Encounterlogs
Sams Odd Encounter Sr Sylas 250425
In a moment that melds the mundanity of a cozy living room with the undertones of supernatural machinations, Sam receives a tip-off about an easy target lost in the woods, his senses clouded by substances both magical and mundane. The narrative quickly immerses us into the urgent response of two drastically different hunters: Sam, a potent figure of the night, garbs himself in hunting attire and sets off towards Devilwood, employing arcane rituals to seek his prey; Elijah, a dedicated deputy, rouses from a nap to the crackle of his radio, setting his course for the same destination, his approach grounded in the practicalities of law enforcement. As both paths converge upon Devilwood, a dense fog and the ominous backdrop of Haven's hidden dangers set the stage, with the unsuspecting target deep within the woods, unaware of the converging fates.
The climax of this odd encounter unfolds with Sam finding his prey first, leveraging magical sight to pinpoint the young, dazed man in the dense woods. As Sam prepares to claim his quarry, Elijah arrives, guided by a mix of instinct and duty, stepping into a scene he's all too familiar with in the shadowy undercurrents of Haven. The tension between the two men, one supernatural and one sworn to protect, escalates as they stand over the would-be victim. Elijah, recognizing Sam, decides discretion is the better part of valor, turning off his body cam to negotiate the young man's fate. A delicate balance of power and responsibility plays out in their conversation, with Elijah probing for a solution that upholds his duty without sparking a potentially deadly confrontation. The resolution hangs in the balance, a testament to the complex interplay between Haven's human and supernatural residents, leaving the outcome uncertain as both men weigh the implications of their choices.
(Sam's odd encounter(SRSylas):SRSylas)
[Thu Apr 24 2025]
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 56F(13C) degrees, and there are a few thin white clouds in the sky.
(Your target's been contacted to help find a civilian who's become lost in the woods.
)
Leaning back, Sam lazily sips his morning bud(light) as he watches the TV. He yawns, his phone next to him on the couch as he stretches out languidly, quietly waking up, and occasionally rubbing his face. On the coffee table is a half-eaten stir-fry of vegetables and eggs, some bacon rashers sprinkled on top.
(repost) Leaning back, Sam lazily sips his morning bud(light) as he watches the TV. He yawns, his phone next to him on the couch as he stretches out languidly, quietly waking up, and occasionally rubbing his face. On the coffee table is a half-eaten stir-fry of vegetables and eggs, some bacon rashers sprinkled on top.
An APB (all points bulletin) goes out on the bandwith, nine-nine-one calls being sent in, while perspective clientele are messaged about easy /meat/ being /out/ and in the market. Sam's cellphone lights up, vibrating on the couch with a ring, jingle, and dance of lights. The Syndicate cashing in a minor favor letting the man knows is prey is about if he's hungry, lost in the woods, senses muddled by the mundane (drugs) and fantastical (its magic Harry!) alike. As for Elijah it's as is as apple pie, minus sticking your dick in it, as his radio begins to crackle with the location, "Devilwood's, last seen near the Succubus, witnesses say the individual looked like he was high as a kite." Then then his mic crackles out, something interfering as it hisses with an echo like two radios keying at the same time and too close too one another while sharing the same band with. As for Haven it was the afternoon, the mists coming and go with the tides as they usually do, rising and falling like waves, as the owl's hoot and birds chirp. Little children running about care free in the warmth unaware of all the /fucking Vampires in Santa Cruz/ but unlike in Cali the monsters here knew how to keep their shit together, quiet like, and if they didn't they pronouns became was and were.
An APB (all points bulletin) goes out on the bandwith, nine-nine-one calls being sent in, while perspective clientele are messaged about easy /meat/ being /out/ and in the market. Sam's cellphone lights up, vibrating on the couch with a ring, jingle, and dance of lights. The Syndicate cashing in a minor favor letting the man knows is prey is about if he's hungry, lost in the woods, senses muddled by the mundane (drugs) and fantastical (its magic Harry!) alike.
