Encounterlogs
Sams Odd Encounter Sr Lilian 241214
One cold, haunting night on Forest Ridge Road, Sam finds himself caught in a perilous situation, stalked by a trio of hunters amidst the dense woods. Dressed inconspicuously in a suit and oxford shoes, hardly the attire for a night in the wild or against supernatural hunters, Sam's journey takes an unexpected turn when he realizes his adversaries have rendered his bike unusable with a silent, well-placed shot. The hunters, tactical and masked, initially underestimate Sam, considering him easy prey due to his appearance and unpreparedness for the cold and fight. As they approach, intent on capturing or killing their target, Sam narrowly avoids a tranquilizer dart, hinting at the supernatural resilience or fortune he might possess. Unwilling to be taken down easily, Sam reveals his first act of defiance by wielding a knife and an arcane artifact, signaling his entry into a battle he hadn't planned for but is fully prepared to engage in.
The confrontation escalates quickly; with hunters employing nets and darts, they attempt to subdue Sam. Resourceful and determined, Sam fights back with a blend of mundane and magical prowess, summoning a serpent from an obsidian ring and calling for backup on an earpiece connected to an entity or group identified only as "Peacekeeper." His actions in the forest, firing a Glock to attract attention and using magic to fend off his attackers, underscore his desperation and cunning in equal measure. The tide turns when Sam's call for help is answered; assistance is dispatched, albeit with an ETA that leaves him to fend for himself for a while longer. In a clever twist, Sam uses the environment to his advantage, leading one hunter to be incapacitated by his summoned serpent, while the arrival of a mysterious golden hound turns the hunters' own fear against them, ultimately causing their retreat.
The narrative concludes with Sam, maintaining his composure and sense of humor, interacting with a late-arriving, yet quirky, rescue operative from a group or organization hinted at being involved in supernatural or clandestine activities. As they take the incapacitated hunter into custody and offer Sam a ride back to civilization, the story wraps up on a lighter note, showcasing Sam's resilience, adaptability, and the existence of a broader community or network watching over individuals like him. The ordeal becomes a testament not only to Sam's survival but to the complexities and dangers lurking within this seemingly hidden world within our own.
(Sam's odd encounter(SRLilian):SRLilian)
[Fri Dec 13 2024]
On Forest Ridge Road
A rugged dirt road carves its way through the dense woodlands. It is barely wide enough for two vehicles and is bordered by trees that form a dense canopy. Roots and rocks occasionally jut through its surface, and whenever the wind blows through the thick woods, you are surrounded by the rich scent of earth and vegetation. During the day, rays of sunlight break through the foliage, casting a kaleidoscope of light and shadow. At night, the road is bathed in utter darkness, with the sounds of the forest creating a haunting atmosphere.
It is night, about 21F(-6C) degrees, There is a waxing gibbous moon.
(A group of supernatural hunters is out to get your target. Maybe for sport, maybe from ideology, in either case they need to survive for long enough that their allies can come and help them deal with the threat.
)
The biting wind whips around the corner of the dark road that Sam is walking through, carrying with the distinct chill of winter as it tugs at Sam's clothing before continuing on to sweep past that distinct shimmer in the forest that means that there might be a portal into the unknown. It is just past the deepest, darkest part of the night, although the witching hour is now passed and the almost full moon hangs in the sky. Luminous, to the unknowing, one might almost think it was the full moon tonight. But then, there are not nearly enough wolves howling in the forest for it to be that. At least Sam would hope anyways given he's out here, all alone.
Sam isn't even particularly dressed for the night, a neat suit jacket, some oxford shoes, certainly nothing that would put him in a good position for the people that out after him on this dark night.
For in the darkness of the trees, a group of hunters awaits. Crouched down in the shadows, they wait for those who step out of the shimmering path in the middle of the trees, like one waits for someone that comes out of platform nine and three quarters.
line The three of them, tactical gear in place, tasers, rifles with sniper scopes affixed stare through at Sam. There is a soft tut by the leader of them - a gruff guy dressed in a baclava like they all are. Green eyes are the only distinguishing feature for Gruffface. "This one aught to be it." He mutters as he spits the straw he was chewing on to the ground. The scope of the rifle is lifted towards Sam again and his eyes narrow as he looks over the man. "Aint look like nothing much. Easy game probably. We might fetch oh I donno 10? He's kinda not that pretty but oh well. Not like a siren's gonna just walk through there." A signal is passed between them as with a soft rustle they start heading through the bushes towards Sam.
