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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[ rather ironically, gene stands out in his olive drab; he's easy to spot as he walks through the square simply by virtue of the fact that nobody else save for irwin himself is dressed as deliberately blandly. there also aren't that many people to differentiate him from - a substantial portion of beacon's new population seems to still be asleep. there's work to be done, though, and even without the natural cue of sunlight gradually filling his sleeping quarters wade had woken up early without much trouble, as had been usual for him up until his death.

after briefly asking around, it had quickly become apparent that there don't seem to be any medical facilities here at all, but there is genuine danger of injury or death. there also doesn't seem to be anyone else with medical experience, as far as wade can tell, so that leaves two of them and ballpark fifty others, which, compared to the numbers they were looking at during their time alive, is a pretty good ratio - but if something catastrophic happens, that's still a lot of beds. ]

Gene. [ he barely raises his voice when he approaches the man, but it's presumably loud enough to be heard from a few feet away. ] We need to find somewhere to set up. You seen what the situation is in the church yet? Thinking that might be a good place on account of the pews, if they're intact.

( irwin gets a nod of greeting, gene's already lightin' up a cigarette for them to share on his approach. )

They mostly are. Did that recon earlier.

( ain't like he can say 'earlier in the day'. his watch ain't working, an' time doesn't seem to hold much meanin' here. he knows he needs to watch for that in himself. losin' track of time. sure way to wind up goin' crazy if he ain't careful. he takes that first lungful of smoke off the cigarette and then passes it over to wade unasked. )

Wouldn't be a bad place for it. Buildin's fair solid, good stonework an' it wouldn't burn easy. Roof's pitched at a good angle.

( it's unlikely this place'd see a shellin', but it's how he's come to think an' he can't shake it so easy. certain angles are more susceptible than others to incoming artillery. not much, but enough to mitigate the damage sometime. Duds can just bounce off rather'n fall through on momentum alone. )

[ wade would be lying if he were to say that the same thoughts hadn't briefly crossed his mind; he catches gene's drift easily enough as he listens, inhaling slowly before handing the cigarette back. it's a nice gesture, especially given that gene must know by now that this is all they have. ]

Noticed that too. Good lighting from the altar candles, and we could probably light most of it with a few torches. Vestry could be an exam room, maybe an operating room if it comes to that. [ which it hopefully won't - but just like the risk of shelling, the possibility of traumatic injury is always on his mind. ]

There are enough blankets left in the general store to pad some of the pews, and I've asked Rastus about some of the basics. Penicillin, sulfonamides, morphine, that sort of thing. [ a pause. ] No cigarettes coming in until next month... what we have is what we have. [ that statement of the obvious meaning: irwin knows he's going to need to start tapering himself off at a much steeper rate than he would like if he wants to remain relatively functional once supplies run out, and presumably so will gene. ]

Edited 2019-07-03 20:44 (UTC)

( he's already guessed about the cigarettes, truth be told. which is why he lifts the flap up on his shoulder bag an' pulls out several packs, mostly outta the k-rations but a few from commissaries europe over. varyin' sorts, lucky strikes, camels, old gold an' the like. he passes a fair half of 'em on over to wade. )

Used to win 'em off the boys in poker.

( by way of an explanation. truth was, he didn't even hardly smoke none until he came here. seems like it's become a way to ward off idle hands. as he hands over the last pack with a bit of a firm little shake, like he's waggin' a finger at wade — )

PRN.

( he's hilarious, really. but, once that matter's sorted he nods to the talk of drugs. he'd caught some of that conversation, though he'd kept himself clear of it. — )

We oughta talk to folk too about anythin' newer than those. Medicine's come a long way, don't see why we ought to be limited by our time.

( he can do that on his own, though. delegation is a thing you learn hard an' well. )

An' as to surgery — I've had my hands in a fair few, but I ain't hardly expert enough to lead one, especially once the guts get involved. You?

( steady hands are a boon, but it don't mean much when the knowledge just ain't there. )

I was three months into my medical internship when I left for basic. I dissected a cadaver and watched some surgeries, helped with a few outpatient procedures, but nothing more than that. I was planning on becoming a GP if I got out of the war alive, not a surgeon. [ wade punctuates the statement with a rueful, close-lipped smile. and the two of us are the closest thing they have to one. although, again, it's fortunate that there are two of them if a surgery does need to be performed.