As for Elijah it's as is as apple pie, minus sticking your dick in it, as his radio begins to crackle with the location, "Devilwood's, last seen near the Succubus, witnesses say the individual looked like he was high as a kite." Then then his mic crackles out, something interfering as it hisses with an echo like two radios keying at the same time and too close too one another while sharing the same band with.
As for Haven it was the afternoon, the mists coming and go with the tides as they usually do, rising and falling like waves, as the owl's hoot and birds chirp. Little children running about care free in the warmth unaware of all the /fucking Vampires in Santa Cruz/ but unlike in Cali the monsters here knew how to keep their shit together, quiet like, and if they didn't they pronouns became was and were. (Repost)
Sam pulls of his /sim-sim-sala-bim
Elijah would be in his car when the call comes in, startling awake from the nap he'd been stealing as he reaches over to his radio to adjust one of the knobs, his eyes narrowing behind his aviators as he hears he's on a case. He grabs at the radio pinned to the front of his jacket and presses the button "Affirmative, Officer Carrington heading through ETA ... 10 minutes." Elijah radios in, checking his location for a moment before giving the ETA.
He doesn't use the high beams for this one, simply rolling out and /obeying the speed limit/ as he makes his way towards the reported location, drumming merrily at his driving wheel as he does so.
Pushing up from the couch, Sam heads into his ritual room, and after a quick scrying ritual, he nods to himself. He changes into his usual hunting attire: Black hoodie, black gloves, black jeans, and a balaclava over his face. He does affix the symbol of the Hand to his right wrist, on a leather armband.
Soon after, he heads towards Devilwood, making a slight judgement call that a high person might be heading to Sludgefukk, if experience tells him anything.
With a flick and a flourish of his /wand/ Sam pulls of his /sim-sim-sala-bim/ with little to no effort needed that doesn't drains one life like a Succubus sucks out a man's essence, accept not as quick and not as pleasurable, but magic like this has other benefits like giving one /sight-beyond-sight/ and a third-eye to see what they need: a brown haired youth, mid twenties, slumped over and on his ass in the woods, looking ready to call up some dinosaurs, as he shivers and shakes. A feint little line trails from Sam's feet as if a yellow brick road leading him to the Wizard of Oz, guiding him towards his next steak, while his phone lights up a again with a map, pinging the location, one of Sam's contacts coming through, as if getting that tingling sensation from President's hoodoo and voodoo.
However long it takes it takes, Elijah would eventually get their but perhaps not in time to bargain, save, or plead to let the kid go from a Supernatural's hungry's, but then again Elijah wasn't even aware a bigger monster was out besides the dead that rise, satyrs that frolic, or wolves that roam. Wheels spin, his PPV hums, and his destination is set as the man's aviators catches the reflections of his surroundings. Lieutenant Marion Cobretti had a mission, I mean Elijah Carrington was on the case.
A dense fog begins to roll slowly between the trees, making Haven's Devilwoods feel oppressive and surreal. Shadows dance at the edge of perception, causing the underbrush to appear to writhe as if alive. The distant hoot of another fucking owl that never seems to shut up blends with the faint rustle of leaves, barely masking the heavy silence. The sharp scent of pine mixes with damp earth and the faint, coppery tang of something unsettlingly metallic, carried on the cool, moist air.
At the edge of the road, Sam 'parks' (tosses down) his bike, and shakes into his ceramic vest. He takes a hold of his trusty knife, and, sniffing the air, the jock slowly starts to enter the mists, eyes flickering around, though the man is horrible at the mundane searching, much more versed in the arcane. His eyes narrow, and his tongue flicks from his lips like a snake's.
rolls up about as deep into the wood as he dares to go, he'd washed the rims just this morning and wasn't planning on washing them again this afternoon. The Tahoe's door closes with a weighty thud and Elijah adjusts his belt, and then pushes his aviators up as he squints to try and make out the dark black forest with the sunglasses still on. "Hello?" Elijah calls out into the woods as he starts to make his way in, double checking his service pistol before stomping his way in "HSD, I'm here to help ..."