Ambling through the road, Sam shivers a little. His suit is indeed more designed for style than cold, though the jock is kind of used to that by now. He rubs his hands together, eager to get back to his bike so he can ride back to town.
The jock at first doesn't seem to notice much amiss, though of course, nighttime in the forest is a good time to be cautious.
Unfortunately for Sam, he isn't quite by his bike by the time he notices the shadows moving through the trees in the distance. A silenced shot rings out although someone with supernatural hearing might be able to hear the tiny pop of the rifle as one of Sam's tyres deflat with a whine of escaping air. The poor rubber thing collapses down, looking as sad as a jelly doughnut with the jelly sucked out. There goes his bike and it's not like bikes carry spare tyres. Before Sam can worry about it too much though, one of the figures darts out to take cover behind a tree near the road. A whizz goes past Sam's ear as a tranq dart just misses him and the man behind the tree tries to duck around to shoot at Sam with another of those tranq darts.
"Oh, COME ON!" Sam growls, un-sheathing a knife as he looks at his bike. He barely has time to look around, before that dart whistles past him, the jock conveniently standing just out of the trajectory. Almost too lucky. He whips around, and, seeing the moving person, he extends a hand, and points that knife at the man. His free hand pulls out a rather human-looking finger-bone on a silver chain, and arcane runes glow up on it. "Not today, fucko!"
"Fuck!" Is the response from the hunter as the blood vessels in his eyes pop. The hunter ducks behind the tree as he's blinded, howling in pain even as blood drips from his eyes down into the balaclava. Must be why balaclavas are all black, to hide the blood.
"Get him!" From behind the tree line the other two start running out, one attempting to throw a giant fucking net over Sam as if he's a school of salmon. "Do we know what he is? Fuck it just shoot him with everything!" Another ping of a tranq dart hits Sam, catching on his poor oxfords but bouncing off at an awkward angle. The first hunter is almost within melee range of Sam now..
Sam narrows his eyes. Fuck, these guys look serious. He tries to step aside of the net, and narrows his eyes. Maybe, with some luck, he might be able to make it out of this fight. But frankly, his suit is too nice, and he is too un-armored to want to risk a prolonged fight. Instead, he retreats, booking it into the forest, and reaching into his backpack.
He grabs a glock, and shoots it upward, before circling around to take cover behind a tree. He might not be able to take those guys along, but one is rarely alone in Haven's forests, if one makes a ruckus. At least, that is the theory.
Sam narrowly manages to dodge the net.. it drapes past his arm the heavy weights on the sides hitting him like the sandbags they are so doesn't hurt particularly much - but does get sand all over his nice jacket oops. The hunters give chase as Sam books it into the forest, one unarmored, suited, very posh prey as they follow after him. There is some swearing and dodging as Sam fires his glock though. "Fuck he's armored. Fucking hell. Do we switch to the live rounds?? We're running low on darts." There is some more swearing as another voice shouts, "What do you mean we're running low on darts?? We just started!!" The thudding of feet follow Sam and anydeeper he decides to go into the forest is sure to attract... another kindof attention. One with fangs and claws or possibly stinky kobolds.
Moving from shadow to shadow, Sam is utterly un-bothered as he plays that age-old game of cat-and-mouse. But he isn't a fair player. Pressing a hand to an earpiece, he speaks softly into it. "Peacekeeper Phisher here, assailants near the wilds gate, could use some back-up." He shoots a few rounds towards those chasing him, trying not to stay in one place for too long, though he does slowly circle around that gate, not wanting to be fang-or-kobold dinner particularly keenly.
The hunters follow after Sam, like a very incompetent dog chasing a mouse. Sam can probably tell that they're human given their lack of preternatural speed, intelligence or aim.
His headpiece crackles for a moment before a voice answers, clearly sounding like she's in the middle of eating something. "Uh okaay crunch assistance dispatched. crunch crunch ETA 30 minutes out. Gotta reroute from the goblin market. Crunch." Then his headpiece falls silent. Around him the forest stirs just slightly, irritated by the people trespassing through it's lands. A dart sudden embeds itself into the tree infront of Sam. The hunters are getting awfully close..
Pausing a moment, Sam nods his head a little, not responding to the earpiece, mostly to not give away his position. He notices the dart, then presses his thumb into the obsidian serpent-ring around his finger, muttering a few words of power as the thing shifts and coils, forming into a scarlet, obsidian scaled serpent. The jock, meanwhile, makes his way to his next hidey-hole as the scarlet cobra rears, slithering through the underbrush towards whatever hunter it first encountered, aiming to give it the old ankle-bite treatment.
