Encounterlogs
Williams Odd Encounter Sr Sienna 241003
In the eerie, mist-shrouded streets of Devilwood, William stumbles upon a gravely injured man in an alleyway, marked with the insignia of the Golden Shadow. The man, semi-conscious and bleeding out, urges William to retrieve an amulet from his coat before his attackers return. Despite his fear and uncertainty, William, moved by a mixture of compassion and curiosity, decides to help the stranger rather than flee. As he searches the man's pockets for the amulet, the attacker—a menacing figure armed with a blade and shrouded in darkness—approaches with deadly intent. William, barely managing to grab the amulet, is forced to make a split-second decision between confrontation and escape.
Choosing survival, William flees the scene, the amulet clutched in his hand and the sound of his pursuer's footsteps echoing behind him. His desperate call to emergency services is a mix of panic and hope as he navigates the labyrinthine alleyways of the shadowy district. The amulet, reacting to the chase, warps reality around William, transporting him to the safety of Sidney Way—a stark contrast to the grim backdrop of Devilwood. Disoriented but unharmed, William faces the aftermath of his encounter alone, the blood stains on his clothes and the mysterious amulet in his pocket the only proofs of the night's surreal and violent events. His ordeal leaves him with more questions than answers, the true significance of the amulet and the intentions of the Golden Shadow lingering ominously in the air.
(William's odd encounter(SRSienna):SRSienna)
[Wed Oct 2 2024]
On Devilwood Drive
Cracked and pothole-ridden asphalt roads make up this part of town,
bordered on either side by poorly maintained cracked sidewalks. The
aluminum streetlights are painted a deep, chipped green and appear regularly
along the side, illuminating the street in spots of warm electric light when
it's dark. Where the street is widest small median islands appear with old
twisted trees planted in them. The buildings that line the street seem old
and poorly taken care of.
It is dusk, about 65F(18C) degrees, and the sky is covered by dark grey clouds.
(Your target and their allies find an unconscious individual in an alleyway. They have a conspicuous Golden Shadow insignia tattooed on their wrist. They seem to have been attacked and left for dead. The characters must decide whether to help the individual, leave them, or take advantage of their vulnerable state. There could be consequences for any course of action. If they choose to help, they could get tangled in the mercenary group's affairs. If they leave them or exploit their vulnerability, they might attract the attention of the Golden Shadow.)
A thin mist rolls over the cracked asphalt of Devilwood Drive, swirling around the potholes and gathering in the shadows that stretch between flickering streetlights. The late October air carries a biting chill, cutting through the fading daylight. The sun has nearly set, casting a gray, washed-out light over the scene; it's just enough to keep the coming night at bay, but not enough to drive out the creeping shadows. Halloween is still weeks away, but there's something distinctly off-putting about the streets today, as though the town is already steeping in the unease of the season.
The buildings lining the street are old and crumbling, their bricks stained with years of neglect. Broken windows stare like hollow eyes; faded graffiti mars the walls, long since abandoned by any signs of life. The sidewalks are uneven, cracked in places with weeds poking through, and the dim, chipped green streetlights hum faintly overhead. Even at this hour, the streets are eerily quiet, the occasional distant sound from the shipping yard the only break in the silence; a clang of metal, the low rumble of a distant truck, the wind rustling through brittle leaves.
A sudden movement draws the eye to a narrow alleyway just off the main street. At first, it looks like another pile of refuse, half-hidden in the gathering gloom. But as the wind shifts, it becomes clear; a body lies there, slumped awkwardly against the side of a dumpster. The figure isn't moving. Their clothes are torn, soaked in dark stains that spread out across the cracked pavement beneath them. And there, on their wrist, illuminated briefly as the streetlight flickers overhead, is a tattoo; a Golden Shadow insignia, unmistakable against the pale skin. The mark gleams ominously, its black ink standing out like a brand...
A faint rustle echoes from further down the alley, where the darkness deepens into an impenetrable black. The wind picks up, carrying the faintest hint of something rotting, a smell that lingers too long in the back of the throat. It's unclear whether the attackers are still nearby, watching from the shadows, or if the violence has already passed through like a storm leaving only wreckage in its wake. The individual stirs weakly, a groan escaping their lips, barely audible over the sound of the wind.
Coming from the north of Fleet street, William takes a turn back towards town, stepping foot on the dangerous streets of Devilwood, or so he's been told, so far no signs of anything other than strangeness have gotten in his way while on the currently eerily ominous looking area of Haven.
He barely had noticed any changes on the ambience of the town from the day prior, maybe it was just in the minds of the people around, or maybe he was too oblivious to any signs of it, maybe he just had too much in his mind to even consider the fact that, in a town filled with the supernatural, the upcoming month might have been something to brace oneself for. Instead he continues his walk at a slow yet even pace, vaguely glancing over to the shipyard, between the containers that had given him one or two weird encounters in the past.
Distracted enough, he keeps walking along, deep in his thoughts, until his figure shows to a side of the alleyway. Under normal circumstance he would have just kept on walking, but instead, he had halted. Looking to his sides, he is looking for something, William seems to have listened to a groan, and while one would expect them to be fairly common on this side of town, it didn't seem the kind to belong to someone enjoying their time. No, instead he spots some figure deep within the passage, his eyebrow rising in doubt as he spares another look around the streets before stepping foot into the corner, getting closer little by little, and mouthing in his characteristic heavy british accent "Are you alright?" His voice a tad louder than usual, so that whomever that person is can hear him from afar without him needing to fully come to their side, after all, he had heard warning against people pretending or luring unassuming bystanders, and he didn't want to end up the next victim
As William's steps slow, the quiet groan he hears seems to hang in the air, like a ghostly echo caught in the mist. The alley he's approaching feels darker than it should be, the broken streetlights barely casting enough light to penetrate the narrow passage. There's a faint rustling sound as he draws nearer, a sound too quiet to be caused by anything but something alive; or something recently alive.
