Encounterlogs
Ritsukas Odd Encounter Sr Novel 240911
In the seemingly protective embrace of Haven's Sanctuary spell, Ritsuka finds herself far from safe during a casual afternoon stroll on Elm Street. An unexpected attack swiftly transitions into a nightmarish scenario as she is kidnapped, her consciousness fading amidst the sounds of a vehicle in motion and the muffled chatter of her abductors. Awakening in an eerie room surrounded by inanimate animatronics and various tools, Ritsuka discovers herself bound with duct tape, a chilling reminder of her vulnerable state. Despite the initial shock, the presence of animatronics, rather than living threats, offers a distorted sense of relief amidst the overwhelming fear and confusion. Her situation, grim yet oddly familiar due to the town's notorious history with abductions, incites a determined resolve to escape rather than succumbing to despair.
Motivated by a blend of resignation to her frequent abductions and a fierce will to survive, Ritsuka begins her attempt to free herself from the adhesive constraints. Using her environment and limited mobility, she ingeniously utilizes the heel of her shoe as an impromptu tool to saw through the duct tape binding her wrists. Amid the cacophony of a struggle occurring just beyond her confinement, Ritsuka's efforts to break free intensify. The sounds of conflict from outside serve both as a cover for her escape efforts and a beacon of hope that assistance might be on the way. As she manages to sever the tape, freeing her hands, the narrative leaves her at a critical juncture, poised between the potential for liberation and the looming threat of what or who might be waiting beyond the door, underscored by the diminishing chaos outside and the oppressive ambiance of her prison.
(Ritsuka's odd encounter(SRNovel):SRNovel)
[Tue Sep 10 2024]
On Elm Street
It is afternoon, about 72F(22C) degrees, and there are a few grey clouds in the sky.
(Your target is abducted in their sleep, waking up alone in a locked room. They need to either escape or draw attention to them so their allies can come and provide assistance.
)
Ritsuka is not doing much at all right now, just idling through the streets. She had come from the black rose, making a brief visit and looks more like she is considering what to do next. Prior to this, she had come from a briefer visit to work, and was dropped by a colleague since she had a smaller accident in her car earlier on the day.
Unfortunately in a town named Haven, not all is as gentle and safe as it seems. Even with the spell of Sanctuary that enfolds the town to protect from obvious harm, there are always ways. With the coiling, almost hostile mists that ride around the town and the endless pitter-patter of rain over the last few days that that has left everything quite thoroughly soaked around someone. Here and there, where Ritsuka stands, the dense clouds caress and dance, obscuring visibility.
A stirring of them and the screech of a set of breaks is all the warning someone gets before there's a sharp, stinging pain in her neck and the schuff and smell - a sweaty nylon bag of sorts sliding over her features before her form slowly going limp is hauled up and over hard flooring, feet thumping in this empty day. Muttering voices, some guttural. Time speeds up and slows down, becoming oddly distorted by gripping hands and the voices and noises turning strangely echoing, the muted rhythm and strange vibrano that sounds as if someone plays a vehicle engine like an organ, the rocking rhythm of a bouncing vehicle - before this, too, fades from someone' ears.
Then the asian woman wakes. Somehow sharper, more uncomfortable, then the initial kidnapping, someone' muscles filled with soreness and a bitter, metallic taste under the tongue. Eyes take little time to adjust. This room is only slightly brighter than the inside of one's eyelids as a horrifying image looms before her, the open, unhinged jaw of a mechanical, slavering monstrosity leaning forwards to bite while her wrists and mouth and ankles are bound in duct tape leaving her helpless to-
Ah. It's an animatronic. A still one, the suit half-on, the eyes dull and cold with lack of power. A few are crammed into further corners, and there's tools lining the walls and benches, wire cutters and lines of spooling, welders, a sewing table and cutting scissors - a quiet work room. There's dust on everything except for the streak where she was drawn into the door, and there are more half-finished projects. Electronic timers, stuffed creatures, layers of fabric, lining and hanging every which way. Some of the debris was disturbed when she was thrown in here.
