Encounterlogs
Sams Odd Encounter Sr Luciano 241122
On a seemingly lazy afternoon, Sam, after a routine sparring session with his roommate, finds himself drawn into an unexpected adventure when he receives a notification about a missing hiker lost deep within the woods. Despite his initial reluctance, evidenced by his annoyed preparations, he dons his ceramic plated vest and, with a sense of duty albeit mingled with irritation, sets off towards the forest. His journey begins with a trek through an overgrown trail at Ravnholm Hiking Trail, marked with a cautionary sign about bears and the trail's closure. Despite being ill-equipped and lacking in survival skills, Sam proceeds, driven by a blend of cockiness and the pressing need to find the missing civilian. The path offers natural beauty and challenges, including a persistent blackbird and navigating through mud, until he discovers clear signs of the lost hiker's passage.
As Sam follows the trail and the unmistakable smell of weed, he stumbles upon the missing hiker, who is found in a surprisingly serene state, complete with a bong and the unexpected company of a Satyr, both seemingly unaffected by the surrounding world. The hiker, in a altered state of mind, acknowledges Sam's presence with a laid-back greeting. Taking command of the situation, Sam urges the hiker to return home, treating the bizarre encounter as a forgettable haze. He then turns his attention to the Satyr, opting for a lethal solution by executing the creature with a gun and knife, ensuring its demise. After fixing the immediate problem and ensuring the stoner's safe departure, Sam prepares to leave, marking another peculiar yet resolved incident in his life. Despite the mundane beginning, the day ends with the swift, almost routine handling of the supernatural, embodying the life of a Havenite with the dispatching of the Satyr and saving the lost hiker.
(Sam's odd encounter(SRLuciano):SRLuciano)
[Thu Nov 21 2024]
In a Cozy Living Room
The walls of this room shifts in shades, from the blue of the entryway shifting to teal to the kitchen in the east, swinging to a vibrant green after coming back in, dipping into the book nook, before turning teal and blue more rapidly on the western wall, so that it fades perfectly into the blue of that doorway.
The walls of this room shifts in shades, from the blue of the entryway shifting to teal to the kitchen in the east, swinging to a vibrant green after coming back in, dipping into the book nook, before turning teal and blue more rapidly on the western wall, so that it The booknook to the south counterpoints directly to the TV setup on the north end, with its modern console and hidden wiring. The couch, black leather, sits against the western wall, with an ottoman against the southern wall perfect for whoever is in the corner to put their feet on. In the western half of the center of the room, in easy reach of the couch, is an old, round wooden table, where anyone can place their food and drinks.perfectly into the blue of that doorway.
Soft plush carpeting round off the room, cut off sharply at the eastern end by the kitchen's linoleum, no wall between the two areas. This allows those in the kitchen to watch the TV, or easily speak to those lounging in the living room.
It is afternoon, about 49F(9C) degrees, and there are a few dark grey stormclouds in the sky.
(Your target's been contacted to help find a civilian who's become lost in the woods.
)
Loafing on his couch, Sam rubs at his shoulder some. The slight smell of sweat is on the jock as he just came from a bout of sparring with his, admittedly, much more scrawny roommate.
He looks at his phone, and flicks through the messages somewhat. A bottle of Bud-light is in his hand, and he sips it lazily.
Outside was just as quiet as Sam lazed about on the couch. Rolling, grey storm clouds on the horizon. With a cold beer in hand, Sam seemed to have a free day for the most part...
someone Dave Hey there folks, for those out in the woods please be on the lookout for a man in a bright blue jacket, grey cargo pants, and a tri-zip backpack, please. A hiker went missing out in the woods and everyone is on the lookout for them. If you see anything, please call the Ranger helpline and we'll get the search teams looking in the right direction. Thank you!
Sam's phone beeped once with the notification from MyHaven. A service announcement that went out to everyone as a 'critical message'. Along with a map pin of the persons last location. Further inspection would reveal that the location was pretty deep into the woods, off an old, unused hiking trail.
Outside was just as quiet as Sam lazed about on the couch. Rolling, grey storm clouds on the horizon. With a cold beer in hand, Sam seemed to have a free day for the most part...
Ranger Dave Hey there folks, for those out in the woods please be on the lookout for a man in a bright blue jacket, grey cargo pants, and a tri-zip backpack, please. A hiker went missing out in the woods and everyone is on the lookout for them. If you see anything, please call the Ranger helpline and we'll get the search teams looking in the right direction. Thank you!
