Encounterlogs
Nicos Odd Encounter Sr Illyana 241001
Nico's day starts like any other, unknowingly wandering into an odd encounter while high, at Rude Dogg's smokeshack. After being given a pamphlet by a seemingly innocent peddler, he finds himself drawn to an event that promises free food and camaraderie. The event is hosted by The Sapphire Martyrs at a decrepit church, presenting itself as a communal gathering with music, food, and lively conversation. Unbeknownst to him, Nico's participation in this event would soon turn from a simple pursuit of leisure into a nightmarish experience. As he indulges in the festivities, a twist of fate has him lose consciousness, only to awaken amongst a group of gagged and bound individuals in the church's basement, where a sinister ritual led by Paul Dobbs and a priest unfolds before his eyes.
The ritual, aiming to trigger a cataclysm to sever Earth’s connection to other worlds for a perceived greater good, involves the sacrifice of the gathered innocents. Nico, witnessing the horror unfold as the cultists methodically murder the attendees, realizes the gravity of his predicament. With a combination of luck and quick thinking, he manages to escape his bindings and disrupt the ritual, fleeing the scene amidst the chaos he leaves behind. His escape from the cultists' clutches marks a pivotal moment in his life, transforming his once-naive view of the world around him. The aftermath, covered in the newspapers as a tragic event involving mass suicide and the enigmatic disappearance of Paul Dobbs, leaves Nico grappling with the harsh reality of his encounter, forever changing his understanding of the world's hidden darkness.
(Nico's odd encounter(SRIllyana):SRIllyana)
[Mon Sep 30 2024]
At the glass-barriered counter of Rude Dogg's
Right away as this store is entered are you bombarded with loud
rap, hip-hop. G-House, or phonk music, and the darkness indoors is
something to have to adjust to. There is only faint light offered
in neon-bright red, green, and yellow tints, pouring out from some
of the signs at or behind its counter, or some fluorescent ceiling
lights, dangling above a cluster of tables where riff-raff mingles
with junkies, where gangs of individuals not predisposed to let an
unknown face so much as come near their conversations, and where a
lot of conversations happen in Papiamentu, Swahili, gang-slang, or
thickly Jamaican-accented English - some convos more easily joined
than others. Between the sitting area and the counter however, not
a single bit of comfort or utility to find, excluding a worn-down
vending machine that, if it feels like it, can spit out lighters
or rolling papers, blunt wraps, and other smoking essentials.
This counter, as wide as the northern wall itself, is manned by
three people always, occupying a contrastingly decked-out booth, a
barrier of bulletproof glass between them and their clients. There
are two sliding hatches in this glass barrier, through which money
and purchased products can be exchanged, with a crackling intercom
system used to make exchanging orders and prices a bit more easily
against that backdrop of - what would by some perceived as - that
obnoxiously loud music they wield full, and proud, control over.
It is morning, about 68F(20C) degrees, and the sky is covered by thin white clouds.
(Your target stumbles upon a hidden meeting of The Sapphire Martyrs in the basement of a local church. They overhear a plan to detonate a powerful magical item in the heart of Haven, which would trigger a cataclysm that would sever the connection between Earth and the other worlds. The group must stop the Martyrs before they can carry out their plan, but they also discover that one of the Martyrs is a loved one or a respected figure in the community who has lost hope. The encounter requires both a battle of wits and strength, and a deep moral dilemma.)
Nico hangs around the main room of the RG, evidently high as the proverbial kite and loving life. His usually frantic gaze calms down, lazily settling on faces at random, unable to keep the giggles away for long.
The morning is like many others in haven township; It's almost cozy-- At least, it is for the unaware population. And of course, what could be more so normal than visiting Rude Dogg's smokeshack to grab a stash for the week (or day) to come. I mean really... Who could stop Nico It's just normally mandated entertainment at the end of the day and surrounded by the obnoxiously loud music (to some), the profusion of scents and sounds are a treat to the senses... Especially those that don't usually get their game on. The counter, manned as per usual and triparted is manned by three Jamaican-looking figures with equally Jamaican-sounding accents. This leaves two conclusions- Posers or actual Jamaicans. But at this moment, who cares. They have a seating area. They have a fully stocked inventory and Nico can sample their stock at his leasure. So when confronted by the annoying peddler who is certainly not meant to be here-- A person who is neither Jamaican, high as a kite or even outlandishly tripped out by life, narcotics or even the perfectly reasonable outcomes of either, it leaves Nico with somewhat of an issue. He's handed a pamphlet. It looks inoccuous enough. It has everything you might expect. It is printed on thick paper stock, glossy and cultivated to perfection. But alas, it might explode if it was used to wrap a joint. So should Nico read it, or should he discard it? What a problem... And it looks so colorful, too. Almost as though it held something transcendental within its mysterious words.