Screams lighting up the forest allows Sam to know his minion reached it's mark. There's alot of swearing and the screams Sam could've sworn should've come from a woman... but is clearly one of the three hunters that are after him. "Fuck fuck! He's a fucking snake charmer! Light him up!!!" The screams slowly die down as the hunter on the ground starts to lose conciousness and the other two dart after Sam, using alot more precautions this time. It makes them slower though... And they don't see the golden hound creeping up behind of them....
pausing, Sam smirks as he silently points a finger at one of the two, timing his magic right so that the hound can take most advantage of it. His lips curl, and he silently mouths something, the age-old four-lettered insult. "fuck you". He clasps his hand into a fist, reloading his glock as quiet as he can, watching the beast of the forest do it's thing.
Hound vs human means the hound gets killed. But not after alot more girly screaming and trampling through the bushes. "Alright fuck this! I'm out man!!" One of the hunters yell as he makes a run for it back out into the darkness where they came from. "Hey wait for me dude!" The two hunters, with very torn gear, a rifle bent in half from trying to hit the hound and hitting a tree instead limp away, leaving their third for ..well dead really if Sam's serpent is a cobra in truth.
On the road, a car finally pulls up with a Hand operative making her way out. "Hello! I got one order of a rescue here?" She calls out.
Dryly, Sam chuckles as he steps out. He ticks a two-fingered salute, and gestures vaguely to the man, sanctuary unfortunately preventing the Jock from doing what he would like to do. It is what it is sometimes. He shrugs, and grins at the operative. "Well, yeh, but seems they were schmucks." He lifts a shoulder in a shrug, looking the damage to his suit over, and ticking his tongue against his cheek. "Go ahead and bag this one up, I guess, I'm sure the Organization can use em left way or right. He starts dusting down his suit, tucking that finger-bone back into his jacket. "Thanks for the assist, though, coulda been dicey if they didn't run." "
"Okily dokily!" The girl nods towards Sam before dispatching a man from the car to go fetch the still alive hunter, throwing him into the boot. "You uh need a ride or anything?" She asks looking at Sam's bike which looks very sad like a sitting donkey.
In the distance, Sam can see the hunters packing into their own vehicle before driving off into the dawnrise.
A sheepish grin, then, and Sam nods. "Yeh, if you could drop my bike off at the Elm Street Apartments, that'd be lovely."
A mock salute is given towards that leaving vehicle, a smirk on his face. "You'd think they'd be wary, an unarmored guy walking alone. Idiots."
There is a nod as the very capable hand operative throws the bike ontop of the car for good measure and drives Sam back to his apartments so that he won't be ambushed by any more hunters.
The confrontation escalates quickly; with hunters employing nets and darts, they attempt to subdue Sam. Resourceful and determined, Sam fights back with a blend of mundane and magical prowess, summoning a serpent from an obsidian ring and calling for backup on an earpiece connected to an entity or group identified only as "Peacekeeper." His actions in the forest, firing a Glock to attract attention and using magic to fend off his attackers, underscore his desperation and cunning in equal measure. The tide turns when Sam's call for help is answered; assistance is dispatched, albeit with an ETA that leaves him to fend for himself for a while longer. In a clever twist, Sam uses the environment to his advantage, leading one hunter to be incapacitated by his summoned serpent, while the arrival of a mysterious golden hound turns the hunters' own fear against them, ultimately causing their retreat.
The narrative concludes with Sam, maintaining his composure and sense of humor, interacting with a late-arriving, yet quirky, rescue operative from a group or organization hinted at being involved in supernatural or clandestine activities. As they take the incapacitated hunter into custody and offer Sam a ride back to civilization, the story wraps up on a lighter note, showcasing Sam's resilience, adaptability, and the existence of a broader community or network watching over individuals like him. The ordeal becomes a testament not only to Sam's survival but to the complexities and dangers lurking within this seemingly hidden world within our own.
(Sam's odd encounter(SRLilian):SRLilian)
[Fri Dec 13 2024]
On Forest Ridge Road
A rugged dirt road carves its way through the dense woodlands. It is barely wide enough for two vehicles and is bordered by trees that form a dense canopy. Roots and rocks occasionally jut through its surface, and whenever the wind blows through the thick woods, you are surrounded by the rich scent of earth and vegetation. During the day, rays of sunlight break through the foliage, casting a kaleidoscope of light and shadow. At night, the road is bathed in utter darkness, with the sounds of the forest creating a haunting atmosphere.
