Encounterlogs
Sams Odd Encounter Sr Novel 241203
In the bustling atmosphere of the Trove Barcade, under the unique nautical decor and amidst the symphony of arcade sounds, Sam encounters a mysterious stranger who stands out with his heavy black overcoat and an air of authority. The stranger, seeking warmth from a cold evening, requests a drink from Sam, who obliges with a keen eye for any hidden motives. As the newcomer downs his whiskey in one go, Sam notices the subtle signs of the Golden Shadow—an organization known for its quests for power—through the black and gold trim of his attire and the glimpse of a dagger. This encounter stirs a sense of anticipation in the air.
The stranger reveals his purpose with a soft urgency, attempting to enlist Sam's aid for a mission cloaked in nobility: to retrieve the Heart of Radiance, an artifact believed to combat droughts affecting several towns. Despite the enticing story, the man's connection to the Golden Shadow raises silent alarms for Sam. A negotiation ensues, revealing Sam's experience and cunning as he sets the terms for his assistance. The stranger reluctantly agrees to Sam's conditions, marking the beginning of an uneasy alliance. As the man departs into the night, the agreement symbolizes more than a simple job; it's a confrontation with the shadowed lines between right and wrong, with Sam navigating these murky waters with his wits and wary trust.
(Sam's odd encounter(SRNovel):SRNovel)
[Mon Dec 2 2024]
At The Trove Barcade
This room is dominated by a sprawling, weathered bar. The bar's surface, polished to a high sheen, is inlaid with a mosaic of colorful sea glass, glinting in the dim, lantern-like lighting.
The walls, painted a deep, oceanic blue, are adorned with an eclectic assortment of nautical paraphernalia. Aged maps, and faded flags are interspersed with vintage arcade game marquees. The ceiling, draped with tattered sails and thick, knotted ropes, gives the impression of being below deck on a ship.
In the corners of the room, clusters of arcade games flicker and beep, their colorful screens casting a kaleidoscope of light onto the wooden floorboards. The air is filled with the clatter of pinball machines, the electronic melodies of video games, and the occasional thud of an axe hitting its target.
Behind the bar, a vast array of bottles is displayed, their contents ranging from craft beers to exotic rums. The bartenders, dressed in pirate garb, deftly mix cocktails, their movements punctuated by the clink of glass and the hiss of a freshly opened beer.
North/South: Restrooms
Northeast: Games
East: Axe Throwing
Southeast: Competitive Games
Down: Laser Tag
It is after dusk, about 42F(5C) degrees, and there are a few dark grey stormclouds in the sky. There is a waxing crescent moon.
(The Golden Shadow has learned of an artifact of immense power hidden in Haven, and have sent a member to retrieve it. The characterencounter this agent, who attempts to deceive them into helping retrieve the artifact under the guise of a noble cause. If the characters see through the deception, a battle could ensue. If they assist unknowingly, they might later discover the consequences of their actions when the artifact is used for the Golden Shadow's self-serving purposes.)
Lingering behind the bar, Sam hums softly as he wipes it down with a dingy dishcloth, looking around. He seems rather relaxed, and freshly washed, his shift just beginning.
The sun had just dipped below the horizon due to the early sunsets of winter's season, filling the canvas of Haven's gray scaes with hues of burnt orange and yellows. The streets oft bustling during the day began to quiet as lamplights flickered to life, their glow casting long shadows on cobbled paths and making the grasping trees of the roadway look even more intimidating and ominous.
But here near the original heart of the town, however, along Prospect, the baseball diamond and other buildings, Sam's Trove Barcade pulsed with life. Just smalltown things. Adults taking a quick stop by to get a cup of coffee, or gathering together the daily meetup before heading home, playing the arcades and the pinball and the click and clack. There's murmurs in the air about a set Family Day so parents can watch their podlings while they stay at the bar.
Into this noisy establishment the door creaked open and a stranger entered. An outsider, easily picked out as a recent visitor to Sam's observation and senses, in heavy black overcoat, wide flat hat and scarf tucked up to ward their features and body against the chill. Yet in spite of all these heavy coverings, they shiver on their way over towards the bar's counter. The darkness of their clothes is certainly contrasted by some of the brighter as they raise a hands to settle upon the bar and the other towards their mouth, gloves in gold and their overcoat and the tassles of their scarf trimmed in the same bright colors.
"A drink," The figure said, their voice smooth and masculine without being clearly male and carrying an undercurrent of authority. "Something warming, Sam," as the decidedly unfamiliar voice addresses Sam directly.
