Encounterlogs
Victorias Odd Encounter Sr Kah 241212
One night, Victoria finds herself responding to an unexpected call to action despite having the option to ignore it, pulled by her curiosity and the potential to gather valuable information from a secretive meeting of a group known as the Sapphire Martyrs. The setting, an abandoned church on the outskirts of Haven, is eerie and filled with anticipation, its neglected and decaying structure adding to the sense of foreboding. Despite the risks, Victoria chooses infiltration over discretion, relying on her instincts and courage to blend in and gather intelligence on the Martyrs' plans, which seem to revolve around a significant event involving an upcoming eclipse and a mysterious entity referred to as the Orb.
In the depths of the church, Victoria navigates through a maze of catacombs, eventually finding herself among the congregated members of the Sapphire Martyrs. As conversations around her hint at grandiose and possibly dangerous plans centered on the eclipse, she manages to remain undetected, collecting snippets of information critical to understanding the group's intentions and their potential impact on herself and her community. With quick thinking and silent movements, Victoria makes her escape, leaving the scene with more questions than answers, yet equipped with crucial knowledge about the Martyrs' intentions and the peril that lies ahead. Her perceived connection between the cult's activities and her own life, as well as the implication of significant threats to those she cares about, drives her to investigate further, setting the stage for a potentially perilous confrontation in the future.
(Victoria's odd encounter(SRKah):SRKah)
[Wed Dec 11 2024]
In a serene master bedroom
This room combines rustic decor, warm lighting, and a welcoming atmosphere that invites relaxation, making the space the perfect blend of nature and warmth. Walls are created of rich wood, and the main feature within is the bed.
A large bed with a frame made of oak dominates the space and is covered in several plush blankets, making it the ideal place to curl up and unwind. A fur throw has been laid at the foot of the bed, and several fluffy pillows rest against the headboard that is made from the same oak, featuring a black velvet backdrop.
It is night, about 40F(4C) degrees, There is a waxing gibbous moon.
(Your target and their allies receive a tip about a meeting of the Sapphire Martyrs taking place in an abandoned church on the outskirts of Haven. They have the choice to either infiltrate the meeting to gather intelligence or disrupt it to delay the group's plans. However, they soon discover that the Martyrs, expecting such an intervention, have set a trap. Now, they must navigate through a maze of lethal supernatural defenses and confront the Martyrs' enigmatic leader to escape the church alive. Along the way, they might find clues to the Martyrs' next move or even an opportunity to sow discord within the group. The encounter concludes with the characters learning just how far the Sapphire Martyrs are willing to go to achieve their ends and the realization that they might be the only ones who can stop them.)
Victoria is straightening things up in the cabin, and is winding down for the evening with a plan to visit the commune. She tinkers with things on her shelves, moving them into their rightful places with the brush of fingertips and a grin at the memories they evoke.
The night in the cabin is a slow one, which as always in Haven is something of a blessing and a curse. While things are quiet, often the smaller things tend to creep from the shadows and lurk about, and tonight will probably be no exception. In fact, it may be that Victoria will discover this first hand tonight, because she's suddenly distracted by the sound of their phone making sounds. Sounds associated or assigned to the collections of Apps and Alerts that come with the Secret societies and organizations that operate here. Buzzing or chirping incessantly to get her attention, it will eventually become enough of an irritation that it's worth looking at, right? Well, the messages that come reveal some information acquired by the scouts tonight, off of a lucky break. They've intercepted some communications between one of the cults that are actively working to push at the destruction of the world - and they've got a meeting setup. Victoria is being called or tapped to head down to the location provided to see if they can gather any information about their meeting and what their plans are in the near future. The communication itself mentioned no names, so the identity of the cult or group is as of yet unclear.
Now, Victoria has a choice. The Fortune never require or mandate participation in an operation or mission, so she's welcome to ignore the call. But who knows? Information is often the most powerful tool, even in the supernatural world and there's no real telling what she might be able to glean and discern if she were to successfully infiltrate this meeting? Something darker, something more buried within her might consider that those secrets could lead to information that could help her achieve her own goals: To grow stronger.
Victoria's phone is in her pocket, and the incessant buzzing eventually lends to curve her lips downward with a sigh. She pulls the phone from her pocket, looking as though she has every intention to shoot an irritated text message at the poor soul responsible for the prolonged and incessant interruption, and as she sees the screen, she blinks. A soft "Hmm," is uttered, and one shoulder shrugs. "I'm nothing if not curious," she says out loud to herself as she pockets the phone again and heads for the door.
