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
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pages	|	rules • faq • taken • mod contact • player contact • calendar • setting • exploration • item requests • full nav

Comments

[fogey]

[ a stray cat is such a hilariously apt way to describe him, like, melisandre absolutely has his number. ]

Had a bad past experience once. [ later, she'll probably put two and two together; he is absolutely talking about The Twinkie ] Put me off them, mostly.

[ "mostly" because even he's self-aware to the fact that he's literally eating a candy bar right now. ]

You can ask. [ he'll pause to swallow, letting that hang there for a second. ] Number Five.

[voktys]

⟪ once you reach a certain age, there's no rush, unless maybe you're particularly eager to play some medieval bingo. in this case, she lets him chew and swallow before he answers, though he can see her whole body seizing up when she hears what he calls himself. ⟫

Oh. ⟪ numbers are no rarity in essos. ⟫ I was Lot Seven once. ⟪ these are not words she says out loud, not ever, but then, she very much believes she is speaking with a fellow child slave. ⟫ I call myself Melisandre now. There is nothing else you go by?

[fogey]

[ it's been a long time since five had reason to think anything of his name.

oh, he was angry as a child; they all were, in their ways. unlike the others, he didn't bother with getting a real name from their mom. but when he fell into the apocalypse, there was no one to call him by any name, aside from delores. at the commission, with names like the handler or cha-cha, five hardly raised an eyebrow. wouldn't have anyway, since they all already knew about him; had watched him survive the apocalypse like a favorite movie.

he's paying attention enough to see her visceral reaction to his answer, lowers his hand with the candy bar as he listens to her. lot seven sounds cold even to him; and he's seen enough to history to begin to grasp at a guess where it came from. ]

There's nothing else I go by. [ then, ] You have the wrong idea. My old man didn't see the point of names; numbers were more straightforward.

[ slightly bitter, maybe. but conveys a point, possibly: his dad, or at least the only dad he ever knew. ]

[voktys]

Neither did the slavers. Why name your possessions? ⟪ she's had a name, her mother gave it to her –– but it is long ago, and she does not remember the woman's face. she recalls her desperate scream, in the depths of night, but she can't even be certain it's the truth, and not some fiction cooked up by the little girl she'd been.

for a moment, she stares into the flames, trying not to think of the cruelty of a man who would give his own son nothing but a number to go by. ⟫

Would you mind if I called you something else? A by-name of sorts?

[fogey]

Jesus.

[ he's not entirely surprised, of course, but hearing it said aloud is different from suspecting. i call myself melisandre now; her mannerisms; her way of dress. which is to say: that she gained her freedom at some point. that now she's a freewoman, with the memories to haunt her. shit, of course they do.

he gestures, one-handed, says, ]

Go ahead, if you come up with something. Nothing stupid.

[ much as she's clearly not in a place to jokingly call him something ridiculous. ]

[voktys]

⟪ she does give it some thought, weighing some options. it has to something which suits him, and it should not be asshai'i, for she does not wish to curse him. valyrian, then, proper high valyrian. something positive, she thinks, but then, he has a cynical streak, and the habits of a fighter, plus a quick wit. ⟫

Egros? ⟪ he... does not look even a little essosi, so she adds an explanation. ⟫ It is Valyrian, and it's the term for the sword's edge. It's sometimes used for swift wit, too.

[fogey]

[ turns that over in his mind; as promised, it isn't stupid. he doesn't mind it, either. there's maybe something to consider that even a woman he just met, one who thinks him enough a child to hand him a chocolate bar, looks at him and sees a weapon. number five; the blade's edge.

( you were always a killer; i just pointed you in a direction.) ]

Suit yourself, [ he says, which is as close to a yes as he'll get. stray cat, indeed. ] I've never heard of Valyrian. That's a common language, where you're from?

[voktys]

⟪ stray cat, and her background has her wondering how many scars his long-sleeved overshirt is hiding. ⟫

A majority language – well, there are nineteen variations of it, so in as far as one can speak the lot of them, one can communicate with many people around Essos. ⟪ something like a shrug. ⟫ I did not wish to call you something in Asshai'i, there is no need to curse you in casual conversation.

[fogey]

[ fewer than there once was, is for damn sure. missions with the umbrella academy may have left a couple of lasting marks, at most. clumsily self-treated wounds, the constant violence with the commission, left more.

(he has to wonder the same about her. jesus christ) ]

To -- what?

[ curse...him... ]

[voktys]

⟪ the only unusual mark on her, the only thing that could not be fully removed with the ways of the temple, is a small tattooed mark on her ankle, the symbol of the trader who'd sold her. not that he can see it, but... well. it's summer, she can't keept to her riding boots forever. ⟫

To inflict a curse upon you. ⟪ a bit wide-eyed, as if she'd just expected him to... know that is a thing. ⟫ Most people in my world can tell from the, ah, everything about me that I practice magic. Asshai'i is the language of the Shadow Lands, and like the city itself, it can be fatal.

[fogey]

You can curse people just by speaking the language?

[ he sounds more interested than doubtful, anyway. five's spent enough time in the past to be familiar with speaking to people who sincerely believe in things like magic, witches, demons, and ghosts. he's also a time traveler who can teleport, his brother speaks to ghosts, and all of his siblings (save vanya) have super powers, to say nothing of the way they were born. he doesn't immediately believe in her magic, or her shadow lands, but he doesn't immediately disbelieve either. ]

[voktys]

It would bring ill luck, at most, so no powerful curse. Though outsiders don't fare well in Asshai, and the language is just one of many reasons. Shall we say, it would be considered both rude and insulting to call you something of it.

⟪ there is a hint of amusement to her voice – he'd seemed quite keen on pointing out rudeness earlier, after all. ⟫