions to Euphemia. "They leave cursed objects around places and charge people to break the curse as a money-raising scheme," he snorts. "I fell afoul of one without knowing what it was."
They pause, letting the silence stretch for a moment. "No... no, we've come to help. You see... theres an Object Of immense Power hidden within Haven - a tool that could turn the tide in your favor. We know where it is. But information like this comes with a price. Pay us, or owe us a favor. The choice is yours."@line
Their gaze sharpens as they add, "A sect just beginning, against such a corporate conglomerate... you could use this hand up. A gift that amplifies your power in the nightmare realm."
The vibrant chapel seems to close in around them, the lively atmosphere at odds with the dangerous decision before Fayad and Euphemia. The Golden Shadow operatives stand still, awaiting their answer, smiling softly with arrogant assumptions.
Euphemia glances down at Fayad's gauntlet, before turning her attention to the encroaching congregation. She smiles warmly, slipping one hand into a pocket, as she steps in front of Fayad - positioning herself between these unfamiliar strangers and the man standing behind her. She glances over her shoulder, tilting her head to Fayad expectantly. "...I think-" She murmurs, turning her attention to the tactically dressed ops. "...We need to hear more."
Fayad squints. "What are you looking to be paid in?", he comments, apparantly weighing the risks of collaboration against the risks of owing a favor.
The Golden Shadow agents exchange a quick glance, their faces unreadable behind the dark tactical gear. The taller operative, who has been leading the conversation, steps forward slightly, offering a smooth, practiced smile that doesnt quite reach their eyes.
"Were flexible," the operative begins, their tone light but calculated. "Money always talks, of course. But in times like these, currency is just one form of leverage. Information, connections, resources... we value all of these. And, as you seem to already understand, favors are often the most valuable currency of all."
They pause, letting the weight of that statement sink in. The second agent, who has remained silent until now, leans in slightly, adding, "Were looking for something... mutually beneficial. Something that ensures we both get what we want out of this crumbling world."
The taller operative tilts their head, their gaze now locking with Fayad's. "Think of it this wayif youre successful in your endeavors, and we help make that happen, wed simply want to be able to call on you when the time is right. Nothing more, nothing less."
They don't push too hard, allowing Fayad to consider the offer on his own terms, but the underlying message is clear: They are offering power, but they expect something of equal value in return - be it information, resources, or a promise that binds him to them when they need it most.
Fayad glances uncertainly at Euphemia and takes Euphemia's lead, permitting his angelic bodyguard to step in for him. "What do you think?", he mutters.
Euphemia says, lowering her voice, "...Depends on how much you think you can accomplish on your own. They're right, you've only just scrounged the group together -- and I doubt you have any influence after throwing away all of our connections to Gonthorian."
Euphemia says, still speaking quietly, "...I don't know this corporate bumbag. I don't know how difficult you expect this to be. But if you take this deal, you could be obligating yourself to an agenda you don't fully support."
Fayad says "...We'll pay. In money."
Fayad says "At least that's single-time and known."
The taller operative meets his partner's eyes, their silent communication conveying disappointment and resignation. His partner, a quieter figure with a sharp gaze, exhales softly, the sound barely audible in the chapel's stillness. Though the choice of payment doesn't entirely satisfy them, they understand the value of closing this deal. The taller operative turns back to Fayad and Euphemia, the faintest hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips.
"Very well," he begins, his voice smooth and measured, as if he's practiced this very moment a thousand times. "For information of this magnitude, the price is 20,000. A fair exchange, considering what were offering - and what you stand to gain."
His words carry an undercurrent of calculated persuasion, designed to reinforce Fayad's decision. The chapel, with its vibrant banners and the quiet presence of faith, seems to hold its breath as the weight of the transaction presses down on the room. The operatives eyes flicker toward the eviction notice still clutched in someone hand, and he uses it as a pivot for his next statement.
"You've made a wise choice, Disruptors. With this knowledge, youll have the upper hand against Voss and his insufferable egregore. This wont just be a protest - itll be a reckoning, the kind that shakes the foundations of power. Vetr will remember this day for years to come, and so will anyone foolish enough to stand in your way."
He pauses, letting his words settle into the charged air between them. There's an edge of dark anticipation in his tone, as if he's as eager as Fayad to see the fallout from this decision. The shorter operative, who has been watching the exchange with a critical eye, briefly narrows his gaze at his partner's choice of words - too blunt, too revealing. But professionalism prevails, and he steps forward, taking control of the conversation with a more measured, precise tone.
"But there's more to this than just Voss," the shorter operative adds, his voice smooth and detached, like a scalpel cutting through the tension. "This artifact were leading you to - it isn't just a weapon of destruction. It's a shield, a safeguard against forces that even the most powerful among us struggle to contend with."
The taller operative meets his partner's eyes, their silent communication conveying disappointment and resignation. His partner, a quieter figure with a sharp gaze, exhales softly, the sound barely audible in the chapel's stillness. Though the choice of payment doesn't entirely satisfy them, they understand the value of closing this deal. The taller operative turns back to Fayad and Euphemia, the faintest hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips.