His call - "Are you alright?" - echoes in the confined space, a question cast more out of caution than genuine concern.
As he edges closer, there's no immediate response, only the steady drip of something wet hitting the ground. He spots the slumped figure in the deep shadows, just beyond the reach of the fading light. Their posture, limp and twisted, hints at violence, but from this distance, it's hard to tell if they're dead or merely unconscious.
Then the light flickers again, catching on something gleaming on their wrist: the tattoo of a Golden Shadow insignia, though whether William knows what it means or not, remains to be seen. As he stands at the mouth of the alley, there's a choice in front of him, a silent tension hanging in the air. The figure stirs slightly, just enough to confirm they are still alive, their groan more audible now, a deep, pained sound. The blood pooling beneath them hasn't had time to dry - fresh enough to suggest that whoever did this might still nearby, but too much that the figure might not survive without intervention.
A faint breeze stirs the mist, pushing it toward William, as if urging him to step forward or retreat. The alley remains silent except for the groans, the slow trickle of blood, and the far-off sounds of the shipping yard.
There is hesitation in William' expression as he watches the figure beginning to move, the groans communicating to his what probably is pain, and that is later confirmed by the pooled blood under it. 'It could be a set up' comes into his mind, an idea that is quickly discarded by him, thinking no one would go through the trouble of leaving a bleeding out alive lure in the middle of an empty street, and leaving him to even wonder where that thought came from, surely the last week he had spent in Haven was already taking a toll in his judgement.
Though the worries aren't gone, he no longer than a day ago had heard about spirits taking over bodies to do their will, or undead creatures roaming around the realm of the living, hell, he had even been involved in a huge incident on Beech street which involved a more dead than alive looking monstrosity.
But it wasn't in his nature to just run away unprompted. No without signs to suspect the situation might be dangerous, and while it certainly looked like it had been for the figure, he out of maybe kindness, or maybe foolishness, doubts it is for him, and so he steps closer towards the laying body.
With a hand already reaching into his pocket to take out his phone and dial the emergencies number, putting it to a side of his head, pressed against his ear, he mentions "Don't worry... I'll call an ambulance... Just hang in there" He had grown way too familiar of the hospital, or well, clinic past the entrance of White Oak in his stay here, even when it wasn't himself resting on the recovery room, it was visiting someone else, so it popped up in his head quite quickly when it came to tending a wounded person. And while he draws closer and closer to the figure, calling for help, he glances around the place, trying to find some piece of cloth, thick enough to be able to keep whatever wound there was from releasing more and more blood, if things came to worst, William definitely wouldn't mind using his own shirt in order to stop the hemorrhage.
The man on the ground struggles to remain conscious, his breathing shallow and uneven. His trench coat is partially open, revealing the gruesome injuries that tell the story of his attack. The jagged stab wound on his side, deep and vicious, oozes dark blood that pools on the cold concrete beneath him. The wound looks like it was made by a serrated blade, tearing flesh apart rather than slicing cleanly. Along his side, massive burns run from his ribs to his hip, the scorched flesh still emanating the acrid scent of singed skin, as if fire had licked along his body with ruthless precision.
His hand twitches toward his coat, but his strength is fading fast. A rattling groan escapes him, and his voice comes out as a strained whisper, weak but urgent. "Pocket... the amulet... please." His words are a desperate plea, punctuated by the pained cough that follows, the sound thick with the wet gurgle of blood filling his lungs.
The emergency operator speaks in his ear, professionally, but curtly requesting details: 911, emergency. What is the nature of the emergency?"
In the alley, the low hum of the emergency line continues, the operators voice muffled by the intensity of the scene unfolding. The scent of blood, mingling with the burnt flesh, clings to the air as if the violence hasn't quite finished its course. A faint scuffling sound echoes from further down the alley, nearly drowned by the wind, but unmistakable; a footstep. The silhouette of a figure emerges from the mist, just beyond the faint pools of streetlight. The figure moves with deliberate, steady precision, cloaked in shadows that cling tightly to their form. There's a glint of something metallic in their hand, the sharp edge of a blade catching the dim light as they advance with predatory calm.
The wounded mans grip on his coat weakens, but he forces another word through his agony. "Amulet... please..." His voice is barely audible now, fading, as if the weight of death is already settling over him. "
William was already in the middle of undoing his own shirt to cover the wound the moment it was spotted, better use something clean than found in the alley crosses his mind when seeing the open flesh, using only one hand for the purpose while the other holds the phone as best as he can. Though what the man says catches him off guard, making him stop in his tracks.
And amulet? He already knew of the magic nature of the town, and had been surprised by it in countless occassions, surely this amulet was something important, maybe it had healing properties, or it should be taken somewhere safe. He didn't know, but a dying man doesn't normally point towards unusual items without any meaning, maybe it truly was an important part to aid and put an end to his pain.
"I found a man wounded in Devilwood street, near the shipyard" He musters nervously against his phone while his hands leave what they are doing, now using the shoulder to keep the device pressed to his ear, he tries to reach into the other man's trench coat pocket, to find some sort of amulet that he was talking about. "He has a stab wound and is bleeding pretty badly... Recent burn marks on his skin as well".
