INTRO LOG: JULY

[inthenightmods]

INTRO LOG: JULY
IT'S HAPPENING AGAIN

characters: everyone.
location: the harbor, as well as the rest of town.
date/time: july 1-3.
content: beacon's newest batch of residents arrives on the ferry. winters, will, and rastus introduce themselves and explain the situation.
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.

•••
Winters and Will are waiting for you on the beach. Winters flags you down from where he's standing atop a large rock, surveying the gathering crowd. Will stands next to him, though he's monkeying with his tablet and looks rather bored. He barely looks up as Winters speaks:

"First thing's first: I'm sorry you're here. There's no easy way to break this news, so let's just get it over with, hm? You're dead. Or, ah, you've died. Call this the afterlife if you want, or don't if that ain't your thing, but point is, you're here 'cause you died. Those are the facts.

This world's dead, too. You've noticed by now it's pretty dark, yeah? That's 'cause there's no life here, not anymore. And that lantern you've got? That's your life, so to speak. The flame goes out, you die, and vice versa. Keep it close. Should be easy enough to remember on account of how the sun don't rise. You'll need something to see by.

This place is called Beacon, and that's Lake Red Jacket. Town's 'bout a mile down the road, and we've got a bonfire there, but that's the only other light you'll see in this place. Save for the moon and all, though the sky won't do you much good out in the woods. I'll let Rastus explain the bonfire to y'all.

Ah, right. I'm Ben Winters—Winters'll do—and this here's Will Ingr— What? For christ's sake, Dr. Will Ingram. Likes to think he's the brains of the operation, as you can see. If you've got questions about these tablets, he's your guy. Rastus tends to the fire, and you'll find him in town. He's married to his job in a way. And you may never've seen a person like him back wherever you came from, but don't make a big fuss over it. He's a nice fellow. Mind your manners.

The three of us are leftovers from past resets. We came here on that ferry just like you, but it's just us left now. 'Sides the Lighthouse Keeper, but it'll be a bit before you get to meet her. She's got control over the town, see, and if she ain't satisfied with a group's performance, they get the axe. Town gets reset. If she pulls a reset on you folks, a couple of you might end up like me and Will here, giving this speech to the next crop."

The red beam of the lighthouse pulses over the group, over the trees. Winters glances up to watch it swing out over the bay.

"But don't hold it against her. Ain't her fault we're in this mess, and we've all got a job to do, including you.

For now, concentrate on accepting your lot, yeah? We're here to answer your questions, but we ain't gonna tell you all there is to know just yet. Some things are best learned on your own, and some of it we just don't want to saddle you with yet. There's a limit to how long we can stay here safely, that's true, but thing is, we do got time. Time enough to play this smart. Do better than the folks before us did. Settle in, make peace, explore a bit if you're up for it. Use these first couple weeks to come to grips. You ain't gonna be any good to the town if you don't sort yourself out before worrying about what comes next.

So listen up: You're dead. You died. Whatever your old life was, it's done now. None of us can go back, so all we've got is forward. Welcome to Beacon. Could be worse, yeah?"

ooc.

Hey there, wonderful players, and welcome to In the Night! For this intro log, all three NPCs will be available for chatting with, whether your character wants to make casual conversation or ask questions about all this. The headers on each NPC toplevel are there for easy reference as to what each of them are responsible for, but you're welcome to go to any NPC for whatever reason. You're welcome to assume your character has overheard any NPC conversation to learn more about the game. After the NPC threads have died down, we'll compile the info learned ICly and add it to the game history page. If your character would contribute something specific to the game history records, let us know!

DELIVERIES

The following packages can be found in the cargo hold:

• The monthly store restock

QUICKNAV
comms	|	network • logs • memes • ooc
pages	|	rules • faq • taken • mod contact • player contact • calendar • setting • exploration • item requests • full nav

Comments

nathan drake | uncharted | ota

[nonscriptum]

day 001

[ Death isn't exactly a stranger to a guy who tempts the damn thing on the daily - or used to, until he got sucked back into the mess from which he had previously dragged himself. The first couple hours were spent quietly compartmentalizing, a defense mechanism he's perfected since he was seven, before allowing it to really sink in.

From one godforsaken city to another, the crumbling ruins of Libertalia exchanged for a tidy little town he could see in the distance, his palms itching and the need to get away from the crowd growing exponentially with every passing second. Nate doesn't look his best the the bonfire or even at the inn, wearing clothes that have seen mud and worse, scrapes on his arms, a sharp and bloody gash at his temple.