The little red thread of fate tugs, pulls, and guides Sam to his prey, if he just believes he can fly Dumbo will find his meal as the mist does not obfuscate his path, the trees for the forest don't stop him from seeing the bigger picture, and no manner of this man purple posing will stop the Demigod from getting his fill. Sam's feet crunch against the floor bed, leaf's dead and dying crunch beneath his oxfords, his eyes twinkle by catching the light just right, and then their he is: the President's four course meal still slumped over, as if sleeping, without a care in the world, but it wouldn't be long before he started to care, started to feel, started to /beg./
Elijah was trailing in behind Sam, the foot prints easy enough to follow, the trail of mist seemingly acting more as a path than a hindrance, as the magic still lingers behind the slithering snake. Again the Deputy's aviators reflects everything it catches, his head on the swivile, on guard, and ready, but by calling out his voice carries like an echo in a cave and gives Sam the hint that he's no longer alone.
A flicker in the shadow, a hiss, and Sam is before the man. He smirks, and pins the man against a tree, leaning in as he whispers some threatening words or rather, his nostrils flaring as he licks his lips.
Elijah seems to not have been noticed yet, as the jock leans closer, giving the man the full 'wrong place wrong time' experience, a mocking chuckle escaping the man's lips, like a highschool bully.
A flashlight illuminates the black hoodie clad man, Elijah looking over, not noticing who it was over than that there was a hand symbol on his arm as he looks at the one man pinning the other against the wall. "Careful there." Elijah calls out from a /safe/ distance as he holds one hand on his belt, the other raises up to point the flash at the two of them. "Everyone take a breather for a moment, there's no need for anything drastic today" Elijah tells the two of them, hoping that the hoodie wearing man was just as interested as he was in not fighting
A twitch, and Sam releases the man, letting him drop onto the floor. He glares at him, and smiles a sickly sweet smile, his eyes locked on the man's eyes. " You will wait here, close your eyes, and count from one till a thousand."
Slowly, the jock turns to face Elijah, tilting his head aside.
"Deputy. Good evening. There a reason you're interupting my... meal?" His cocky, new-york drawl comes out, there.
As Sam pins the poor youth is pinned, he wakes up rather rudely and with a snort, groggy at first, until the pressure is felt and the realization he's at the mercy of something that can lift a full grown man up off his feet and keep him pressed against wood with little effort no matter how hard he struggled. He was grunting, failing, getting ready to yell, but he quiets down as Sam begins with the threats, the promise of the business end of a knife, and the all too threatening presence of a Demigod grown hunger causing the youth to nearly piss himself. He shivers from either the cold or the threats or both, but he stills until he's finding purchase on the floor once more, lulling into a hypnosis, taking a seat, and begins to count lethargically from one to a thousand, as he stares off into the distance and at nothing particular.
There's a bristle of the mustache as Elijah recognizes the accent. "Ah, Mr ..." Elijah pauses a moment. He reaches up to his chest and unclips the bodycam on his chest, turning it over in his hands to find the off-switch before hitting it and tucking it into his back pocket "Mr Phisher." Elijah greets the man. "I didn't recognize you." Elijah remarks, chewing over the situation, trying to figure out what his call here was going to be. "Who's the kid?" Elijah remarks, swinging the light to the man Sam had been pinning up against the tree a moment earlier "We know who's gunna come looking for this one?"
Whether it's a Haven local, and so long as the /natural/ is not being permanently harmed the Deputy would recall that to /infringe/ on a Supernatural's /playtime/ causes more trouble than it's worth.
Whether it's a Haven local or not and so long as the /natural/ is not being permanently harmed the Deputy would recall that to /infringe/ on a Supernatural's /playtime/ causes more trouble than it's worth.