"Very well," he begins, his voice smooth and measured, as if he's practiced this very moment a thousand times. "For information of this magnitude, the price is 20,000. A fair exchange, considering what were offering - and what you stand to gain."
His words carry an undercurrent of calculated persuasion, designed to reinforce Fayad's decision. The chapel, with its vibrant banners and the quiet presence of faith, seems to hold its breath as the weight of the transaction presses down on the room. The operatives eyes flicker toward the eviction notice still clutched in Fayad's hand, and he uses it as a pivot for his next statement.
"You've made a wise choice, Disruptors. With this knowledge, youll have the upper hand against Voss and his insufferable egregore. This wont just be a protest - itll be a reckoning, the kind that shakes the foundations of power. Vetr will remember this day for years to come, and so will anyone foolish enough to stand in your way."
He pauses, letting his words settle into the charged air between them. There's an edge of dark anticipation in his tone, as if he's as eager as Fayad to see the fallout from this decision. The shorter operative, who has been watching the exchange with a critical eye, briefly narrows his gaze at his partner's choice of words - too blunt, too revealing. But professionalism prevails, and he steps forward, taking control of the conversation with a more measured, precise tone.
"But there's more to this than just Voss," the shorter operative adds, his voice smooth and detached, like a scalpel cutting through the tension. "This artifact were leading you to - it isn't just a weapon of destruction. It's a shield, a safeguard against forces that even the most powerful among us struggle to contend with."
He glances at Euphemia, as he mentions protection and safety again the powerful, the strong. "The field this device generates - it creates a dead zone for Primal spirits. Its toxic to any being tied to the natural world. You'll be untouchable, even to the dragon. His wrath will be powerless against you, should he care to send it. This isn't just about strength, Fayad - it's about ensuring that no one can take what youve built."
His words are carefully chosen, crafted to appeal to the protective instincts both Fayad and Euphemia might harbor - not just for their cause, but for the underdogs they work to protect. He lets the implications of his statement linger in the air, before reaching into his jacket and pulling out a small, nondescript smartphone. The device is sleek, black, with no distinguishing marks - a stark contrast to the vibrant surroundings of the chapel.
"This is your conduit," he says, holding it out to Fayad with a deliberate, almost ceremonial gesture. "The phone is named 'Golden Shadow.' Wire the funds to the account on this device, and the information is yours. Simple as that." He seems to presume that Fayad is tech-savvy enough to be able to set up his phone to tap theirs, and send.
He pauses, giving Fayad and Euphemia time to absorb the gravity of the transaction. The smartphone, so unassuming in appearance, now feels like a weighty artifact in its own right - a physical manifestation of the path they're about to choose. The shorter operative's gaze flicks to Fayad's clenched fist, the eviction notice still crumpled within it, and then back to Euphemia, standing protectively by his side. There's a brief moment where the operatives seem to blend into the chapel's shadows, becoming extensions of the looming decisions that Fayad must now confront.
His partner gives a slow, deliberate nod, reinforcing the message. The Golden Shadow agents remain poised, professional, yet theres an undeniable sense that they are waiting with a certain cold patience, confident that the deal will be sealed. All that remains is for Fayad and Euphemia to take that final step.
Fayad takes the phone and fiddles with it, operating the transfer of resources quietly. "There," he mutters. "The only reason I'm trusting you is because you're all fucking mercenaries and if you stiff me then everyone will know."
Euphemia' eyes narrow as the representative delves into the full nature of this artifact, flicking almost immediately to the silent individual standing in silence to the side. Her hand moves to stop Fayad before he can take the phone - and she takes it herself, flipping the device open. "...What exactly do you gain from sharing this information? That's a lot of money, sure. But you COULD use this artifact for your own means."
Fayad says "O-oh. "
Fayad steps back, wide-eyed, letting Euphemia take control. He...blushes. Yeah. Okay. It's clear who's in control now.
The taller operative's smile doesn't falter, but his eyes sharpen slightly as Euphemia intercepts Fayad's phone from connecting. Her words hang in the air, a challenge that cuts through the smooth flow of their negotiation. The shorter operative, who had been standing quietly until now, shifts his weight subtly, his gaze never leaving Euphemia. It's clear they were expecting questions, but the directness catches them off guard.
The taller operative is the first to respond, his tone calm and measured. "A fair question," he acknowledges, his smile still in place but now with a hint of something more - respect, perhaps, or a recognition of Euphemia's sharp instincts. "But you have to understand - our business is information, not possession. The Golden Shadow thrives on deals, not hoarding power. Using such an artifact ourselves... well, that would paint a target on our backs. And in a world like this, the fewer targets you carry, the better."
He lets that sink in before continuing, his voice carrying the weight of experience. "We operate in the shadows for a reason. We deal in power, but we don't flaunt it. It's far more profitable - and far less risky - to share the knowledge with those who can make use of it. You want to bring down Voss, make your statement. We want to facilitate that. We gain by making sure our clients succeed."