He's friendly enough, though, with a small smile and a general laissez-faire attitude that says his current state is one with which he is intimately familiar. The bar is comfortable and the liquor has enough bite to make him feel like he's alive.

There's a glass tipped in your direction. ]

This is gonna sound crazy, but it's not my first time in a place like this.

day 002

[ So accustomed to having an assortment of useful things strapped to his belt, Nate almost didn't realize there was a lantern there until he found himself reaching for the rope and hook at his side. It doesn't provide the kind of wattage he'd like, but then, his flashlight is apparently all but useless and its placement on his hip serves as little more than nonfunctional nostalgia for the time being. He won't ditch it yet. It's just heavy enough to throw at something if necessary.

It doesn't take more than a day for Nate to shake off the malaise and get away from the buildings with all the people, and his first destination is the general store - only so long he can wander around a score of folks looking like he does and not get funny stares, so a change of wardrobe is in order. ]

Uh. Hey, could you pass me that shirt?

[ You know, the Henley that looks about his size, sitting on the shelf in front of you?

Cleaned up and blessed by the miracle of new clothing - if Purgatory was going to take away the sun, the least it could do was give him decent pickings to wear - Nate immediately sets off exploring. He doesn't stay in one particular place for too long, frequently pulling out a sketchbook to scribble something down before tucking it back into the bag at his belt, his primary aim being something between general absorption and orienteering. Whether you can spot him is another thing entirely, as Nate's jaunt about town takes him on the roof of The Invincible, further away to the town hall, and over to the church, the last of which he spends a particularly long period of time in, kicking at a door in the floor that won't open.

But for the most part, he's inseparable from pencil and paper, flashing a quick smile at anyone who walks into conversational range. ]

I'd say it's a nice night for a walk, but it's always night, so...

wild card

[ Nate will legitimately be climbing on top of buildings like an agile spider monkey of a man, so spotting him on any (and all) of them is not only highly likely, but a definite thing. He has an insatiable curiosity and need to document objects or places of interest, so it's possible to run into him pretty much anywhere, doodling away, tongue in cheek. Don't be shy!

Re: TDM threads, I'll continue with pretty much all of those and will assume they'll be canon with some mild finagling here and there unless otherwise prompted, so just let me know! Hit me up on on discord at uncalendula#5439 or at uncalendula if you want to talk something out! ✨ ]

day 002;

[originallutece]

[She's seen this man before.

Not, as one might first think, in another world. That would just be silly. But rather on rooftops, climbing up drainpipes like it ain't no thang-- and it's bizarre, but more than that, it's familiar. And she thinks she knows what he's doing.

She catches him on the ground, scrawling, and when he looks up, she beckons to him. Stand up, because she isn't going to kneel.]

I assume you're making a map, yes?

[Did she just ignore his attempt at a cute little joke? Yes. Move on to more important things in this conversation, Nate!!]

[nonscriptum]

[ It isn't unusual for him to get a little zealously in the zone when working. Nate has a tendency to shut things out, and barely registers what's in the periphery despite his lazy greeting from his crouch until the presence doesn't go away, and he finally lifts his head only to double-take.

He looks at her for a long moment, slightly less pale than he remembers, but the arched brows and shock of red hair are unmistakable. The woman from the jungle on that other planet, making crisp observations in an equally crisp accent, which also matches the memory he has of her when she addresses him.

Nate stands, brow wrinkling. ]

Uh- yeah, a map. Rosalind, right?

doodle day

[withsadness]

[It's only a matter of time before the two run into each other in their drawing adventures. They collide in front of the town hall, and Mary looks from the building, to her sketchbook, to Nate's! And then, in a bout of encouragement, turns her around to show him her attempt at drawing the building.

It's about as refined as one might expect from someone her age.]

Lookit!

[nonscriptum]

[ As a general rule, Nate tries not to barrel over children when walking around, but sometimes it just happens, and there are a lot of distractions at present. The more accurate statement would be that the little blonde girl effectively walks into his side, but he's charmed over irritated.

Especially when she turns her paper around to show him after noticing the book in his hands. ]

Oh.

[ Without prompting Nate crouches to a more respectable level for a small human, looking over her handiwork. ]

That's pretty good.

day 001

[tribridfreakshow]

[Liquor was always the way her family like to wind-down, but it wasn't something quite as readily available for a teenager at boarding school. Sure, the kids like to have parties in the woods after dark with kegs and cheap vodka, but that would require her wanting to go to a party, which frankly? No thanks.