Nico glances up at the peddler, a brow raising as he's handed a pamphlet. Still, the smile of the chemically-induced perpetually-amused and those blissfully unaware, even while sober, dances across his lips, and he doesn't pay it a second thought for a long moment. After a time, however, the music loses its luster, and the company isn't quite so entertaining, drawing his attention back to the pamphlet in his hands. Flipping it up, he has to squint slightly to focus his gaze enough to read, but read he does, eyes taking in the veritable cacophony of colors.
Though it would likely mean far more to someone in the know, Nico sadly isn't that. He is unaware, so he has no idea what so ever what the Sapphire Martyrs are. Which in its own way is telling enough, as if he did, he might realise that he was handed an invite to a doomsday cult's "church" meeting, where they would likely be plotting to destroy the earth in exchange for preserving the rest of the universe-- Or they would plot the downfall of a city-- Or launch nuclear warheads in order to set the world back to year zero in a radioactive holocaust of epic proportion just to insure the world didn't end in nearly thirteen years... But unfortunately, Nico knows none of this. So he sees a brightly colored invite to a bake sale, or a picnic, or BBQ. Free food, a church named after a shade of blue and martyr-- All the signs are there. It must be legit. And the person who delivered it; A girl in her mid twenties in a pretty dress. It's low cut, too, so this bunch cant be all that stuffy. And the invite says it's free, along with an address to a church, a time, a date-- Oh! That's today. Nico could go if he wanted. It's not even that far away.
Nico flicks his gaze from the pamphlet to the apparent courier, letting out the laugh of ones who knows far, far too little of what's going on. Nevertheless, while he typically isn't one for anything even remotely resembling a religious function, a pretty ad and a prettier girl delivering it present a convincing argument in the man's mind. Rising to his feet, he wanders on off, following the directions printed on the ad towards the simple pleasures in life. Free food, and pretty girls in low-cut dresses.
It's not somewhere Nico has been before; If anything, the area, if not the church itself is run down. Maybe it would be considered falling apart, but as they say... The religious areas are losing money by the bucket full these days. It's likely because they're all so stuffy. The crisp sea air floats through the area, the salt tang and scent of fish contrasting with the warm sunlight as it bombards Nico with the warmth of a fresh new day. Here, the vehicles are, in a word, shitty. The roads are poorly pathed, with roots piercing through the tarmack, potholes a plenty and with sidewalks that could charitably be considered "strune with detritus"- By which anyone normal would counter with "An utter shit tip of refuse, the homeless and discarded signs of an once far more affluent lifestyle. As Nico walks, he finds himself walking past smashed windows, the glass still littering the ground, rats openly loitering and of course, then there is the church itself, which looks as though some five year old with an over abundance of lego put it together and then got bord; Its stonework looks many times repaired, destroyed, reconstituted and bludgeoned. It is defaced, the graffiti coating it not just paint or pouder, but also the discards and leavings from what could, in any other area be thought of as food. Never the less though, as Nico makes his way past the dark rectory and into the church yard, he hears the soft sounds of conversation and the gentle hum of music. More than that though, BBQ. Meats, corn- It's all there, and as Nico muddles his way around the back, he finds his way into what seems to be a party in full swing. A live band plays christian? rock, there is food on the grill and seating is set out where T-shirt wearing volunteers are handing meals, drinks and likely religious retoric out to anyone who will listen. Blue shirts. Maybe one might say sapphire, of course, and depicted with the image of the most clasical martyr of all, Jesus upon the cross and the legend 'He died so you could live!'"
Nico paces slowly through the run-down area surrounding the church. As the glass and detritus crunches under his boots, his chemically-sponsored mirth seems to wane somewhat, gaze starting to flick from point to point. Doors, windows, vantage points, the look of someone entirely too used to doing this somewhere a bit more sand and dust covered. For the long walk to the church, he's constantly on edge, fingers clenching and unclenching, reaching for a rifle that isn't there. Still, he perseveres trundling on in search of food and the simpler pleasures. Coming across the party, his look of mild bemusement returns as he strolls around, idly chatting with the folks in blue, helping himself to the plentiful food and company.