Victoria heads for the door, and presumeably for the location provided, which will lead her toward the south end of town from where she is now. South of the highway and so hopping into their vehicle, the curious she-wolf will find themselves heading off to find their way into this potentially lucrative and also dangerous adventure tonight!
The night is thick with an oppressive silence as the outskirts of Haven come into view. The town, usually bustling with activity, now lies dormant under the cloak of darkness. The moon hangs low in the sky, casting an eerie glow over the landscape, its light barely penetrating the dense fog that clings to the ground so early in the evening as winter settles in. The abandoned church, your destination, looms ahead like a specter from a forgotten time, its once-proud spire now a crumbling relic against the night sky. The church stands at the edge of a desolate field across the highway, its stone walls weathered and cracked, ivy creeping up its sides like the fingers of some ancient, unseen force. The windows, long shattered, gape like empty eye sockets, offering glimpses of the shadowy interior. The heavy wooden doors, slightly ajar, creak ominously in the wind, inviting yet foreboding. The air is thick with the scent of damp earth and decay, a stark reminder of the church's long abandonment.
A sense of foreboding hangs heavy in the air, amplified by the desolate surroundings. Tall, skeletal trees line the path leading to the church, their bare branches reaching out like bony fingers against the darkening sky. The occasional rustle of leaves and the distant hoot of an owl are the only sounds, adding to the eerie stillness. Power lines crisscross above, sagging under the weight of time, their faint hum barely audible over the quiet of the night. Moonlight casts long shadows across the ground, creating a stark contrast between light and dark. The fog swirls around the base of the church, obscuring the lower steps and lending an otherworldly feel to the scene. The air is cool and damp, carrying the scent of wet leaves and the faint hint of mildew from the church's interior. The atmosphere is thick with anticipation, as if the very night itself is holding its breath, waiting for what is to come.
Showing up, the churchyard itself is overgrown, nature reclaiming the space with a vengeance. Tall grasses and wildflowers have sprung up among the gravestones, their faded inscriptions barely visible beneath the encroaching greenery. A wrought iron fence, rusted and bent, surrounds the yard, its gate hanging on one hinge, squeaking softly in the breeze. The path to the entrance is barely discernible, a narrow strip of worn stones partially obscured by the overgrowth. You draw nearer, the details of the church become clearer, each one adding to the sense of unease. The walls are adorned with weathered carvings, their once-intricate designs now worn and faded by the passage of time. Gargoyles perch on the corners of the roof, their grotesque features casting menacing shadows in the moonlight. The bell tower, though crumbling, still stands as a silent sentinel, its ancient bell long since silenced.
The interior of the church, visible through the broken windows and slightly open doors, is a tableau of neglect and decay. Wooden pews, long abandoned, are covered in a thick layer of dust, some collapsed under their own weight. The floor is strewn with debrisfallen plaster, leaves blown in through the open windows, and the remnants of what were once vibrant tapestries. The altar, now a mere shadow of its former glory, stands at the far end of the nave, its surface marred by cracks and the encroaching tendrils of ivy. A chill seems to emanate from the very walls, a cold that seeps into the bones and adds to the pervasive sense of dread. The stained glass windows, though shattered, still retain fragments of their former beauty, casting ghostly patterns of colored light on the floor. The high ceiling, supported by massive wooden beams, is lost in shadow, adding to the impression of a vast, empty space.
In the silence, every sound is amplifiedthe creak of the door in the wind, the distant hoot of an owl, the rustle of leaves. The air is heavy with the scent of decay and dampness, mingling with the faintest hint of incense, a lingering reminder of the church's former sanctity. The sense of abandonment is almost palpable, as if the very stones themselves mourn the loss of the faithful who once gathered within these walls. Outside, the fog continues to swirl, obscuring the landscape and creating an otherworldly atmosphere. The distant sounds of the nightan owl's call, the rustle of nocturnal creaturesare muffled, adding to the sense of isolation. The power lines overhead buzz faintly, their hum a constant reminder of the desolation that has settled over this place. The church, with its crumbling faade and air of forgotten grandeur, stands as a testament to the passage of time and the inevitability of decay. It is a place where the past lingers, haunting the present with its silent echoes. The sense of foreboding is almost tangible, a weight that presses down on the shoulders and whispers of dangers unseen. As you stand at the edge of this desolate scene, the night holds its breath, waiting for the events that are about to unfold.
Drawing a breath, Victoria's nose wrinkles as she surveys her surroundings with a soft "Tch," of disappointment. "This is giving me flashbacks," she sighs, pushing hair from her face. Her phone is pulled from the pocket it rests in without a glance as she absently chews her lower lip and her brow knits. Finally bringing it in front of her and close enough to see, she scans the screen, tapping a finger against the glass to check for last minute addendums or instructions.