"Not a clue." Sam roughly runs a hand through the hair of the counting man, shrugging lightly. "Plan was to eat my fill, wipe his lil brain, and dump him out on say... Elm street or something like that."
He tilts his head aside to Elijah, and smiles faintly. "You looking to be the hero today? Be my meal instead of him?" The jock grins from ear to ear, almost like a wolf with dripping fangs, though Sam's face is quite blood-less.
Unless ofcourse Elijah is willing to bleed his heart for this stranger.
The climax of this odd encounter unfolds with Sam finding his prey first, leveraging magical sight to pinpoint the young, dazed man in the dense woods. As Sam prepares to claim his quarry, Elijah arrives, guided by a mix of instinct and duty, stepping into a scene he's all too familiar with in the shadowy undercurrents of Haven. The tension between the two men, one supernatural and one sworn to protect, escalates as they stand over the would-be victim. Elijah, recognizing Sam, decides discretion is the better part of valor, turning off his body cam to negotiate the young man's fate. A delicate balance of power and responsibility plays out in their conversation, with Elijah probing for a solution that upholds his duty without sparking a potentially deadly confrontation. The resolution hangs in the balance, a testament to the complex interplay between Haven's human and supernatural residents, leaving the outcome uncertain as both men weigh the implications of their choices.
(Sam's odd encounter(SRSylas):SRSylas)
[Thu Apr 24 2025]
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 56F(13C) degrees, and there are a few thin white clouds in the sky.
(Your target's been contacted to help find a civilian who's become lost in the woods.
)
Leaning back, Sam lazily sips his morning bud(light) as he watches the TV. He yawns, his phone next to him on the couch as he stretches out languidly, quietly waking up, and occasionally rubbing his face. On the coffee table is a half-eaten stir-fry of vegetables and eggs, some bacon rashers sprinkled on top.
(repost) Leaning back, Sam lazily sips his morning bud(light) as he watches the TV. He yawns, his phone next to him on the couch as he stretches out languidly, quietly waking up, and occasionally rubbing his face. On the coffee table is a half-eaten stir-fry of vegetables and eggs, some bacon rashers sprinkled on top.
An APB (all points bulletin) goes out on the bandwith, nine-nine-one calls being sent in, while perspective clientele are messaged about easy /meat/ being /out/ and in the market. Sam's cellphone lights up, vibrating on the couch with a ring, jingle, and dance of lights. The Syndicate cashing in a minor favor letting the man knows is prey is about if he's hungry, lost in the woods, senses muddled by the mundane (drugs) and fantastical (its magic Harry!) alike. As for Elijah it's as is as apple pie, minus sticking your dick in it, as his radio begins to crackle with the location, "Devilwood's, last seen near the Succubus, witnesses say the individual looked like he was high as a kite." Then then his mic crackles out, something interfering as it hisses with an echo like two radios keying at the same time and too close too one another while sharing the same band with. As for Haven it was the afternoon, the mists coming and go with the tides as they usually do, rising and falling like waves, as the owl's hoot and birds chirp. Little children running about care free in the warmth unaware of all the /fucking Vampires in Santa Cruz/ but unlike in Cali the monsters here knew how to keep their shit together, quiet like, and if they didn't they pronouns became was and were.
An APB (all points bulletin) goes out on the bandwith, nine-nine-one calls being sent in, while perspective clientele are messaged about easy /meat/ being /out/ and in the market. Sam's cellphone lights up, vibrating on the couch with a ring, jingle, and dance of lights. The Syndicate cashing in a minor favor letting the man knows is prey is about if he's hungry, lost in the woods, senses muddled by the mundane (drugs) and fantastical (its magic Harry!) alike.
As for Elijah it's as is as apple pie, minus sticking your dick in it, as his radio begins to crackle with the location, "Devilwood's, last seen near the Succubus, witnesses say the individual looked like he was high as a kite." Then then his mic crackles out, something interfering as it hisses with an echo like two radios keying at the same time and too close too one another while sharing the same band with.