"Ey! Welcome to the Trove! What can I getcha to get the games started?"
Line Sam smiles, and grabs a glass of whiskey. He pours it for the stranger, his eyes going up and down the man's form, the acranist trying to determine any sort of symbols, or some such."
"Enjoy!" He smiles, eyes still flitting over the man, hidden behind his shades."
The dark-cloaked stranger gives a nod of thanks, slapping some bills upon the bar - plus some for a large tip. They grasped the glass, pulling the black scarf down with gold as they knock it back up in one swallow that helps still their excessive trembling. A long, low sigh of breathy relief. As Sam's gaze wanders they pick out something that shows in brief display on their hip as they adjust and move to sit upon a barstool. A dagger.
Black and gold and a dagger - the subtle signs of The Golden Shadow. Not attempting to hide, but nor are they trying to be as flagrant as they often are. Both arms come up, settling upon the bar, as he leans over, his voice soft. "I heard you were a man that knows how to do things. Get things done. Heard about Egypt, and all. Was hoping you could help for a ... job." Sunglasses-clad eyes mirror Sam's expression, the man's level gaze upon Sam.
Calmly, Sam leans on the bar, ticking a nod to the other bartender. "Take fifteen." The bartender wanders off, this habit not being new.
"Well, I'm listening." Sam looks the man up and down, and tilts his head aside, one hand subtly un-latching the hunting knife from his belt-sheath, though he keeps it in the sheath. For now. The jock looks at the man, and tilts his head aside with some interest.
Leaning forwards towards Sam, they tap their finger against the bar, voice soft and urgent. "The Heart of Radiance. You've heard about the droughts happening all over, haven't you?" An artifact of sunlight, of life and warmth, of raising the crops and originating somewhere from South America - stories of alchemy or sacrificial rituals to pry it out. Just stories, but one Sam is familiar with. And the abilities to draw further power to it, and life, to extend psychic feeding, and then sending that life elsewhere: To crops. Or to an individual. "We were hoping to try and put it into place, help give some small towns relief. You in?"
A smirk crawls across Sam's face as he listens. He lets the man finish talking, then looks right at him.
"Sixty." He mentions the number, looking to the man, and pointing to his chest. "Fourty." He points to the man, then. "Deal?" He offers a hand, smirking like a predator stalking prey.
A momentary's hesitation. A pause. There's a momentary waffling, a drumming on the counter by the fingers - and then he reaches out, clasping Sam's hand. "Deal." He says, finally. "We'll be in touch. See you around, Sam." Before he pulls away, to drift out the door again.
The stranger reveals his purpose with a soft urgency, attempting to enlist Sam's aid for a mission cloaked in nobility: to retrieve the Heart of Radiance, an artifact believed to combat droughts affecting several towns. Despite the enticing story, the man's connection to the Golden Shadow raises silent alarms for Sam. A negotiation ensues, revealing Sam's experience and cunning as he sets the terms for his assistance. The stranger reluctantly agrees to Sam's conditions, marking the beginning of an uneasy alliance. As the man departs into the night, the agreement symbolizes more than a simple job; it's a confrontation with the shadowed lines between right and wrong, with Sam navigating these murky waters with his wits and wary trust.
(Sam's odd encounter(SRNovel):SRNovel)
[Mon Dec 2 2024]
At The Trove Barcade
This room is dominated by a sprawling, weathered bar. The bar's surface, polished to a high sheen, is inlaid with a mosaic of colorful sea glass, glinting in the dim, lantern-like lighting.
The walls, painted a deep, oceanic blue, are adorned with an eclectic assortment of nautical paraphernalia. Aged maps, and faded flags are interspersed with vintage arcade game marquees. The ceiling, draped with tattered sails and thick, knotted ropes, gives the impression of being below deck on a ship.
In the corners of the room, clusters of arcade games flicker and beep, their colorful screens casting a kaleidoscope of light onto the wooden floorboards. The air is filled with the clatter of pinball machines, the electronic melodies of video games, and the occasional thud of an axe hitting its target.
Behind the bar, a vast array of bottles is displayed, their contents ranging from craft beers to exotic rums. The bartenders, dressed in pirate garb, deftly mix cocktails, their movements punctuated by the clink of glass and the hiss of a freshly opened beer.
North/South: Restrooms
Northeast: Games
East: Axe Throwing
Southeast: Competitive Games
Down: Laser Tag
It is after dusk, about 42F(5C) degrees, and there are a few dark grey stormclouds in the sky. There is a waxing crescent moon.