It is night, about 21F(-6C) degrees, There is a waxing gibbous moon.
(A group of supernatural hunters is out to get your target. Maybe for sport, maybe from ideology, in either case they need to survive for long enough that their allies can come and help them deal with the threat.
)
The biting wind whips around the corner of the dark road that Sam is walking through, carrying with the distinct chill of winter as it tugs at Sam's clothing before continuing on to sweep past that distinct shimmer in the forest that means that there might be a portal into the unknown. It is just past the deepest, darkest part of the night, although the witching hour is now passed and the almost full moon hangs in the sky. Luminous, to the unknowing, one might almost think it was the full moon tonight. But then, there are not nearly enough wolves howling in the forest for it to be that. At least Sam would hope anyways given he's out here, all alone.
Sam isn't even particularly dressed for the night, a neat suit jacket, some oxford shoes, certainly nothing that would put him in a good position for the people that out after him on this dark night.
For in the darkness of the trees, a group of hunters awaits. Crouched down in the shadows, they wait for those who step out of the shimmering path in the middle of the trees, like one waits for someone that comes out of platform nine and three quarters.
line The three of them, tactical gear in place, tasers, rifles with sniper scopes affixed stare through at Sam. There is a soft tut by the leader of them - a gruff guy dressed in a baclava like they all are. Green eyes are the only distinguishing feature for Gruffface. "This one aught to be it." He mutters as he spits the straw he was chewing on to the ground. The scope of the rifle is lifted towards Sam again and his eyes narrow as he looks over the man. "Aint look like nothing much. Easy game probably. We might fetch oh I donno 10? He's kinda not that pretty but oh well. Not like a siren's gonna just walk through there." A signal is passed between them as with a soft rustle they start heading through the bushes towards Sam.
Ambling through the road, Sam shivers a little. His suit is indeed more designed for style than cold, though the jock is kind of used to that by now. He rubs his hands together, eager to get back to his bike so he can ride back to town.
The jock at first doesn't seem to notice much amiss, though of course, nighttime in the forest is a good time to be cautious.
Unfortunately for Sam, he isn't quite by his bike by the time he notices the shadows moving through the trees in the distance. A silenced shot rings out although someone with supernatural hearing might be able to hear the tiny pop of the rifle as one of Sam's tyres deflat with a whine of escaping air. The poor rubber thing collapses down, looking as sad as a jelly doughnut with the jelly sucked out. There goes his bike and it's not like bikes carry spare tyres. Before Sam can worry about it too much though, one of the figures darts out to take cover behind a tree near the road. A whizz goes past Sam's ear as a tranq dart just misses him and the man behind the tree tries to duck around to shoot at Sam with another of those tranq darts.
"Oh, COME ON!" Sam growls, un-sheathing a knife as he looks at his bike. He barely has time to look around, before that dart whistles past him, the jock conveniently standing just out of the trajectory. Almost too lucky. He whips around, and, seeing the moving person, he extends a hand, and points that knife at the man. His free hand pulls out a rather human-looking finger-bone on a silver chain, and arcane runes glow up on it. "Not today, fucko!"
"Fuck!" Is the response from the hunter as the blood vessels in his eyes pop. The hunter ducks behind the tree as he's blinded, howling in pain even as blood drips from his eyes down into the balaclava. Must be why balaclavas are all black, to hide the blood.
"Get him!" From behind the tree line the other two start running out, one attempting to throw a giant fucking net over Sam as if he's a school of salmon. "Do we know what he is? Fuck it just shoot him with everything!" Another ping of a tranq dart hits Sam, catching on his poor oxfords but bouncing off at an awkward angle. The first hunter is almost within melee range of Sam now..
Sam narrows his eyes. Fuck, these guys look serious. He tries to step aside of the net, and narrows his eyes. Maybe, with some luck, he might be able to make it out of this fight. But frankly, his suit is too nice, and he is too un-armored to want to risk a prolonged fight. Instead, he retreats, booking it into the forest, and reaching into his backpack.
He grabs a glock, and shoots it upward, before circling around to take cover behind a tree. He might not be able to take those guys along, but one is rarely alone in Haven's forests, if one makes a ruckus. At least, that is the theory.