Then he hears the footstep, the ambience sound or the street outside the alleyway might have covered some of it, but it was clear, and it was behind him. With a quick turn of the head, his eyes are set on the figure with the blade, presumably the aggressor, and if he didn't do something quickly, probably would end up being his own as well. With the blood pumping into his head in a rush, he moves his hands out of the pocket, having found nothing. Instead he directs his eyes back to the trench coat, wrong pocket he assumes, and with swift hands tries to find whatever that amulet was, in hopes of it protecting him somehow, with the plan to, if he didn't find anything in the next couple seconds, running away from the scene, with as much pain as that would cause him for leaving the man defenseless there, he clearly wasn't ready to face whatever attacker was coming after them.
The wounded man's breath rattles painfully in his chest as William fumbles through his pockets. His eyes flutter open, barely, and his voice, rough and labored, escapes in shallow gasps. "Hurry.. amulet.. it's important," he croaks, barely able to form the words. His body jerks slightly, his hand twitching toward the coat, but he's too weak to guide William any further. BHlood still seeps from the jagged wound at his side, staining the concrete beneath him. His skin is pale, clammy, and the burns on his torso still waft with the faint scent of singed flesh.
The 911 operator's voice crackles through the phone, urgent but calm. "Sir, you said the man has a stab wound and burns? We're sending an ambulance now. Stay with him if you can. Are you safe? Can you describe the attacker?"
As William's fingers brush against the hard metal of the amulet in the mans coat, there's a sharp clink; the sound barely audible over the heathy breathing of the injured man and the blood pounding in William's ears. The amulet small, cold, and heavier than expected. The strange runes carved into its surface pulse faintly, almost as if it was alive in his palm, but there's no time to linger on its mystery.
Behind him, the footsteps grow louder.
The figure, now fully visible under the flickering streetlight, is cloaked in black, their face hidden beneath a hood. The long blade in their hand gleams, wet with blood - fresh blood. They move with an eerie calm, each step deliberate as they approach the alley. The wind catches the edge of their cloak, revealing a glimpse of battle-scarred armor underneath. There is no hesitation in their movements, no doubt in their intent.
"You've got something that doesn't belong to you," the figure growls, voice low and menacing. Their steps slow as they stop just at the mouth of the alley, blade glinting in the dying light. "Hand it over, and maybe you won't bleed out like him." The injured man's eyes flutter open one last time, focusing weakly on William, his voice a desperate rasp. "Dont... give it to them... please... protect it..." His grip tightens, if only for a moment, before his hand falls limp by his side.
Upon finding the amulet at last, his hand clutches around it, holding it like it was the solution to his problems, though as the attacker speaks, it becomes apparent that the trinket, whatever it was meant to do, wasn't going to protect him here. Then a glance to the wounded man, who, by now, seemed already dead.
William glances again at the person threatening him, assessing the situation, this was probably the most human thing that had attacked him so far, yet it wasn't like the threat was any less real inside of his head, his heart pumping faster and faster as he tries to decide what should he do with whatever mystery made a jewel he was holding.
Slowly he stands back up, one hand moving back to the phone to hold it again, rather than using his shoulder anymore, probably an indicator of what he was debating to do, his other hand turned into a closed fist with the piece of pulsing metal in it. His eyes nervously darting around the alley, but seeing as the aggressor has positioned himself in order to cut the very exit through which he came into the alley, he glances towards the other end of the passage.
A moment later William starts running for the exit, trying to leave the armed man behind him as he rushes towards wherever was on the other side. He had entered through Devilwood's main street, so he didn't know what to expect to find when he rushed towards the other side, hopefully some other exit that allowed him to get to a more public space, somewhere he could be found before the man with the blade found him.
"The man is dead... And the attacker is behind me!" He practically shouts into the phone as he runs for his life, maybe it was dumb to be so focused on the emergencies line right now, but it was the only hope he had that he was going to make it out of there without some savage stabbing him as well "He has a blade... And some armor... But I couldn't see his face... Devilwood, next to the shipyard!" He repeats only as if to make it clear. He didn't know why was he even fleeing, why was he holding on to that amulet instead of handing it over and simply leaving. Maybe he was uncertain that he'd be allowed to leave that easily even after handing it, maybe he was just worried of what magic could do in the wrong hands, hell, maybe it was even just a bit of greed wanting the trinket for himself. He didn't know, and he didn't have time to really think about it, all he could do was to endure through the pain coursing through his body, due to the exertion of the day before being triggered once again the moment he tries to run for his life.
emote The amulet in William's hand pulses, its heat increasing as the intricate runes etched into its surface begin to glow faintly. The alleyway around him seems to shift, the mist thickening and the atmosphere growing heavy. Footsteps echo from behind, the attacker's deliberate pace closing the distance. A glint of steel from the attacker's blade flashes briefly in the dim light, and their figure cuts a menacing silhouette against the fog. There is no sign of hesitation in their approach, their movements precise and unhurried, like a predator certain of its prey.
he 911 operator's voice crackles over the phone, cutting through the tension. "You said the attacker has a blade and armor?" she asks, her tone professional but urgent. "Stay on the line, sir. Paramedics are on their way, and we're dispatching deputies to your location. Do not engage the attacker if you can avoid it. Help is coming." The sound of distant sirens faintly echoes through the speaker, still too far off to bring immediate comfort. The operator's calm voice contrasts sharply with the escalating danger William faces in the alleyway.