Checking her phone, Victoria will find a second message! The identity of the group has been tracked down, and the message provides it. The meeting she'll be sneaking into is one held by the Sapphire Martyrs, and these guys are as fanatical as they come, as the name implies. Even moreso it seems, the improtance of retrieving information from the meeting becomes apparent. Left only with the decision to push forward now, she'll have the church still looming up above her. It's the many abandoned buildings like these that continues to provide dark and shadowy places for these groups to sneak around in and hold secret meetings - it makes a person want to burn the whole place down! But that wouldn't get Victoria anywhere.
It takes a moment for Victoria to decide if she wants to be sneaky, or just waltz in like she belongs, and she chooses the latter. With a last glance behind her and a measured inhale, she darkens the screen of her phone and sets her jaw, setting off toward the church with purposeful steps.
As Victoria strolls up to the door of the church, they shove or maybe even kick the door in to open it and waltz inside like they do own the place! The sound of the door opening will echo throughout the space though, nobody in sight for now. Inside the abandoned church, the air is cool and damp, imbued with the scent of mildew and decay. The space is vast, its grandeur now a ghost of what it once was. The pews, long untouched by worshippers, sit in rows shrouded in dust, some having collapsed under the weight of time. The stone floor, covered with fallen plaster and scattered leaves, bears the marks of neglect and nature's slow reclamation. The high, vaulted ceiling is a masterpiece of ancient wooden beams, though many are now cracked and sagging. Light filters in through shattered stained glass windows, casting fragmented, colorful patterns on the walls and floor. The windows depict scenes from forgotten stories, their once-vibrant hues now faded and dim. Some panes remain intact, clinging to the past with a stubborn resilience, while others have crumbled away, leaving gaping holes that allow the cold night air to seep in.
At the far end of the nave stands the altar, a focal point of reverence and decay. Its once-gleaming surface is marred by deep cracks and the encroaching tendrils of ivy. Behind the altar, a large crucifix looms, its weathered wood darkened with age and neglect. The area around the altar is cluttered with remnants of the pasttattered prayer books, broken candles, and scraps of fabric that once adorned the holy space. Near the altar, partially hidden beneath a rotting rug, lies the entrance to a secret staircase. The rug, tattered and threadbare, shifts easily underfoot, revealing a trapdoor set into the stone floor. The trapdoor, though heavy with age, opens with a groan, revealing a narrow flight of stairs descending into darkness. These steps, hewn from the same stone as the church, are worn smooth by countless footsteps over the centuries.
The staircase spirals down into the earth, its walls cold and damp, covered in patches of moss and lichen. The air grows cooler and more oppressive as one descends, the faint echo of each step amplifying the sense of isolation. Small alcoves carved into the walls hold ancient, rusted lanterns, their glass cracked and stained. Some still contain the remnants of melted wax and charred wicks, long since extinguished. Victoria's perception catches the secret stair easily enough once they begin to explore and investigate the inside of the church. There's no feel of magic in the air, which is a small but important plus.
Victoria appears not to be the most comfortable in this particular setting, but also determined as she beelines for that almost-hidden trap door to open it without much fanfare. With barely a glance around her, she's headed town those steps one by one with more cautious steps, trailing her fingers along the walls as she moves. Halfway down, she stops and closes her eyes to take a deep inhale that is followed nearly immediately with a relieved sigh. Sensing nothing immediate, she seems almost lighthearted as she continues her descent.
Victoria is headed down, not to town!
Disregarding any potential danger, Victoria continues to move down the stairs to find a large, iron-bound door that lies at the end of spiraling stone steps that lead inexorably down into the bowels of the earth underneath the church. They always have something. The door isn't locked here either, though might be a little noisy opening. LUckily Victoria has decided to start taking more cautious steps and so a cautious motion will help to keep the door as quiet as she can. More catacombs and hallways will stretch out before her, into the dark but not hidden from her eyes. In the distance she can hear now the soft murmur of what sounds like many voices.
The lighthearted exploration Victoria was enjoying seems to come to an end, and once that door is opened with more sound than she intended, she freezes, canting her head toward the sound of the voices. She nearly holds her breath as she tries to make out the words, and then with a soft, hissed sigh she's slipping her way down the halls towards the voices, pulling her knife into her palm as she moves.