As for Haven it was the afternoon, the mists coming and go with the tides as they usually do, rising and falling like waves, as the owl's hoot and birds chirp. Little children running about care free in the warmth unaware of all the /fucking Vampires in Santa Cruz/ but unlike in Cali the monsters here knew how to keep their shit together, quiet like, and if they didn't they pronouns became was and were. (Repost)
Sam pulls of his /sim-sim-sala-bim
Elijah would be in his car when the call comes in, startling awake from the nap he'd been stealing as he reaches over to his radio to adjust one of the knobs, his eyes narrowing behind his aviators as he hears he's on a case. He grabs at the radio pinned to the front of his jacket and presses the button "Affirmative, Officer Carrington heading through ETA ... 10 minutes." Elijah radios in, checking his location for a moment before giving the ETA.
He doesn't use the high beams for this one, simply rolling out and /obeying the speed limit/ as he makes his way towards the reported location, drumming merrily at his driving wheel as he does so.
Pushing up from the couch, Sam heads into his ritual room, and after a quick scrying ritual, he nods to himself. He changes into his usual hunting attire: Black hoodie, black gloves, black jeans, and a balaclava over his face. He does affix the symbol of the Hand to his right wrist, on a leather armband.
Soon after, he heads towards Devilwood, making a slight judgement call that a high person might be heading to Sludgefukk, if experience tells him anything.
With a flick and a flourish of his /wand/ Sam pulls of his /sim-sim-sala-bim/ with little to no effort needed that doesn't drains one life like a Succubus sucks out a man's essence, accept not as quick and not as pleasurable, but magic like this has other benefits like giving one /sight-beyond-sight/ and a third-eye to see what they need: a brown haired youth, mid twenties, slumped over and on his ass in the woods, looking ready to call up some dinosaurs, as he shivers and shakes. A feint little line trails from Sam's feet as if a yellow brick road leading him to the Wizard of Oz, guiding him towards his next steak, while his phone lights up a again with a map, pinging the location, one of Sam's contacts coming through, as if getting that tingling sensation from President's hoodoo and voodoo.
However long it takes it takes, Elijah would eventually get their but perhaps not in time to bargain, save, or plead to let the kid go from a Supernatural's hungry's, but then again Elijah wasn't even aware a bigger monster was out besides the dead that rise, satyrs that frolic, or wolves that roam. Wheels spin, his PPV hums, and his destination is set as the man's aviators catches the reflections of his surroundings. Lieutenant Marion Cobretti had a mission, I mean Elijah Carrington was on the case.
A dense fog begins to roll slowly between the trees, making Haven's Devilwoods feel oppressive and surreal. Shadows dance at the edge of perception, causing the underbrush to appear to writhe as if alive. The distant hoot of another fucking owl that never seems to shut up blends with the faint rustle of leaves, barely masking the heavy silence. The sharp scent of pine mixes with damp earth and the faint, coppery tang of something unsettlingly metallic, carried on the cool, moist air.
At the edge of the road, Sam 'parks' (tosses down) his bike, and shakes into his ceramic vest. He takes a hold of his trusty knife, and, sniffing the air, the jock slowly starts to enter the mists, eyes flickering around, though the man is horrible at the mundane searching, much more versed in the arcane. His eyes narrow, and his tongue flicks from his lips like a snake's.
rolls up about as deep into the wood as he dares to go, he'd washed the rims just this morning and wasn't planning on washing them again this afternoon. The Tahoe's door closes with a weighty thud and Elijah adjusts his belt, and then pushes his aviators up as he squints to try and make out the dark black forest with the sunglasses still on. "Hello?" Elijah calls out into the woods as he starts to make his way in, double checking his service pistol before stomping his way in "HSD, I'm here to help ..."