[ irwin holds up one of the packs of cigarettes. ] Thanks for these. You've saved a man's life.

[ or at least saved him from a miserable few weeks. wade thanks god he never smoked as much as most of the guys he knew. gene seems to smoke about as much as he does, though, maybe a little less - so the degree of sacrifice doesn't go unnoticed, especially in light of the fact that in some ways wade figures he's still a stranger. ]

Edited 2019-07-05 22:06 (UTC)

Well, that ain't nothin'. My Ma was a nurse in the Great War, an' did all the patchin' up 'round the house when I ran amok. ( eugene percival hicks, amok near every day of the week what ended in a y. he was the despair of his ma every time he came home with some new broken limb. ) Learned some from her growin' up.

( after she died, it fell to him. al was a hellion an' then some, boy was always gettin' in fights an' it only got worse after she passed. he remembers her ghost hovering, brows drawn down in a stern line as she'd lecture al, who mostly pretended not to see her. his anger'd been a thing to behold, an' he never forgave her for dyin'. just like he ain't yet forgiven gene for joinin' the airborne. he ran off to the marines when he was six days shy of eighteen, an' gene ain't gotten much from him since. reggie's talked to him a couple times, ghosts don't see distance the way the livin' do, but accordin' to him al's mostly told him off for the checkin'.

lord, he hopes he's all right. )

An' don't mention it. We're in this together, right enough.

I'd say so. [ he punctuates the agreement with a faint smile at the small comfort of familiarity before lapsing into momentary silence. mothers. now there's a topic - when gene mentions his own, a twinge of guilt, and longing, and a sad sort of affection tugs at the bottom of irwin's chest. ]

Mine was a doctor. Well, both my parents were. Can't say I learned that much from them, though. [ i miss her, he says but doesn't say. again, irwin wonders if that awful letter has reached her san diego doorstep yet, if she knows that he's dead, if they've moved ahead with his funeral back home. he wonders if she'd cried, despite already knowing the answer.

his own funeral. it's strange enough to think about such a thing when you're alive and in constant danger, but a different thing entirely when you have died. to simultaneously want to be grieved and want not to be grieved. ]

( wade doesn't have to say it, gene can hear it plain in his tone. sure, the fella's got a few years on him, is practically ancient by the laws of the army's predominantly teenage fightin' force, but. some things never leave you, an' wade's a gentle soul besides. he'd miss the air for breathin' given half a chance, gene thinks.

he tips his head to one side. )

Just the one'a'ya?

Yeah. Only child. Always wanted a sibling, though. [ wade fills the silence after that statement with a quiet, humorless chuckle, as if there's comedy to an admittedly rather lonely childhood. still do. then mama would at least have one living child. ]

How about you? Any brothers or sisters?

( he gets it. reggie was lonely too, which is probably why he went on an' stuck to him like glue for those years he was in brooklyn, an' the afterlife just the same. )

Three brothers. All younger'n'me. Next youngest's in the Marines, last I heard he was at Guadalcanal. Other two ain't old enough, thank the Lord.

( an' with what he's heard about the war bein' over before the year's out, they won't ever be old enough. john could take it, but the war would absolutely break robbie. he's too sweet an' soft besides. )

Thank God for that. [ and then he quips: ] "Worst time to be born is 18 years before a war." [ he's not sure where the saying comes from or where he first heard it, but there's hardly passed a single day when it's not depressingly salient, even now that he himself is dead. irwin cants his head toward one of the benches further out from the fire, figuring they might as well have a seat.

as he walks in that general direction: ] Your brothers. Were they like you?

( he laughs as he keeps pace with irwin, more on instinct than anything, walking in step. )

Not so much. Albert — he's the Marine — he's a good man, but he's quick to anger an' ain't afraid about how he expresses it. Just as soon break someone's jaw as have a civil accord. John's the next after him, an' he's quieter. Smart as a whip. Can take anythin' apart an' put it back together, pitch-perfect with any instrument he touches. It's a God-given gift, you ask me. Robbie's the youngest, he could tame a damn lion with a smile and a kind word.