Unsheating her knife, Victoria will make her way down and through those hallways now, following the sound of voices as they echo through the halls. The many pathways makes it a little tricky to follow them but soon enough she'll hear those voices growing louder. Five .. seven .. ten voices perhaps maybe even more? It's hard to tell with so many bouncing back and forth. As she draws toward them still, she can make out the sight of dim lighting up ahead. An antechamber of some kind perhaps. She can also start making out snippets of conversation that start coming around legible enough to be overheard. "The Months grow shorter. The Orb is not yet ready." "What about the Three?" "Still squabbling among themselves. They'll never be a problem."
As she approaches the speck of light, and the voices grow louder, Victoria tucks her knife within the sleeve of her sweater with the decision that it's best to appear unarmed. Her steps slow, and she gives pause again to decide the best course, eyes squinting into the distance. She turns back once, debating, then whirls around on her heel, jaw set with resolve as she decides to keep going, and apparently to wander in as though she's simply late for the gathering. Just before reaching the source of the light, her expression changes- melting into one of pure innocence.
Stepping forward and into the light so to speak, Victoria will see a number of vacant faces, blank faces or ones she doesn't recognize ... and perhaps one or two locals she does recognize! They're all gathered and she was wrong. Not ten but closer to twenty or twenty five easily. A few of them gather in the centre, but a large gathering of them seem to kind of just mill about and listen while the assumed higher ups have their conversation. As she melds in with the crowd, Victoria will be able to better distinguish that conversation from the other drones that show up from the others talking. "The eclipse grows closer! How long will we have to wait, why can't we act now? Waiting seems like we could be attacked at any moment. There could be spies among us right now!" His voice raises, and Victoria can hear the murmurs rippling and running through the crowd. Everyone kind of gives everyone a bit of a suspicious glances, but Victoria doesn't receive any more than anyone else.
Victoria blinks several times at the mention of the eclipse, her interest clearly piqued. She carefully winds her way through the crowd, attempting to keep her expression neutral while offering small nods or hints of a smile to those she passes. Visibly more tense than usual, she manages to keep outward signs of her anxiety to the minimum of catching her lower lip between her teeth to gently nibble as she remains silent.
As the meeting continues, the discussion will turn to the Eclipse more directly. As she listens, Victoria can pick up clear intentions, some sense of plans that will come to fruitition sometime around the time of the next upcoming eclipse, though no direct date is given, they seem to know when it is. Some artifact they refer to as the Orb continues to be referenced as well, talking of things that sound familiar, but why? Victoria make wrack her brain trying to make the connection, but for the moment all that comes to her mind is that cheeky red-skinned snake face of the Demidemon that stokes her own murderous fantasies. But why?
Loosing a frustrated sigh before she can stop herself, Victoria scans the faces she can see, looking for the direct source of the statements that could affect herself and her family. Narrowed, grey orbs scan each person, slowly inhaling as though to commit the scent to her memory as she tucks a misbehaving lock of hair behind one ear and folds her arms across her chest.
The topics of discussion come from the center of the crowd, so if Victoria wants to get a good look at the faces of these people who are talking like they might be in some kind of charge? She'll have to sneak through the crowds and get a little closer without drawing too much attention to herself, now. She's got the skill though, and nobody is yet the wiser. The conversation does spark another memory. Something Ash said ... tickles at the back of Victoria's brain.
Dodging and weaving her way through the others in the room, Victoria keeps a steady pace, eyes not lingering for too long onto any one person as she tries to reach the front of the gathered parties. Despite herself, the downward curve of her lips lends itself into a full frown as she searches her memory for anything that could have been said to her that would help in the situation.
As she thinks through her brain, Nixx keeps coming up again and again, and then she finally remembers. Ash said something about their plans for using the Eclipse for some sort of ritual to amass great power. And something about it involving their need for her newfound partner's life or blood in the process. It comes rushing back, the sight of the tower, of him in the cage and the scene kind of plays itself out in memory behind Victoria's eyes while the conversation turns logistic, now. Planning, numbers, resources ... deliveries. Now there's something more interesting. A lot of devlieries ... all scheduled for March.
However, as the meet comes to turn to this, most of the people will begin to either co-mingle or begin to filter out, now. Socializing may not be a wise plan - most of these people probably know each other in some fashion and too close an inspection may reveal Victoria as the odd woman out!
With a futile attempt to hide the worry in her features, Victoria bites down on her lower lip, spinning on her heel and slipping through the crowd casually back toward the staircase. As soon as she's alone, her phone is in her hands and her knife is sheathed, a low, shaky sigh given as her fingers begin frantic tapping on the screen, the only light left as she makes her way back into the nighttime's darkness.
