Encounterlogs
Solomons Odd Encounter Sr Astrid 240727
In a mysterious and arcane setting atop a converted windmill, Solomon finds himself enveloped in a magical mishap instigated by an unexpected visitor from another time - a woman adorned in ancient Algonquin attire. This encounter thrusts Solomon into an unforeseen journey, transporting him to the underbellies of a secret auction organized by The Golden Shadow. Here, a rare artifact known to magnify supernatural powers is up for grabs, attracting a motley of potential buyers with dubious intentions. Solomon, initially disoriented, quickly regains his composure and, utilizing his mystical prowess and manipulative eloquence, convinces a guard that he is a VIP guest meant to attend the auction. His effortless infiltration reveals the auction's appalling commodification of powerful items and individuals, including the sale of the time-displaced Algonquin woman who inadvertently facilitated Solomon's arrival at this clandestine gathering.
The narrative reaches its climax as Solomon navigates the auction with both cunning and detachment, showcasing his immortality and moral ambiguity. Amidst the frenzied bidding wars over ancient relics and living beings, Solomon reconnects with Claude, an old acquaintance. Together, they witness the auctioning of the highly coveted Talisman of Onikage, rumored to bestow unparalleled stealth and prowess upon its holder. While Claude and other attendees get caught up in the spectacle, Solomon remains aloof, declaring his presence not out of desire for the talisman but to discern the motivations and alliances forming within the room. His keen observation pays off when the Talisman of Onikage is sold to a member of the Black Flame, revealing the shifting power dynamics at play. Solomon's journey through the arcane and the undercover not only exposes the illicit dealings of The Golden Shadow but also underscores his intricate dance with power, knowledge, and immortality, leaving a trail of intrigue and unanswered questions about the breadth of his influence and objectives.
(Solomon's odd encounter(SRAstrid):SRAstrid)
[Fri Jul 26 2024]
In top floor study of a Converted Windmill
The top floor of the converted windmill has been converted in a study and office with panoramic views of the surrounding forest. The room's circular perimeter is lined with aged oak bookshelves that house a diverse collection of literature, from classic novels to volumes on natural sciences and astronomy, with no small number of tomes turned to more arcane topics. Centered in the space is an elegant, antique writing desk, paired with a high-backed leather chair, where one can pen thoughts or delve into studies under the soft light of a brass desk lamp. A rug in front of the desk covers up the wooden floor, embroidered with a seven-pointed star, while occult accoutrements -- mirrors, orreries, and other tools -- line shelves on the walls.
It is night, about 104F(40C) degrees, There is a last quarter moon.
(An anonymous tip has led your target to a secret auction run by The Golden Shadow. The auction is selling off a rare artifact that is said to amplify supernatural powers. The artifact could be a weapon for those who seek to cause harm or a tool for those who wish to protect Haven. The target and their allies must infiltrate the auction, navigate a room full of potential enemies, and either retrieve or neutralize the artifact before it falls into the wrong hands.)
In the top floor sanctum of his home, Solomon paces around a lit ritual circle, chanting.
It's not Solomon who fumbles the ritual, but someone he did not expect. She came from nowhere, suddenly appearing before the man, not far from his ritual circle. This woman is dressed in traditional, ancient Algonquin garb. She has long, slightly frizzy black hair, amber eyes, and a warm golden-brown complexion. The X shaped rift she came from closes quickly, and as it does, the ritual circle sparks in gold and fuchsia arcs, touching on the rift a few times, and creating another on the other side of the circle. This second one has an abstract shape, not one actually given an official separate name from others. The Algonquin woman looks terrified, confused, and she even frantically rambles in Algonquin, practically a dead language outside a reservation these days. The woman charges across the circle without even thinking, rubbing for the other rift. The moment she hits it, the entire room flashed white and crimson. Death encompasses everything...
...or does it? Solomon would find himself in a dark room, in a basement, but not locked in, the sounds of an auction happening upstairs... and a muffled scream. Two voices converse, barely audible. "Is she the time jumper?" "Yeah, but keep it down." "Put her in the cage, take the Talisman of Onikage, he was the strongest in the east." "No wonder this hasn't been seen for so long." "Yeah, it'll get double price now, at least."
It's a moment, some shift of perception, and then a muttered invocation. The darkness does not bother Solomon's eyes -- red, they see in the night as well as the day, and he tilts his head. The suffering of others' is others' problem, of course -- but why is he here? What has brought him here? Ah -- interesting. Someone is about a thing of power. Some goateed smile grows as he steps up the stairs, not particularly worried about what may await him on the other side. Does he move stealthily? Not really. He feels no need, though he keeps words of power close to his tongue, something inside him ready to come out if violence is required.