She gets herself the most familiar thing she can find from a bottle of bourbon, poured into a glass without ice. She hasn't actually taken a sip yet, just staring into the dark liquid pooled in the bottom.

The corner of her mouth tilts up at his statement. Hope doesn't look much better, though the blood on her clothes and the smears of it on her face don't seem to have any source; those wounds healed up presumably on the ride over here by ship.]

Doesn't sound all that crazy to me.

[She finally puts the rim of the glass to her lips, taking a small sip and trying to hide the face she makes as it burns down her throat.]

[nonscriptum]

[ Nate didn't drink a lot when he was a teenager, mostly because he was still too skinny back then to not have it hit his liver and mental faculties immediately, but he certainly isn't about to raise an eyebrow at another young person pouring a glass of alcohol at the bar. He ordered some of the hard stuff for an old man trapped in a fourteen year old's body earlier, so, you know. ]

I can see that.

[ Now that he's looking, now that the blood is well and truly evident, and Jesus Christ there are a disconcerting number of dead young people in these parts. Nate notices the wince. ]

...you want something that tastes better?

general store

[pure_havoc]

[this? please, take it. Cao Pi's distaste for these shirts manifests as a small snort under his breath]

There's no accounting for taste when you're dead, I suppose. I'll have to stick with this... [gesturing at his slightly charred layered tunics and coats. Which, he had been speaking to this particular fellow about over text, what do you know.]

[nonscriptum]

[ Nate will accept the Henley in question and he will look only briefly, mildly offended at the assertion that this is a fashion faux pas. It's comfortable, practical, and doesn't have blood all over it. As far as he's concerned, it's better than what he's wearing. ]

And walk around looking like you tripped and fell into a fireplace? In that shirt?

joker's wild

[chardismastic]

[ The thing is, it's damned difficult to see Nate climb and leap and probably fall flat on his face while up on the roofs. Not when it's this damned dark all the time. The one thing that gives him away is the glow of his lantern when he gets close enough, some will o' the wisp darting in between chimneys and buildings and in this case, the spires and arched peaks of the church roof. Rafe has come up here once or twice already, wanting the full experience of his new lodging and comparing every inch of it to the one he'd spent almost half his life in back home.

His lantern is looped on a cord tied round his shoulder to give him what little illumination he can eke out of it, which is definitely not enough to stop him rounding a corner of a spire and nearly walking smack into Nate clambering over the edge.

Of freaking course. ]

Why am I even surprised.

[ An exasperated sigh as his shoulders drop, the better to glare at Nate and the intrusion on what he already considers "his". ]

Back off, all right. Get your own roof.

[nonscriptum]

[ He isn't anticipating the company - though at this point he should - and Nate nearly loses his grip on the edge of the roof when a shadowy figure cast in dim light emerges from the darkness cast over the gable. ]

Crap-

[ He hisses, fumbling briefly and pulling himself up and over the side. Maybe it would have been easier to let go and fall a few stories and risk the broken bones. At least there are medics around, and he wouldn't have to listen to the smug voice he's sure is about to give him shit for something else. Dusting his new jeans off Nate huffs a bitter laugh. ]

I didn't see your name on it, Rafe.

wild card ⇢ the church

[rehabbed]

[ The heavy church door groans open, spilling an eerie blue glow onto the stone steps that lead down to the overgrown stony path. Out slips a skinny guy — baggy jeans, shaved head, black hoodie. In his hand, an Erlenmeyer flasked lantern with a blue butane flame burning away within it — that's the source of the eerie cool glow. A lit cigarette dangles between his fingers, which he brings up to pinch between his lips as he casts a nervous glance around him. Cigarette now dangling from his mouth, Jesse moves quickly, quietly to the edge of the crooked steps, his free hand yanking away at his jeans button and fly, and he's fishing that hand into his jeans to pee onto the weedy garden and statue down below when he hears a sudden sound right nearby.