With careful steps, Victoria will be able to make her escape. No damage done to the Martyrs of course, but she's gotten some pertinent information. Not only that, information that perhaps she's not the only one who's come across! A lot of questions to come for her, and answers to find but at least she'll feel that easier breeze of the cold night air as she re-takes the surface and makes her way back to her vehicle.
OOC: Alright! Let me know where I can drop you if you go down and it's not close!
In the depths of the church, Victoria navigates through a maze of catacombs, eventually finding herself among the congregated members of the Sapphire Martyrs. As conversations around her hint at grandiose and possibly dangerous plans centered on the eclipse, she manages to remain undetected, collecting snippets of information critical to understanding the group's intentions and their potential impact on herself and her community. With quick thinking and silent movements, Victoria makes her escape, leaving the scene with more questions than answers, yet equipped with crucial knowledge about the Martyrs' intentions and the peril that lies ahead. Her perceived connection between the cult's activities and her own life, as well as the implication of significant threats to those she cares about, drives her to investigate further, setting the stage for a potentially perilous confrontation in the future.
(Victoria's odd encounter(SRKah):SRKah)
[Wed Dec 11 2024]
In a serene master bedroom
This room combines rustic decor, warm lighting, and a welcoming atmosphere that invites relaxation, making the space the perfect blend of nature and warmth. Walls are created of rich wood, and the main feature within is the bed.
A large bed with a frame made of oak dominates the space and is covered in several plush blankets, making it the ideal place to curl up and unwind. A fur throw has been laid at the foot of the bed, and several fluffy pillows rest against the headboard that is made from the same oak, featuring a black velvet backdrop.
It is night, about 40F(4C) degrees, There is a waxing gibbous moon.
(Your target and their allies receive a tip about a meeting of the Sapphire Martyrs taking place in an abandoned church on the outskirts of Haven. They have the choice to either infiltrate the meeting to gather intelligence or disrupt it to delay the group's plans. However, they soon discover that the Martyrs, expecting such an intervention, have set a trap. Now, they must navigate through a maze of lethal supernatural defenses and confront the Martyrs' enigmatic leader to escape the church alive. Along the way, they might find clues to the Martyrs' next move or even an opportunity to sow discord within the group. The encounter concludes with the characters learning just how far the Sapphire Martyrs are willing to go to achieve their ends and the realization that they might be the only ones who can stop them.)
Victoria is straightening things up in the cabin, and is winding down for the evening with a plan to visit the commune. She tinkers with things on her shelves, moving them into their rightful places with the brush of fingertips and a grin at the memories they evoke.
The night in the cabin is a slow one, which as always in Haven is something of a blessing and a curse. While things are quiet, often the smaller things tend to creep from the shadows and lurk about, and tonight will probably be no exception. In fact, it may be that Victoria will discover this first hand tonight, because she's suddenly distracted by the sound of their phone making sounds. Sounds associated or assigned to the collections of Apps and Alerts that come with the Secret societies and organizations that operate here. Buzzing or chirping incessantly to get her attention, it will eventually become enough of an irritation that it's worth looking at, right? Well, the messages that come reveal some information acquired by the scouts tonight, off of a lucky break. They've intercepted some communications between one of the cults that are actively working to push at the destruction of the world - and they've got a meeting setup. Victoria is being called or tapped to head down to the location provided to see if they can gather any information about their meeting and what their plans are in the near future. The communication itself mentioned no names, so the identity of the cult or group is as of yet unclear.
Now, Victoria has a choice. The Fortune never require or mandate participation in an operation or mission, so she's welcome to ignore the call. But who knows? Information is often the most powerful tool, even in the supernatural world and there's no real telling what she might be able to glean and discern if she were to successfully infiltrate this meeting? Something darker, something more buried within her might consider that those secrets could lead to information that could help her achieve her own goals: To grow stronger.
Victoria's phone is in her pocket, and the incessant buzzing eventually lends to curve her lips downward with a sigh. She pulls the phone from her pocket, looking as though she has every intention to shoot an irritated text message at the poor soul responsible for the prolonged and incessant interruption, and as she sees the screen, she blinks. A soft "Hmm," is uttered, and one shoulder shrugs. "I'm nothing if not curious," she says out loud to herself as she pockets the phone again and heads for the door.
Victoria heads for the door, and presumeably for the location provided, which will lead her toward the south end of town from where she is now. South of the highway and so hopping into their vehicle, the curious she-wolf will find themselves heading off to find their way into this potentially lucrative and also dangerous adventure tonight!
