Encounterlogs
Novels Odd Encounter Sr Fayad 240828
In an alley behind a community center, Novel finds himself recuperating from an adventure filled with dragon-induced hallucinations and intense craving for a missed feast. Slumped against a dumpster, seeking solace in a moment of quiet and a bottle of beer, his brief respite is shattered by the unexpected approach of silver-scaled knights. These knights, seeking revenge and bearing weapons of blue and silver, corner Novel, declaring their intention to capture him for interrogation. Caught off guard and without his usual armaments, stowed away with his motorcycle, Novel is forced into a desperate escape into the community center, using his wits and the environment to barricade himself temporarily.
As the knights attempt to breach the center, Novel's improvisation turns the kitchen into a makeshift battleground. Using his ingenuity and the unexpected resources found within—jugs of cooking oil, a bowie knife, and a fire extinguisher—he plans a fiery trap for his assailants. The conflict escalates into a brutal confrontation, with Novel leveraging the slick oil to cause chaos among the knights and their mounts. His calculated use of fire against the invaders exploits their unfamiliarity with the environment, allowing Novel to not only incapacitate them with the element of surprise but also revel in the chaos he creates. The encounter ends with Novel emerging victorious, yet leaving behind a scene of destruction and the question of morality in his methods, easily spinning the narrative to the police as an act of community defense against vandals. The once quiet alley and community center bear witness to Novel's ruthless ingenuity in the face of overwhelming odds.
(Novel's odd encounter(SRFayad):SRFayad)
[Wed Aug 21 2024]
At some dumpsters behind the community center
The alley behind this addiction recovery center bears silent witness to the complex narratives of those who pass through its walls. Discarded bottles clink in the shadows, interspersed with crumpled fast-food wrappers and cigarette butts that form a mosaic of desolation on the cracked asphalt. Overfilled dumpsters loom at intervals, their contents spilling out like the untold stories of struggle and relapse. Graffiti tags scar brick walls, covering up posters advertising strength and resilience.
It is night, about 75F(23C) degrees, There is a waning gibbous moon.
(Members of an opposing faction or subfaction are after your target. They must escape them or fight them off for long enough for their allies to arrive and help keep them protected.
)
Novel resorted to, right after his last adventure, slumping against a dumpster in an alley. He's not in a great way. He's tired. He missed a fucking feast. His chest hurts a lot. He had a dragon riding his brain. He still tastes flaming chicken on his breath. So the first thing he did was trying to relax. A quiet corner, a bottle of beer. Some crack.@line
But...
The man who ordinarily delights in drugs, his addiction. It tastes mild. Bitter. Like distantly trying to get something out of chewing flavorless grass. In comparison to the rawness of what he tasted. Did. The literal heart-stopping adventure.
Unfortunately for Novel, now isn't the time to light up. Silver scales flash in the distance, both sides of the alley closing in as anachronistic knights riding lizards of an argent hue close in to beat Novel's shit in and take him screaming to be interrogated by his enemies. Novel had been warned of this previously by Emmanuel and Fayad, who had been attacked, and now it seems like it's his turn. Bearing blades of blue and silver, the knight in the lead orders a charge, and Novel hears the skitter-patter of at least four coming at him, two from each direction. "DEATH TO THE FELL WYRM!", they cry.
Novel sighs. "Just one of those fucking days," he announces to nobody in particular. Maybe his dragon-lord buddy. He doesn't even have his weapons. They're back stowed safely away in his motorcycle, around the corner, and he shoves himself to the feet. Thankfully, charging down a narrow alleyway also isn't easy, so he opts to shove the drug pusher out of the way, kick a trashcan in the way, and seize his hands on the doorhandle and haul it open. He's right by the community center, and he calls out behind his back "FUCK YOU," before slamming it shut. Then he seizes the nearest heavy object - the player forgets the exact layout of the center - and throws it down in front of the door with a CRASH.
Novel manages to feed on the suffering he's caused. The drug dealer is being trampled by giant lizards. Oof! Ouch! Crash! Kazap! Many other onomatopoeias ring out as they beat the ever-living shit-fuck out of the poor mundane guy, assuming he's also part of the Scions, before the door begins to splinter from the giant table Novel casually dragged over with his super strength being attacked. "The foul wretch has sealed the door with something made of wood!", he overheads. "Circle around and head in through the front door to get him! FOR SHEMRA!" Pitter-patter, pitter-patter.
enjoys the afterglow of everyone getting mauled and then curses under his breath at the comment. Cut off from his own weapons... let's see. He has his bowie knife. Wait. "Did he just say 'for smegma'?" Novel boggles at this momentarily before quickly shaking his head. He debates, briefly, simply wrenching the table out of the way again and then promptly leaving through the door. Then he realizes he's on foot, they'll quickly figure it out, and probably run him down somewhere else where he ISN'T protected by the massive fucking effort his fine friend Fayad poured into layering protections into every square inch of this building.