Everyone here seems in good cheer; They are happily mingling together. Some are dancing, others simply chatting, yet more are handing out more food. It appears to be a poor community taking advantage of a point of contact in the ocean of suffering outside. The band plays on and as Nico samples the food, he is met with a veritable assortment of choices, from which he is able to take anything. The down trodden, the wealthy, the in between are all here, socializing together in what seems to be this bastion of peace and tranquility. If he were to take note of such things, he would even spot a few of the volunteers from the Great News community center, along with some staff from such places as Dave's Convenience, the Strip Teeze, Rosie's diner, Affordable AF and otherwise. There's even a couple of people that Nico has likely seen around town who work for town hall, at the bank, the college, hospital and various other Haven-bound locations. The most notable however might possibly be a small time bigwig from the local Haven news team. Paul Dobbs, known for covering social events and events such as weddings. Paul is talking to a man in priest's robes, and as that breaks up, and as Nico takes a few bites from his free meal, comforted in the welcoming atmosphere of this homely church gathering, the priest begins to speak. "If I might have your attention." he calls out, stepping on to the stage, his voice echoing via the sound set up. "We're here to share in something wonderful today. Not simply in the glory of our lord and saviour, but in the unity of community..." -- The speach must be continuing. Nico is aware of the droning, but he's also aware of something being not quite right here. Nico loses consciousness, and when he awakens, he's trussed up along side a group of other likewise gagged and bound innocent citizens within what must be the church basement. Nico may possibly be more awake than many others. It's likely because he's not eaten nearly as much as the others, so that makes what he sees all the more strange. The area is cold, dark and glum. The obvious things are here, but so too are a group of sapphire robed figures surrounding a glowing object in the center of the room. Is that a knife? Fuck! Nico is higher than he thought. Because this cant be real, can it? A glowing knife, a circle from some fantasy movie about wizards and a circle of chained victims? What kind of fucked up bender is this?
Nico enjoys the party, lost in the whirlwind... Before coming back to consciousness, good vibes and good food a thing of the past as he looks around, brows furrowing. Tugging at his restraints, the man's eyes suddenly go wide, taking in the sights around him, tugging frantically at his restraints, gnawing at the gag to try and do... Something. Wear it down, loosen it somewhat, what have you. Though it does nothing, the attempt at resistance does do something to help the man's nerves, though his gaze never leaves the glowing object. While he can't exactly explain what's going on here, one thing is remarkably clear: This wasn't the weed. What. The. Fuck.
For now, these weird cultists don't seem to have noticed that Nico has regained consciousness. They are ignoring him and that likely is to his advantage. The priest, who seems to hav anointed one of the cultists for /some reason/ -- who knows with weirdos- steps back, offering him the knife, and as Nico realises, he sees that this cultist- The knife wielder is Paul Dobbs, the news man. Where he should likely look shocked, surprised or remorceful, Paul has nothing but contempt in his gaze; That slavishly cultish gaze of one who is in too deep and willingly so. So as Nico struggles against his bindings, he is granted a front row seat as Paul takes the knife to the first of the victims in the circle. Unmoving as they are, that person's throat is sliced, their life blood spilling out to coat them in a viscous crimson grin from ear to ear. And then, that continues. Before Nico can respond, two more people have met the same fate, their life blood spilling over the glowing knife and setting it to glow more vibrantly, its radiant light beginning to shift from a pure white to a brilliant yellow. - The knife is the key to what ever this is. Even unaware, Nico can tell this much. And as more lives are taken, Nico can visibly observe its coriscating brilliant lambency shifting. If it reaches apotheosis, there is no telling what might happen. But the question is, can Nico think of a way to escape with the limited information he has, or will he become a victim of the apparently mad Paul Dobbs the cultist news reporter?
As Nico comes fully to himself, he becomes aware that he's not bound to anything. That is, save for to the persons to either side of him. There is a knot and winding strands spiraling across his forearms, to which the ropes themselves spider outwards, holding the entire group of victims in a rough ritualistic sacrifice circle. His legs are free, and all that holds him back is the bindings around his arms and the shackling to those to either side of him. Nico believes however that he has the endurance and the dexterity to snake his way free given enough time. But that time is growing slowly shorter- Anoter victim, the knife changes color. A chant, the priest steps forward, the next victim- A deepening pool of blood to stain the ground. (@nico is quite right, the story runner should have made that more clear XD)
Nico tests his bindings again, this time more subtly... Rope. This, he can work with. Working his wrists, he attempts to slip the bindings in whatever way he can, ideally undetected. The growing pool of blood on the ground doesn't seem to phase him... But the knife, changing color as it ends lives, does. There might be a way to handle this. If he's lucky. Maybe. Keeping his head low, he glances around, searching for a way out. A door, a window, anything at all.