Sam's phone beeped once with the notification from MyHaven. A service announcement that went out to everyone as a 'critical message'. Along with a map pin of the persons last location. Further inspection would reveal that the location was pretty deep into the woods, off an old, unused hiking trail.
"Son of a fucking..." Sam rolls his eyes, and begrudgingly walks over to his room, dragging his ceramic plated vest from a shelf before tugging it on. He mutters to himself, looking none-too-pleased as he heads down the elevator, and out towards the forest north of town.
"Fuckin' right as my bike broke..." The jock mutters to himself as he trudges along, shrugging into his jacket as one hand rests on the knife at his side, his eyes on his phone, and the pin.
It is an uneventful trek for Sam. Besides the occasional barrage of messages within the chat.
Starlite:Unluckyyyyyyyyyy.
Gr4ssFed: The search party is currently looking for him! It looks like he has no signal.
Patrick: Anybody got the plugs number???
Messages of normal chatter between college students are interspersed with updates and conversation about the missing hiker. With Sam unimpeded as he makes his way further towards the woods. Finding himself at 'Rav`enholm Hiking Trail'. With CAUTION: "This trail has been closed until Spring for hibernation season. Be wary of bears and do not enter any caves." posted beneath the dilapidated wooden sign.
An overgrown trail, with aging boot marks, could be seen in front of Sam. Snapped sticks and overturned rocks marking a dubious path down the trail.
Perhaps the least well equipped, Sam heads down the trail, the jock not really possessing any notable proficiency in anything tracking, survival, or indeed, bushcraft related.
Line A look of perhaps cocky defiance is given up at the sign, and he smirks, shaking his head as he carries on along, eyes scouring the woodlands, seemingly unimpeded by any gloom or darkness.
Each step sunk into the muddy dirt path, Sam's shoes only finding solace in the occasional patch of dried leaves or sun-baked clay that made the walk slightly bit easier. Low hanging branches, thorny bushes, and a very persistent red throated blackbird dive bombing towards Sam's head seemed to be the only real threats the jock had to contend with as he made his way down the picturesque path.
If it wasn't for the fact this was a rescue mission, an appreciation could be held for the natural beauty of the trail. Patches of tall yarrow flowers came up to Sam's waist around the trail. With buzzing bees trying to siphon the last pollen they could before the bite of winter could truly settle in. To his left, the man would pass by a steep slope. Scored patches of mud indicating the journey of hikers long past who took an unfortunate tumble. Now cordoned off with bolts of white 'tape' and tall tent poles as a makeshift barrier.
Perhaps luck was on Sam's side, however, as the lost hikers bootmarks were still plainly visible in the path. Driving deeper and deeper into the thicket. With several pauses where a circle of bootprints could be found, before continuing forwards with renewed purchase.
As if nature itself was laughing at Sam for his mistake, the same blackbird caws mockingly at him from a high tree-branch. Watching him intently from above.
Troopering on with the sheer determination of someone, who by all fairness, likely survives because of sheer determination and luck, Sam proceeds onward.
That blackbird is met with a sulky glare, and he reaches into his pack, briefly considering doing something about it. He then shrugs, and proceeds tracking these footprints, his eyes narrowed as his tongue pokes from his mouth, as if tasting the very air itself. Now that that might help any. He mutters softly to himself, the urge to just let the hiker die alone in the woods growing by the second.
Then, an idea. He quickly checks his phone, to see if his faction has reported anyone getting abducted into other worlds, of late.
Thankfully, the scouts are silent. With a few of his comrades asking the same thing, returned with a simple 'Nah' text.
Oddly enough... Sam does -taste- something, or more like -smells-. The stench of -weed- assaulting his nostrils, a faint smell that made it's way through the woods... Even more so, Sam steps on something -crunchy-. If the man lifted his foot, he would find a crumpled up brownie wrapper on the trail. Conveniently placed next to a sign.
'TAKE ONLY PICTURES - LEAVE ONLY FOOTSTEPS' with a mascot of a cute little possum in a high-vis vest and a trash bag, smiling at the reader.
Calmly, Sam considers his options as he slowly approaches the source of the smell. His incredibly annoyed expression changes from a normal one, to a smirk as he reaches into his pack, pulling out the weapon within. He crouches down, hoping to sneak up on the brownie-eater with an impish grin of amusement on his face.