The guard about to round the corner, well that poor, underwhelming Golden Shadow soldier is just a peon compared to Solomon. The man can easily hear his footsteps coming. Others further away are much quieter, and some almost silent. That first guard comes around the corner and spots Solomon right at the top step. "What?! Who are you?! How did you get in here!?" He reaches for his walkie, his hands trembling in his scramble, and he takes a step back from Solomon, and then another. It's clear in his eyes that he can see the red of Solomon's irises.
Further away, further up, muffled voices proceed with the auction. "Next up we have a lovely, authentic antique vase from China, circa Ming Dynasty, let's start the bidding at twenty thousand, do I hear twenty twenty going once twenty one from the lady in the red dress then we got twenty one five from the gentleman in the front with the ZZ-Top beard, going once do we have twenty two twenty two it is from the gentleman in the back twenty five from the lady in the red twenty six twenty seven how high will the bidding war go twenty seven going once twenty eight from ZZ Top thirty from the gentleman in the back fifty from red going once twice sold to the lady in the red dress for fifty thousand dollars congratulations madam this piece would go great in the foyer of main hall it makes a lovely centerpiece any and everywhere folks we're gonna take a five minute break and then get the next lot out and up for bids folks enjoy some fine refreshments we'll be right back smoke if ya gotten hey-oooohhh!"
There are many ways to skin a cat -- or some Golden Shadow guard, really. Some are simple, and they, perhaps, are best. "Come now," Solomon says to the guard, his voice full of power and melody. "I am a guest, late to the auction -- Solomon Inigo. I have bargained with your Golden Shadow many times," he says. "And --" Here magic shades his voice. "You will bring me to the auction as the guest I am."
"Alright folks we're back and next up we've got to check all your VIP cards for this lot, because one of this exotic nature is only available to our most devoted clientele, so get those VIP cards read in order to re-enter for this lot, we'll have nothing but fully open lots after this one folks, if you didn't make the list give us five minutes!"
Five minutes is a long time for a man staring down a fully cocked hypnotism from a man like Solomon. The guard considers the man's words for not even a moment, simply turning right around to walk down the hall. "This way please, sir, sorry for the confusion, we had a lowly chef down here messing with breakers once." Looking over his shoulder apologetically, he hesitates in the hall to say, "Clearly you're more well articulated than any of those rapscallions, I'll make sure nobody makes that mistake again."
Up above, "Alright VIP guests, we've got the others locked in the sound proofed hors d'oeuvre hall, so lets get it rolling with the next lot! This one is an authentic Algonquin time jumper, estimated to have left her time right around the time Pilgrims were becoming traitors to the crown! Long live the King! This one's a little feisty so w're starting a little low, opening bid starts at five thousand, but with enough training she'll make the perfect house wench five thousand do we have five thousand seven thousand from the gentleman in the bowler hat eight from the southern belle in the back ten five from bowler hat going once twenty from the southern belle twenty going once twice sold! Enjoy your new house girl, good for anything from food preparation to fucking, alright lets get this show on the road."
Damn. They even sold the poor timeswept girl who brought Solomon through the portal in the first place. Had she been trying to path? No matter now, the guard has by them led Solomon all the way to the hors d'oeuvre hall, and the door to the main auction hall is open by then. But the auctioneer squints on sight of Solomon, knowing something isn't right, and the doors they came in through are closed by other guards from the outside, after one signal from the auctioneer. There's a talisman on display for the lot about to be up for bid, and tension mounting as the official guests all gradually turn to peer intently at Solomon.
Solomon scans the hall, looking for some familiar face from a life lived as an immortal, morally bankrupt sorcerer. "Claude!" he cries out. "I feel as if it has been a decade or two," he says, threading his way through the crowd. "I was sure the Temple was going to try to lock you in an iron box and bury you at the bottom of the sea, and I am very pleased they didn't." He pauses. "Or you escaped, regardless. They live such short, forgetful lives."