(The Golden Shadow has learned of an artifact of immense power hidden in Haven, and have sent a member to retrieve it. The characterencounter this agent, who attempts to deceive them into helping retrieve the artifact under the guise of a noble cause. If the characters see through the deception, a battle could ensue. If they assist unknowingly, they might later discover the consequences of their actions when the artifact is used for the Golden Shadow's self-serving purposes.)
Lingering behind the bar, Sam hums softly as he wipes it down with a dingy dishcloth, looking around. He seems rather relaxed, and freshly washed, his shift just beginning.
The sun had just dipped below the horizon due to the early sunsets of winter's season, filling the canvas of Haven's gray scaes with hues of burnt orange and yellows. The streets oft bustling during the day began to quiet as lamplights flickered to life, their glow casting long shadows on cobbled paths and making the grasping trees of the roadway look even more intimidating and ominous.
But here near the original heart of the town, however, along Prospect, the baseball diamond and other buildings, Sam's Trove Barcade pulsed with life. Just smalltown things. Adults taking a quick stop by to get a cup of coffee, or gathering together the daily meetup before heading home, playing the arcades and the pinball and the click and clack. There's murmurs in the air about a set Family Day so parents can watch their podlings while they stay at the bar.
Into this noisy establishment the door creaked open and a stranger entered. An outsider, easily picked out as a recent visitor to Sam's observation and senses, in heavy black overcoat, wide flat hat and scarf tucked up to ward their features and body against the chill. Yet in spite of all these heavy coverings, they shiver on their way over towards the bar's counter. The darkness of their clothes is certainly contrasted by some of the brighter as they raise a hands to settle upon the bar and the other towards their mouth, gloves in gold and their overcoat and the tassles of their scarf trimmed in the same bright colors.
"A drink," The figure said, their voice smooth and masculine without being clearly male and carrying an undercurrent of authority. "Something warming, Sam," as the decidedly unfamiliar voice addresses Sam directly.
"Ey! Welcome to the Trove! What can I getcha to get the games started?"
Line Sam smiles, and grabs a glass of whiskey. He pours it for the stranger, his eyes going up and down the man's form, the acranist trying to determine any sort of symbols, or some such."
"Enjoy!" He smiles, eyes still flitting over the man, hidden behind his shades."
The dark-cloaked stranger gives a nod of thanks, slapping some bills upon the bar - plus some for a large tip. They grasped the glass, pulling the black scarf down with gold as they knock it back up in one swallow that helps still their excessive trembling. A long, low sigh of breathy relief. As Sam's gaze wanders they pick out something that shows in brief display on their hip as they adjust and move to sit upon a barstool. A dagger.
Black and gold and a dagger - the subtle signs of The Golden Shadow. Not attempting to hide, but nor are they trying to be as flagrant as they often are. Both arms come up, settling upon the bar, as he leans over, his voice soft. "I heard you were a man that knows how to do things. Get things done. Heard about Egypt, and all. Was hoping you could help for a ... job." Sunglasses-clad eyes mirror Sam's expression, the man's level gaze upon Sam.
Calmly, Sam leans on the bar, ticking a nod to the other bartender. "Take fifteen." The bartender wanders off, this habit not being new.
"Well, I'm listening." Sam looks the man up and down, and tilts his head aside, one hand subtly un-latching the hunting knife from his belt-sheath, though he keeps it in the sheath. For now. The jock looks at the man, and tilts his head aside with some interest.
Leaning forwards towards Sam, they tap their finger against the bar, voice soft and urgent. "The Heart of Radiance. You've heard about the droughts happening all over, haven't you?" An artifact of sunlight, of life and warmth, of raising the crops and originating somewhere from South America - stories of alchemy or sacrificial rituals to pry it out. Just stories, but one Sam is familiar with. And the abilities to draw further power to it, and life, to extend psychic feeding, and then sending that life elsewhere: To crops. Or to an individual. "We were hoping to try and put it into place, help give some small towns relief. You in?"
A smirk crawls across Sam's face as he listens. He lets the man finish talking, then looks right at him.
"Sixty." He mentions the number, looking to the man, and pointing to his chest. "Fourty." He points to the man, then. "Deal?" He offers a hand, smirking like a predator stalking prey.
A momentary's hesitation. A pause. There's a momentary waffling, a drumming on the counter by the fingers - and then he reaches out, clasping Sam's hand. "Deal." He says, finally. "We'll be in touch. See you around, Sam." Before he pulls away, to drift out the door again.