Sam, after a quick trek through the trail and even -off- the path. Finally finds the source of the smell, a bundled up hiker with bloodshot eyes staring up at the sky. A bong clutched close to his chest, with a few embers flickering away from his poorly packed bowl. The cargo pants, hiking boots, and jacket all match the descriptions...
What -doesn't-, however, is the hikers unexpected companion. A Satyr, large and muscular... Curled up across from him in their makeshift 'spot'. Curled up and heavily asleep on top of a particularly large and flat boulder.
With a gasp, the Hiker nearly lept out of his skin. Jolting upright as he stared at Sam with a glassy, bloodshot gaze. Raising up one hand in a lazy wave as the other held his bong.
"Sah, dude?"
"Hey man." Sam speaks softly, turning to him, with eyes gleaming slightly. "I think you should head home, and forget about this dream."
Cleanup, important. Next, Sam quietly tries to walk up to the satyr, giving the stoner time to bugger off as he presses his glock against the fae's temple, hoping to catch it unawares.
"Brah, what?" The stoned hiker asked. "Nnnnnnnaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah..." He let out a sigh and looked at Sam's piece. "Fuck man... You a cop?" With a stunningly relaxed attitude. The stoner rises to his feet with a groan, feeling around for his bag as he stuffed the bong back into it's special 'pouch'. "Ight mannnn... Chill. Chill, my buddy's asleep tho... Fucking homeless guy. Just let him rest, yeah..?" With that, the stoner stumbles back off towards the path.
Once he departed, the Satyr seemed out like a -light-. Drool escaping from it's lips, and the bow it used for self defense hanging off of a low hanging branch. However much it smoked, it certainly was enough to keep it from reacting.
Three mississipi. Four... Sam counts in his head, waiting for the stoner to fuck off, before he squeezes the trigger, shooting several times in the satyr's head, before rolling it over on it's back, and slashing it's throat with the bowie knife on his belt for good measure. He ticks his tongue against his teeth, and he looks down, narrowing his eyes.
With several flashes and loud bangs, that pestering Black Bird finally fucks off. As blood and viscera sprays across Sam's face, brain matter now splattered across the dried leaves and sun-baked stone as the Satyr is executed cartel style. Besides several death twitches, it's pretty evident the thing is -dead-. Slashing it's throat for good measure, even with half the head missing and the Satyr's small peanut brain clearly visible in the massive opening of it's skull.
Another job well done in the life of a Havenite. Stoner: Saved. Satyr: Dead. Bird: Scared off.
Sam nods ot himself, starting to draw the runes needed in the floor to step back into his own shadow. The gunshots no doubt attracted the attention of worse things waiting in the wings. But that, at least in Sam's mind, was really the problem of some other shmuck.
As Sam follows the trail and the unmistakable smell of weed, he stumbles upon the missing hiker, who is found in a surprisingly serene state, complete with a bong and the unexpected company of a Satyr, both seemingly unaffected by the surrounding world. The hiker, in a altered state of mind, acknowledges Sam's presence with a laid-back greeting. Taking command of the situation, Sam urges the hiker to return home, treating the bizarre encounter as a forgettable haze. He then turns his attention to the Satyr, opting for a lethal solution by executing the creature with a gun and knife, ensuring its demise. After fixing the immediate problem and ensuring the stoner's safe departure, Sam prepares to leave, marking another peculiar yet resolved incident in his life. Despite the mundane beginning, the day ends with the swift, almost routine handling of the supernatural, embodying the life of a Havenite with the dispatching of the Satyr and saving the lost hiker.
(Sam's odd encounter(SRLuciano):SRLuciano)
[Thu Nov 21 2024]
In a Cozy Living Room
The walls of this room shifts in shades, from the blue of the entryway shifting to teal to the kitchen in the east, swinging to a vibrant green after coming back in, dipping into the book nook, before turning teal and blue more rapidly on the western wall, so that it fades perfectly into the blue of that doorway.
The walls of this room shifts in shades, from the blue of the entryway shifting to teal to the kitchen in the east, swinging to a vibrant green after coming back in, dipping into the book nook, before turning teal and blue more rapidly on the western wall, so that it The booknook to the south counterpoints directly to the TV setup on the north end, with its modern console and hidden wiring. The couch, black leather, sits against the western wall, with an ottoman against the southern wall perfect for whoever is in the corner to put their feet on. In the western half of the center of the room, in easy reach of the couch, is an old, round wooden table, where anyone can place their food and drinks.perfectly into the blue of that doorway.
