Encounterlogs
Seamuss Odd Encounter Sr Lark 250216
Seamus, a private investigator, finds himself in an unfamiliar, stark room after being abducted. The room is simply furnished with a wooden chair, and the only way out appears to be a door with a keypad lock. He is stark naked, which adds to his discomfort. Suddenly, a voice, possibly Russian, speaks from a hidden speaker, accusing Seamus of knowing too much and working for someone. This entity, referring to itself as the All-Knowing, demands the whereabouts of something called the Whispered Edict. Seamus, confused and defiant, insists he knows nothing of it, mocking the grandiosity of his captors.
Despite his attempts to communicate, the voice grows increasingly furious, reciting a prayer to the All-Knowing, as the air in the room heats dangerously, and an inexplicable flame appears, not attached to any surface. Realizing the fruitless nature of arguing and with the room turning into a furnace, Seamus decides to take action. He notices the drywall around the door is weak and manages to kick a hole through it, revealing a path to escape. Despite the voices and the unnerving, growing flame, Seamus doesn't give up. He eventually breaks enough of the wall to make an escape, slipping through to freedom as fresh air and light greet him, leaving behind the mysterious and threatening captors and their cryptic accusations.
(Seamus's odd encounter(SRLark):SRLark)
[Sat Feb 15 2025]
In a comfortably appointed master bedroom
Masculine elegance radiates from every corner of this stately bedroom. The walls are painted in a light shade of mist grey, providing a calming ambiance that is perfect for relaxation. The bed, made of sturdy ash wood, sits in the center of the room, dressed in crisp grey sheets and adorned with a silver comforter.
The room is filled with subtle details that showcase the owner's refined taste. A vintage armchair is placed in the corner, inviting one to sit and enjoy the warm glow of the electric fireplace. The floor-to-ceiling bay window is framed by thick curtains made of a luxurious, heavy grey fabric that pools at the floor.
It is afternoon, about 27F(-2C) degrees, and there are a few dark grey stormclouds in the sky.
(Your target is abducted in their sleep, waking up alone in a locked room. They need to either escape or draw attention to them so their allies can come and provide assistance.
)
When Seamus would awaken, it would not be to the light of another nice humdrum day in Haven proper. Bland flourescent lighting would meet his eyes, and once adjusted, he could see that he was not, in fact at home. Not at all. The private investigator was instead in a wholly different place: a perfectly square room painted in a bland, dark vomit yellow color. The flourescent lighting gives off that uninteresting hum and all that can be seen around him is a singular wooden chair, plain but functional and a door on one of the walls with what seems to be a keypad lock. The air is stale and smells faintly of sweat and lemon scented cleaning product, along with something more... unsettling. Something hard to place.
One of the flourescent lights above begins to flicker with an unsteady rhythm, an erratic staccato that seems almost eerie given the circumstances...
Seamus wakes up and feels himself up. Naked. Like he usually sleeps. "Fuck me," he groans as he rolls over and does a lazy push up to get up and looks around. "I need a smoke. And coffee." He pauses and thinks to himself, "Maybe whiskey. I am too sober for this." Rubbing a hand down his face he looks around and tries to gauge the situation, what is going on, where he is, and more importantly who has him as their 'guest'
There's the sound of a speaker crackle as something seems to be turning on. There comes a voice, a low, growling with a touch of an accent. Russian maybe? The voice begins to speak from a hidden speaker in the room:
"We know what you did. We know who you work for. This will go better for you if you tell the truth."
There's a menace to the spoken words. They're presumptive, and angry. Very angry. Over something. That flourescent bulb continues to flicker whilst its cousins continue to remain strong.
"Only fools think they can run from us. But the All-Knowing Sees All. There will be a Price to Pay. Should you confess, the All-Knowing may grant mercy upon your soul."
"You are going to have to be more specific," Seamus mutters standing to his feet. "If this is about that thing in Lynn with the guy, he had it coming." He pauses then and adds softly, "And if this is about Dougie, your all knowing eye can read about it in the Globe. I got nothing more to say." He looks around and adds, "And unless you like looking at my dick, can you slide in some shorts? I don't judge though."
"The All-Knowing sees beyond flesh, beyond time, beyond the lies we tell ourselves. There is no hiding from Its gaze. Your vessel is a speck of dust." The voice begins to grow in volume, in fervor, and in intensity.
"Every betrayal is an echo, every sin a ripple. The All-Knowing is the tide that swallows all in the end. To wrong the All-Knowing is to carve your fate into stone. The weight of your sins will grind you into dust beneath its gaze. You may run. You may hide. But the truth knows your name, and the All-Knowing whispers it to the void."
Finally, that flickering bulb goes out entirely, leaving a slight darkness to the left side of the room. The sound of heavy breathing comes through the speakers, as if the unknown individual were trying to calm themselves from their frenzy. And once they begin to speak, the anger has been drawn away from their voice - for now.
"Where have you hidden it? The Whispered Edict? Speak now and live in the mercy of the All-Knowing. Else you will perish in the darkness of Its wrath."