Thrown, indeed. Ritsuka's muscles are stiff and sore and bruised. While the brown cotton faux-fur of the currently inanimate bear is soft, the metal edges beneath it are most certainly -not-.
Another racing heartbeat. Muffled noises are coming outside. Raising in loudness.
At least Ritsuka still has all her things - and her clothes remain on. Small mercies.
Unfortunately in a town named Haven, not all is as gentle and safe as it seems. Even with the spell of Sanctuary that enfolds the town to protect from obvious harm, there are always ways. With the coiling, almost hostile mists that ride around the town and the endless pitter-patter of rain over the last few days that that has left everything quite thoroughly soaked around Ritsuka. Here and there, where Ritsuka stands, the dense clouds caress and dance, obscuring visibility.
A stirring of them and the screech of a set of breaks is all the warning someone gets before there's a sharp, stinging pain in her neck and the schuff and smell - a sweaty nylon bag of sorts sliding over her features before her form slowly going limp is hauled up and over hard flooring, feet thumping in this empty day. Muttering voices, some guttural. Time speeds up and slows down, becoming oddly distorted by gripping hands and the voices and noises turning strangely echoing, the muted rhythm and strange vibrano that sounds as if someone plays a vehicle engine like an organ, the rocking rhythm of a bouncing vehicle - before this, too, fades from someone' ears.
Then the asian woman wakes. Somehow sharper, more uncomfortable, then the initial kidnapping, someone' muscles filled with soreness and a bitter, metallic taste under the tongue. Eyes take little time to adjust. This room is only slightly brighter than the inside of one's eyelids as a horrifying image looms before her, the open, unhinged jaw of a mechanical, slavering monstrosity leaning forwards to bite while her wrists and mouth and ankles are bound in duct tape leaving her helpless to-
Ah. It's an animatronic. A still one, the suit half-on, the eyes dull and cold with lack of power. A few are crammed into further corners, and there's tools lining the walls and benches, wire cutters and lines of spooling, welders, a sewing table and cutting scissors - a quiet work room. There's dust on everything except for the streak where she was drawn into the door, and there are more half-finished projects. Electronic timers, stuffed creatures, layers of fabric, lining and hanging every which way. Some of the debris was disturbed when she was thrown in here.
Thrown, indeed. Ritsuka's muscles are stiff and sore and bruised. While the brown cotton faux-fur of the currently inanimate bear is soft, the metal edges beneath it are most certainly -not-.
Another racing heartbeat. Muffled noises are coming outside. Raising in loudness.
At least Ritsuka still has all her things - and her clothes remain on. Small mercies.
Unfortunately in a town named Haven, not all is as gentle and safe as it seems. Even with the spell of Sanctuary that enfolds the town to protect from obvious harm, there are always ways. With the coiling, almost hostile mists that ride around the town and the endless pitter-patter of rain over the last few days that that has left everything quite thoroughly soaked around Ritsuka. Here and there, where Ritsuka stands, the dense clouds caress and dance, obscuring visibility.
A stirring of them and the screech of a set of breaks is all the warning Ritsuka gets before there's a sharp, stinging pain in her neck and the schuff and smell - a sweaty nylon bag of sorts sliding over her features before her form slowly going limp is hauled up and over hard flooring, feet thumping in this empty day. Muttering voices, some guttural. Time speeds up and slows down, becoming oddly distorted by gripping hands and the voices and noises turning strangely echoing, the muted rhythm and strange vibrano that sounds as if someone plays a vehicle engine like an organ, the rocking rhythm of a bouncing vehicle - before this, too, fades from Ritsuka's ears.