Sam narrowly manages to dodge the net.. it drapes past his arm the heavy weights on the sides hitting him like the sandbags they are so doesn't hurt particularly much - but does get sand all over his nice jacket oops. The hunters give chase as Sam books it into the forest, one unarmored, suited, very posh prey as they follow after him. There is some swearing and dodging as Sam fires his glock though. "Fuck he's armored. Fucking hell. Do we switch to the live rounds?? We're running low on darts." There is some more swearing as another voice shouts, "What do you mean we're running low on darts?? We just started!!" The thudding of feet follow Sam and anydeeper he decides to go into the forest is sure to attract... another kindof attention. One with fangs and claws or possibly stinky kobolds.
Moving from shadow to shadow, Sam is utterly un-bothered as he plays that age-old game of cat-and-mouse. But he isn't a fair player. Pressing a hand to an earpiece, he speaks softly into it. "Peacekeeper Phisher here, assailants near the wilds gate, could use some back-up." He shoots a few rounds towards those chasing him, trying not to stay in one place for too long, though he does slowly circle around that gate, not wanting to be fang-or-kobold dinner particularly keenly.
The hunters follow after Sam, like a very incompetent dog chasing a mouse. Sam can probably tell that they're human given their lack of preternatural speed, intelligence or aim.
His headpiece crackles for a moment before a voice answers, clearly sounding like she's in the middle of eating something. "Uh okaay crunch assistance dispatched. crunch crunch ETA 30 minutes out. Gotta reroute from the goblin market. Crunch." Then his headpiece falls silent. Around him the forest stirs just slightly, irritated by the people trespassing through it's lands. A dart sudden embeds itself into the tree infront of Sam. The hunters are getting awfully close..
Pausing a moment, Sam nods his head a little, not responding to the earpiece, mostly to not give away his position. He notices the dart, then presses his thumb into the obsidian serpent-ring around his finger, muttering a few words of power as the thing shifts and coils, forming into a scarlet, obsidian scaled serpent. The jock, meanwhile, makes his way to his next hidey-hole as the scarlet cobra rears, slithering through the underbrush towards whatever hunter it first encountered, aiming to give it the old ankle-bite treatment.
Screams lighting up the forest allows Sam to know his minion reached it's mark. There's alot of swearing and the screams Sam could've sworn should've come from a woman... but is clearly one of the three hunters that are after him. "Fuck fuck! He's a fucking snake charmer! Light him up!!!" The screams slowly die down as the hunter on the ground starts to lose conciousness and the other two dart after Sam, using alot more precautions this time. It makes them slower though... And they don't see the golden hound creeping up behind of them....
pausing, Sam smirks as he silently points a finger at one of the two, timing his magic right so that the hound can take most advantage of it. His lips curl, and he silently mouths something, the age-old four-lettered insult. "fuck you". He clasps his hand into a fist, reloading his glock as quiet as he can, watching the beast of the forest do it's thing.
Hound vs human means the hound gets killed. But not after alot more girly screaming and trampling through the bushes. "Alright fuck this! I'm out man!!" One of the hunters yell as he makes a run for it back out into the darkness where they came from. "Hey wait for me dude!" The two hunters, with very torn gear, a rifle bent in half from trying to hit the hound and hitting a tree instead limp away, leaving their third for ..well dead really if Sam's serpent is a cobra in truth.
On the road, a car finally pulls up with a Hand operative making her way out. "Hello! I got one order of a rescue here?" She calls out.
Dryly, Sam chuckles as he steps out. He ticks a two-fingered salute, and gestures vaguely to the man, sanctuary unfortunately preventing the Jock from doing what he would like to do. It is what it is sometimes. He shrugs, and grins at the operative. "Well, yeh, but seems they were schmucks." He lifts a shoulder in a shrug, looking the damage to his suit over, and ticking his tongue against his cheek. "Go ahead and bag this one up, I guess, I'm sure the Organization can use em left way or right. He starts dusting down his suit, tucking that finger-bone back into his jacket. "Thanks for the assist, though, coulda been dicey if they didn't run." "
"Okily dokily!" The girl nods towards Sam before dispatching a man from the car to go fetch the still alive hunter, throwing him into the boot. "You uh need a ride or anything?" She asks looking at Sam's bike which looks very sad like a sitting donkey.
In the distance, Sam can see the hunters packing into their own vehicle before driving off into the dawnrise.
A sheepish grin, then, and Sam nods. "Yeh, if you could drop my bike off at the Elm Street Apartments, that'd be lovely."
A mock salute is given towards that leaving vehicle, a smirk on his face. "You'd think they'd be wary, an unarmored guy walking alone. Idiots."
There is a nod as the very capable hand operative throws the bike ontop of the car for good measure and drives Sam back to his apartments so that he won't be ambushed by any more hunters.