Nico finds exactly what he's seeking easily; Directly behind him is a stair case leading to the storm doors. They arn't guarded, either. And all of the cultists save the priest and Paul are standing in a circle- It looks like they are setting up a ritual or a spell, or some other new age, or occult nonsense that really cant be real. There's another snick as the knife meets flesh, another hiss of blood, the steam rising as the floor is colored with the incarnadine red of fresh, sticky blood, its acrid iron tang growing as Paul methodically takes life after life. Nico may have a minute if this continues as it has been. He finds himself maybe ten people away- But best yet, he hasn't been noticed. And as Nico tests his bindings, he finds that he has wiggle room. If he continues to try them, he can break free-- The knife though... That white that turned to yellow is now shimmering to orange. It almost appears to vibrate in Paul Dobb's hands and the closer and closer he gets, the more and more he can hear Paul's litany of mumbled invocations to... A higher power? To himself? "The world is going to end, but it cant be all. We can save some if we sacrifice others. The needs of the many out-weigh the needs of the few and we can split ourselves from the rest of the universe to protect them with our sacrifices oh Lord. Let these sacrifices be enough." Nine people... Eight... Seven...
Nico flashes the faintest of grim smiles, working his bindings, trying to work dexterous fingers long used to dealing with highly sensitive wires going into less sensitive plastic explosives to get him better leverage, working to loosen the binds enough for him to slip free. If an opening appears, assuming the bindings slip enough, he readies and preps himself enough to take it, tensing and loosening his legs to get the blood flowing. Three sharp breaths to spike the heart rate and blood pressure, closing his eyes as he works the bindings to dilate his eyes, so he can catch every detail. He'll have one shot. He knows this. He understands this. And while he'd like to do everything he can to help the others, one unarmed man again a group of cultists with at least one weapon isn't a chance he's willing to take.
Six people... five... Four... And Nico has it! He has the knots loose enough to drop them and he could slip free. But the priest is standing beside the person next to Nico now and their blood flows as Paul slits their throat. Then, they're upon Nico. If he's not careful-- Or quick enough, the cultists will notice that Nico isn't as drugged as all the rest, but the litany continues and the priest chants. The dagger is beginning to turn red now, and other than Nico, there are maybe seven people, possibly eight left to be sacrificed. Now then is Nico's time to act.
Nico doesn't bother fully rising to his feet as he drops his bindings. Raising his arms as he runs, he tries to drive a hand into his would-be executioner's throat. Less of an attack, more of the removal of an obstacle. If that results in the knife slipping from his grasp, he'd try to grab it as he sprints. If not, oh well. If the knife raises, flashing into Nico... Well, that sounds like several things suddenly become not Nico's problem. Barring that last option, however, the end result remains the same: A dead-sprint up the stairs, ideally busting out through the storm doors.
Nico's gambit is very successful; Unprepared for resistance, Paul's arm rises to slice the knife, but Nico is dexterous enough to slap the blade aside. The priest makes a grab for him, but between Paul's knife- dangerous as it is and the bound people, the cultist leader slips and falls- Likely helped along by the pooling blood and slumped forms of his victims. Nico isn't able to catch the blade though. But it does fall from Paul's shocked and surprised fingers and as Nico shoves him back, he too stumbles and the priest and Paul tumble to land together. At this, the other cultists turn, but what ever they're doing seems to have the lion's share of their attention and it's very possible that what ever it is would prove dangerous if they move. Then though, the knife slips, twists and sparks, and it lands, blade first in the priest's arm and not designed for that point of contact- Or as a freak encounter, what ever the case may be, it begins to radiate, Nico's escape bathed in flickering red light that pulses as he makes a break for it. "Oh god no!" Someone yells as Nico manages to open, then rush through the storm doors and as they hammer closed behind him, Nico hears inhuman sounds from within. A haunting crimson glow flares- Like something from Buffy or Supernatural and then, all falls silent. Nico has made his way to freedom, but what he has escaped likely changes his perceptions of the world forever. What then is left but for Nico to decide how to deal with this? How does he accept it? How does he get on with his life?
Nico runs. He handles it by running. Run now, process later, cope... Eventually. But for now, he runs until his legs ache and his chest screams at him to stop. Finding a shadowed corner somewhere blocks away from the church, he half-sits, half-collapses against a wall, chest heaving. He sits there for some time, staring blankly into the sky. As time passes and the thoughts percolate in his head, several things start to make sense. The odd coincidences. The hushed conversations, only partially overheard. The suited man from the bar last night... What was he drinking? Pieces start to click into place, and while the picture it paints is terrifying and fantastical, it makes a chilling degree of sense. Who else knows? Who can he learn more from? Regardless, one thing is sure: His answer to that same, damn question has changed. 'Are you Aware'. Now? Partially.