As the amulet heats further, the air around him begins to warp and bend unnaturally. The narrow alley, the jagged pavement beneath his feet, and the looming containers of the shipping yard all twist, their edges blurring as though reality itself is being pulled apart. The sensation of being yanked through something unseen fills the space around him, and the world spins for an instant. The sound of rushing air and the oppressive weight of the moment collapse inward, everything around him distorting as if being sucked into a void.
A split second later, William stumbles onto Sidney Way, the upscale stretch of road far from Devilwood. He lands hard on the cold, clean asphalt, disoriented but unharmed. The air here is markedly different; crisp and cool, carrying the scent of saltwater from the ocean just beyond. The quiet crash of waves on the shore replaces the chaotic echoes of the alley. The amulet in his hand has cooled, its faint glow fading entirely, leaving only a strange weight in his palm.
The sirens, once distant, are growing louder but are heading toward Devilwood Drive, far from where William now stands. The 911 operator's voice returns, more insistent now. "Sir, please confirm your current location if possible. Deputies and paramedics are en route to Devilwood, but if you've moved, we need to know where to send them."
William remains on the ground for a couple seconds, fallen on the middle of the street. Upon having met the ground he had left his phone go, and now as merely a feet away from him. He could still clearly hear, and as he goes to stand up, in a hurried motion, assuming he's still being chased, he freezes on his way up. A hand already on the ground to help himself up and the torso inclined upwards, his eyes widen as he takes in his surroundings, and his nose takes in the different air, almost sniffing the clear difference in the smell between the two places.
He glances down at his hand, while the amulet is still resting, before closing his fist again and approaching the fallen phone, grabbing it from the ground and driving it to his ear. There he faces a conflict, how does he tell them he isn't where he should be? Do the police in the town know about the supernatural? Surely they did, they mentioned deputies, and he knew one personally, he knew their purpose was to keep the more magic side of the town hidden.
With a bit of a glance in the direction that he thinks he probably should be right now, direction that is in fact not the right one, his horrible sense of, well, directions kicking in "Uhh... I managed to flee the attacker... I'm in-" He moves across the street a little bit, trying to find some sign that named the place he was in that moment "Sidney Street... But the attacker should still be there... The other man, the wounded one, was wearing a trench coat and seemed to already have died when I left... So uh, hopefully he's identifiable..." He mutters more to himself than to the operator, letting out a sigh of relief at this surprise way out
The 911 operator's voice crackles over the line, calm but firm. "You're safe now, sir. Deputies are en route, and paramedics will be at the scene on Devilwood shortly. Please stay where you are, and find a well-lit area if you can. If you feel unsafe, move to somewhere secure and wait for the officers to arrive."
The night around Sidney Way remains quiet, the faint sound of waves crashing against the shore in the distance. The street is still, the upscale homes standing in contrast to the chaos William had just escaped. The amulet rests heavily in his hand, the glow having faded completely, though its significance lingers. The distant wail of sirens grows softer, heading toward the other side of town where the danger lies. The operator stays on the line, waiting for confirmation as the night air cools around him, the weight of what just happened settling in. But for now, he is free, alive, out of harm's away.
William gives a little nod, not that the operator can really see it, and he answers slowly "Right... I'll do that... Thanks" His voice clearly more relaxed than before, almost half gasps coming out as he tries to relax and let his body settle after having to have run for his life once again, the pain still lingering to his every muscle, probably for exerting himself so soon after a recovery, but right now it does seem like he focuses too much on that aside for a bit of a weird or pained face when he moves around.
Slowly walking his way to somewhere visible, watching over himself, his trousers and shoes now stained with blood, probably from the pool, as well as having some of it on his sleeves, which he assumes got there on the search for the piece of metal resting on his hands. Which he slowly puts into his bag to keep close to him, fatigue more noticeable now in his expression, not that anyone was around to see it though "Not a single rest in this town..." He comments to himself, even forgetting there's an operator on the other side of the phone
The operators voice comes through the phone, calm and professional. "Youre doing great, sir. Just stay safe and wait for the deputies. We're disconnecting the call now, but if anything else happens, don't hesitate to dial again." There's a brief pause, then a final reassurance. "Help is on the way." The line clicks, cutting off the last remaining thread to the chaos of Devilwood. someone
Sidney Way is still, the quiet only disturbed by the distant rumble of waves and the soft shuffle of curious passersby. A few people glance at William as they walk by, their eyes briefly widening at the sight of his blood-stained clothes. One older woman gasps softly, quickly turning her gaze away as if to pretend she hadnt seen. A man walking his dog across the street gives a lingering look, unsure whether to approach or leave it alone.
The street is far from empty, but there's an eerie isolation in the silence that follows. The occasional footsteps fade into the night as people hurry past, not wanting to involve themselves in whatever had led to William standing there, marked with blood. The world continues around him, but it's clear that what happened tonight is not something most are willing to confront.
The operators voice comes through the phone, calm and professional. "Youre doing great, sir. Just stay safe and wait for the deputies. We're disconnecting the call now, but if anything else happens, don't hesitate to dial again." There's a brief pause, then a final reassurance. "Help is on the way." The line clicks, cutting off the last remaining thread to the chaos of Devilwood.
Sidney Way is still, the quiet only disturbed by the distant rumble of waves and the soft shuffle of curious passersby. A few people glance at William as they walk by, their eyes briefly widening at the sight of his blood-stained clothes. One older woman gasps softly, quickly turning her gaze away as if to pretend she hadnt seen. A man walking his dog across the street gives a lingering look, unsure whether to approach or leave it alone.