The auctioneer looks on, ticking his chin up slightly when Solomon recognizes one of the regular patrons there, quickly waving off the lockdown. "Sorry folks usually when we get a guard bringing someone up there's been a security breach. Looks like this gentleman's just a VIP with an escort, so, on to the next item up for bid"
Meanwhile Claude shares an equally pleased countenance to Solomon, tipping his head and his had. "Ouais, ces connards," he replies with a chuckle, "They sure tried." Shaking his head he adds, with no irony lost on him, "They'd probably have done better trying to crucify me. I didn't think you'd show up to this one, it was just little trinkets until the last lot, thought you'd be more drawn to the-"
"The one, the only, Talisman of Onikage, rumored to be the stealthiest ninja in all of ancient, feudal Japan. Even his own legend calls out a claim, one that his skill was so great that most people don't even believe or spread the legend! But there are some out there who say anyone in possession of the talisman will be capable of the same greatness as he. Ladies and gentlemen this item has been lost as far as we know in the sands of time since then, so we'll start the bidding at fifty thousand do I hear fifty thousand?"
Claude shuts right up, quirking up a brow. Then he gives Solomon an impressed look, assuming the man knew the change through mysticism. "Well you always were on top of it."
"I have told you many times, my friend," Solomon tells someone. "Those I represent bring the greatest of powers -- knowledge." He leans close. "And that's why I am here," he says. "I do not need this talisman," he shares. "But there is value, to, in knowing who will have it. Watch," he says, scanning the crowd. "The true prize in this auction is whose paddle stays up at the end."
"I have told you many times, my friend," Solomon tells Claude. "Those I represent bring the greatest of powers -- knowledge." He leans close. "And that's why I am here," he says. "I do not need this talisman," he shares. "But there is value, to, in knowing who will have it. Watch," he says, scanning the crowd. "The true prize in this auction is whose paddle stays up at the end."
The auctioneer rambles on while Claude and Solomon talk, the former becoming quiet to incline an ear to his friend's wisdom. He nods in comprehension with it all, and the bidding kicks off. "Fifty from the lady in the red dress do we have fifty one fifty five from the southern belle we've got a call for fifty six from the gentleman in the bowler hat fifty seven from the mysterious stranger in the trench coat fifty eight fifty nine sixty" He calls out, pointing at various bidders while the bidding goes higher and higher for the talisman, various jewelry flashing around from people, silently boasting their connections to the Damned, the Black Flame, the Destined Host, the Sapphire Martyrs just about anyone else but the Golden Shadow, whose symbols only appear on the auction personel and guards. Oddly enough, the fewest symbols engraved in the room are from the big three. But members of every society/faction are bidding, driving the price higher and higher. Some want to use it to their own ends, others to keep it out of people's hands. But the only thing certain about the talisman is that its final bid comes from the southern belle, whose bracelet is adorned with a dangling charm of an obsidian flame-wreathed globe. The auctioneer ends the lot with, "going once, going twice, SOLD! To the southern belle in the back for one hundred and sixty thousand! Congratulations madam, and folks that's all the lots we have for today but we'll have another auction coming up next month."
The information Solomon needed. The Black Flame has the talisman.
The narrative reaches its climax as Solomon navigates the auction with both cunning and detachment, showcasing his immortality and moral ambiguity. Amidst the frenzied bidding wars over ancient relics and living beings, Solomon reconnects with Claude, an old acquaintance. Together, they witness the auctioning of the highly coveted Talisman of Onikage, rumored to bestow unparalleled stealth and prowess upon its holder. While Claude and other attendees get caught up in the spectacle, Solomon remains aloof, declaring his presence not out of desire for the talisman but to discern the motivations and alliances forming within the room. His keen observation pays off when the Talisman of Onikage is sold to a member of the Black Flame, revealing the shifting power dynamics at play. Solomon's journey through the arcane and the undercover not only exposes the illicit dealings of The Golden Shadow but also underscores his intricate dance with power, knowledge, and immortality, leaving a trail of intrigue and unanswered questions about the breadth of his influence and objectives.
(Solomon's odd encounter(SRAstrid):SRAstrid)
[Fri Jul 26 2024]
In top floor study of a Converted Windmill
The top floor of the converted windmill has been converted in a study and office with panoramic views of the surrounding forest. The room's circular perimeter is lined with aged oak bookshelves that house a diverse collection of literature, from classic novels to volumes on natural sciences and astronomy, with no small number of tomes turned to more arcane topics. Centered in the space is an elegant, antique writing desk, paired with a high-backed leather chair, where one can pen thoughts or delve into studies under the soft light of a brass desk lamp. A rug in front of the desk covers up the wooden floor, embroidered with a seven-pointed star, while occult accoutrements -- mirrors, orreries, and other tools -- line shelves on the walls.
It is night, about 104F(40C) degrees, There is a last quarter moon.