The night is thick with an oppressive silence as the outskirts of Haven come into view. The town, usually bustling with activity, now lies dormant under the cloak of darkness. The moon hangs low in the sky, casting an eerie glow over the landscape, its light barely penetrating the dense fog that clings to the ground so early in the evening as winter settles in. The abandoned church, your destination, looms ahead like a specter from a forgotten time, its once-proud spire now a crumbling relic against the night sky. The church stands at the edge of a desolate field across the highway, its stone walls weathered and cracked, ivy creeping up its sides like the fingers of some ancient, unseen force. The windows, long shattered, gape like empty eye sockets, offering glimpses of the shadowy interior. The heavy wooden doors, slightly ajar, creak ominously in the wind, inviting yet foreboding. The air is thick with the scent of damp earth and decay, a stark reminder of the church's long abandonment.
A sense of foreboding hangs heavy in the air, amplified by the desolate surroundings. Tall, skeletal trees line the path leading to the church, their bare branches reaching out like bony fingers against the darkening sky. The occasional rustle of leaves and the distant hoot of an owl are the only sounds, adding to the eerie stillness. Power lines crisscross above, sagging under the weight of time, their faint hum barely audible over the quiet of the night. Moonlight casts long shadows across the ground, creating a stark contrast between light and dark. The fog swirls around the base of the church, obscuring the lower steps and lending an otherworldly feel to the scene. The air is cool and damp, carrying the scent of wet leaves and the faint hint of mildew from the church's interior. The atmosphere is thick with anticipation, as if the very night itself is holding its breath, waiting for what is to come.
Showing up, the churchyard itself is overgrown, nature reclaiming the space with a vengeance. Tall grasses and wildflowers have sprung up among the gravestones, their faded inscriptions barely visible beneath the encroaching greenery. A wrought iron fence, rusted and bent, surrounds the yard, its gate hanging on one hinge, squeaking softly in the breeze. The path to the entrance is barely discernible, a narrow strip of worn stones partially obscured by the overgrowth. You draw nearer, the details of the church become clearer, each one adding to the sense of unease. The walls are adorned with weathered carvings, their once-intricate designs now worn and faded by the passage of time. Gargoyles perch on the corners of the roof, their grotesque features casting menacing shadows in the moonlight. The bell tower, though crumbling, still stands as a silent sentinel, its ancient bell long since silenced.
The interior of the church, visible through the broken windows and slightly open doors, is a tableau of neglect and decay. Wooden pews, long abandoned, are covered in a thick layer of dust, some collapsed under their own weight. The floor is strewn with debrisfallen plaster, leaves blown in through the open windows, and the remnants of what were once vibrant tapestries. The altar, now a mere shadow of its former glory, stands at the far end of the nave, its surface marred by cracks and the encroaching tendrils of ivy. A chill seems to emanate from the very walls, a cold that seeps into the bones and adds to the pervasive sense of dread. The stained glass windows, though shattered, still retain fragments of their former beauty, casting ghostly patterns of colored light on the floor. The high ceiling, supported by massive wooden beams, is lost in shadow, adding to the impression of a vast, empty space.
In the silence, every sound is amplifiedthe creak of the door in the wind, the distant hoot of an owl, the rustle of leaves. The air is heavy with the scent of decay and dampness, mingling with the faintest hint of incense, a lingering reminder of the church's former sanctity. The sense of abandonment is almost palpable, as if the very stones themselves mourn the loss of the faithful who once gathered within these walls. Outside, the fog continues to swirl, obscuring the landscape and creating an otherworldly atmosphere. The distant sounds of the nightan owl's call, the rustle of nocturnal creaturesare muffled, adding to the sense of isolation. The power lines overhead buzz faintly, their hum a constant reminder of the desolation that has settled over this place. The church, with its crumbling faade and air of forgotten grandeur, stands as a testament to the passage of time and the inevitability of decay. It is a place where the past lingers, haunting the present with its silent echoes. The sense of foreboding is almost tangible, a weight that presses down on the shoulders and whispers of dangers unseen. As you stand at the edge of this desolate scene, the night holds its breath, waiting for the events that are about to unfold.
Drawing a breath, Victoria's nose wrinkles as she surveys her surroundings with a soft "Tch," of disappointment. "This is giving me flashbacks," she sighs, pushing hair from her face. Her phone is pulled from the pocket it rests in without a glance as she absently chews her lower lip and her brow knits. Finally bringing it in front of her and close enough to see, she scans the screen, tapping a finger against the glass to check for last minute addendums or instructions.