Soft plush carpeting round off the room, cut off sharply at the eastern end by the kitchen's linoleum, no wall between the two areas. This allows those in the kitchen to watch the TV, or easily speak to those lounging in the living room.
It is afternoon, about 49F(9C) degrees, and there are a few dark grey stormclouds in the sky.
(Your target's been contacted to help find a civilian who's become lost in the woods.
)
Loafing on his couch, Sam rubs at his shoulder some. The slight smell of sweat is on the jock as he just came from a bout of sparring with his, admittedly, much more scrawny roommate.
He looks at his phone, and flicks through the messages somewhat. A bottle of Bud-light is in his hand, and he sips it lazily.
Outside was just as quiet as Sam lazed about on the couch. Rolling, grey storm clouds on the horizon. With a cold beer in hand, Sam seemed to have a free day for the most part...
someone Dave Hey there folks, for those out in the woods please be on the lookout for a man in a bright blue jacket, grey cargo pants, and a tri-zip backpack, please. A hiker went missing out in the woods and everyone is on the lookout for them. If you see anything, please call the Ranger helpline and we'll get the search teams looking in the right direction. Thank you!
Sam's phone beeped once with the notification from MyHaven. A service announcement that went out to everyone as a 'critical message'. Along with a map pin of the persons last location. Further inspection would reveal that the location was pretty deep into the woods, off an old, unused hiking trail.
Outside was just as quiet as Sam lazed about on the couch. Rolling, grey storm clouds on the horizon. With a cold beer in hand, Sam seemed to have a free day for the most part...
Ranger Dave Hey there folks, for those out in the woods please be on the lookout for a man in a bright blue jacket, grey cargo pants, and a tri-zip backpack, please. A hiker went missing out in the woods and everyone is on the lookout for them. If you see anything, please call the Ranger helpline and we'll get the search teams looking in the right direction. Thank you!
Sam's phone beeped once with the notification from MyHaven. A service announcement that went out to everyone as a 'critical message'. Along with a map pin of the persons last location. Further inspection would reveal that the location was pretty deep into the woods, off an old, unused hiking trail.
"Son of a fucking..." Sam rolls his eyes, and begrudgingly walks over to his room, dragging his ceramic plated vest from a shelf before tugging it on. He mutters to himself, looking none-too-pleased as he heads down the elevator, and out towards the forest north of town.
"Fuckin' right as my bike broke..." The jock mutters to himself as he trudges along, shrugging into his jacket as one hand rests on the knife at his side, his eyes on his phone, and the pin.
It is an uneventful trek for Sam. Besides the occasional barrage of messages within the chat.
Starlite:Unluckyyyyyyyyyy.
Gr4ssFed: The search party is currently looking for him! It looks like he has no signal.
Patrick: Anybody got the plugs number???
Messages of normal chatter between college students are interspersed with updates and conversation about the missing hiker. With Sam unimpeded as he makes his way further towards the woods. Finding himself at 'Rav`enholm Hiking Trail'. With CAUTION: "This trail has been closed until Spring for hibernation season. Be wary of bears and do not enter any caves." posted beneath the dilapidated wooden sign.
An overgrown trail, with aging boot marks, could be seen in front of Sam. Snapped sticks and overturned rocks marking a dubious path down the trail.
Perhaps the least well equipped, Sam heads down the trail, the jock not really possessing any notable proficiency in anything tracking, survival, or indeed, bushcraft related.
Line A look of perhaps cocky defiance is given up at the sign, and he smirks, shaking his head as he carries on along, eyes scouring the woodlands, seemingly unimpeded by any gloom or darkness.
Each step sunk into the muddy dirt path, Sam's shoes only finding solace in the occasional patch of dried leaves or sun-baked clay that made the walk slightly bit easier. Low hanging branches, thorny bushes, and a very persistent red throated blackbird dive bombing towards Sam's head seemed to be the only real threats the jock had to contend with as he made his way down the picturesque path.
If it wasn't for the fact this was a rescue mission, an appreciation could be held for the natural beauty of the trail. Patches of tall yarrow flowers came up to Sam's waist around the trail. With buzzing bees trying to siphon the last pollen they could before the bite of winter could truly settle in. To his left, the man would pass by a steep slope. Scored patches of mud indicating the journey of hikers long past who took an unfortunate tumble. Now cordoned off with bolts of white 'tape' and tall tent poles as a makeshift barrier.