( robbie's everyone's favourite by miles, ain't a soul among the family that don't spoil him hard. )

[ wade can't help but to smile as he sits down - gene's affection for his siblings is overtly apparent. could probably say the same of you, he thinks upon hearing his fellow medic describe the hicks' last-born, but he doesn't voice it. ]

They sound like good men. [ and he means it. wade lapses into silence for a few moments after that as he stares up at the embers swirling at the very crest of the bonfire, his far hand resting on the ends of the long thin planks that make up the bench's seat. they barely have edges to speak of - the wood is weathered all but entirely smooth. ]

How many guys you think have sat here before us?

Edited 2019-07-19 04:16 (UTC)

( they are. doesn't bear sayin', though he ain't even been all that much in their company even before he shipped out. when he thinks of robbie, he don't think of someone near a man. he remembers a boy with soft brown curls an' a gaptoothed smile. he basks in those memories not a short moment, lulled by the crackle of the fire before wade speaks again. )

Mm. Hard to say. This place don't feel old to me, not the way Europe did, you know?

( maybe it's that his metric is the dead. not havin' anythin' here but they themselves makes it harder to gauge. but beacon just don't have the weight to it. he shrugs a bit, stretches his boots towards the fire.

soft, )

Darkness is gonna get to folks though. We ought to have somethin' in place for that.

[ irwin's answer is equally quiet. subdued. ] You're right. Maybe some kinda room with a bunch of torches in it if we can spare them. Enough to give off enough light to pass as daylight or something.

[ he's spitballing here - he doesn't attach much weight to the suggestion when he voices it. it's not long before his thoughts wander back to gene's comment on the relative youth of this place; wade can vividly remember the towering hedgerows that separated each of the many knee-high fields they'd walked through on their way to neuville-au-plain from its neighbors. at some point they'd started as brush, then saplings - but such a thought was almost unfathomable when faced with trees older than anyone in the squad. ]

Europe was beautiful. Never thought I'd be visiting it under those circumstances, though. Would've liked some time to go sightseeing. [ a brief pause, before wade adds with a wry smile: ] Can't say France was particularly romantic. Too much gunfire.

[ he holds his near hand out, index and middle fingers spread in a silent request for a drag on the almost-finished cigarette they've been passing back and forth, then exhales in a short, quiet half-sigh as he turns his eyes to gene's pointed toes. ]

Imagine that feels pretty good after your holiday in St. Vith.

( his voice is soft and wistful, )

Oh, you should'a seen her after the liberation. Plenty'a romance then. Some crazy Maqui bastard actually climbed the Eiffel Tower to put the Tricolore back up, you know? Freehanded it. Just scampered up the side. Christ o'Lordy, them's some lunatic men.

( he didn't see it, but reggie did. he'd died in france, after all, an' held
a curious affection for it forever after. the whole town singing la marseillaise and burnin' nazi flags. must'a been a sight.

wade comments on the position of his feet near the fire, an' he wags them back an' forth. the good leather gleams in the low light, because he ain't so far removed from captain st. amos to shirk his shining. )

Honestly, I can't even remember the last time I had 'em off except to change my socks.

[ wade quietly chuckles at that. ] Yeah, well, you might want to once you get back to your tent so they don't permanently fuse to your feet. [ he presents the suggestion earnestly, glancing down at the impeccably shined boots before resuming eye contact as he relaxes against the long, thin planks that form the back of the bench. ]

You enjoy Paris?

( lord, did he? he ruminates some on the fire, then lifts a hand so's he can rub the back of it across his mouth. )

It's a beautiful city. The sorta place you can walk the streets an' feel the history, you know? ( the ghosts. there were so many, some ages old. ) An' it was as good a place as any to brush up on my French.

I bet it was. I like to think I would've gone back to visit sometime after the end of the war, once some of the damage was repaired, but I don't know. [ Wade shrugs, wistful. The rest goes unspoken: guess we'll never know now. He doesn't make any particularly great effort to move the subject away from the fact that they're both dead; he's gotten comfortable talking about such things, or at least desensitized after living in death's looming shadow. Hell, even before war had been declared - by his second year of medical school it was about as familiar as a coworker. All of this having been said, Irwin isn't out to linger on it, either, so he asks: ] You speak French for long?

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INTRO LOG: JULY

prompt D: it's free real estate

free for the taking!! ... does this make them pirates. church pirates??

it makes them hermit crabs

lmao what an image

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