Then the asian woman wakes. Somehow sharper, more uncomfortable, then the initial kidnapping, Ritsuka's muscles filled with soreness and a bitter, metallic taste under the tongue. Eyes take little time to adjust. This room is only slightly brighter than the inside of one's eyelids as a horrifying image looms before her, the open, unhinged jaw of a mechanical, slavering monstrosity leaning forwards to bite while her wrists and mouth and ankles are bound in duct tape leaving her helpless to-
Ah. It's an animatronic. A still one, the suit half-on, the eyes dull and cold with lack of power. A few are crammed into further corners, and there's tools lining the walls and benches, wire cutters and lines of spooling, welders, a sewing table and cutting scissors - a quiet work room. There's dust on everything except for the streak where she was drawn into the door, and there are more half-finished projects. Electronic timers, stuffed creatures, layers of fabric, lining and hanging every which way. Some of the debris was disturbed when she was thrown in here.
Thrown, indeed. Ritsuka's muscles are stiff and sore and bruised. While the brown cotton faux-fur of the currently inanimate bear is soft, the metal edges beneath it are most certainly -not-.
Another racing heartbeat. Muffled noises are coming outside. Raising in loudness.
At least Ritsuka still has all her things - and her clothes remain on. Small mercies.
Ritsuka kinds of just sighs and makes a roll of her eyes. Kidnapped again, seems to have become a daily activity, if it is not her, then someone else, and it is where, to a point, even her military contact has given her an emergency button just in case(as per summon ally). She does not really care anymore, something in her eyes, black in the darkness, just snaps and she tries to just wind a little bit, pressing her ankles and wrists together to start turning the tape loose. Her hand twists a little, occasionally, trying to twist and turn it, struggling against the tape.
Something something tied-up asian girls. At least it isn't tentacled sea creatures at the beach. But knowing this town that is likely just as inevitable as her being kidnapped again. Though, more likely, it is an inevitable result of people doing their best to figure out how to circumvent the barriers and restrictions of causing 'harm' and doing their best to circumvent it:
Just the natural result with people like Ritsuka being the inevitable victims. At this rate one might consider hiring bodyguard twenty-four seven or a deadswitch alarm. Though in this town electronics often stop working for one reason or another. The unreliability of even cell phones...
But we are not here to ruminate on that. Instead, we are her to consider Ritsuka's current predicament. The stickiness of the duct tape gradually fading to heat and abrasion and bodily oil and sweat. Unfortunately, that doesn't shift their durability, or how the many rolls still adhere to each other firmly around the wrists and ankles, requiring additional, extreme force, or something sharp. There's the click of the emergency button that she so possesses wherever-it-is under her clothes, or a piece of jewelery, perhaps? A silent alarm. Hopefully it worked. And her contact isn't currently out of town or busy or simply unconscious.
Or kidnapped themselves.
The noise falters, then rises, the nearby door with light gleaming from the bottom - a scuffle. The thumping of fists and feet, the knocking over of tables. There's some sort of discussion going on 'outside', and half of it is physical. A shout, masculine.
Now that Ritsuka has a little bit of wiggle rooms, she rolls herself onto her side, presses down with one foot at the lower and curls her toes inwards, removing the heel for her lower foot. Now with a careful twist guided by elbows, she grabs the for the heel, tries to swing herself into a sitting position, albeit difficult, and then to try and press the heel against a nearby surface by moving her but back by the push of her feet and then drawing them close again, just to push the tape around her wrists into the heel as much as she can to start destroying it, turning it far more fragile. It does come with a ferocity, a little remnant of a satiated but still a very recent imprint that demands she protects herself.
Movement and freedom together. It takes time. The noise falls, peaks, the crashing of furniture, the clatter of things, materials being knocked around - whatever is happening through that doorway before Ritsuka is quite exciting. The air is strange. Cold, but stifling and wet, pressing down against all of one's senses. The scent of mildew filtering in alongside the dust. How long as this place been abandoned for? The press of concrete beneath metal beneath fabric beneath her seeming at both urgent and welcoming. The subtle squeak of the animatronic she's half-resting shifting with every single one of her movements. The noise outside hiding it...
