Encounterlogs
Toms Odd Encounter Sr Korina 240806
Tom's morning began like any other, rooted in the solace of his meticulously kept apartment, the calm before his day unexpectedly spiraled into chaos. As he mulled over the possibility of a day spent painting, a frantic knocking at his door tore him from his reflections. Opening the door, he found himself face-to-face with Nathan, a man marked by deep circles under his eyes and an overwhelming aura of desperation, who barged into Tom's home seeking refuge from unseen pursuers. Despite the abrupt invasion of his privacy, Tom's empathy for Nathan's palpable distress prompted him to offer sanctuary and a listening ear, setting aside his own plans for the day. The unexpected guest's arrival was underscored by a sudden storm, casting an ominous shadow over the once-peaceful morning and hinting that Nathan's fears might not be unfounded.
As Tom and Nathan retreated upstairs, the gravity of Nathan's situation began to unravel. Nathan, harboring no ties to the city other than a string of misfortunes, found an unlikely ally in Tom. Offering coffee as a small comfort against the storm's fury, Tom listened as Nathan divulged the weight of his ordeal, marked by a haunting sense of being pursued. In this unexpected encounter, the boundaries between stranger and confidant blurred, pulling Tom into the center of a profound and eerie dilemma. The storm outside mirrored the tumultuous turn of events, leaving both men to ponder the nature of Nathan's pursuers and the true extent of the danger drawing ever closer. Through this shared moment of vulnerability, they embarked on an unforeseen partnership, seeking to understand the dark forces at play and perhaps, in doing so, find a way to confront them together.
(Tom's odd encounter(SRKorina):SRKorina)
[Mon Aug 5 2024]
In a tidy white-tiled bathroom
The bathroom exudes a clean, minimalist aesthetic with sleek white tiles stretching from floor to ceiling. Natural light pours in through a frosted window, creating a bright and inviting atmosphere. The polished chrome fixtures gleam under the soft, ambient lighting. A large mirror spans the wall above the faux-marble-topped vanity, reflecting the light and making the space feel even more expansive. A glass-enclosed shower stands in one corner, equipped with a rainfall showerhead. Fluffy white towels hang neatly on a heated rack, and a few potted plants add a touch of greenery, bringing life to the serene environment. Everything is meticulously organized, with toiletries stored in chic containers, maintaining the bathroom's tidy and tranquil vibe.
It is morning, about 79F(26C) degrees,
(The target and their allies are approached by a seemingly innocent civilian who has recently been marked by The Destined Host for a ritual sacrifice. Unbeknownst to the civilian, they carry an ancient bloodline that, when spilled, will summon a powerful demon into this realm. The civilian came to Haven seeking assistance with strange occurrences they've been experiencing — shadowy figures following them, inexplicable nightmares, etc. The characters must discover the truth, protect the civilian, and disrupt the plans of The Destined Host. This could lead to a direct confrontation with members of the group, a race against time to prevent the ritual from happening, or even a deeper investigation into the true nature of the bloodline and its connection to the demons.)
The start of the day for Tom, with broken sleep and restless night of emotional burden. He's still in the throes of getting himself together, a pot of coffee awaiting his return in the dining room and his journal laid out blank with his pen. The bathroom steamy after a long hot shower, he's just finished his routine of getting himself clean, dried and dressed. Dabbing a little cologne, he leans down and stares at himself in the mirror. Struggling to look himself in the eye, struggling to accept or even recognize himself. Just an abstract of a person, just a sense, but not a good and stable one. He exhales the weariness of being himself, looking about ready to go about the rest of his morning routine. Perhaps he'll do some painting, oblivious of what might really be in store for poor Tom.
It's a peaceful morning, the sun is shining and the birds are chirping and the bees are buzzing. There hasn't even been a single stray wolf howl throughout the night like there is most nights, probably owing to the new moon - but really, who needs loud wolves in the night when you've got your own demons keeping you awake? His fresh pot of coffee spreads its scent around the apartment, a wake-up call after the restless night that may or may not get all his gears functioning again, and-
There's a banging at the door, loud and panicked. Someone must be in a hurry.