Checking her phone, Victoria will find a second message! The identity of the group has been tracked down, and the message provides it. The meeting she'll be sneaking into is one held by the Sapphire Martyrs, and these guys are as fanatical as they come, as the name implies. Even moreso it seems, the improtance of retrieving information from the meeting becomes apparent. Left only with the decision to push forward now, she'll have the church still looming up above her. It's the many abandoned buildings like these that continues to provide dark and shadowy places for these groups to sneak around in and hold secret meetings - it makes a person want to burn the whole place down! But that wouldn't get Victoria anywhere.
It takes a moment for Victoria to decide if she wants to be sneaky, or just waltz in like she belongs, and she chooses the latter. With a last glance behind her and a measured inhale, she darkens the screen of her phone and sets her jaw, setting off toward the church with purposeful steps.
As Victoria strolls up to the door of the church, they shove or maybe even kick the door in to open it and waltz inside like they do own the place! The sound of the door opening will echo throughout the space though, nobody in sight for now. Inside the abandoned church, the air is cool and damp, imbued with the scent of mildew and decay. The space is vast, its grandeur now a ghost of what it once was. The pews, long untouched by worshippers, sit in rows shrouded in dust, some having collapsed under the weight of time. The stone floor, covered with fallen plaster and scattered leaves, bears the marks of neglect and nature's slow reclamation. The high, vaulted ceiling is a masterpiece of ancient wooden beams, though many are now cracked and sagging. Light filters in through shattered stained glass windows, casting fragmented, colorful patterns on the walls and floor. The windows depict scenes from forgotten stories, their once-vibrant hues now faded and dim. Some panes remain intact, clinging to the past with a stubborn resilience, while others have crumbled away, leaving gaping holes that allow the cold night air to seep in.
At the far end of the nave stands the altar, a focal point of reverence and decay. Its once-gleaming surface is marred by deep cracks and the encroaching tendrils of ivy. Behind the altar, a large crucifix looms, its weathered wood darkened with age and neglect. The area around the altar is cluttered with remnants of the pasttattered prayer books, broken candles, and scraps of fabric that once adorned the holy space. Near the altar, partially hidden beneath a rotting rug, lies the entrance to a secret staircase. The rug, tattered and threadbare, shifts easily underfoot, revealing a trapdoor set into the stone floor. The trapdoor, though heavy with age, opens with a groan, revealing a narrow flight of stairs descending into darkness. These steps, hewn from the same stone as the church, are worn smooth by countless footsteps over the centuries.
The staircase spirals down into the earth, its walls cold and damp, covered in patches of moss and lichen. The air grows cooler and more oppressive as one descends, the faint echo of each step amplifying the sense of isolation. Small alcoves carved into the walls hold ancient, rusted lanterns, their glass cracked and stained. Some still contain the remnants of melted wax and charred wicks, long since extinguished. Victoria's perception catches the secret stair easily enough once they begin to explore and investigate the inside of the church. There's no feel of magic in the air, which is a small but important plus.
Victoria appears not to be the most comfortable in this particular setting, but also determined as she beelines for that almost-hidden trap door to open it without much fanfare. With barely a glance around her, she's headed town those steps one by one with more cautious steps, trailing her fingers along the walls as she moves. Halfway down, she stops and closes her eyes to take a deep inhale that is followed nearly immediately with a relieved sigh. Sensing nothing immediate, she seems almost lighthearted as she continues her descent.
Victoria is headed down, not to town!
Disregarding any potential danger, Victoria continues to move down the stairs to find a large, iron-bound door that lies at the end of spiraling stone steps that lead inexorably down into the bowels of the earth underneath the church. They always have something. The door isn't locked here either, though might be a little noisy opening. LUckily Victoria has decided to start taking more cautious steps and so a cautious motion will help to keep the door as quiet as she can. More catacombs and hallways will stretch out before her, into the dark but not hidden from her eyes. In the distance she can hear now the soft murmur of what sounds like many voices.
The lighthearted exploration Victoria was enjoying seems to come to an end, and once that door is opened with more sound than she intended, she freezes, canting her head toward the sound of the voices. She nearly holds her breath as she tries to make out the words, and then with a soft, hissed sigh she's slipping her way down the halls towards the voices, pulling her knife into her palm as she moves.
Unsheating her knife, Victoria will make her way down and through those hallways now, following the sound of voices as they echo through the halls. The many pathways makes it a little tricky to follow them but soon enough she'll hear those voices growing louder. Five .. seven .. ten voices perhaps maybe even more? It's hard to tell with so many bouncing back and forth. As she draws toward them still, she can make out the sight of dim lighting up ahead. An antechamber of some kind perhaps. She can also start making out snippets of conversation that start coming around legible enough to be overheard. "The Months grow shorter. The Orb is not yet ready." "What about the Three?" "Still squabbling among themselves. They'll never be a problem."