Over the next few days, Nico finds a discarded news paper; It tells a fantastical story about a blood bath, cultists including a local celebrity, Paul Dobbs being involved with satanic cults. Mass suicide pacts and a firebombing of a small town church in one of the rougher areas in Haven township. But for now, Nico can move on with his life, for during the day, it is a time for humanity to thrive. It is a time where all can be as it should be. It is a time where Haven isn't quite so fantastical... But as night falls and the shadows grow long, the monsters will awaken, and Nico will find himself embroiled in a world of darkness, where those things that were once thought of as fantasy and nightmares will prove themselves to be reality.
The ritual, aiming to trigger a cataclysm to sever Earth’s connection to other worlds for a perceived greater good, involves the sacrifice of the gathered innocents. Nico, witnessing the horror unfold as the cultists methodically murder the attendees, realizes the gravity of his predicament. With a combination of luck and quick thinking, he manages to escape his bindings and disrupt the ritual, fleeing the scene amidst the chaos he leaves behind. His escape from the cultists' clutches marks a pivotal moment in his life, transforming his once-naive view of the world around him. The aftermath, covered in the newspapers as a tragic event involving mass suicide and the enigmatic disappearance of Paul Dobbs, leaves Nico grappling with the harsh reality of his encounter, forever changing his understanding of the world's hidden darkness.
(Nico's odd encounter(SRIllyana):SRIllyana)
[Mon Sep 30 2024]
At the glass-barriered counter of Rude Dogg's
Right away as this store is entered are you bombarded with loud
rap, hip-hop. G-House, or phonk music, and the darkness indoors is
something to have to adjust to. There is only faint light offered
in neon-bright red, green, and yellow tints, pouring out from some
of the signs at or behind its counter, or some fluorescent ceiling
lights, dangling above a cluster of tables where riff-raff mingles
with junkies, where gangs of individuals not predisposed to let an
unknown face so much as come near their conversations, and where a
lot of conversations happen in Papiamentu, Swahili, gang-slang, or
thickly Jamaican-accented English - some convos more easily joined
than others. Between the sitting area and the counter however, not
a single bit of comfort or utility to find, excluding a worn-down
vending machine that, if it feels like it, can spit out lighters
or rolling papers, blunt wraps, and other smoking essentials.
This counter, as wide as the northern wall itself, is manned by
three people always, occupying a contrastingly decked-out booth, a
barrier of bulletproof glass between them and their clients. There
are two sliding hatches in this glass barrier, through which money
and purchased products can be exchanged, with a crackling intercom
system used to make exchanging orders and prices a bit more easily
against that backdrop of - what would by some perceived as - that
obnoxiously loud music they wield full, and proud, control over.
It is morning, about 68F(20C) degrees, and the sky is covered by thin white clouds.
(Your target stumbles upon a hidden meeting of The Sapphire Martyrs in the basement of a local church. They overhear a plan to detonate a powerful magical item in the heart of Haven, which would trigger a cataclysm that would sever the connection between Earth and the other worlds. The group must stop the Martyrs before they can carry out their plan, but they also discover that one of the Martyrs is a loved one or a respected figure in the community who has lost hope. The encounter requires both a battle of wits and strength, and a deep moral dilemma.)
Nico hangs around the main room of the RG, evidently high as the proverbial kite and loving life. His usually frantic gaze calms down, lazily settling on faces at random, unable to keep the giggles away for long.
The morning is like many others in haven township; It's almost cozy-- At least, it is for the unaware population. And of course, what could be more so normal than visiting Rude Dogg's smokeshack to grab a stash for the week (or day) to come. I mean really... Who could stop Nico It's just normally mandated entertainment at the end of the day and surrounded by the obnoxiously loud music (to some), the profusion of scents and sounds are a treat to the senses... Especially those that don't usually get their game on. The counter, manned as per usual and triparted is manned by three Jamaican-looking figures with equally Jamaican-sounding accents. This leaves two conclusions- Posers or actual Jamaicans. But at this moment, who cares. They have a seating area. They have a fully stocked inventory and Nico can sample their stock at his leasure. So when confronted by the annoying peddler who is certainly not meant to be here-- A person who is neither Jamaican, high as a kite or even outlandishly tripped out by life, narcotics or even the perfectly reasonable outcomes of either, it leaves Nico with somewhat of an issue. He's handed a pamphlet. It looks inoccuous enough. It has everything you might expect. It is printed on thick paper stock, glossy and cultivated to perfection. But alas, it might explode if it was used to wrap a joint. So should Nico read it, or should he discard it? What a problem... And it looks so colorful, too. Almost as though it held something transcendental within its mysterious words.
Nico glances up at the peddler, a brow raising as he's handed a pamphlet. Still, the smile of the chemically-induced perpetually-amused and those blissfully unaware, even while sober, dances across his lips, and he doesn't pay it a second thought for a long moment. After a time, however, the music loses its luster, and the company isn't quite so entertaining, drawing his attention back to the pamphlet in his hands. Flipping it up, he has to squint slightly to focus his gaze enough to read, but read he does, eyes taking in the veritable cacophony of colors.