For now. But a fight cannot last forever and it seems some of the nosier crashing is fading are there's a schriippp as the heel - no such weapon, but sturdy - manages to finally force through, freeing her hands with a certain amount of relieving finality. The material, no-longer sticky, drifting to dangle off one wrist, releasing the iron grip it once had.
Motivated by a blend of resignation to her frequent abductions and a fierce will to survive, Ritsuka begins her attempt to free herself from the adhesive constraints. Using her environment and limited mobility, she ingeniously utilizes the heel of her shoe as an impromptu tool to saw through the duct tape binding her wrists. Amid the cacophony of a struggle occurring just beyond her confinement, Ritsuka's efforts to break free intensify. The sounds of conflict from outside serve both as a cover for her escape efforts and a beacon of hope that assistance might be on the way. As she manages to sever the tape, freeing her hands, the narrative leaves her at a critical juncture, poised between the potential for liberation and the looming threat of what or who might be waiting beyond the door, underscored by the diminishing chaos outside and the oppressive ambiance of her prison.
(Ritsuka's odd encounter(SRNovel):SRNovel)
[Tue Sep 10 2024]
On Elm Street
It is afternoon, about 72F(22C) degrees, and there are a few grey clouds in the sky.
(Your target is abducted in their sleep, waking up alone in a locked room. They need to either escape or draw attention to them so their allies can come and provide assistance.
)
Ritsuka is not doing much at all right now, just idling through the streets. She had come from the black rose, making a brief visit and looks more like she is considering what to do next. Prior to this, she had come from a briefer visit to work, and was dropped by a colleague since she had a smaller accident in her car earlier on the day.
Unfortunately in a town named Haven, not all is as gentle and safe as it seems. Even with the spell of Sanctuary that enfolds the town to protect from obvious harm, there are always ways. With the coiling, almost hostile mists that ride around the town and the endless pitter-patter of rain over the last few days that that has left everything quite thoroughly soaked around someone. Here and there, where Ritsuka stands, the dense clouds caress and dance, obscuring visibility.
A stirring of them and the screech of a set of breaks is all the warning someone gets before there's a sharp, stinging pain in her neck and the schuff and smell - a sweaty nylon bag of sorts sliding over her features before her form slowly going limp is hauled up and over hard flooring, feet thumping in this empty day. Muttering voices, some guttural. Time speeds up and slows down, becoming oddly distorted by gripping hands and the voices and noises turning strangely echoing, the muted rhythm and strange vibrano that sounds as if someone plays a vehicle engine like an organ, the rocking rhythm of a bouncing vehicle - before this, too, fades from someone' ears.
Then the asian woman wakes. Somehow sharper, more uncomfortable, then the initial kidnapping, someone' muscles filled with soreness and a bitter, metallic taste under the tongue. Eyes take little time to adjust. This room is only slightly brighter than the inside of one's eyelids as a horrifying image looms before her, the open, unhinged jaw of a mechanical, slavering monstrosity leaning forwards to bite while her wrists and mouth and ankles are bound in duct tape leaving her helpless to-
Ah. It's an animatronic. A still one, the suit half-on, the eyes dull and cold with lack of power. A few are crammed into further corners, and there's tools lining the walls and benches, wire cutters and lines of spooling, welders, a sewing table and cutting scissors - a quiet work room. There's dust on everything except for the streak where she was drawn into the door, and there are more half-finished projects. Electronic timers, stuffed creatures, layers of fabric, lining and hanging every which way. Some of the debris was disturbed when she was thrown in here.
Thrown, indeed. Ritsuka's muscles are stiff and sore and bruised. While the brown cotton faux-fur of the currently inanimate bear is soft, the metal edges beneath it are most certainly -not-.
Another racing heartbeat. Muffled noises are coming outside. Raising in loudness.