The street is far from empty, but there's an eerie isolation in the silence that follows. The occasional footsteps fade into the night as people hurry past, not wanting to involve themselves in whatever had led to William standing there, marked with blood. The world continues around him, but it's clear that what happened tonight is not something most are willing to confront.
Choosing survival, William flees the scene, the amulet clutched in his hand and the sound of his pursuer's footsteps echoing behind him. His desperate call to emergency services is a mix of panic and hope as he navigates the labyrinthine alleyways of the shadowy district. The amulet, reacting to the chase, warps reality around William, transporting him to the safety of Sidney Way—a stark contrast to the grim backdrop of Devilwood. Disoriented but unharmed, William faces the aftermath of his encounter alone, the blood stains on his clothes and the mysterious amulet in his pocket the only proofs of the night's surreal and violent events. His ordeal leaves him with more questions than answers, the true significance of the amulet and the intentions of the Golden Shadow lingering ominously in the air.
(William's odd encounter(SRSienna):SRSienna)
[Wed Oct 2 2024]
On Devilwood Drive
Cracked and pothole-ridden asphalt roads make up this part of town,
bordered on either side by poorly maintained cracked sidewalks. The
aluminum streetlights are painted a deep, chipped green and appear regularly
along the side, illuminating the street in spots of warm electric light when
it's dark. Where the street is widest small median islands appear with old
twisted trees planted in them. The buildings that line the street seem old
and poorly taken care of.
It is dusk, about 65F(18C) degrees, and the sky is covered by dark grey clouds.
(Your target and their allies find an unconscious individual in an alleyway. They have a conspicuous Golden Shadow insignia tattooed on their wrist. They seem to have been attacked and left for dead. The characters must decide whether to help the individual, leave them, or take advantage of their vulnerable state. There could be consequences for any course of action. If they choose to help, they could get tangled in the mercenary group's affairs. If they leave them or exploit their vulnerability, they might attract the attention of the Golden Shadow.)
A thin mist rolls over the cracked asphalt of Devilwood Drive, swirling around the potholes and gathering in the shadows that stretch between flickering streetlights. The late October air carries a biting chill, cutting through the fading daylight. The sun has nearly set, casting a gray, washed-out light over the scene; it's just enough to keep the coming night at bay, but not enough to drive out the creeping shadows. Halloween is still weeks away, but there's something distinctly off-putting about the streets today, as though the town is already steeping in the unease of the season.
The buildings lining the street are old and crumbling, their bricks stained with years of neglect. Broken windows stare like hollow eyes; faded graffiti mars the walls, long since abandoned by any signs of life. The sidewalks are uneven, cracked in places with weeds poking through, and the dim, chipped green streetlights hum faintly overhead. Even at this hour, the streets are eerily quiet, the occasional distant sound from the shipping yard the only break in the silence; a clang of metal, the low rumble of a distant truck, the wind rustling through brittle leaves.
A sudden movement draws the eye to a narrow alleyway just off the main street. At first, it looks like another pile of refuse, half-hidden in the gathering gloom. But as the wind shifts, it becomes clear; a body lies there, slumped awkwardly against the side of a dumpster. The figure isn't moving. Their clothes are torn, soaked in dark stains that spread out across the cracked pavement beneath them. And there, on their wrist, illuminated briefly as the streetlight flickers overhead, is a tattoo; a Golden Shadow insignia, unmistakable against the pale skin. The mark gleams ominously, its black ink standing out like a brand...
A faint rustle echoes from further down the alley, where the darkness deepens into an impenetrable black. The wind picks up, carrying the faintest hint of something rotting, a smell that lingers too long in the back of the throat. It's unclear whether the attackers are still nearby, watching from the shadows, or if the violence has already passed through like a storm leaving only wreckage in its wake. The individual stirs weakly, a groan escaping their lips, barely audible over the sound of the wind.
Coming from the north of Fleet street, William takes a turn back towards town, stepping foot on the dangerous streets of Devilwood, or so he's been told, so far no signs of anything other than strangeness have gotten in his way while on the currently eerily ominous looking area of Haven.
He barely had noticed any changes on the ambience of the town from the day prior, maybe it was just in the minds of the people around, or maybe he was too oblivious to any signs of it, maybe he just had too much in his mind to even consider the fact that, in a town filled with the supernatural, the upcoming month might have been something to brace oneself for. Instead he continues his walk at a slow yet even pace, vaguely glancing over to the shipyard, between the containers that had given him one or two weird encounters in the past.
Distracted enough, he keeps walking along, deep in his thoughts, until his figure shows to a side of the alleyway. Under normal circumstance he would have just kept on walking, but instead, he had halted. Looking to his sides, he is looking for something, William seems to have listened to a groan, and while one would expect them to be fairly common on this side of town, it didn't seem the kind to belong to someone enjoying their time. No, instead he spots some figure deep within the passage, his eyebrow rising in doubt as he spares another look around the streets before stepping foot into the corner, getting closer little by little, and mouthing in his characteristic heavy british accent "Are you alright?" His voice a tad louder than usual, so that whomever that person is can hear him from afar without him needing to fully come to their side, after all, he had heard warning against people pretending or luring unassuming bystanders, and he didn't want to end up the next victim
As William's steps slow, the quiet groan he hears seems to hang in the air, like a ghostly echo caught in the mist. The alley he's approaching feels darker than it should be, the broken streetlights barely casting enough light to penetrate the narrow passage. There's a faint rustling sound as he draws nearer, a sound too quiet to be caused by anything but something alive; or something recently alive.