(An anonymous tip has led your target to a secret auction run by The Golden Shadow. The auction is selling off a rare artifact that is said to amplify supernatural powers. The artifact could be a weapon for those who seek to cause harm or a tool for those who wish to protect Haven. The target and their allies must infiltrate the auction, navigate a room full of potential enemies, and either retrieve or neutralize the artifact before it falls into the wrong hands.)
In the top floor sanctum of his home, Solomon paces around a lit ritual circle, chanting.
It's not Solomon who fumbles the ritual, but someone he did not expect. She came from nowhere, suddenly appearing before the man, not far from his ritual circle. This woman is dressed in traditional, ancient Algonquin garb. She has long, slightly frizzy black hair, amber eyes, and a warm golden-brown complexion. The X shaped rift she came from closes quickly, and as it does, the ritual circle sparks in gold and fuchsia arcs, touching on the rift a few times, and creating another on the other side of the circle. This second one has an abstract shape, not one actually given an official separate name from others. The Algonquin woman looks terrified, confused, and she even frantically rambles in Algonquin, practically a dead language outside a reservation these days. The woman charges across the circle without even thinking, rubbing for the other rift. The moment she hits it, the entire room flashed white and crimson. Death encompasses everything...
...or does it? Solomon would find himself in a dark room, in a basement, but not locked in, the sounds of an auction happening upstairs... and a muffled scream. Two voices converse, barely audible. "Is she the time jumper?" "Yeah, but keep it down." "Put her in the cage, take the Talisman of Onikage, he was the strongest in the east." "No wonder this hasn't been seen for so long." "Yeah, it'll get double price now, at least."
It's a moment, some shift of perception, and then a muttered invocation. The darkness does not bother Solomon's eyes -- red, they see in the night as well as the day, and he tilts his head. The suffering of others' is others' problem, of course -- but why is he here? What has brought him here? Ah -- interesting. Someone is about a thing of power. Some goateed smile grows as he steps up the stairs, not particularly worried about what may await him on the other side. Does he move stealthily? Not really. He feels no need, though he keeps words of power close to his tongue, something inside him ready to come out if violence is required.
The guard about to round the corner, well that poor, underwhelming Golden Shadow soldier is just a peon compared to Solomon. The man can easily hear his footsteps coming. Others further away are much quieter, and some almost silent. That first guard comes around the corner and spots Solomon right at the top step. "What?! Who are you?! How did you get in here!?" He reaches for his walkie, his hands trembling in his scramble, and he takes a step back from Solomon, and then another. It's clear in his eyes that he can see the red of Solomon's irises.
Further away, further up, muffled voices proceed with the auction. "Next up we have a lovely, authentic antique vase from China, circa Ming Dynasty, let's start the bidding at twenty thousand, do I hear twenty twenty going once twenty one from the lady in the red dress then we got twenty one five from the gentleman in the front with the ZZ-Top beard, going once do we have twenty two twenty two it is from the gentleman in the back twenty five from the lady in the red twenty six twenty seven how high will the bidding war go twenty seven going once twenty eight from ZZ Top thirty from the gentleman in the back fifty from red going once twice sold to the lady in the red dress for fifty thousand dollars congratulations madam this piece would go great in the foyer of main hall it makes a lovely centerpiece any and everywhere folks we're gonna take a five minute break and then get the next lot out and up for bids folks enjoy some fine refreshments we'll be right back smoke if ya gotten hey-oooohhh!"
There are many ways to skin a cat -- or some Golden Shadow guard, really. Some are simple, and they, perhaps, are best. "Come now," Solomon says to the guard, his voice full of power and melody. "I am a guest, late to the auction -- Solomon Inigo. I have bargained with your Golden Shadow many times," he says. "And --" Here magic shades his voice. "You will bring me to the auction as the guest I am."
"Alright folks we're back and next up we've got to check all your VIP cards for this lot, because one of this exotic nature is only available to our most devoted clientele, so get those VIP cards read in order to re-enter for this lot, we'll have nothing but fully open lots after this one folks, if you didn't make the list give us five minutes!"
Five minutes is a long time for a man staring down a fully cocked hypnotism from a man like Solomon. The guard considers the man's words for not even a moment, simply turning right around to walk down the hall. "This way please, sir, sorry for the confusion, we had a lowly chef down here messing with breakers once." Looking over his shoulder apologetically, he hesitates in the hall to say, "Clearly you're more well articulated than any of those rapscallions, I'll make sure nobody makes that mistake again."