Right, new plan.
He quickly strides to the kitchen and rips open the cabinetry, seeking out the jug of cooking oil. He REALLY hopes there is one.
There is, in fact, many jugs of cooking oil - they cook all kinds of chicken and curry and stuff like that here daily. Novel manages to find pretty much anything he wants in the kitchen that you'd reasonably find in any restaurant. Good plan on not leaving the besieged soup kitchen, it seems, since as soon as Novel closes the door there's another slam against it. He can hear the front door open and the shrieking of the front desk receptionis.
Novel hopes vaguely that the people attacking are not, in fact, people, because otherwise half of the plan isn't going to work. He sets three jugs of oil on the counter next to one of those long aim-n-flame lighters that are so popular in this modern day and age. Pop the top on one, pour it out in the doorways, huck the empty jug into the trash. Walk back behind the counter, pulling out the bowie knife - fuck using a kitchen knife for this job - and proceeds to hack the top off of both of them. May as well grab the fire extinguisher and pull it out for good measure.
How thoughtful of Novel to get the fire extinguisher ready since he's intending on making lizard flambe. As Novel turns after making his impromptu flamethrowers, he's greeted by the silver steel of a sword headed right for him from horseback. Lizardback. Whatever. They don't seem to be intent on giving Novel a chance to surrender.
Novel brings the knife up in his left hand in an attempt to parry the heavier weapon, shoving it off to one side as best he can. The other hand goes for a torn-open container of oil. He does not step away from the attack. He steps INTO the attack, vaguely hoping the oil all over the floor will make things slippery enough to make life a pain in the ass for everyone involved, turning the jug right over and pouring it over the nonhuman lizard as he does his best to stop past and around. Man, this kitchen's gonna get crowded in a moment.
The vanguard charges Novel, the other three on foot - did they leave their lizards outside? Tied to a post, maybe? Surely this is the horsemanship of the 21st century. One of them slips into the other, swearing loudly, and Novel manages to cover a silvery lizard in oil as the clang of steel against steel rings out in the kitchen.
Novel piourettes, stepping in after the charge, using the fact he's smaller and not mounted to chase right behind the mounted knight, sheathing the blade and reaching for the lighter. He should have stuck it in his pocket. Fuck. Oh well. Hindsight's 20/20. He isn't sure if these people live here or not. But one thing's for certain.
"You know your mount isn't human, right?" And if he manages to get his hands on that lighter, he's promptly going to set it alight. And then goes the grasp for the other bottle of oil, top torn off, and then yanking it to splash over the other three walking knights.
Shrieking, the lizard catches on fire. The inability to commit arson on anything in Haven causes it to just...freeze up. It can't move. Novel can see its reptilian brain short-circuiting as it's unable to risk spreading the fire immolating it onto anything. Happily, that also results in the knight catching on fire and ALSO freezing up - seems they're from out of town and Novel's found a little loophole since they're, ah, in the middle of fighting him. Being capable of a little more motion to put himself out than the lizard, he lunges for Novel's fire extinguisher as he moves sideways off the mount, even as the other knights move in to try and subdue Novel.
Novel starts to laugh. It's a dark, wicked, gleeful thing, a dragon's worshipper and a lover of fire as that horrible grin. The hand opens, dropping the jug - sliding crosswise to simply slap the extinguisher out of the way and using his shoulder and body. And then he turns. A smile pulled straight from hell. And a lighter, in his other hand.
"Out of towners? Fucking incredible." He dives towards, wicking the lighter down, intent on igniting one and shoving him into the others.
Shrieking and the scent of burned flesh. This is the excitement Novel was probably hoping for when he was lighting up crack. These people were expecting someone as pathetic as Fayad, it seems, and are ocmpletely taken aback by fighting someone who is truly the monster Shemra warns them about. He could probably just dart into that big group, cut their throats right now as he sends them into disarray.
Screaming and the scent of burned flesh. This is the excitement Novel was probably hoping for when he was lighting up crack. These people were expecting someone as pathetic as Fayad, it seems, and are ocmpletely taken aback by fighting someone who is truly the monster Shemra warns them about. He could probably just dart into that big group, cut their throats right now as he sends them into disarray.
This is -exactly- what Novel was hoping for. Oh. He takes in a deep inhale, the greasy, porklike scent of crackling flesh from something human. Or at least human-ish. Their screams, their pain. Not only that - the fight. The way the violence happens. The trembling of combat. He can hear the pulse of his heart.
It sounds like the crack and pop of a forest fire.
He readjusts the grip on his weapon, stepping forwards to drive the blade right into the face-slit of one. And again. And again. To blind, to permanently maim, but not a major artery. He wants them to suffer through their deaths. "I'm pickin' up go-od vibrations," he merrily sings to himself as he moves through creating people charcoal biscuits.