At least Ritsuka still has all her things - and her clothes remain on. Small mercies.
Unfortunately in a town named Haven, not all is as gentle and safe as it seems. Even with the spell of Sanctuary that enfolds the town to protect from obvious harm, there are always ways. With the coiling, almost hostile mists that ride around the town and the endless pitter-patter of rain over the last few days that that has left everything quite thoroughly soaked around Ritsuka. Here and there, where Ritsuka stands, the dense clouds caress and dance, obscuring visibility.
A stirring of them and the screech of a set of breaks is all the warning someone gets before there's a sharp, stinging pain in her neck and the schuff and smell - a sweaty nylon bag of sorts sliding over her features before her form slowly going limp is hauled up and over hard flooring, feet thumping in this empty day. Muttering voices, some guttural. Time speeds up and slows down, becoming oddly distorted by gripping hands and the voices and noises turning strangely echoing, the muted rhythm and strange vibrano that sounds as if someone plays a vehicle engine like an organ, the rocking rhythm of a bouncing vehicle - before this, too, fades from someone' ears.
Then the asian woman wakes. Somehow sharper, more uncomfortable, then the initial kidnapping, someone' muscles filled with soreness and a bitter, metallic taste under the tongue. Eyes take little time to adjust. This room is only slightly brighter than the inside of one's eyelids as a horrifying image looms before her, the open, unhinged jaw of a mechanical, slavering monstrosity leaning forwards to bite while her wrists and mouth and ankles are bound in duct tape leaving her helpless to-
Ah. It's an animatronic. A still one, the suit half-on, the eyes dull and cold with lack of power. A few are crammed into further corners, and there's tools lining the walls and benches, wire cutters and lines of spooling, welders, a sewing table and cutting scissors - a quiet work room. There's dust on everything except for the streak where she was drawn into the door, and there are more half-finished projects. Electronic timers, stuffed creatures, layers of fabric, lining and hanging every which way. Some of the debris was disturbed when she was thrown in here.
Thrown, indeed. Ritsuka's muscles are stiff and sore and bruised. While the brown cotton faux-fur of the currently inanimate bear is soft, the metal edges beneath it are most certainly -not-.
Another racing heartbeat. Muffled noises are coming outside. Raising in loudness.
At least Ritsuka still has all her things - and her clothes remain on. Small mercies.
Unfortunately in a town named Haven, not all is as gentle and safe as it seems. Even with the spell of Sanctuary that enfolds the town to protect from obvious harm, there are always ways. With the coiling, almost hostile mists that ride around the town and the endless pitter-patter of rain over the last few days that that has left everything quite thoroughly soaked around Ritsuka. Here and there, where Ritsuka stands, the dense clouds caress and dance, obscuring visibility.
A stirring of them and the screech of a set of breaks is all the warning Ritsuka gets before there's a sharp, stinging pain in her neck and the schuff and smell - a sweaty nylon bag of sorts sliding over her features before her form slowly going limp is hauled up and over hard flooring, feet thumping in this empty day. Muttering voices, some guttural. Time speeds up and slows down, becoming oddly distorted by gripping hands and the voices and noises turning strangely echoing, the muted rhythm and strange vibrano that sounds as if someone plays a vehicle engine like an organ, the rocking rhythm of a bouncing vehicle - before this, too, fades from Ritsuka's ears.
Then the asian woman wakes. Somehow sharper, more uncomfortable, then the initial kidnapping, Ritsuka's muscles filled with soreness and a bitter, metallic taste under the tongue. Eyes take little time to adjust. This room is only slightly brighter than the inside of one's eyelids as a horrifying image looms before her, the open, unhinged jaw of a mechanical, slavering monstrosity leaning forwards to bite while her wrists and mouth and ankles are bound in duct tape leaving her helpless to-
Ah. It's an animatronic. A still one, the suit half-on, the eyes dull and cold with lack of power. A few are crammed into further corners, and there's tools lining the walls and benches, wire cutters and lines of spooling, welders, a sewing table and cutting scissors - a quiet work room. There's dust on everything except for the streak where she was drawn into the door, and there are more half-finished projects. Electronic timers, stuffed creatures, layers of fabric, lining and hanging every which way. Some of the debris was disturbed when she was thrown in here.