Perhaps luck was on Sam's side, however, as the lost hikers bootmarks were still plainly visible in the path. Driving deeper and deeper into the thicket. With several pauses where a circle of bootprints could be found, before continuing forwards with renewed purchase.
As if nature itself was laughing at Sam for his mistake, the same blackbird caws mockingly at him from a high tree-branch. Watching him intently from above.
Troopering on with the sheer determination of someone, who by all fairness, likely survives because of sheer determination and luck, Sam proceeds onward.
That blackbird is met with a sulky glare, and he reaches into his pack, briefly considering doing something about it. He then shrugs, and proceeds tracking these footprints, his eyes narrowed as his tongue pokes from his mouth, as if tasting the very air itself. Now that that might help any. He mutters softly to himself, the urge to just let the hiker die alone in the woods growing by the second.
Then, an idea. He quickly checks his phone, to see if his faction has reported anyone getting abducted into other worlds, of late.
Thankfully, the scouts are silent. With a few of his comrades asking the same thing, returned with a simple 'Nah' text.
Oddly enough... Sam does -taste- something, or more like -smells-. The stench of -weed- assaulting his nostrils, a faint smell that made it's way through the woods... Even more so, Sam steps on something -crunchy-. If the man lifted his foot, he would find a crumpled up brownie wrapper on the trail. Conveniently placed next to a sign.
'TAKE ONLY PICTURES - LEAVE ONLY FOOTSTEPS' with a mascot of a cute little possum in a high-vis vest and a trash bag, smiling at the reader.
Calmly, Sam considers his options as he slowly approaches the source of the smell. His incredibly annoyed expression changes from a normal one, to a smirk as he reaches into his pack, pulling out the weapon within. He crouches down, hoping to sneak up on the brownie-eater with an impish grin of amusement on his face.
Sam, after a quick trek through the trail and even -off- the path. Finally finds the source of the smell, a bundled up hiker with bloodshot eyes staring up at the sky. A bong clutched close to his chest, with a few embers flickering away from his poorly packed bowl. The cargo pants, hiking boots, and jacket all match the descriptions...
What -doesn't-, however, is the hikers unexpected companion. A Satyr, large and muscular... Curled up across from him in their makeshift 'spot'. Curled up and heavily asleep on top of a particularly large and flat boulder.
With a gasp, the Hiker nearly lept out of his skin. Jolting upright as he stared at Sam with a glassy, bloodshot gaze. Raising up one hand in a lazy wave as the other held his bong.
"Sah, dude?"
"Hey man." Sam speaks softly, turning to him, with eyes gleaming slightly. "I think you should head home, and forget about this dream."
Cleanup, important. Next, Sam quietly tries to walk up to the satyr, giving the stoner time to bugger off as he presses his glock against the fae's temple, hoping to catch it unawares.
"Brah, what?" The stoned hiker asked. "Nnnnnnnaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah..." He let out a sigh and looked at Sam's piece. "Fuck man... You a cop?" With a stunningly relaxed attitude. The stoner rises to his feet with a groan, feeling around for his bag as he stuffed the bong back into it's special 'pouch'. "Ight mannnn... Chill. Chill, my buddy's asleep tho... Fucking homeless guy. Just let him rest, yeah..?" With that, the stoner stumbles back off towards the path.
Once he departed, the Satyr seemed out like a -light-. Drool escaping from it's lips, and the bow it used for self defense hanging off of a low hanging branch. However much it smoked, it certainly was enough to keep it from reacting.
Three mississipi. Four... Sam counts in his head, waiting for the stoner to fuck off, before he squeezes the trigger, shooting several times in the satyr's head, before rolling it over on it's back, and slashing it's throat with the bowie knife on his belt for good measure. He ticks his tongue against his teeth, and he looks down, narrowing his eyes.
With several flashes and loud bangs, that pestering Black Bird finally fucks off. As blood and viscera sprays across Sam's face, brain matter now splattered across the dried leaves and sun-baked stone as the Satyr is executed cartel style. Besides several death twitches, it's pretty evident the thing is -dead-. Slashing it's throat for good measure, even with half the head missing and the Satyr's small peanut brain clearly visible in the massive opening of it's skull.
Another job well done in the life of a Havenite. Stoner: Saved. Satyr: Dead. Bird: Scared off.
Sam nods ot himself, starting to draw the runes needed in the floor to step back into his own shadow. The gunshots no doubt attracted the attention of worse things waiting in the wings. But that, at least in Sam's mind, was really the problem of some other shmuck.