logsinthenight | INTRO LOG: JULY

INTRO LOG: JULY

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

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[She isn't the only one to make her way out from town, from the Invincible, with blankets in her arms. Though in Sora's defense it wasn't his intention to set himself up inside the church, he'd found his way here by- well, almost by accident. There are only so many places that the roads go, and he already knows that if he retraces his footsteps then he'll wind up back near the pier, where he's started settling on his own.

Sora doesn't have the kind of curiosity that sets journeys into motion, and maybe that's the reason he'd kept walking forward. Instead of incentive, Sora's a kind of perpetual motion- the same brand that put one foot in front of the other as the shape of the church came into view.

It looks familiar in a way. The building. It's not the sort of place he'd seen back home, but it's maybe a little bit like places in other worlds- like the one with all the stained glass. Sora's arms begin to droop in front of him, the blankets and lantern he's bundling left in a loose embrace- right up until a warm palm comes down on his shoulder and Sora shouts, nearly jumping out of his skin.]

Jeeze! You could've warned me!

⟪ A jumpy one, he is, though she does not blame him for it, merely smiles and makes certain the boy did not drop one of his no-doubt freshly-scavenged items in his surprise. He looks to be about the same age of Davos' son, Devan. No use thinking of him now, no doubt murdered just as she has been. There are other things Davos will never forgive her for. ⟫

Did I not? ⟪ She tilts her head, red eyes shining in the light of her lantern. The ruby of her golden choker glints, too, though its red sheen casts no light here. ⟫ I must have stepped more lightly than I thought.

⟪ Every bit as light as ever – but it's true that she did not fully intend to startle him. At the Wall, she'd relied on the trappings of power – two guards accompanied her every step, and those were not subtle. That said, she does withdraw her hand. ⟫

No reason to look so startled. The worst has already happened to each of us.

[She's not scary exactly, and he's seen his fair share he thinks. Most of the people he's known that wanted to cause trouble? They weren't all that careful about walking quietly around, they never seemed to care if somebody knew they were there. Sora's gaze lingers on the red of her eyes first and as a result, he registers that she keeps his bundle from falling as an afterthought. It's reflex that has him reaching out, accepting the load that she steadies in his grip.

His lantern swings and it throws their shadows in pieces across the ground.]

Yeah I guess- [His heart still feels like it's going a million miles an hour- but there's something comforting about that too if he lets himself linger on it. A heartbeat. His heartbeat.

She draws away and Sora seems to rise a little bit, to find his footing enough to stand tall on his own. Some people appear confident because they're brash, or because they feel sure of their own strength, and Sora certainly seems undiminished- but it isn't really for either one of those reasons.] But.

[His gaze goes from her, to the church. The bundle in his arms shifts and it comes back again.] I dunno.

I'm not sure it's the worst.

Hm. ⟪ She seems to be overthinking her own words, tilting her head to the side as she does. ⟫ I suppose my death was kinder to me than some parts of my life.

⟪ At any rate, she can't see Sora's bundle of good sway any further. Having been taken off-balance by her, it's in no ieal state. ⟫ Here, allow me to sort it for you.

⟪ He'll be left holding his lantern as she sets hers to the ground, quickly re-folding blankets into a more ordered shap, easier to hold. From her pocket, she draws some string, and ties everything together before handing it back to him. ⟫ Makes it easier to carry, no? Are you thinking of setting up camp?

[On parts of his island there were little eddys and rivulets, where the ocean would make its way up the sand and disappear into narrow caves or rocks, becoming a kind of stream. In a way, talking to her reminds him of that- not of the stream itself, but of the moment where he'd get in up to his ankles only to find himself not just aware of the current, but of his willingness to travel along it. Maybe it's his easy going nature. Sora has always tended towards cooperation, even when it means he's holding a strange lantern in a strange place, while a stranger folds his blankets for him and carefully binds them together.

It doesn't look meticulous, the process. Just practiced.
Like maybe she's been packing her things up and carrying them like this for awhile.

Genuine gratitude is naked on his face as he takes the load back, easing up onto his toes in a reflexive attempt to meet her halfway.] Oh, yeah! I found a place by the pier that'll be okay for now. I just realized I hadn't walked this way yet.

[Without his hands to gesture Sora lifts his chin, as if pointing with his nose in the direction of the church.]

Is this where you live?

⟪ He guesses her in one, reads her better than most all the nobility in Westeros. Growing up – really, beyond that, all the while she had lived in Essos, she had her own matters to tend to. There were servants in the Temples, yes, she had been one of them for some time, but most day to day matters, even as a priestess much later, had required her own two hands, her own too feet, her own bundle to be carried.

But often, a journey was the first for someone younger than her, and just like an elder had helped her, she had to be that elder to them. It was faster this way, and in this place, those habits returned to her. She was no longer walking the walk of a lady, but that of the priestess she had ever been more than anything else. ⟫

It is. ⟪ She looks up to the stained-glass windows, wasted in all the darkness, but beautiful nonetheless. ⟫ Reminds me of where I spent most of my years.

⟪ A look back to the boy. ⟫

The place is a building, yes? I saw some opt for setting up camp, and in summer, that will be pleasant enough...

⟪ But they seem to be trapped her for time unknown, is what she says. ⟫

[There isn't enough light inside for the whole image to be illuminated. Little colored shards run into one another, small pieces of a greater whole that do their part in trying to tell a story. But the further up the pane goes the dimmer and less distinct the picture becomes. The woman shifts at his side to look up at it and Sora takes a step forward, as if that might be enough for him to see the rest of the glass. He isn't transfixed, but it is beautiful.

Sora nods, but it takes him an extra moment to finally pull his gaze away. To look instead at the woman with the red hair and red dress and red eyes. The corners of his mouth tug upward.] I guess that's what everybody's trying to do, huh?

Find somewhere that reminds them of home.

[What kind of person would live in a place like this? It's a little like a castle, isn't it? Because it's so tall?]

Are you sharing with somebody else too?

Yes. Two strangers, one... stranger than the other, if I am being honest, but they were drawn to this place, so I trust there is good in them.

⟪ Those are the options: a man is either good, or he is evil. No in between, no maybes, no ifs or whens. Jesse is trouble, and Rafe is... something, but she fears neither of them, and this is what she generally asks for in her companions. As far as she can, she does not sleep, so there is no oblivion that leaves her vulnerable.

And she is used to sharing her spaces, one way or another. ⟫

Did you find someone from home? I always found places steadier than people, but there is a comfort in beating hearts.

[She says it in such a matter of fact way. Sora doesn't feel a rush of agreement or the knee-jerk desire to contradict her. Besides, has he really come that far from the boy he used to be?

There was a time, back when all of the fighting started, that he'd found it easy and instinctive to reach those conclusions too. Ansem had been trying to spread darkness everywhere, letting it swallow up not just people and their hearts, but whole entire worlds. He wouldn't say he's less certain now, he recognizes something bad when he sees it. But he's also seen good people make bad choices, and then bad people make good choices. Maybe it was always more complicated.

Sora's head bobs, a nod.]

Yeah, I found someone from home.

[Her words ring true for a second time: there is a comfort in beating hearts. As if suddenly aware and self-conscious of it, Sora realizes his folded arms have left one hand pressed against his chest and by extension, pressed to the thrumming underneath. He folds his fingers into his palm, pulls them away.]

But they're kinda the same, don't you think? People and places.

I guess the buildings don't look too different while people are growing all the time. But going somewhere... it's never really the way you remember it. I was away from home for a long time and when I got back I knew all the smells and sounds. It just wasn't really the same.

Maybe that's what memories are for.

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INTRO LOG: JULY

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