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

[spitefullight]

Hm. Yeah...it's unfortunate the outside is so...run down looking. I can help fix the place up in exchange for the pillows.

[ He had done so much work for Fellengar's church of Falesta so why not here too?

Honestly, the fact this place was so rundown and the state this town was in? It was very symbolic and reflective of Fellengar's state before the Inquisition, his friends started fixing it. At least the inside of this place hadn't been touched by whatever corruption lay outside of it...the exact opposite of what his church had been so long ago.

When the room opens into view for him, Elden can't help but admire it just a bit. While to her it might feel like the colours of fire, he can only see the colours of the sun. The colours of dawn and dusk and a bright afternoon. For a moment he's a little lost in it as he steps inside, his fingers playing at the set of red and yellow prayer beads around his wrist.

Told to take the ones she offered but the instruction of needing to repair them with needle and thread he gives a small smile. ]

Oh, that's not a problem. It should only take a second for them to be in good shape. [ He doesn't bother to wait for her to ask, because why would she need to? He steps over to the more worn down of the pillows and waves his hand over them. The divine words leave his lips as what could only be described as the air around his hand begins to ripple, like waves of heat. The pillows that had holes in them with stuffing leaking out soon begin to stitch themselves back together slowly, the stuffing pushing back inside of it. Picking one up he begins squishing it to test the firmness. ]

There, all fixed.

[voktys]

⟪ Fascination and suspicion mingle in her expression with equal fervour. On the one hand, he has worked magic, and it does not seem to hurt nor haunt him, spoken a language she has never even heard in all her life, though she is familiar with at least the basics of many. Young he is, or at least, appears to be, too young for such mastery in her own world. ⟫

I must decline your help, I fear. ⟪ She tilts her head. ⟫ Such things are costly where I learned my ways. Take the pillows as an offering of... a truce, shall we say?

[spitefullight]

[ He would've thanked her in kind if not for the last bit she said. A truce? And what this about costly? Did she also have to expend certain amounts of spells per day too? He didn't see the big deal currently. There was no battle to be fought or war going on.

He turns to her with the most perplexed look on his face, his head canting curiously towards her. ]

Um....you don't need to give them to me as a truce. We're...we're not even fighting.

[ She's gone from helpful to...well, something else entirely. ]

Are you sure you don't want my help fixing what's around here? I really don't mind.

[voktys]

⟪ There is no way to ask the question without giving something about her own powers away that she keeps close to her chest: in her world, magic is painful, draining, it costs and costs and costs. Small things, sure, and again, Melisandre has had several hundred years to expand her strengths beyond what most practitioners can do ––

But that is not quite what this boy exudes, unless he is something altogether sinister. ⟫

What is it you are truly after?

⟪ Oh, sweet paranoia. ⟫

[spitefullight]

[ The way she asks it? It begins to make him wonder what was going on in this woman's mind. It's not hard to tell she was beginning to sound anxious and when she asks the question, he's left with more confusion.

Hadn't he told her already? Or was she thinking he had some other motive. Instead, he raises his hands in a bit of a surrendering motion; ]

Nothing, I just wanted to help, that's all. But, if you don't want it than I'll just go, okay? No fuss.

[ At least that's one thing he'll take away from what he and the creepy eyed man discussed. Don't offer it if people are going to be ...weird about it. At least for the time being. ]