The little red thread of fate tugs, pulls, and guides Sam to his prey, if he just believes he can fly Dumbo will find his meal as the mist does not obfuscate his path, the trees for the forest don't stop him from seeing the bigger picture, and no manner of this man purple posing will stop the Demigod from getting his fill. Sam's feet crunch against the floor bed, leaf's dead and dying crunch beneath his oxfords, his eyes twinkle by catching the light just right, and then their he is: the President's four course meal still slumped over, as if sleeping, without a care in the world, but it wouldn't be long before he started to care, started to feel, started to /beg./
Elijah was trailing in behind Sam, the foot prints easy enough to follow, the trail of mist seemingly acting more as a path than a hindrance, as the magic still lingers behind the slithering snake. Again the Deputy's aviators reflects everything it catches, his head on the swivile, on guard, and ready, but by calling out his voice carries like an echo in a cave and gives Sam the hint that he's no longer alone.
A flicker in the shadow, a hiss, and Sam is before the man. He smirks, and pins the man against a tree, leaning in as he whispers some threatening words or rather, his nostrils flaring as he licks his lips.
Elijah seems to not have been noticed yet, as the jock leans closer, giving the man the full 'wrong place wrong time' experience, a mocking chuckle escaping the man's lips, like a highschool bully.
A flashlight illuminates the black hoodie clad man, Elijah looking over, not noticing who it was over than that there was a hand symbol on his arm as he looks at the one man pinning the other against the wall. "Careful there." Elijah calls out from a /safe/ distance as he holds one hand on his belt, the other raises up to point the flash at the two of them. "Everyone take a breather for a moment, there's no need for anything drastic today" Elijah tells the two of them, hoping that the hoodie wearing man was just as interested as he was in not fighting
A twitch, and Sam releases the man, letting him drop onto the floor. He glares at him, and smiles a sickly sweet smile, his eyes locked on the man's eyes. " You will wait here, close your eyes, and count from one till a thousand."
Slowly, the jock turns to face Elijah, tilting his head aside.
"Deputy. Good evening. There a reason you're interupting my... meal?" His cocky, new-york drawl comes out, there.
As Sam pins the poor youth is pinned, he wakes up rather rudely and with a snort, groggy at first, until the pressure is felt and the realization he's at the mercy of something that can lift a full grown man up off his feet and keep him pressed against wood with little effort no matter how hard he struggled. He was grunting, failing, getting ready to yell, but he quiets down as Sam begins with the threats, the promise of the business end of a knife, and the all too threatening presence of a Demigod grown hunger causing the youth to nearly piss himself. He shivers from either the cold or the threats or both, but he stills until he's finding purchase on the floor once more, lulling into a hypnosis, taking a seat, and begins to count lethargically from one to a thousand, as he stares off into the distance and at nothing particular.
There's a bristle of the mustache as Elijah recognizes the accent. "Ah, Mr ..." Elijah pauses a moment. He reaches up to his chest and unclips the bodycam on his chest, turning it over in his hands to find the off-switch before hitting it and tucking it into his back pocket "Mr Phisher." Elijah greets the man. "I didn't recognize you." Elijah remarks, chewing over the situation, trying to figure out what his call here was going to be. "Who's the kid?" Elijah remarks, swinging the light to the man Sam had been pinning up against the tree a moment earlier "We know who's gunna come looking for this one?"
Whether it's a Haven local, and so long as the /natural/ is not being permanently harmed the Deputy would recall that to /infringe/ on a Supernatural's /playtime/ causes more trouble than it's worth.
Whether it's a Haven local or not and so long as the /natural/ is not being permanently harmed the Deputy would recall that to /infringe/ on a Supernatural's /playtime/ causes more trouble than it's worth.
"Not a clue." Sam roughly runs a hand through the hair of the counting man, shrugging lightly. "Plan was to eat my fill, wipe his lil brain, and dump him out on say... Elm street or something like that."
He tilts his head aside to Elijah, and smiles faintly. "You looking to be the hero today? Be my meal instead of him?" The jock grins from ear to ear, almost like a wolf with dripping fangs, though Sam's face is quite blood-less.
Unless ofcourse Elijah is willing to bleed his heart for this stranger.