logsinthenight | INTRO LOG: OCTOBER

INTRO LOG: OCTOBER

characters: everyone.
location: the harbor, as well as the rest of town.
date/time: october 1-3.
content: beacon's newest batch of residents arrives on the ferry. scavenger hunt prizes are awarded. the ferry capsizes in a blaze of glory.
warnings: n/a.

welcome to beacon.

It's dim, and the room won't stop swaying, gently rocking you back and forth. A loud sound startles you fully awake, a deep, moaning call: a foghorn. As your eyes adjust, you note faint red light streaking through the room from a tiny, round window.

You've found yourself in a private room, lying on a bed. The last things you remember are the events that led up to your death. Beside you is a folded tablet and a lantern that glows steadily with a healthy flame.

You're on a ship. And that ship is docking.

Making your way to the deck, and eventually the pier, you find only moonlight to greet you, and a dark forest beyond. There are other people here, each with their own unique lantern, and many of them look just as lost as you are. On the ferry you've just disembarked from, the speaker system begins to play a song.

In the distance, across the waters of the lake, you can see the tall silhouette of a lighthouse, its red light slowly turning.

•••

Luckily for all the newcomers, the tablet and the town have some resources available for playing catch up! In fact, as soon as they're prompted to enter a network username, an app containing all sorts of useful welcome information will launch. Newcomers can always check out the weekly bulletins and the records in town hall as well, and everyone's welcome to get in touch with the NPCs through their inboxes.

When the ferry docks, it seems as though you've been spared from any weirdness this month! It's good to have a break now and then, isn't it? And if you participated in the scavenger hunt, you're probably eagerly awaiting your promised prize—

But, ohp, what's that sound? Is that the ferry's engine firing up again? The ship roars to life again as some brave mutineers overthrow its autopilot system. Crowley and the Winter Soldier man the ferry's control room while Aziraphale flits between the cargo hold and the deck, attempting to assuage any accidental kidnapees with reassuring words and cake.

Unfortunately, the joyride is shortlived. Between the ferry's complex control panel and the haphazard attempts to override it, all the group manages to do is send the boat charging full speed ahead—which would be great if it wasn't facing the beach. The ferry jolts forward and careens smack into the dock, tearing down the entire structure and punching a sizeable hole in the ferry's hull.

Well, that could've gone better. But there's no time to dwell on the mistakes of the very recent past! The ferry is sinking, and quickly! Looks like you'll have to scramble if you want to save what's left in the cargo hold before the whole thing goes under... And that's gonna be awfully tricky without a dock.

Oh, and maybe save the new arrivals? Make sure they don't drown? But, then again, if they go down with the ship, they'll just show up again in the church... The same can't be said for the restock for the general store!

As smoke billows from the damaged ferry and the last the harbor disappears into the lake, the Lighthouse Keeper appears on the network with a pretty straightforward question. Also, the ferry's song changes, so. That happens.

ooc.

Hey there, wonderful players, and welcome to In the Night! For this intro log, you are officially without a chaperone. Rastus is back at the bonfire, Will is characteristically elusive, and Robin is, well, you know where she's at. It's up to the veteran residents to fill in the new folks.

And regarding the ferry disaster... Well, you have some options. Here's what you need to know:
This is a player plot organized by MJ, Xy, and Gail! A big thank-you to them for providing us with this intro log event!

Whether or not your character and any packages addressed to them are affected by this plot is up to you! If you would like to assume your character avoids dealing with this chaos and somehow grabs their delivery without issue, go right ahead!

Similarly, if you're looking for an opportunity to make your character's life harder, injury and death are always on the table! Or maybe it's your package that takes the abuse, lost forever to the lake's depths or washing up all waterlogged a week or two down the road. In short: How you engage with this plot is entirely up to you.

What happens to the ferry and the dock? Within a couple of hours, the ferry will sink completely, and anything on board when it goes down is lost forever. Which bodes super well for the ferry, huh? Sure hope the next batch of newcomers has some strong swimmers. Oh, and the dock is gone, too. If you want it back, you'll have to rebuild it.