Hand ripping out of his jeans, he whips around. His sudden movement makes his undone jeans sag low around his scrawny hips. The eerie blue glow changes angle at being lifted up to fight against the swarming darkness that smothers the endless night. Jesse's ears burn as he listens to the silence, wide spooked eyes darting this way, that way. What the fuck was that sound? ]

I can't believe this is how they're meeting sdjfgbsjkgbj

[nonscriptum]

[ The sudden sound is a muted thud followed by an arguably PG-rated swear. Nate checked his shin against one of the low walls around the church with the immense talent and grace of a man who isn't looking where he's going, because he's too busy walking and scribbling at the same time. Though the throbbing is less than minor and subsides almost immediately, he attempts to exercise more care in his walk and looks up long enough to see the cherry of a lit cigarette floating in the darkness, a blue flickering that reminds him of Shambhala, the ancients, and the resin.

Nate lifts his lamp.

The figure of a young guy swims into view, not overly clear given how dense the shadows are, but there. What is clear is that Nate caught him in the middle of a piss, so he pointedly tries to concentrate on the man's face, bathed in that odd phosphorescent light. ]

Um. Hey.

wildcard-ish

[voktys]

⟪ It has been a couple of days, now, and Melisandre is finding herself with so many hours to fill, suddenly. Who would have thought the war occupied her this much, day in and day out? In Asshai, she would be dedicating her time to her practice, or scripture. At the Wall, she would stare into the hearth, eyes glazed over, looking for Stannis, seeking victory again and again.

Here, she could still scry, of course. For once, she doesn't want to know.

So instead, she has taken to exploring, and the only point truly missing from the church, trapdoor aside, is the belltower.

Imagine her surprise when she looks out from a window and sees –– ⟫

By God, what are you doing?

⟪ Who let this absolute maniac scale the church? ⟫

[nonscriptum]

[ The belltower is small compared to the one back in Madagascar, and while not particular challenging in terms of climbing it serves as one of the tallest points in their little community outside of the town hall. Nate, who is doing his damnedest to gain some perspective that might give him any idea of what lies beyond their current borders, isn't having a great deal of luck with his mapping. He can attribute most of the disappointment to the fact that it's pitch-fucking-black in this afterlife, which as afterlives go is already pretty bad.

He nearly loses his handhold when a woman he didn't realize was there leans out one of the openings in the belfry. ]

Oh, crap- Uh. Hi?

[ Hanging from a piece of masonry with one hand Nate uses the other to give her a little two-fingered salute. ]

Just...checking out the view.

Day 1

[spitefullight]

[ Elden had gone to the inn, setting his lantern on the counter to at least give some light to the other denizens of the bar. He was just drinking from a glass of water, having partaken in alcohol before and...well not liking it much. So, when he see's this man sitting beside him looking like he was pulled out of a wreck Elden can't help but stare a little nearly missing what they had to say.

His mouth is a gape a little just trying to process exactly what they were saying. ]

Uh, two questions:

First, are you saying you've died before and went to a creepy dark after life?

Second, are you wanting like...someone to fix your clooothes...or your faceeee....you're like...super messed up looking. [ wait that came off rude. ]Well, not in a bad way, like you've just been thrown down a muddy hill.

[nonscriptum]

[ First of all, WHY is there a CHILD at the BAR- ]

...yeah, I got knocked off a cliff.

[ Nate turns a little, raising an eyebrow at the teenager next to him. He's sure it's well-meaning - kids tend to just say whatever comes to mind regardless of etiquette or lack of invitation - but it only serves to remind him that he does, in fact, look like he's been to Hell and back. ]

And I didn't die before- [ Not permanently. ] -I've just been taken from my world and- you know, dropped into another one. For a while.

ROOFTOP SHENANIGANS

[fogey]

[ five spends time exploring, himself: the docks, the town, the strange buildings, and even a little of the forest. there might not be many people he can pump for information, but he can investigate, at least, on his own. try to find out as much about this strange ghost town (christ) as he can.

eventually, he considers the roofs. a good birds' eye view could answer some questions, give him a better sense of where they all are. so he teleports, reality rippling around him on the ground and opening to let him jump out on a roof.

where nate is.

he doesn't startle, but he does narrow his eyes disbelievingly. ]

What are you doing up here?

[ five, he could ask you the same thing. ]

[nonscriptum]

[ Nate is perched on the edge of the roof, legs dangling over the side and lantern providing just enough light for him to sketch. It's the kind of lonely distance away from people that he likes, the perspective he needs to center himself when everything in his head is clamoring for space and attention.

The soft sound of soles on slatted shingles has him lift his head, a quiet step has him turn, and the words have him raise an eyebrow. Normally he would hear someone find their way up here, and normally people are loud.