His call - "Are you alright?" - echoes in the confined space, a question cast more out of caution than genuine concern.
As he edges closer, there's no immediate response, only the steady drip of something wet hitting the ground. He spots the slumped figure in the deep shadows, just beyond the reach of the fading light. Their posture, limp and twisted, hints at violence, but from this distance, it's hard to tell if they're dead or merely unconscious.
Then the light flickers again, catching on something gleaming on their wrist: the tattoo of a Golden Shadow insignia, though whether William knows what it means or not, remains to be seen. As he stands at the mouth of the alley, there's a choice in front of him, a silent tension hanging in the air. The figure stirs slightly, just enough to confirm they are still alive, their groan more audible now, a deep, pained sound. The blood pooling beneath them hasn't had time to dry - fresh enough to suggest that whoever did this might still nearby, but too much that the figure might not survive without intervention.
A faint breeze stirs the mist, pushing it toward William, as if urging him to step forward or retreat. The alley remains silent except for the groans, the slow trickle of blood, and the far-off sounds of the shipping yard.
There is hesitation in William' expression as he watches the figure beginning to move, the groans communicating to his what probably is pain, and that is later confirmed by the pooled blood under it. 'It could be a set up' comes into his mind, an idea that is quickly discarded by him, thinking no one would go through the trouble of leaving a bleeding out alive lure in the middle of an empty street, and leaving him to even wonder where that thought came from, surely the last week he had spent in Haven was already taking a toll in his judgement.
Though the worries aren't gone, he no longer than a day ago had heard about spirits taking over bodies to do their will, or undead creatures roaming around the realm of the living, hell, he had even been involved in a huge incident on Beech street which involved a more dead than alive looking monstrosity.
But it wasn't in his nature to just run away unprompted. No without signs to suspect the situation might be dangerous, and while it certainly looked like it had been for the figure, he out of maybe kindness, or maybe foolishness, doubts it is for him, and so he steps closer towards the laying body.
With a hand already reaching into his pocket to take out his phone and dial the emergencies number, putting it to a side of his head, pressed against his ear, he mentions "Don't worry... I'll call an ambulance... Just hang in there" He had grown way too familiar of the hospital, or well, clinic past the entrance of White Oak in his stay here, even when it wasn't himself resting on the recovery room, it was visiting someone else, so it popped up in his head quite quickly when it came to tending a wounded person. And while he draws closer and closer to the figure, calling for help, he glances around the place, trying to find some piece of cloth, thick enough to be able to keep whatever wound there was from releasing more and more blood, if things came to worst, William definitely wouldn't mind using his own shirt in order to stop the hemorrhage.
The man on the ground struggles to remain conscious, his breathing shallow and uneven. His trench coat is partially open, revealing the gruesome injuries that tell the story of his attack. The jagged stab wound on his side, deep and vicious, oozes dark blood that pools on the cold concrete beneath him. The wound looks like it was made by a serrated blade, tearing flesh apart rather than slicing cleanly. Along his side, massive burns run from his ribs to his hip, the scorched flesh still emanating the acrid scent of singed skin, as if fire had licked along his body with ruthless precision.
His hand twitches toward his coat, but his strength is fading fast. A rattling groan escapes him, and his voice comes out as a strained whisper, weak but urgent. "Pocket... the amulet... please." His words are a desperate plea, punctuated by the pained cough that follows, the sound thick with the wet gurgle of blood filling his lungs.
The emergency operator speaks in his ear, professionally, but curtly requesting details: 911, emergency. What is the nature of the emergency?"
In the alley, the low hum of the emergency line continues, the operators voice muffled by the intensity of the scene unfolding. The scent of blood, mingling with the burnt flesh, clings to the air as if the violence hasn't quite finished its course. A faint scuffling sound echoes from further down the alley, nearly drowned by the wind, but unmistakable; a footstep. The silhouette of a figure emerges from the mist, just beyond the faint pools of streetlight. The figure moves with deliberate, steady precision, cloaked in shadows that cling tightly to their form. There's a glint of something metallic in their hand, the sharp edge of a blade catching the dim light as they advance with predatory calm.
The wounded mans grip on his coat weakens, but he forces another word through his agony. "Amulet... please..." His voice is barely audible now, fading, as if the weight of death is already settling over him. "
William was already in the middle of undoing his own shirt to cover the wound the moment it was spotted, better use something clean than found in the alley crosses his mind when seeing the open flesh, using only one hand for the purpose while the other holds the phone as best as he can. Though what the man says catches him off guard, making him stop in his tracks.
And amulet? He already knew of the magic nature of the town, and had been surprised by it in countless occassions, surely this amulet was something important, maybe it had healing properties, or it should be taken somewhere safe. He didn't know, but a dying man doesn't normally point towards unusual items without any meaning, maybe it truly was an important part to aid and put an end to his pain.
"I found a man wounded in Devilwood street, near the shipyard" He musters nervously against his phone while his hands leave what they are doing, now using the shoulder to keep the device pressed to his ear, he tries to reach into the other man's trench coat pocket, to find some sort of amulet that he was talking about. "He has a stab wound and is bleeding pretty badly... Recent burn marks on his skin as well".