Though it would likely mean far more to someone in the know, Nico sadly isn't that. He is unaware, so he has no idea what so ever what the Sapphire Martyrs are. Which in its own way is telling enough, as if he did, he might realise that he was handed an invite to a doomsday cult's "church" meeting, where they would likely be plotting to destroy the earth in exchange for preserving the rest of the universe-- Or they would plot the downfall of a city-- Or launch nuclear warheads in order to set the world back to year zero in a radioactive holocaust of epic proportion just to insure the world didn't end in nearly thirteen years... But unfortunately, Nico knows none of this. So he sees a brightly colored invite to a bake sale, or a picnic, or BBQ. Free food, a church named after a shade of blue and martyr-- All the signs are there. It must be legit. And the person who delivered it; A girl in her mid twenties in a pretty dress. It's low cut, too, so this bunch cant be all that stuffy. And the invite says it's free, along with an address to a church, a time, a date-- Oh! That's today. Nico could go if he wanted. It's not even that far away.
Nico flicks his gaze from the pamphlet to the apparent courier, letting out the laugh of ones who knows far, far too little of what's going on. Nevertheless, while he typically isn't one for anything even remotely resembling a religious function, a pretty ad and a prettier girl delivering it present a convincing argument in the man's mind. Rising to his feet, he wanders on off, following the directions printed on the ad towards the simple pleasures in life. Free food, and pretty girls in low-cut dresses.
It's not somewhere Nico has been before; If anything, the area, if not the church itself is run down. Maybe it would be considered falling apart, but as they say... The religious areas are losing money by the bucket full these days. It's likely because they're all so stuffy. The crisp sea air floats through the area, the salt tang and scent of fish contrasting with the warm sunlight as it bombards Nico with the warmth of a fresh new day. Here, the vehicles are, in a word, shitty. The roads are poorly pathed, with roots piercing through the tarmack, potholes a plenty and with sidewalks that could charitably be considered "strune with detritus"- By which anyone normal would counter with "An utter shit tip of refuse, the homeless and discarded signs of an once far more affluent lifestyle. As Nico walks, he finds himself walking past smashed windows, the glass still littering the ground, rats openly loitering and of course, then there is the church itself, which looks as though some five year old with an over abundance of lego put it together and then got bord; Its stonework looks many times repaired, destroyed, reconstituted and bludgeoned. It is defaced, the graffiti coating it not just paint or pouder, but also the discards and leavings from what could, in any other area be thought of as food. Never the less though, as Nico makes his way past the dark rectory and into the church yard, he hears the soft sounds of conversation and the gentle hum of music. More than that though, BBQ. Meats, corn- It's all there, and as Nico muddles his way around the back, he finds his way into what seems to be a party in full swing. A live band plays christian? rock, there is food on the grill and seating is set out where T-shirt wearing volunteers are handing meals, drinks and likely religious retoric out to anyone who will listen. Blue shirts. Maybe one might say sapphire, of course, and depicted with the image of the most clasical martyr of all, Jesus upon the cross and the legend 'He died so you could live!'"
Nico paces slowly through the run-down area surrounding the church. As the glass and detritus crunches under his boots, his chemically-sponsored mirth seems to wane somewhat, gaze starting to flick from point to point. Doors, windows, vantage points, the look of someone entirely too used to doing this somewhere a bit more sand and dust covered. For the long walk to the church, he's constantly on edge, fingers clenching and unclenching, reaching for a rifle that isn't there. Still, he perseveres trundling on in search of food and the simpler pleasures. Coming across the party, his look of mild bemusement returns as he strolls around, idly chatting with the folks in blue, helping himself to the plentiful food and company.