Novel ends up with four charred corpses on his hands, but the resources of the Scions of the Inferno make it pretty easy to dispose of them. They're easily explained to the police as you having finally killed those vandals that were plaguing the community center, and the big lizards...well, they went off somewhere. Who knows.
As the knights attempt to breach the center, Novel's improvisation turns the kitchen into a makeshift battleground. Using his ingenuity and the unexpected resources found within—jugs of cooking oil, a bowie knife, and a fire extinguisher—he plans a fiery trap for his assailants. The conflict escalates into a brutal confrontation, with Novel leveraging the slick oil to cause chaos among the knights and their mounts. His calculated use of fire against the invaders exploits their unfamiliarity with the environment, allowing Novel to not only incapacitate them with the element of surprise but also revel in the chaos he creates. The encounter ends with Novel emerging victorious, yet leaving behind a scene of destruction and the question of morality in his methods, easily spinning the narrative to the police as an act of community defense against vandals. The once quiet alley and community center bear witness to Novel's ruthless ingenuity in the face of overwhelming odds.
(Novel's odd encounter(SRFayad):SRFayad)
[Wed Aug 21 2024]
At some dumpsters behind the community center
The alley behind this addiction recovery center bears silent witness to the complex narratives of those who pass through its walls. Discarded bottles clink in the shadows, interspersed with crumpled fast-food wrappers and cigarette butts that form a mosaic of desolation on the cracked asphalt. Overfilled dumpsters loom at intervals, their contents spilling out like the untold stories of struggle and relapse. Graffiti tags scar brick walls, covering up posters advertising strength and resilience.
It is night, about 75F(23C) degrees, There is a waning gibbous moon.
(Members of an opposing faction or subfaction are after your target. They must escape them or fight them off for long enough for their allies to arrive and help keep them protected.
)
Novel resorted to, right after his last adventure, slumping against a dumpster in an alley. He's not in a great way. He's tired. He missed a fucking feast. His chest hurts a lot. He had a dragon riding his brain. He still tastes flaming chicken on his breath. So the first thing he did was trying to relax. A quiet corner, a bottle of beer. Some crack.@line
But...
The man who ordinarily delights in drugs, his addiction. It tastes mild. Bitter. Like distantly trying to get something out of chewing flavorless grass. In comparison to the rawness of what he tasted. Did. The literal heart-stopping adventure.
Unfortunately for Novel, now isn't the time to light up. Silver scales flash in the distance, both sides of the alley closing in as anachronistic knights riding lizards of an argent hue close in to beat Novel's shit in and take him screaming to be interrogated by his enemies. Novel had been warned of this previously by Emmanuel and Fayad, who had been attacked, and now it seems like it's his turn. Bearing blades of blue and silver, the knight in the lead orders a charge, and Novel hears the skitter-patter of at least four coming at him, two from each direction. "DEATH TO THE FELL WYRM!", they cry.
Novel sighs. "Just one of those fucking days," he announces to nobody in particular. Maybe his dragon-lord buddy. He doesn't even have his weapons. They're back stowed safely away in his motorcycle, around the corner, and he shoves himself to the feet. Thankfully, charging down a narrow alleyway also isn't easy, so he opts to shove the drug pusher out of the way, kick a trashcan in the way, and seize his hands on the doorhandle and haul it open. He's right by the community center, and he calls out behind his back "FUCK YOU," before slamming it shut. Then he seizes the nearest heavy object - the player forgets the exact layout of the center - and throws it down in front of the door with a CRASH.
Novel manages to feed on the suffering he's caused. The drug dealer is being trampled by giant lizards. Oof! Ouch! Crash! Kazap! Many other onomatopoeias ring out as they beat the ever-living shit-fuck out of the poor mundane guy, assuming he's also part of the Scions, before the door begins to splinter from the giant table Novel casually dragged over with his super strength being attacked. "The foul wretch has sealed the door with something made of wood!", he overheads. "Circle around and head in through the front door to get him! FOR SHEMRA!" Pitter-patter, pitter-patter.
enjoys the afterglow of everyone getting mauled and then curses under his breath at the comment. Cut off from his own weapons... let's see. He has his bowie knife. Wait. "Did he just say 'for smegma'?" Novel boggles at this momentarily before quickly shaking his head. He debates, briefly, simply wrenching the table out of the way again and then promptly leaving through the door. Then he realizes he's on foot, they'll quickly figure it out, and probably run him down somewhere else where he ISN'T protected by the massive fucking effort his fine friend Fayad poured into layering protections into every square inch of this building.
Right, new plan.
He quickly strides to the kitchen and rips open the cabinetry, seeking out the jug of cooking oil. He REALLY hopes there is one.