As for Crowley, Aziraphale, Bucky, and anyone else on the ferry or dock during the collision... Hope you boys like concussions, bruised ribs, and a broken bone or two, because you've got 'em! The exact injuries are up to you, but they're the equivalent of a semi-serious car accident.

One last thing: The fate of the shop restocks, including all of the food for the month, depends on you! Let us know if your character will be participating in the rescue attempt. In exchange for letting us beat up your character, you can save a portion of the month's supplies! We'll let you all know on October 3 what the rations for the rest of the month will look like.

DELIVERIES

The following packages can be found in the cargo hold:

The monthly store restock
For Daylight: A variety of gardening tools piled into a wheelbarrow, as well as packets of seeds for the following plants: Boneset, dogtooth violet, starflower, Carolina springbeauty, pipsissewa, bloodroot, red columbine, narrowleaf blue-eyed grass, harlequin blueflag, and purple pitcherplant; he will also receive a translation for the following: An invitation to join the speaker as company
For Aziraphale: A record player, the complete discographies of a variety of bands (Abba, Rob Zombie, Tool, Hanson, Eiffel 65, and Spice Girls), a two-tiered wedding cake, and packets of seeds for the following plants: Strawberry, cherry tomato, cucumber, blackberry, carrot, potato, raspberry, and pumpkin; he will also receive a familiar copy of a familiar book: The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, along with a blue ribbon that reads "BEST IN SHOW"
For Bruce: A handheld metal detector and a rechargeable battery for it, a chisel, a climbing harness (that, according to the packaging, is the #1 Safety Rated!) and a 50 ft. coil of rope
For Cao Pi: A go board
For Rosinante: A sextant, and 3 cartons of cigarettes; he will also receive a translation for the rough equivalent to the following phrase: "Danger! Run and hide!"
For Kuai: A basket of 16 mooncakes, as well as incregredients for more
For Javert: 3 pairs of handcuffs, a greatcoat in Javert's size, and a trunk full of swords in varying styles and conditions; he will also receive an electric chainsaw
For Kol: A record player, the complete discographies of a variety of bands (New Kids on the Block, Weird Al Yankovic, Sound Garden, Ke$ha, INXS, and Spinal Tap), a cooler full of blood bags and ice packs, and an assortment of stamps; he will also receive a translation for the rough equivalent to the following phrase: "I'm lost" or "Need directions"
For Elena: A journal; she will also receive a portable generator (powerful enough for a single power tool or small appliance; can be charged through a typical wall outlet)
For Xayah: A thick journal and a glass vial of black ink; she will also receive a sizeable roll of barbed wire, as well as a stuffed animal
For Ignis: A spice restock (with a few new ones mixed in!), 3 paired of leather gloves, and... 12? pairs? of glasses? They're all in slightly different prescriptions, though. A variety pack!; he will also receive a power drill (runs on a rechargeable battery or can be plugged directly into a wall socket)
For Riku: A wood stove, a set of paints, and 5 canvases; he will also receive a translation for the rough equivalent to the following phrase: "Looking for water" or "Thirsty"
For Matt: A rosary and a Braille Bible... which is more of a collection of volumes, really; he will also receive a translation for the rough equivalent to the following phrase: "Looking for food" or "Hungry"
For Noctis: Two complete sets of the Lord of the Rings series (except, wait a minute... they appear to be the novelizations of the movies); he will also receive an SD card that, when plugged into a tablet, will upload GPS directions to a new location...
For Rosalind: A crate of basic all-purpose lab equipment, a fancy microscope, an emergency eye wash station, a mortar and pestle, a lab coat, a Lite Brite, and... the things she needs to make things float, whatever those are; she will also receive a pair of dousing rods (that will actually point in the direction of water, checkmate atheists)
For Jason: A translation for the rough equivalent to the following phrase: "Sympathy" or "I'm sorry"
For Coraline: A translation for the rough equivalent to the following phrase: "Teach me"
For Eliot: A bottle of hospital grade painkillers (it contains 10 doses and functions similarly to Vicodin)
For Allie: A bottle of strong antibiotics (it contains 10 doses and can fight off most any infection)
For Vanitas: A portable camping stove (runs on a portable battery or can be plugged directly into a wall socket)
For Hope: A soldering iron (runs on a portable battery or can be plugged directly into a wall socket)
For Quentin: A cannister of foaming bandage (can be used 5 times to immediately close a wound/stop semi-severe bleeding)
For Mary: An SD card that, when plugged into a tablet, will upload GPS directions to a new location...