Five - fifty-something year old man in a child's body that he is - is almost entirely silent. The question is so utterly preposterous and accusatory that Nate looks offended, and immediately retorts: ]

What are you doing up here?

parkour wild card

[policier]

( Javert is out on the streets more often than he is not, lurking about in the shadows, keeping a sharp watch out for anything concerning or suspicious. He has his lantern by his side and his police uniform on, looking every inch the terrifying inspector that he was when he was still in France.

He doesn't notice anything amiss until he rounds a corner and sees movement out of the corner of his eye. He raises his lantern toward it, and startles a bit when he realizes it's a man climbing up to the top of the roof. )

You! ( He snaps out loudly and angrily. ) Get down from there! You'll break your neck.

[nonscriptum]

[ Nate is out on the rooftops, as expected of his ilk. There's something distinctly claustrophobic about the streets in the dark, buildings pressing in against the stone and funneling the way to and through their various resources. Like a maze, one they're all trapped inside of, winding further into the shadows, branching and forking, going nowhere and everyone all at once.

Up high, he has the advantage of perspective. It even feels brighter, somehow, with the lights below him, lanterns and fires alike. He's halfway up a drainpipe when the relative peace is interrupted by a sharp cry, a voice he recognizes from somewhere.

Turning over his shoulder Nate spots a man in relatively old-fashioned garb, hair cropped short, presence strong and insistent and a tad accusatory. It takes all of three seconds for Nate to loosen his grip and slide all the way down the pipe, landing on his feet at ground level only a yard or so away. He eyes a uniform more keenly in the dim lighting and pegs it as belonging to some kind of constabulary. ]

There a problem, officer?

day 02

[preseance]

( he ain't... patrollin' exactly. it was a duty medics were mostly exempt from on account'a their value. if one of them gets hit — and love had only a handful besides — then the whole platoon is fubar'd until reserves can haul in a new fella who's often green as the day is long.

no. a medic's job is to stay alive. so he ain't patrollin', he's just. lookin' around some. seein' if there's anything else he can requisition for the clinic he an' wade are puttin' together at the church.

nate's comment gets a smile, though, and gene ducks his head in an acknowledgin' nod. )

Don't mean it ain't.

( ain't a soul out here tryin' to kill 'em yet (yet, gene's hopeful about folk but he sure ain't naive). he heads over to where nate's sittin' hunched over his sketchbook and takes a seat beside him, adjustin' his lantern to aid in the shinin' of light on the book itself, though he politely avoids lookin' too close at it. writin' an' art are intimate things whenabouts he's from, an' he wouldn't like to presume too much of a day's acquaintance. )

Hey, Nate. You holdin' up all right?

[nonscriptum]

[ Nate would argue that looking is a valuable skill, followed up by touching, but in his express case the two go hand in hand and frequently end up getting him into trouble either which way. There's nothing for it, really, when you're the kind of person who attracts dangerous scenarios the way magnets attract iron filings.

It's good to see Gene. Nate shifts a little as he settles, not so much making room as turning somewhat to better invite him into company. The lamplight helps too, as his own only does so much and it's not as bright as he'd like - not as bright as it should be, for a ship's lantern. He smiles in grateful silence at the gesture and his pencil rests, unused eraser tapping the paper. ]

Yeah.

[ It's an automatic response, something he doesn't think about too much as he tips his head in Gene's direction. ]

Just, uh. Thinking about some stuff I left behind. You?

day 002

[chivalrouswench]

[ Nate is going to have to forgive her for instictively pulling a knife on him when he plonks down on the ground from one of his trips up to the roof of The Invincible, though she doesn't actually make any sort of move to attack. He just startled her, is all, and the constant darkness makes her a little extra jumpy.

The fact that he still manages to smile and joke reminds her of both Jaime and Hyle Hunt, which immediately causes a knot of guilt to tie itself so tightly in the pit of her stomach that she manages to somehow cut herself on the blade whilst returning it to its sheath. ]

Seven Hells...

[ A hissed oath before she sucks the blood from her wounded finger, glad that the darkness is hopefully concealing most of her intense blush. ]

[nonscriptum]

[ It isn't the first time someone has pulled a knife on him, and Hell, it probably won't be the last. It isn't even the first time a woman has pulled a knife on him - a blonde woman, no less - in a dark street, and Nate has the most curious sensation of déjà vu before he decides that there isn't really any danger.

She fumbles the blade back when she realizes he isn't here to steal her wallet and cuts herself, and Nate immediately closes the distance out of concern. ]

Hey- Hold on, I might have something for that-