The shorter operative, still silent, nods in agreement before adding in a low, even tone, "And let's be honest - the artifact in question, while powerful, isn't suited to our particular skill set. We're not in the business of getting involved with... certain forces. You, on the other hand, have the means and the ambition to use it to its full potential. That's why we're offering it to you."
There's a moment of silence as they let their words sink in, the unspoken truth hovering between them. They aren't just selling information - they're ensuring that the artifact ends up in hands capable of wielding it, hands that won't threaten their own operations. And these brand new Disruptors wouldn't be such a threat.
The taller operative finally leans in slightly, his voice dropping just enough to convey sincerity. "At the end of the day, we're mercenaries, miss. We profit by empowering others, not by claiming power for ourselves. We've done our research, and we believe this is a win-win for both of us."
He steps back, letting her process his words, the phone still held out, the deal now resting on her judgment.
That taller operative's smile doesn't falter, but his eyes sharpen slightly as Euphemia intercepts the phone. Her words hang in the air, a challenge that cuts through the smooth flow of their negotiation. The shorter operative, who had been standing quietly until now, shifts his weight subtly, his gaze never leaving Euphemia. It's clear they were expecting questions, but the directness catches them off guard.
The taller operative is the first to respond, his tone calm and measured. "A fair question," he acknowledges, his smile still in place but now with a hint of something more - respect, perhaps, or a recognition of Euphemia's sharp instincts. "But you have to understand - our business is information, not possession. The Golden Shadow thrives on deals, not hoarding power. Using such an artifact ourselves... well, that would paint a target on our backs. And in a world like this, the fewer targets you carry, the better."
He lets that sink in before continuing, his voice carrying the weight of experience. "We operate in the shadows for a reason. We deal in power, but we don't flaunt it. It's far more profitable - and far less risky - to share the knowledge with those who can make use of it. You want to bring down Voss, make your statement. We want to facilitate that. We gain by making sure our clients succeed."
The shorter operative, still silent, nods in agreement before adding in a low, even tone, "And let's be honest - the artifact in question, while powerful, isn't suited to our particular skill set. We're not in the business of getting involved with... certain forces. You, on the other hand, have the means and the ambition to use it to its full potential. That's why we're offering it to you."
There's a moment of silence as they let their words sink in, the unspoken truth hovering between them. They aren't just selling information - they're ensuring that the artifact ends up in hands capable of wielding it, hands that won't threaten their own operations. And these brand new Disruptors wouldn't be such a threat.
The taller operative finally leans in slightly, his voice dropping just enough to convey sincerity. "At the end of the day, we're mercenaries, miss. We profit by empowering others, not by claiming power for ourselves. We've done our research, and we believe this is a win-win for both of us."
He steps back, letting her process his words, the phone still in her hand, the deal now resting on her judgment.
Euphemia still seems somewhat skeptical to the agreement, her eyes lingering between the two with a frigid, icy intensity that seems to hang by a thimble. But eventually... the tension snaps, as her warm smile returns, and she returns the device to the man who had offered it, stepping away to retreat back to Fayad's side. She lays a hand on his shoulder... leaning closer to murmur in his ear.
Euphemia still seems somewhat skeptical to the agreement, her eyes lingering
Euphemia still seems somewhat skeptical to the agreement, her eyes lingering between the two with a frigid, icy intensity that seems to hang by a thimble. But eventually... the tension snaps, as her warm smile returns, and she lowers her hand, stepping away to retreat back to Fayad's side. She lays a hand on his shoulder... leaning closer to murmur in his ear.
Fayad quietly nods. "That's what I thought, too.", he says, finishing the transaction.
Operative number two, the taller of the set, watches Fayad and Euphemia with a sharp, calculating gaze as he completes the transfer. When she gives them that look, seemingly laced with both distrust and pragmatism, the operatives exchange another quick glance - this time with a hint of amusement.
The shorter operative is the first to respond, his tone measured and calm, as if he's felt this sentiment many times before. "Smart thinking, both of you. "You're making waves, Disruptors. The kind we like to see. We're all about ensuring those waves crash exactly where you want them to."
The shorter operative nods in agreement, then steps back slightly after sending a set of 3D coordinates over the same connection between phones, signaling that the transaction is complete and their business here is done. "You'll find the information worth every penny. Now, you've got the means to make your move."
As they prepare to leave, the taller operative adds one final comment, almost as a casual afterthought. "Remember - when you're ready for the next step, I'm sure you can figure out where to find us."
With that, the Golden Shadow agents turn, blending back into the shadows of the chapel, leaving Fayad and Euphemia with the weight of their decision and the power now in their hands. What's waiting at those coordinates? Is there a trick at play? What could this mean for the Disruptors, especially with Vetr Global turning their hungry eyes on that fragile community center?
Find out next time on Rise of the Disruptors, Episode 2: Print So Fine, It's Unwritten!"
(ooc Thanks for putting up with me! I'll look forward to continuing this if you like - it's a fantastic prompt.)