If you submitted an item request last month and we've missed it here, let us know!

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"Yes," the Soldier agrees. Could even be longer, if Crowley isn't careful about it. It's going to have to keep a closer eye on him. With this right in front of it, now, the Soldier can't just go back to carrying supplies. It has to take care of its idiot handler.

(Hey, you're just as much of an idiot, pal. No argument. For once in your life.)

So it says, "You should be at the house."

"Lots of stairs at the house," Crowley says, lifting up the bottle and pouring a little in a glass. He reaches up over the bar and grabs another glass, which he puts down at the spot next to him.

"You're off-duty. We get to take the night off when things go this pear-shaped."

Technically, the Soldier is never off-duty, mostly because it doesn't really know how to be off-duty. It's learning, but that's a slow process.

Right now, it's not sure if that counts as an order or not. "You can have the couch," it offers, looking between the glass and the demon. "I can sleep somewhere else."

"I remember back when I didn't have to sleep at all," he laments, filling up the other glass as well. "Could just stay up. Only slept when I felt like it. Sometimes slept whole decades away when they were rubbish."

He puts the bottle down and take a drink from his glass.

He pauses and looks back to the human soldier person.

"Go on, you can sit."

That's not an order, but... it's permission. And the Soldier is, in fact, actually really tired. It hesitates a moment longer, but then eases onto the chair next to Crowley's. Lifts the mostly-dead metal arm up onto the bartop, to take some of the weight off its back and shoulder. "I didn't sleep for a long time," it offers tentatively. "I just went in and out of cryofreeze. Not the same thing."

"Can't dream in cryofreeze," Crowley says. "And that's the best part of sleeping. Well---" He glances at the human soldier person, remembering his nightmares. "---sometimes."

He takes a drink. He can probably think of a few people in this town who would be better drinking companions than the human soldier person, but at the moment, Crowley can't really see why he'd want to spend time with any of them. For all that the human soldier person has a messed up brain and a short life ahead of him, Crowley has become incredibly, well, fond of him.

"Did you get hurt?" he asks.

"The arm shorted out," the Soldier says, sounding put upon about it. "Too much water got into the circuits. I have to try and fix it later." It looks down at the glass of alcohol almost morosely. "I don't think Aziraphale is that kind of technician."

At least it still has one usable hand, so it downs half the glass in one gulp. Feels familiar. (Well, sure, who doesn't like a good drink.)

"He's an angel, not a technician," Crowley says. He pauses, holding his glass up to his lips. "Metaphorically speaking."

He puts the glass down and glances at the arm.

"I could try to...?" He holds his hand up, waving his fingers.

Oh, is it time for someone to mess with the arm? Sure, why not. Even if it's had way, way too many people touching it today. Getting a head start on the punishment, it supposes. It must be time for more. The Soldier turns in the chair, dragging the damn thing along the bartop with the turn, so Crowley can get at it.

Before Crowley does anything, it finishes off the drink, too. Maybe it will help. (Don't get your hopes up, buddy.) Does the chatty guy know something it doesn't?

Crowley takes another swig of his drink, and then raises his hand, swiping it carefully over the arm. Feeling the molecules, feeling the bits between. It's so human, the construction. All of the parts of it that move, all of the parts of it that hold it together. A bit of human monstrosity.

He clears it out of water, and tries to make the circuitry meld together properly, to work again.

He moves his hand away, and reaches for the bottle, to pour the human soldier person another one.

"How's that?"

That wasn't remotely what the Soldier was expecting. It blinks, realizes that Crowley had been trying to help rather than hurt, then scoots its chair back to stand up and move away from the bar. The reason becomes clear quickly, as it swings its arm in a full circle from the shoulder-- that's how you reboot it.

Then it moves its fingers for the first time in a couple of hours. It's not as smooth or immediate as it could be, but there's still pretty good function back.