"I really need a smoke," Seamus says with a groan. "Look pal I don't have no all knowing whispered edict or anything like that. If I did, I'd give it to you on a silver platter." He scratches his jaw, "Twin Peaks bullshit..."
"Unwise. The third time is a charm, as you plebians say. Else you shall rot here for an eternity and beyond, until your flesh dries and withers and your bones turn to dust." The voice cautions. There's a *pop* noise as another one of those flourescent lights begins to flicker erratically.
Seamus may notice that they keypad on the door cycles through numbers, each number on the keypad turning red in turn. Over and over and over again.
Seamus covers his eyes when it starts flickering, squinting to avoid the worst of it as he spies the numbers cycling through. "Right. Any hint as to where I am going to wither and die? An old house? Seems like an old house."
"You have sealed your fate, Sinner."
The voice does not seem to acknolwedge Seamus's question. Instead, solemnly, it begins to chant a prayer:
" O All-Knowing, whose sight burns through deceit. Let the liars wither beneath Your gaze. Shatter the tongues that weave falsehoods, and drown the unworthy in the weight of truth. May those who defy You be unmade. Silence their whispers, their treachery snared. Six times they fall, six times they rise, six times they beg, yet none shall be spared. In the end only truth shall remain, and Your will shall reign enternal." The prayer is said again, and again, as if on loop in a steady cadence.
Meanwhile, the air in the room turns sour and hot, as if the heat were suddenly cranked up. There's the smell of smoke and something awful yet unplaceable in the room.
It is now that Seamus starts to panic, as if he wasn't carefully hiding it before. As the room starts to smell he goes next to the door and starts to kick at the wall next to it, hoping to break through the sheet rock, or break his foot depending on what the wall is made out of.
Seamus's kick does something, at least. His foot breaks through the drywall sheeting. Inside is bare open space and another layer of drywall on the other side. Meanwhile in one corner of the room a flame appears. But it's no ordinary flame. Inexplicably, it is not attached to any wall surface, nor flooring. It's simply a flame that begins to burn in the middle of the air. The heat and smell seems to emenate from it.
"It's a well known fact that criminals fail to reinforce the walls. Door is probably solid though," Seamus says wryly with a hint of self satisfaction belying his stress at getting out of here alive. He repeated keeps kicking at the drywall to escape, ignoring any wounds that may be developing from his escape attempt. "Fuck fuck fuck. Fuck this fucking fire."
The chanting continues as the flame grows in size, its appearance and growth making no logical sense. The air around Seamus grows hotter, sweltering even, but he's doing real work, kicking at the dry wall. More and more of it comes off and eventually, there's a hole that lets in fresh air and a peek of natural light.
Seamus slips through the crack that he busted through and makes his way to escape, running away as quickly as possible.
Despite his attempts to communicate, the voice grows increasingly furious, reciting a prayer to the All-Knowing, as the air in the room heats dangerously, and an inexplicable flame appears, not attached to any surface. Realizing the fruitless nature of arguing and with the room turning into a furnace, Seamus decides to take action. He notices the drywall around the door is weak and manages to kick a hole through it, revealing a path to escape. Despite the voices and the unnerving, growing flame, Seamus doesn't give up. He eventually breaks enough of the wall to make an escape, slipping through to freedom as fresh air and light greet him, leaving behind the mysterious and threatening captors and their cryptic accusations.
(Seamus's odd encounter(SRLark):SRLark)
[Sat Feb 15 2025]
In a comfortably appointed master bedroom
Masculine elegance radiates from every corner of this stately bedroom. The walls are painted in a light shade of mist grey, providing a calming ambiance that is perfect for relaxation. The bed, made of sturdy ash wood, sits in the center of the room, dressed in crisp grey sheets and adorned with a silver comforter.
The room is filled with subtle details that showcase the owner's refined taste. A vintage armchair is placed in the corner, inviting one to sit and enjoy the warm glow of the electric fireplace. The floor-to-ceiling bay window is framed by thick curtains made of a luxurious, heavy grey fabric that pools at the floor.
It is afternoon, about 27F(-2C) degrees, and there are a few dark grey stormclouds in the sky.
(Your target is abducted in their sleep, waking up alone in a locked room. They need to either escape or draw attention to them so their allies can come and provide assistance.
)
When Seamus would awaken, it would not be to the light of another nice humdrum day in Haven proper. Bland flourescent lighting would meet his eyes, and once adjusted, he could see that he was not, in fact at home. Not at all. The private investigator was instead in a wholly different place: a perfectly square room painted in a bland, dark vomit yellow color. The flourescent lighting gives off that uninteresting hum and all that can be seen around him is a singular wooden chair, plain but functional and a door on one of the walls with what seems to be a keypad lock. The air is stale and smells faintly of sweat and lemon scented cleaning product, along with something more... unsettling. Something hard to place.
One of the flourescent lights above begins to flicker with an unsteady rhythm, an erratic staccato that seems almost eerie given the circumstances...