Then he hears the footstep, the ambience sound or the street outside the alleyway might have covered some of it, but it was clear, and it was behind him. With a quick turn of the head, his eyes are set on the figure with the blade, presumably the aggressor, and if he didn't do something quickly, probably would end up being his own as well. With the blood pumping into his head in a rush, he moves his hands out of the pocket, having found nothing. Instead he directs his eyes back to the trench coat, wrong pocket he assumes, and with swift hands tries to find whatever that amulet was, in hopes of it protecting him somehow, with the plan to, if he didn't find anything in the next couple seconds, running away from the scene, with as much pain as that would cause him for leaving the man defenseless there, he clearly wasn't ready to face whatever attacker was coming after them.
The wounded man's breath rattles painfully in his chest as William fumbles through his pockets. His eyes flutter open, barely, and his voice, rough and labored, escapes in shallow gasps. "Hurry.. amulet.. it's important," he croaks, barely able to form the words. His body jerks slightly, his hand twitching toward the coat, but he's too weak to guide William any further. BHlood still seeps from the jagged wound at his side, staining the concrete beneath him. His skin is pale, clammy, and the burns on his torso still waft with the faint scent of singed flesh.
The 911 operator's voice crackles through the phone, urgent but calm. "Sir, you said the man has a stab wound and burns? We're sending an ambulance now. Stay with him if you can. Are you safe? Can you describe the attacker?"
As William's fingers brush against the hard metal of the amulet in the mans coat, there's a sharp clink; the sound barely audible over the heathy breathing of the injured man and the blood pounding in William's ears. The amulet small, cold, and heavier than expected. The strange runes carved into its surface pulse faintly, almost as if it was alive in his palm, but there's no time to linger on its mystery.
Behind him, the footsteps grow louder.
The figure, now fully visible under the flickering streetlight, is cloaked in black, their face hidden beneath a hood. The long blade in their hand gleams, wet with blood - fresh blood. They move with an eerie calm, each step deliberate as they approach the alley. The wind catches the edge of their cloak, revealing a glimpse of battle-scarred armor underneath. There is no hesitation in their movements, no doubt in their intent.
"You've got something that doesn't belong to you," the figure growls, voice low and menacing. Their steps slow as they stop just at the mouth of the alley, blade glinting in the dying light. "Hand it over, and maybe you won't bleed out like him." The injured man's eyes flutter open one last time, focusing weakly on William, his voice a desperate rasp. "Dont... give it to them... please... protect it..." His grip tightens, if only for a moment, before his hand falls limp by his side.
Upon finding the amulet at last, his hand clutches around it, holding it like it was the solution to his problems, though as the attacker speaks, it becomes apparent that the trinket, whatever it was meant to do, wasn't going to protect him here. Then a glance to the wounded man, who, by now, seemed already dead.
William glances again at the person threatening him, assessing the situation, this was probably the most human thing that had attacked him so far, yet it wasn't like the threat was any less real inside of his head, his heart pumping faster and faster as he tries to decide what should he do with whatever mystery made a jewel he was holding.
Slowly he stands back up, one hand moving back to the phone to hold it again, rather than using his shoulder anymore, probably an indicator of what he was debating to do, his other hand turned into a closed fist with the piece of pulsing metal in it. His eyes nervously darting around the alley, but seeing as the aggressor has positioned himself in order to cut the very exit through which he came into the alley, he glances towards the other end of the passage.
A moment later William starts running for the exit, trying to leave the armed man behind him as he rushes towards wherever was on the other side. He had entered through Devilwood's main street, so he didn't know what to expect to find when he rushed towards the other side, hopefully some other exit that allowed him to get to a more public space, somewhere he could be found before the man with the blade found him.
"The man is dead... And the attacker is behind me!" He practically shouts into the phone as he runs for his life, maybe it was dumb to be so focused on the emergencies line right now, but it was the only hope he had that he was going to make it out of there without some savage stabbing him as well "He has a blade... And some armor... But I couldn't see his face... Devilwood, next to the shipyard!" He repeats only as if to make it clear. He didn't know why was he even fleeing, why was he holding on to that amulet instead of handing it over and simply leaving. Maybe he was uncertain that he'd be allowed to leave that easily even after handing it, maybe he was just worried of what magic could do in the wrong hands, hell, maybe it was even just a bit of greed wanting the trinket for himself. He didn't know, and he didn't have time to really think about it, all he could do was to endure through the pain coursing through his body, due to the exertion of the day before being triggered once again the moment he tries to run for his life.
emote The amulet in William's hand pulses, its heat increasing as the intricate runes etched into its surface begin to glow faintly. The alleyway around him seems to shift, the mist thickening and the atmosphere growing heavy. Footsteps echo from behind, the attacker's deliberate pace closing the distance. A glint of steel from the attacker's blade flashes briefly in the dim light, and their figure cuts a menacing silhouette against the fog. There is no sign of hesitation in their approach, their movements precise and unhurried, like a predator certain of its prey.
he 911 operator's voice crackles over the phone, cutting through the tension. "You said the attacker has a blade and armor?" she asks, her tone professional but urgent. "Stay on the line, sir. Paramedics are on their way, and we're dispatching deputies to your location. Do not engage the attacker if you can avoid it. Help is coming." The sound of distant sirens faintly echoes through the speaker, still too far off to bring immediate comfort. The operator's calm voice contrasts sharply with the escalating danger William faces in the alleyway.
As the amulet heats further, the air around him begins to warp and bend unnaturally. The narrow alley, the jagged pavement beneath his feet, and the looming containers of the shipping yard all twist, their edges blurring as though reality itself is being pulled apart. The sensation of being yanked through something unseen fills the space around him, and the world spins for an instant. The sound of rushing air and the oppressive weight of the moment collapse inward, everything around him distorting as if being sucked into a void.