Everyone here seems in good cheer; They are happily mingling together. Some are dancing, others simply chatting, yet more are handing out more food. It appears to be a poor community taking advantage of a point of contact in the ocean of suffering outside. The band plays on and as Nico samples the food, he is met with a veritable assortment of choices, from which he is able to take anything. The down trodden, the wealthy, the in between are all here, socializing together in what seems to be this bastion of peace and tranquility. If he were to take note of such things, he would even spot a few of the volunteers from the Great News community center, along with some staff from such places as Dave's Convenience, the Strip Teeze, Rosie's diner, Affordable AF and otherwise. There's even a couple of people that Nico has likely seen around town who work for town hall, at the bank, the college, hospital and various other Haven-bound locations. The most notable however might possibly be a small time bigwig from the local Haven news team. Paul Dobbs, known for covering social events and events such as weddings. Paul is talking to a man in priest's robes, and as that breaks up, and as Nico takes a few bites from his free meal, comforted in the welcoming atmosphere of this homely church gathering, the priest begins to speak. "If I might have your attention." he calls out, stepping on to the stage, his voice echoing via the sound set up. "We're here to share in something wonderful today. Not simply in the glory of our lord and saviour, but in the unity of community..." -- The speach must be continuing. Nico is aware of the droning, but he's also aware of something being not quite right here. Nico loses consciousness, and when he awakens, he's trussed up along side a group of other likewise gagged and bound innocent citizens within what must be the church basement. Nico may possibly be more awake than many others. It's likely because he's not eaten nearly as much as the others, so that makes what he sees all the more strange. The area is cold, dark and glum. The obvious things are here, but so too are a group of sapphire robed figures surrounding a glowing object in the center of the room. Is that a knife? Fuck! Nico is higher than he thought. Because this cant be real, can it? A glowing knife, a circle from some fantasy movie about wizards and a circle of chained victims? What kind of fucked up bender is this?
Nico enjoys the party, lost in the whirlwind... Before coming back to consciousness, good vibes and good food a thing of the past as he looks around, brows furrowing. Tugging at his restraints, the man's eyes suddenly go wide, taking in the sights around him, tugging frantically at his restraints, gnawing at the gag to try and do... Something. Wear it down, loosen it somewhat, what have you. Though it does nothing, the attempt at resistance does do something to help the man's nerves, though his gaze never leaves the glowing object. While he can't exactly explain what's going on here, one thing is remarkably clear: This wasn't the weed. What. The. Fuck.
For now, these weird cultists don't seem to have noticed that Nico has regained consciousness. They are ignoring him and that likely is to his advantage. The priest, who seems to hav anointed one of the cultists for /some reason/ -- who knows with weirdos- steps back, offering him the knife, and as Nico realises, he sees that this cultist- The knife wielder is Paul Dobbs, the news man. Where he should likely look shocked, surprised or remorceful, Paul has nothing but contempt in his gaze; That slavishly cultish gaze of one who is in too deep and willingly so. So as Nico struggles against his bindings, he is granted a front row seat as Paul takes the knife to the first of the victims in the circle. Unmoving as they are, that person's throat is sliced, their life blood spilling out to coat them in a viscous crimson grin from ear to ear. And then, that continues. Before Nico can respond, two more people have met the same fate, their life blood spilling over the glowing knife and setting it to glow more vibrantly, its radiant light beginning to shift from a pure white to a brilliant yellow. - The knife is the key to what ever this is. Even unaware, Nico can tell this much. And as more lives are taken, Nico can visibly observe its coriscating brilliant lambency shifting. If it reaches apotheosis, there is no telling what might happen. But the question is, can Nico think of a way to escape with the limited information he has, or will he become a victim of the apparently mad Paul Dobbs the cultist news reporter?
As Nico comes fully to himself, he becomes aware that he's not bound to anything. That is, save for to the persons to either side of him. There is a knot and winding strands spiraling across his forearms, to which the ropes themselves spider outwards, holding the entire group of victims in a rough ritualistic sacrifice circle. His legs are free, and all that holds him back is the bindings around his arms and the shackling to those to either side of him. Nico believes however that he has the endurance and the dexterity to snake his way free given enough time. But that time is growing slowly shorter- Anoter victim, the knife changes color. A chant, the priest steps forward, the next victim- A deepening pool of blood to stain the ground. (@nico is quite right, the story runner should have made that more clear XD)
Nico tests his bindings again, this time more subtly... Rope. This, he can work with. Working his wrists, he attempts to slip the bindings in whatever way he can, ideally undetected. The growing pool of blood on the ground doesn't seem to phase him... But the knife, changing color as it ends lives, does. There might be a way to handle this. If he's lucky. Maybe. Keeping his head low, he glances around, searching for a way out. A door, a window, anything at all.
Nico finds exactly what he's seeking easily; Directly behind him is a stair case leading to the storm doors. They arn't guarded, either. And all of the cultists save the priest and Paul are standing in a circle- It looks like they are setting up a ritual or a spell, or some other new age, or occult nonsense that really cant be real. There's another snick as the knife meets flesh, another hiss of blood, the steam rising as the floor is colored with the incarnadine red of fresh, sticky blood, its acrid iron tang growing as Paul methodically takes life after life. Nico may have a minute if this continues as it has been. He finds himself maybe ten people away- But best yet, he hasn't been noticed. And as Nico tests his bindings, he finds that he has wiggle room. If he continues to try them, he can break free-- The knife though... That white that turned to yellow is now shimmering to orange. It almost appears to vibrate in Paul Dobb's hands and the closer and closer he gets, the more and more he can hear Paul's litany of mumbled invocations to... A higher power? To himself? "The world is going to end, but it cant be all. We can save some if we sacrifice others. The needs of the many out-weigh the needs of the few and we can split ourselves from the rest of the universe to protect them with our sacrifices oh Lord. Let these sacrifices be enough." Nine people... Eight... Seven...