Thrown, indeed. Ritsuka's muscles are stiff and sore and bruised. While the brown cotton faux-fur of the currently inanimate bear is soft, the metal edges beneath it are most certainly -not-.
Another racing heartbeat. Muffled noises are coming outside. Raising in loudness.
At least Ritsuka still has all her things - and her clothes remain on. Small mercies.
Ritsuka kinds of just sighs and makes a roll of her eyes. Kidnapped again, seems to have become a daily activity, if it is not her, then someone else, and it is where, to a point, even her military contact has given her an emergency button just in case(as per summon ally). She does not really care anymore, something in her eyes, black in the darkness, just snaps and she tries to just wind a little bit, pressing her ankles and wrists together to start turning the tape loose. Her hand twists a little, occasionally, trying to twist and turn it, struggling against the tape.
Something something tied-up asian girls. At least it isn't tentacled sea creatures at the beach. But knowing this town that is likely just as inevitable as her being kidnapped again. Though, more likely, it is an inevitable result of people doing their best to figure out how to circumvent the barriers and restrictions of causing 'harm' and doing their best to circumvent it:
Just the natural result with people like Ritsuka being the inevitable victims. At this rate one might consider hiring bodyguard twenty-four seven or a deadswitch alarm. Though in this town electronics often stop working for one reason or another. The unreliability of even cell phones...
But we are not here to ruminate on that. Instead, we are her to consider Ritsuka's current predicament. The stickiness of the duct tape gradually fading to heat and abrasion and bodily oil and sweat. Unfortunately, that doesn't shift their durability, or how the many rolls still adhere to each other firmly around the wrists and ankles, requiring additional, extreme force, or something sharp. There's the click of the emergency button that she so possesses wherever-it-is under her clothes, or a piece of jewelery, perhaps? A silent alarm. Hopefully it worked. And her contact isn't currently out of town or busy or simply unconscious.
Or kidnapped themselves.
The noise falters, then rises, the nearby door with light gleaming from the bottom - a scuffle. The thumping of fists and feet, the knocking over of tables. There's some sort of discussion going on 'outside', and half of it is physical. A shout, masculine.
Now that Ritsuka has a little bit of wiggle rooms, she rolls herself onto her side, presses down with one foot at the lower and curls her toes inwards, removing the heel for her lower foot. Now with a careful twist guided by elbows, she grabs the for the heel, tries to swing herself into a sitting position, albeit difficult, and then to try and press the heel against a nearby surface by moving her but back by the push of her feet and then drawing them close again, just to push the tape around her wrists into the heel as much as she can to start destroying it, turning it far more fragile. It does come with a ferocity, a little remnant of a satiated but still a very recent imprint that demands she protects herself.
Movement and freedom together. It takes time. The noise falls, peaks, the crashing of furniture, the clatter of things, materials being knocked around - whatever is happening through that doorway before Ritsuka is quite exciting. The air is strange. Cold, but stifling and wet, pressing down against all of one's senses. The scent of mildew filtering in alongside the dust. How long as this place been abandoned for? The press of concrete beneath metal beneath fabric beneath her seeming at both urgent and welcoming. The subtle squeak of the animatronic she's half-resting shifting with every single one of her movements. The noise outside hiding it...
For now. But a fight cannot last forever and it seems some of the nosier crashing is fading are there's a schriippp as the heel - no such weapon, but sturdy - manages to finally force through, freeing her hands with a certain amount of relieving finality. The material, no-longer sticky, drifting to dangle off one wrist, releasing the iron grip it once had.