Tom really isn't one to leave someone hanging, no sooner than him getting out the bathroom is he already on his way towards his apartment's door. It's a bit of a trek, being on the second floor he opens his interior apartment door to access the narrow and somewhat foreboding staircase that leads down to the front door which is street facing. The dim light flickering as it usually does as he's stomping his heavy set build down the stairs, calling out sympathetically to the sense of urgency which he hears in the pounding of his door. "Hold on, I'm coming." Finally reaching the door, he unfastens the chain, the bolt and finally pulling a handle he pulls open the door to check what the disturbance was.
There's a man at his doorstep, who seems to be glancing over his shoulder far too often for it to be normal. He's got a mop of brown hair, slightly disheveled, and a scarf around his neck - in this weather? He must be crazy - and deep, deep circles beneath his eyes that Tom may or may not sympathize with.
As soon as the door is open, he's pushing his way in, gently nudging Tom aside - as gently as he needs to to find the space to get inside, at least - and quickly shutting the door behind himself before he slumps against it with a heavy sigh. "Oh, thank God," the man says, burying his face in his hands. Even without him saying anything at all, Tom can sense the desires of the man - safety, normalcy, mediocrity, just a normal day for once and a restful night of sleep, God, /please/ - spilling into the space.
"Sorry," he says after that, as soon as he's caught his breath, his cheeks flushed from what may have been an adrenaline-fueled run to the closest door he'd seen, "Sorry. I- sorry, I was just... being followed, I think. I had to..." He pauses again, then turns around to bolt up the door and fasten the chain, just to be safe. "Sorry. Thank you, thank you so much." A lot of apologies. Many thanks. He does sound vaguely Canadian. "Can I have some water, please?" His hands are shaking, just mildly, and he curls them into fists in front of him, just focusing on taking deep, deep breaths in the meanwhile.
Tom is all too familiar with the state of affairs which present themselves in the other, even down to the scarf. He just doesn't know what it means to dress appropriately for the weather, a fellow madman.
Tom forever the gentleman, doesn't even think before taking a step back into his own hallway sensing the palpable need of the other and accommodating the required room the other man needs even at the cost of the boundary to his own home. He takes several steps back towards his stairs, stopping and still facing the stranger observes as they slump. "My word, you look like you're going through it." He listens attentively to the stranger, a look of complete understanding and sympathy written across his features. How could Tom deny the poor man? He makes himself small, impossible, he tries to push himself against one of the walls of the small corridor/staircase and gestures up the stairs for the other man. "Of course, you can lay low." He tries to switch places with him, in an effort to peek through the little peep-hole of his door as if wanting to check if he could see something of what the other man had seen. Either because he wanted to actually verify, or maybe just show a demonstrative action for the stranger so that he might feel that he was at least was taking the threat seriously enough to check.
Tom starts to talk as he shepherds the man up his stairs, "I've just made a pot of coffee, but I can get you a water of course. Maybe we can sit down, wait a little while. Or call someone if you feel you need some help. I imagine it's quite the scare, being followed."
Not long after the man's found his way into Tom's house, there's a loud crash of thunder as a sudden storm rolls into town. The skies were most certainly not as dark earlier, but there's a blanket of darkness spread across the horizon now that Tom peeps through the peep-hole. Flickers of lightning briefly illuminate the room, casting fleeting shadows on the walls, and the sound of raindrops tapping against the windowpane begins as a gentle patter that quickly escalates to a relentless drumming as the wind picks up, making the trees outside sway and creak. There's nobody to be seen outside, but surely the man's got reasons to believe he was being followed.
"Thanks so much," the man says again, grateful to have the opportunity to just yeet up the stairs after squeezing past Tom and into the apartment proper, and even more still that he's missed the storm by that narrow, narrow margin. "I don't have any family here," he tells Tom with a shake of the head once they're both upstairs, clasping his hands together so that they finally stop trembling, and going to take a seat at whatever the most appropriate place to seat himself is around here. "Ah- sorry, my name's Nathan," he introduces himself belatedly, rubbing at his cheeks with both hands in what seems like a nervous gesture. Poor guy's got his hair going gray already, despite looking quite young - in his twenties, maybe?