Up above, "Alright VIP guests, we've got the others locked in the sound proofed hors d'oeuvre hall, so lets get it rolling with the next lot! This one is an authentic Algonquin time jumper, estimated to have left her time right around the time Pilgrims were becoming traitors to the crown! Long live the King! This one's a little feisty so w're starting a little low, opening bid starts at five thousand, but with enough training she'll make the perfect house wench five thousand do we have five thousand seven thousand from the gentleman in the bowler hat eight from the southern belle in the back ten five from bowler hat going once twenty from the southern belle twenty going once twice sold! Enjoy your new house girl, good for anything from food preparation to fucking, alright lets get this show on the road."
Damn. They even sold the poor timeswept girl who brought Solomon through the portal in the first place. Had she been trying to path? No matter now, the guard has by them led Solomon all the way to the hors d'oeuvre hall, and the door to the main auction hall is open by then. But the auctioneer squints on sight of Solomon, knowing something isn't right, and the doors they came in through are closed by other guards from the outside, after one signal from the auctioneer. There's a talisman on display for the lot about to be up for bid, and tension mounting as the official guests all gradually turn to peer intently at Solomon.
Solomon scans the hall, looking for some familiar face from a life lived as an immortal, morally bankrupt sorcerer. "Claude!" he cries out. "I feel as if it has been a decade or two," he says, threading his way through the crowd. "I was sure the Temple was going to try to lock you in an iron box and bury you at the bottom of the sea, and I am very pleased they didn't." He pauses. "Or you escaped, regardless. They live such short, forgetful lives."
The auctioneer looks on, ticking his chin up slightly when Solomon recognizes one of the regular patrons there, quickly waving off the lockdown. "Sorry folks usually when we get a guard bringing someone up there's been a security breach. Looks like this gentleman's just a VIP with an escort, so, on to the next item up for bid"
Meanwhile Claude shares an equally pleased countenance to Solomon, tipping his head and his had. "Ouais, ces connards," he replies with a chuckle, "They sure tried." Shaking his head he adds, with no irony lost on him, "They'd probably have done better trying to crucify me. I didn't think you'd show up to this one, it was just little trinkets until the last lot, thought you'd be more drawn to the-"
"The one, the only, Talisman of Onikage, rumored to be the stealthiest ninja in all of ancient, feudal Japan. Even his own legend calls out a claim, one that his skill was so great that most people don't even believe or spread the legend! But there are some out there who say anyone in possession of the talisman will be capable of the same greatness as he. Ladies and gentlemen this item has been lost as far as we know in the sands of time since then, so we'll start the bidding at fifty thousand do I hear fifty thousand?"
Claude shuts right up, quirking up a brow. Then he gives Solomon an impressed look, assuming the man knew the change through mysticism. "Well you always were on top of it."
"I have told you many times, my friend," Solomon tells someone. "Those I represent bring the greatest of powers -- knowledge." He leans close. "And that's why I am here," he says. "I do not need this talisman," he shares. "But there is value, to, in knowing who will have it. Watch," he says, scanning the crowd. "The true prize in this auction is whose paddle stays up at the end."
"I have told you many times, my friend," Solomon tells Claude. "Those I represent bring the greatest of powers -- knowledge." He leans close. "And that's why I am here," he says. "I do not need this talisman," he shares. "But there is value, to, in knowing who will have it. Watch," he says, scanning the crowd. "The true prize in this auction is whose paddle stays up at the end."
The auctioneer rambles on while Claude and Solomon talk, the former becoming quiet to incline an ear to his friend's wisdom. He nods in comprehension with it all, and the bidding kicks off. "Fifty from the lady in the red dress do we have fifty one fifty five from the southern belle we've got a call for fifty six from the gentleman in the bowler hat fifty seven from the mysterious stranger in the trench coat fifty eight fifty nine sixty" He calls out, pointing at various bidders while the bidding goes higher and higher for the talisman, various jewelry flashing around from people, silently boasting their connections to the Damned, the Black Flame, the Destined Host, the Sapphire Martyrs just about anyone else but the Golden Shadow, whose symbols only appear on the auction personel and guards. Oddly enough, the fewest symbols engraved in the room are from the big three. But members of every society/faction are bidding, driving the price higher and higher. Some want to use it to their own ends, others to keep it out of people's hands. But the only thing certain about the talisman is that its final bid comes from the southern belle, whose bracelet is adorned with a dangling charm of an obsidian flame-wreathed globe. The auctioneer ends the lot with, "going once, going twice, SOLD! To the southern belle in the back for one hundred and sixty thousand! Congratulations madam, and folks that's all the lots we have for today but we'll have another auction coming up next month."
The information Solomon needed. The Black Flame has the talisman.