As she approaches the speck of light, and the voices grow louder, Victoria tucks her knife within the sleeve of her sweater with the decision that it's best to appear unarmed. Her steps slow, and she gives pause again to decide the best course, eyes squinting into the distance. She turns back once, debating, then whirls around on her heel, jaw set with resolve as she decides to keep going, and apparently to wander in as though she's simply late for the gathering. Just before reaching the source of the light, her expression changes- melting into one of pure innocence.
Stepping forward and into the light so to speak, Victoria will see a number of vacant faces, blank faces or ones she doesn't recognize ... and perhaps one or two locals she does recognize! They're all gathered and she was wrong. Not ten but closer to twenty or twenty five easily. A few of them gather in the centre, but a large gathering of them seem to kind of just mill about and listen while the assumed higher ups have their conversation. As she melds in with the crowd, Victoria will be able to better distinguish that conversation from the other drones that show up from the others talking. "The eclipse grows closer! How long will we have to wait, why can't we act now? Waiting seems like we could be attacked at any moment. There could be spies among us right now!" His voice raises, and Victoria can hear the murmurs rippling and running through the crowd. Everyone kind of gives everyone a bit of a suspicious glances, but Victoria doesn't receive any more than anyone else.
Victoria blinks several times at the mention of the eclipse, her interest clearly piqued. She carefully winds her way through the crowd, attempting to keep her expression neutral while offering small nods or hints of a smile to those she passes. Visibly more tense than usual, she manages to keep outward signs of her anxiety to the minimum of catching her lower lip between her teeth to gently nibble as she remains silent.
As the meeting continues, the discussion will turn to the Eclipse more directly. As she listens, Victoria can pick up clear intentions, some sense of plans that will come to fruitition sometime around the time of the next upcoming eclipse, though no direct date is given, they seem to know when it is. Some artifact they refer to as the Orb continues to be referenced as well, talking of things that sound familiar, but why? Victoria make wrack her brain trying to make the connection, but for the moment all that comes to her mind is that cheeky red-skinned snake face of the Demidemon that stokes her own murderous fantasies. But why?
Loosing a frustrated sigh before she can stop herself, Victoria scans the faces she can see, looking for the direct source of the statements that could affect herself and her family. Narrowed, grey orbs scan each person, slowly inhaling as though to commit the scent to her memory as she tucks a misbehaving lock of hair behind one ear and folds her arms across her chest.
The topics of discussion come from the center of the crowd, so if Victoria wants to get a good look at the faces of these people who are talking like they might be in some kind of charge? She'll have to sneak through the crowds and get a little closer without drawing too much attention to herself, now. She's got the skill though, and nobody is yet the wiser. The conversation does spark another memory. Something Ash said ... tickles at the back of Victoria's brain.
Dodging and weaving her way through the others in the room, Victoria keeps a steady pace, eyes not lingering for too long onto any one person as she tries to reach the front of the gathered parties. Despite herself, the downward curve of her lips lends itself into a full frown as she searches her memory for anything that could have been said to her that would help in the situation.
As she thinks through her brain, Nixx keeps coming up again and again, and then she finally remembers. Ash said something about their plans for using the Eclipse for some sort of ritual to amass great power. And something about it involving their need for her newfound partner's life or blood in the process. It comes rushing back, the sight of the tower, of him in the cage and the scene kind of plays itself out in memory behind Victoria's eyes while the conversation turns logistic, now. Planning, numbers, resources ... deliveries. Now there's something more interesting. A lot of devlieries ... all scheduled for March.
However, as the meet comes to turn to this, most of the people will begin to either co-mingle or begin to filter out, now. Socializing may not be a wise plan - most of these people probably know each other in some fashion and too close an inspection may reveal Victoria as the odd woman out!
With a futile attempt to hide the worry in her features, Victoria bites down on her lower lip, spinning on her heel and slipping through the crowd casually back toward the staircase. As soon as she's alone, her phone is in her hands and her knife is sheathed, a low, shaky sigh given as her fingers begin frantic tapping on the screen, the only light left as she makes her way back into the nighttime's darkness.
With careful steps, Victoria will be able to make her escape. No damage done to the Martyrs of course, but she's gotten some pertinent information. Not only that, information that perhaps she's not the only one who's come across! A lot of questions to come for her, and answers to find but at least she'll feel that easier breeze of the cold night air as she re-takes the surface and makes her way back to her vehicle.
OOC: Alright! Let me know where I can drop you if you go down and it's not close!