A split second later, William stumbles onto Sidney Way, the upscale stretch of road far from Devilwood. He lands hard on the cold, clean asphalt, disoriented but unharmed. The air here is markedly different; crisp and cool, carrying the scent of saltwater from the ocean just beyond. The quiet crash of waves on the shore replaces the chaotic echoes of the alley. The amulet in his hand has cooled, its faint glow fading entirely, leaving only a strange weight in his palm.
The sirens, once distant, are growing louder but are heading toward Devilwood Drive, far from where William now stands. The 911 operator's voice returns, more insistent now. "Sir, please confirm your current location if possible. Deputies and paramedics are en route to Devilwood, but if you've moved, we need to know where to send them."
William remains on the ground for a couple seconds, fallen on the middle of the street. Upon having met the ground he had left his phone go, and now as merely a feet away from him. He could still clearly hear, and as he goes to stand up, in a hurried motion, assuming he's still being chased, he freezes on his way up. A hand already on the ground to help himself up and the torso inclined upwards, his eyes widen as he takes in his surroundings, and his nose takes in the different air, almost sniffing the clear difference in the smell between the two places.
He glances down at his hand, while the amulet is still resting, before closing his fist again and approaching the fallen phone, grabbing it from the ground and driving it to his ear. There he faces a conflict, how does he tell them he isn't where he should be? Do the police in the town know about the supernatural? Surely they did, they mentioned deputies, and he knew one personally, he knew their purpose was to keep the more magic side of the town hidden.
With a bit of a glance in the direction that he thinks he probably should be right now, direction that is in fact not the right one, his horrible sense of, well, directions kicking in "Uhh... I managed to flee the attacker... I'm in-" He moves across the street a little bit, trying to find some sign that named the place he was in that moment "Sidney Street... But the attacker should still be there... The other man, the wounded one, was wearing a trench coat and seemed to already have died when I left... So uh, hopefully he's identifiable..." He mutters more to himself than to the operator, letting out a sigh of relief at this surprise way out
The 911 operator's voice crackles over the line, calm but firm. "You're safe now, sir. Deputies are en route, and paramedics will be at the scene on Devilwood shortly. Please stay where you are, and find a well-lit area if you can. If you feel unsafe, move to somewhere secure and wait for the officers to arrive."
The night around Sidney Way remains quiet, the faint sound of waves crashing against the shore in the distance. The street is still, the upscale homes standing in contrast to the chaos William had just escaped. The amulet rests heavily in his hand, the glow having faded completely, though its significance lingers. The distant wail of sirens grows softer, heading toward the other side of town where the danger lies. The operator stays on the line, waiting for confirmation as the night air cools around him, the weight of what just happened settling in. But for now, he is free, alive, out of harm's away.
William gives a little nod, not that the operator can really see it, and he answers slowly "Right... I'll do that... Thanks" His voice clearly more relaxed than before, almost half gasps coming out as he tries to relax and let his body settle after having to have run for his life once again, the pain still lingering to his every muscle, probably for exerting himself so soon after a recovery, but right now it does seem like he focuses too much on that aside for a bit of a weird or pained face when he moves around.
Slowly walking his way to somewhere visible, watching over himself, his trousers and shoes now stained with blood, probably from the pool, as well as having some of it on his sleeves, which he assumes got there on the search for the piece of metal resting on his hands. Which he slowly puts into his bag to keep close to him, fatigue more noticeable now in his expression, not that anyone was around to see it though "Not a single rest in this town..." He comments to himself, even forgetting there's an operator on the other side of the phone
The operators voice comes through the phone, calm and professional. "Youre doing great, sir. Just stay safe and wait for the deputies. We're disconnecting the call now, but if anything else happens, don't hesitate to dial again." There's a brief pause, then a final reassurance. "Help is on the way." The line clicks, cutting off the last remaining thread to the chaos of Devilwood. someone
Sidney Way is still, the quiet only disturbed by the distant rumble of waves and the soft shuffle of curious passersby. A few people glance at William as they walk by, their eyes briefly widening at the sight of his blood-stained clothes. One older woman gasps softly, quickly turning her gaze away as if to pretend she hadnt seen. A man walking his dog across the street gives a lingering look, unsure whether to approach or leave it alone.
The street is far from empty, but there's an eerie isolation in the silence that follows. The occasional footsteps fade into the night as people hurry past, not wanting to involve themselves in whatever had led to William standing there, marked with blood. The world continues around him, but it's clear that what happened tonight is not something most are willing to confront.
The operators voice comes through the phone, calm and professional. "Youre doing great, sir. Just stay safe and wait for the deputies. We're disconnecting the call now, but if anything else happens, don't hesitate to dial again." There's a brief pause, then a final reassurance. "Help is on the way." The line clicks, cutting off the last remaining thread to the chaos of Devilwood.
Sidney Way is still, the quiet only disturbed by the distant rumble of waves and the soft shuffle of curious passersby. A few people glance at William as they walk by, their eyes briefly widening at the sight of his blood-stained clothes. One older woman gasps softly, quickly turning her gaze away as if to pretend she hadnt seen. A man walking his dog across the street gives a lingering look, unsure whether to approach or leave it alone.
The street is far from empty, but there's an eerie isolation in the silence that follows. The occasional footsteps fade into the night as people hurry past, not wanting to involve themselves in whatever had led to William standing there, marked with blood. The world continues around him, but it's clear that what happened tonight is not something most are willing to confront.