"How," it says more than asks. Waving fingers over a metal arm doesn't usually fix it.

Crowley raises an eyebrow, then goes back to his glass, taking a drink from it.

"Oh, come on, now," he says, not unkindly. "You've lived with me a few weeks. You don't actually think I'm just an ordinary person, do you?"

"That doesn't mean I know how," the Soldier points out, and edges back to its seat. Sitting with a handler for drinks goes against a lot of its programming, but it's just so damn tired and unhappy after this day. And Crowley asked. So here it is, with some kind of alcohol in its flesh hand, running through tactile tests (mostly tapping fingers together in a steady rhythm) and slow calibration loops (plates rippling and whirring) with the metal arm. Definitely needs a little tune-up, but nothing it can't handle on its own now.

Which deserves a comment. Instead of punishment, it got a fixed arm. Jesus, these handlers. "Thank you."

"Magic," Crowley says, with the smug air of someone who probably can't exactly explain it themselves even if they wanted to.

He refills his glass.

He waves a hand. "Don't. Don't thank me. If Head Office knew I helped a human---"

He pauses, drink halfway to his lips. "Suppose it can't be any worse than what they did. Don't have a Head Office anymore."

For a second, the Soldier considers reminding him about the "not a person" thing, but it's pretty sure that would result in an argument. It doesn't have the energy for an argument. (Did notice that's the second time he got weird when you thanked him, though. So did I.)

Rather than mention that, too, the Soldier asks, "What did they do."

"Aren't a lot of things that can kill me," he says. "The enemy has a lot of it, so they consorted---actually bloody worked with!---the enemy, got a bathtub of the stuff to put me in. Totally obliterated me."

He sniffs and takes a drink.

"And they're just going to start all over again. That's why we have to get back, Aziraphale and I. We have to stop them from doing it again."

A bathtub killed him. What? That doesn't make any sense at all. "Bathtub of what?"

Crowley looks at him over the rim of his sunglasses.

"Holy water."

That doesn't really clarify much. The Soldier has very little reference for religious mythology-- not exactly important for an assassin, and HYDRA goons didn't really bring whatever religious beliefs they had to the office very often-- and the chatty guy isn't offering anything at the words. "Okay."

It's probably pretty obvious it has no idea what that means. Sorry, Crowley.

Probably for the best. Crowley tops up his glass.

"Did you ever...do bad things and everyone sort of just...judged you for it? Figured that was who you were?"

He glances at the human soldier person's arm. He gives a shrug. "That's what it's like. Sort of. In my line of work."

"Handler Crowley. I'm a weapon. Doing bad things is what I'm made for." It doesn't usually get judged for it, but then, it doesn't usually have to interact with civilians. They would probably judge.

Maybe their lines of work aren't all that different?

It finally has more of the alcohol, because why the fuck not.

"You're not a weapon any more than I was some agent of the Devil back when I was in my line of work," Crowley says, dismissively. "You're just a person. We're both just people and we're both here."

He leans back and lets out a long, exhausted sigh. "Whole universe is made up of people. People do great things. Terrible things. Wonderful things. Can't stop people doing things. But they'll try. That person up in the Lighthouse, she'll try to stop us if we don't play her fucking games."

As expected. Crowley argues. The Soldier carefully doesn't sigh, itself. It does finish off the glass, though, and look vaguely aggrieved. "I didn't play the game," it says instead. "With the 'selfies'. I don't think that's why the ferry crashed." No, the ferry crashed because the Soldier is an idiot. It should still be out helping, but its handler is in here and it can't get him home yet.

"No, the ferry crashed because we fucked up," he says.

We. It's not the human soldier person's fault, and Crowley knows it. It'd be easy just to blame him, or to blame the Lighthouse keeper or a thousand other people. But it's not their fault.

Really, it's Crowley's fault. He planned this.

"We'll do better next time."

Whereas the Soldier is pretty sure this is all it's fault, since not only did it drive the ferry into the dock, stealing it was literally its own idea.

It looks at Crowley sidelong, a little wary and uncertain. "If you were any other handler. I'd be being punished right now."

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