"Coffee would be great, thanks. I'll just- fuck, it didn't look like it was going to rain. I'll just- call an Uber back to the hotel soon. Hopefully the rain stops by then. I really appreciate this, dude. Just... it's been a real shitshow. I don't really know what I'm doing here, it's just one misfortune after another." He grimaces and quietens down once he feels like he's complained enough, flashing Tom an apologetic look.
As Tom and Nathan retreated upstairs, the gravity of Nathan's situation began to unravel. Nathan, harboring no ties to the city other than a string of misfortunes, found an unlikely ally in Tom. Offering coffee as a small comfort against the storm's fury, Tom listened as Nathan divulged the weight of his ordeal, marked by a haunting sense of being pursued. In this unexpected encounter, the boundaries between stranger and confidant blurred, pulling Tom into the center of a profound and eerie dilemma. The storm outside mirrored the tumultuous turn of events, leaving both men to ponder the nature of Nathan's pursuers and the true extent of the danger drawing ever closer. Through this shared moment of vulnerability, they embarked on an unforeseen partnership, seeking to understand the dark forces at play and perhaps, in doing so, find a way to confront them together.
(Tom's odd encounter(SRKorina):SRKorina)
[Mon Aug 5 2024]
In a tidy white-tiled bathroom
The bathroom exudes a clean, minimalist aesthetic with sleek white tiles stretching from floor to ceiling. Natural light pours in through a frosted window, creating a bright and inviting atmosphere. The polished chrome fixtures gleam under the soft, ambient lighting. A large mirror spans the wall above the faux-marble-topped vanity, reflecting the light and making the space feel even more expansive. A glass-enclosed shower stands in one corner, equipped with a rainfall showerhead. Fluffy white towels hang neatly on a heated rack, and a few potted plants add a touch of greenery, bringing life to the serene environment. Everything is meticulously organized, with toiletries stored in chic containers, maintaining the bathroom's tidy and tranquil vibe.
It is morning, about 79F(26C) degrees,
(The target and their allies are approached by a seemingly innocent civilian who has recently been marked by The Destined Host for a ritual sacrifice. Unbeknownst to the civilian, they carry an ancient bloodline that, when spilled, will summon a powerful demon into this realm. The civilian came to Haven seeking assistance with strange occurrences they've been experiencing — shadowy figures following them, inexplicable nightmares, etc. The characters must discover the truth, protect the civilian, and disrupt the plans of The Destined Host. This could lead to a direct confrontation with members of the group, a race against time to prevent the ritual from happening, or even a deeper investigation into the true nature of the bloodline and its connection to the demons.)
The start of the day for Tom, with broken sleep and restless night of emotional burden. He's still in the throes of getting himself together, a pot of coffee awaiting his return in the dining room and his journal laid out blank with his pen. The bathroom steamy after a long hot shower, he's just finished his routine of getting himself clean, dried and dressed. Dabbing a little cologne, he leans down and stares at himself in the mirror. Struggling to look himself in the eye, struggling to accept or even recognize himself. Just an abstract of a person, just a sense, but not a good and stable one. He exhales the weariness of being himself, looking about ready to go about the rest of his morning routine. Perhaps he'll do some painting, oblivious of what might really be in store for poor Tom.
It's a peaceful morning, the sun is shining and the birds are chirping and the bees are buzzing. There hasn't even been a single stray wolf howl throughout the night like there is most nights, probably owing to the new moon - but really, who needs loud wolves in the night when you've got your own demons keeping you awake? His fresh pot of coffee spreads its scent around the apartment, a wake-up call after the restless night that may or may not get all his gears functioning again, and-
There's a banging at the door, loud and panicked. Someone must be in a hurry.
Tom really isn't one to leave someone hanging, no sooner than him getting out the bathroom is he already on his way towards his apartment's door. It's a bit of a trek, being on the second floor he opens his interior apartment door to access the narrow and somewhat foreboding staircase that leads down to the front door which is street facing. The dim light flickering as it usually does as he's stomping his heavy set build down the stairs, calling out sympathetically to the sense of urgency which he hears in the pounding of his door. "Hold on, I'm coming." Finally reaching the door, he unfastens the chain, the bolt and finally pulling a handle he pulls open the door to check what the disturbance was.