Seamus wakes up and feels himself up. Naked. Like he usually sleeps. "Fuck me," he groans as he rolls over and does a lazy push up to get up and looks around. "I need a smoke. And coffee." He pauses and thinks to himself, "Maybe whiskey. I am too sober for this." Rubbing a hand down his face he looks around and tries to gauge the situation, what is going on, where he is, and more importantly who has him as their 'guest'
There's the sound of a speaker crackle as something seems to be turning on. There comes a voice, a low, growling with a touch of an accent. Russian maybe? The voice begins to speak from a hidden speaker in the room:
"We know what you did. We know who you work for. This will go better for you if you tell the truth."
There's a menace to the spoken words. They're presumptive, and angry. Very angry. Over something. That flourescent bulb continues to flicker whilst its cousins continue to remain strong.
"Only fools think they can run from us. But the All-Knowing Sees All. There will be a Price to Pay. Should you confess, the All-Knowing may grant mercy upon your soul."
"You are going to have to be more specific," Seamus mutters standing to his feet. "If this is about that thing in Lynn with the guy, he had it coming." He pauses then and adds softly, "And if this is about Dougie, your all knowing eye can read about it in the Globe. I got nothing more to say." He looks around and adds, "And unless you like looking at my dick, can you slide in some shorts? I don't judge though."
"The All-Knowing sees beyond flesh, beyond time, beyond the lies we tell ourselves. There is no hiding from Its gaze. Your vessel is a speck of dust." The voice begins to grow in volume, in fervor, and in intensity.
"Every betrayal is an echo, every sin a ripple. The All-Knowing is the tide that swallows all in the end. To wrong the All-Knowing is to carve your fate into stone. The weight of your sins will grind you into dust beneath its gaze. You may run. You may hide. But the truth knows your name, and the All-Knowing whispers it to the void."
Finally, that flickering bulb goes out entirely, leaving a slight darkness to the left side of the room. The sound of heavy breathing comes through the speakers, as if the unknown individual were trying to calm themselves from their frenzy. And once they begin to speak, the anger has been drawn away from their voice - for now.
"Where have you hidden it? The Whispered Edict? Speak now and live in the mercy of the All-Knowing. Else you will perish in the darkness of Its wrath."
"I really need a smoke," Seamus says with a groan. "Look pal I don't have no all knowing whispered edict or anything like that. If I did, I'd give it to you on a silver platter." He scratches his jaw, "Twin Peaks bullshit..."
"Unwise. The third time is a charm, as you plebians say. Else you shall rot here for an eternity and beyond, until your flesh dries and withers and your bones turn to dust." The voice cautions. There's a *pop* noise as another one of those flourescent lights begins to flicker erratically.
Seamus may notice that they keypad on the door cycles through numbers, each number on the keypad turning red in turn. Over and over and over again.
Seamus covers his eyes when it starts flickering, squinting to avoid the worst of it as he spies the numbers cycling through. "Right. Any hint as to where I am going to wither and die? An old house? Seems like an old house."
"You have sealed your fate, Sinner."
The voice does not seem to acknolwedge Seamus's question. Instead, solemnly, it begins to chant a prayer:
" O All-Knowing, whose sight burns through deceit. Let the liars wither beneath Your gaze. Shatter the tongues that weave falsehoods, and drown the unworthy in the weight of truth. May those who defy You be unmade. Silence their whispers, their treachery snared. Six times they fall, six times they rise, six times they beg, yet none shall be spared. In the end only truth shall remain, and Your will shall reign enternal." The prayer is said again, and again, as if on loop in a steady cadence.
Meanwhile, the air in the room turns sour and hot, as if the heat were suddenly cranked up. There's the smell of smoke and something awful yet unplaceable in the room.
It is now that Seamus starts to panic, as if he wasn't carefully hiding it before. As the room starts to smell he goes next to the door and starts to kick at the wall next to it, hoping to break through the sheet rock, or break his foot depending on what the wall is made out of.
Seamus's kick does something, at least. His foot breaks through the drywall sheeting. Inside is bare open space and another layer of drywall on the other side. Meanwhile in one corner of the room a flame appears. But it's no ordinary flame. Inexplicably, it is not attached to any wall surface, nor flooring. It's simply a flame that begins to burn in the middle of the air. The heat and smell seems to emenate from it.
"It's a well known fact that criminals fail to reinforce the walls. Door is probably solid though," Seamus says wryly with a hint of self satisfaction belying his stress at getting out of here alive. He repeated keeps kicking at the drywall to escape, ignoring any wounds that may be developing from his escape attempt. "Fuck fuck fuck. Fuck this fucking fire."
The chanting continues as the flame grows in size, its appearance and growth making no logical sense. The air around Seamus grows hotter, sweltering even, but he's doing real work, kicking at the dry wall. More and more of it comes off and eventually, there's a hole that lets in fresh air and a peek of natural light.
Seamus slips through the crack that he busted through and makes his way to escape, running away as quickly as possible.