Nico flashes the faintest of grim smiles, working his bindings, trying to work dexterous fingers long used to dealing with highly sensitive wires going into less sensitive plastic explosives to get him better leverage, working to loosen the binds enough for him to slip free. If an opening appears, assuming the bindings slip enough, he readies and preps himself enough to take it, tensing and loosening his legs to get the blood flowing. Three sharp breaths to spike the heart rate and blood pressure, closing his eyes as he works the bindings to dilate his eyes, so he can catch every detail. He'll have one shot. He knows this. He understands this. And while he'd like to do everything he can to help the others, one unarmed man again a group of cultists with at least one weapon isn't a chance he's willing to take.
Six people... five... Four... And Nico has it! He has the knots loose enough to drop them and he could slip free. But the priest is standing beside the person next to Nico now and their blood flows as Paul slits their throat. Then, they're upon Nico. If he's not careful-- Or quick enough, the cultists will notice that Nico isn't as drugged as all the rest, but the litany continues and the priest chants. The dagger is beginning to turn red now, and other than Nico, there are maybe seven people, possibly eight left to be sacrificed. Now then is Nico's time to act.
Nico doesn't bother fully rising to his feet as he drops his bindings. Raising his arms as he runs, he tries to drive a hand into his would-be executioner's throat. Less of an attack, more of the removal of an obstacle. If that results in the knife slipping from his grasp, he'd try to grab it as he sprints. If not, oh well. If the knife raises, flashing into Nico... Well, that sounds like several things suddenly become not Nico's problem. Barring that last option, however, the end result remains the same: A dead-sprint up the stairs, ideally busting out through the storm doors.
Nico's gambit is very successful; Unprepared for resistance, Paul's arm rises to slice the knife, but Nico is dexterous enough to slap the blade aside. The priest makes a grab for him, but between Paul's knife- dangerous as it is and the bound people, the cultist leader slips and falls- Likely helped along by the pooling blood and slumped forms of his victims. Nico isn't able to catch the blade though. But it does fall from Paul's shocked and surprised fingers and as Nico shoves him back, he too stumbles and the priest and Paul tumble to land together. At this, the other cultists turn, but what ever they're doing seems to have the lion's share of their attention and it's very possible that what ever it is would prove dangerous if they move. Then though, the knife slips, twists and sparks, and it lands, blade first in the priest's arm and not designed for that point of contact- Or as a freak encounter, what ever the case may be, it begins to radiate, Nico's escape bathed in flickering red light that pulses as he makes a break for it. "Oh god no!" Someone yells as Nico manages to open, then rush through the storm doors and as they hammer closed behind him, Nico hears inhuman sounds from within. A haunting crimson glow flares- Like something from Buffy or Supernatural and then, all falls silent. Nico has made his way to freedom, but what he has escaped likely changes his perceptions of the world forever. What then is left but for Nico to decide how to deal with this? How does he accept it? How does he get on with his life?
Nico runs. He handles it by running. Run now, process later, cope... Eventually. But for now, he runs until his legs ache and his chest screams at him to stop. Finding a shadowed corner somewhere blocks away from the church, he half-sits, half-collapses against a wall, chest heaving. He sits there for some time, staring blankly into the sky. As time passes and the thoughts percolate in his head, several things start to make sense. The odd coincidences. The hushed conversations, only partially overheard. The suited man from the bar last night... What was he drinking? Pieces start to click into place, and while the picture it paints is terrifying and fantastical, it makes a chilling degree of sense. Who else knows? Who can he learn more from? Regardless, one thing is sure: His answer to that same, damn question has changed. 'Are you Aware'. Now? Partially.
Over the next few days, Nico finds a discarded news paper; It tells a fantastical story about a blood bath, cultists including a local celebrity, Paul Dobbs being involved with satanic cults. Mass suicide pacts and a firebombing of a small town church in one of the rougher areas in Haven township. But for now, Nico can move on with his life, for during the day, it is a time for humanity to thrive. It is a time where all can be as it should be. It is a time where Haven isn't quite so fantastical... But as night falls and the shadows grow long, the monsters will awaken, and Nico will find himself embroiled in a world of darkness, where those things that were once thought of as fantasy and nightmares will prove themselves to be reality.