There's a man at his doorstep, who seems to be glancing over his shoulder far too often for it to be normal. He's got a mop of brown hair, slightly disheveled, and a scarf around his neck - in this weather? He must be crazy - and deep, deep circles beneath his eyes that Tom may or may not sympathize with.
As soon as the door is open, he's pushing his way in, gently nudging Tom aside - as gently as he needs to to find the space to get inside, at least - and quickly shutting the door behind himself before he slumps against it with a heavy sigh. "Oh, thank God," the man says, burying his face in his hands. Even without him saying anything at all, Tom can sense the desires of the man - safety, normalcy, mediocrity, just a normal day for once and a restful night of sleep, God, /please/ - spilling into the space.
"Sorry," he says after that, as soon as he's caught his breath, his cheeks flushed from what may have been an adrenaline-fueled run to the closest door he'd seen, "Sorry. I- sorry, I was just... being followed, I think. I had to..." He pauses again, then turns around to bolt up the door and fasten the chain, just to be safe. "Sorry. Thank you, thank you so much." A lot of apologies. Many thanks. He does sound vaguely Canadian. "Can I have some water, please?" His hands are shaking, just mildly, and he curls them into fists in front of him, just focusing on taking deep, deep breaths in the meanwhile.
Tom is all too familiar with the state of affairs which present themselves in the other, even down to the scarf. He just doesn't know what it means to dress appropriately for the weather, a fellow madman.
Tom forever the gentleman, doesn't even think before taking a step back into his own hallway sensing the palpable need of the other and accommodating the required room the other man needs even at the cost of the boundary to his own home. He takes several steps back towards his stairs, stopping and still facing the stranger observes as they slump. "My word, you look like you're going through it." He listens attentively to the stranger, a look of complete understanding and sympathy written across his features. How could Tom deny the poor man? He makes himself small, impossible, he tries to push himself against one of the walls of the small corridor/staircase and gestures up the stairs for the other man. "Of course, you can lay low." He tries to switch places with him, in an effort to peek through the little peep-hole of his door as if wanting to check if he could see something of what the other man had seen. Either because he wanted to actually verify, or maybe just show a demonstrative action for the stranger so that he might feel that he was at least was taking the threat seriously enough to check.
Tom starts to talk as he shepherds the man up his stairs, "I've just made a pot of coffee, but I can get you a water of course. Maybe we can sit down, wait a little while. Or call someone if you feel you need some help. I imagine it's quite the scare, being followed."
Not long after the man's found his way into Tom's house, there's a loud crash of thunder as a sudden storm rolls into town. The skies were most certainly not as dark earlier, but there's a blanket of darkness spread across the horizon now that Tom peeps through the peep-hole. Flickers of lightning briefly illuminate the room, casting fleeting shadows on the walls, and the sound of raindrops tapping against the windowpane begins as a gentle patter that quickly escalates to a relentless drumming as the wind picks up, making the trees outside sway and creak. There's nobody to be seen outside, but surely the man's got reasons to believe he was being followed.
"Thanks so much," the man says again, grateful to have the opportunity to just yeet up the stairs after squeezing past Tom and into the apartment proper, and even more still that he's missed the storm by that narrow, narrow margin. "I don't have any family here," he tells Tom with a shake of the head once they're both upstairs, clasping his hands together so that they finally stop trembling, and going to take a seat at whatever the most appropriate place to seat himself is around here. "Ah- sorry, my name's Nathan," he introduces himself belatedly, rubbing at his cheeks with both hands in what seems like a nervous gesture. Poor guy's got his hair going gray already, despite looking quite young - in his twenties, maybe?
"Coffee would be great, thanks. I'll just- fuck, it didn't look like it was going to rain. I'll just- call an Uber back to the hotel soon. Hopefully the rain stops by then. I really appreciate this, dude. Just... it's been a real shitshow. I don't really know what I'm doing here, it's just one misfortune after another." He grimaces and quietens down once he feels like he's complained enough, flashing Tom an apologetic look.