There is, in fact, many jugs of cooking oil - they cook all kinds of chicken and curry and stuff like that here daily. Novel manages to find pretty much anything he wants in the kitchen that you'd reasonably find in any restaurant. Good plan on not leaving the besieged soup kitchen, it seems, since as soon as Novel closes the door there's another slam against it. He can hear the front door open and the shrieking of the front desk receptionis.
Novel hopes vaguely that the people attacking are not, in fact, people, because otherwise half of the plan isn't going to work. He sets three jugs of oil on the counter next to one of those long aim-n-flame lighters that are so popular in this modern day and age. Pop the top on one, pour it out in the doorways, huck the empty jug into the trash. Walk back behind the counter, pulling out the bowie knife - fuck using a kitchen knife for this job - and proceeds to hack the top off of both of them. May as well grab the fire extinguisher and pull it out for good measure.
How thoughtful of Novel to get the fire extinguisher ready since he's intending on making lizard flambe. As Novel turns after making his impromptu flamethrowers, he's greeted by the silver steel of a sword headed right for him from horseback. Lizardback. Whatever. They don't seem to be intent on giving Novel a chance to surrender.
Novel brings the knife up in his left hand in an attempt to parry the heavier weapon, shoving it off to one side as best he can. The other hand goes for a torn-open container of oil. He does not step away from the attack. He steps INTO the attack, vaguely hoping the oil all over the floor will make things slippery enough to make life a pain in the ass for everyone involved, turning the jug right over and pouring it over the nonhuman lizard as he does his best to stop past and around. Man, this kitchen's gonna get crowded in a moment.
The vanguard charges Novel, the other three on foot - did they leave their lizards outside? Tied to a post, maybe? Surely this is the horsemanship of the 21st century. One of them slips into the other, swearing loudly, and Novel manages to cover a silvery lizard in oil as the clang of steel against steel rings out in the kitchen.
Novel piourettes, stepping in after the charge, using the fact he's smaller and not mounted to chase right behind the mounted knight, sheathing the blade and reaching for the lighter. He should have stuck it in his pocket. Fuck. Oh well. Hindsight's 20/20. He isn't sure if these people live here or not. But one thing's for certain.
"You know your mount isn't human, right?" And if he manages to get his hands on that lighter, he's promptly going to set it alight. And then goes the grasp for the other bottle of oil, top torn off, and then yanking it to splash over the other three walking knights.
Shrieking, the lizard catches on fire. The inability to commit arson on anything in Haven causes it to just...freeze up. It can't move. Novel can see its reptilian brain short-circuiting as it's unable to risk spreading the fire immolating it onto anything. Happily, that also results in the knight catching on fire and ALSO freezing up - seems they're from out of town and Novel's found a little loophole since they're, ah, in the middle of fighting him. Being capable of a little more motion to put himself out than the lizard, he lunges for Novel's fire extinguisher as he moves sideways off the mount, even as the other knights move in to try and subdue Novel.
Novel starts to laugh. It's a dark, wicked, gleeful thing, a dragon's worshipper and a lover of fire as that horrible grin. The hand opens, dropping the jug - sliding crosswise to simply slap the extinguisher out of the way and using his shoulder and body. And then he turns. A smile pulled straight from hell. And a lighter, in his other hand.
"Out of towners? Fucking incredible." He dives towards, wicking the lighter down, intent on igniting one and shoving him into the others.
Shrieking and the scent of burned flesh. This is the excitement Novel was probably hoping for when he was lighting up crack. These people were expecting someone as pathetic as Fayad, it seems, and are ocmpletely taken aback by fighting someone who is truly the monster Shemra warns them about. He could probably just dart into that big group, cut their throats right now as he sends them into disarray.
Screaming and the scent of burned flesh. This is the excitement Novel was probably hoping for when he was lighting up crack. These people were expecting someone as pathetic as Fayad, it seems, and are ocmpletely taken aback by fighting someone who is truly the monster Shemra warns them about. He could probably just dart into that big group, cut their throats right now as he sends them into disarray.
This is -exactly- what Novel was hoping for. Oh. He takes in a deep inhale, the greasy, porklike scent of crackling flesh from something human. Or at least human-ish. Their screams, their pain. Not only that - the fight. The way the violence happens. The trembling of combat. He can hear the pulse of his heart.
It sounds like the crack and pop of a forest fire.
He readjusts the grip on his weapon, stepping forwards to drive the blade right into the face-slit of one. And again. And again. To blind, to permanently maim, but not a major artery. He wants them to suffer through their deaths. "I'm pickin' up go-od vibrations," he merrily sings to himself as he moves through creating people charcoal biscuits.
Novel ends up with four charred corpses on his hands, but the resources of the Scions of the Inferno make it pretty easy to dispose of them. They're easily explained to the police as you having finally killed those vandals that were plaguing the community center, and the big lizards...well, they went off somewhere. Who knows.