logsinthenight | 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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[Boromir looks up at the voice, and I don't even know if Melisandre would also recognize him as Pretty Much Just Ned Stark, but neither does he, so that's fun.]

Arrows.

[He touches a hand briefly to the torn hole in the shoulder of his tunic. There are two others in his chest. The question doesn't bother him much - it happened, and he has no place being upset about it - but it does prompt him to be rather ruder than he'd ordinarily be towards a strange woman. Namely by returning it.]

And you?

⟪ Melisandre and Ned never had the pleasure, but she's since met Jon Snow in all his Stark-featured glory, and Arya Stark in her original face. She'll draw conclusions, and she'll draw them quick. ⟫

Daggers.

⟪ This is where she turns, to show him her still-injured back – the dress is torn, there, and while the deepest of the wounsd are vanished, she still looks as though she should not be sitting around having a chat. Instead, she'll turn right back, to study him closely. ⟫

A Stark, aren't you?

Hm. A cowardly attack.

[Stabbing someone in the back? Boromir doesn't know why they did it, but if ever he wanted to kill someone he'd do it to their face.

He'd suggest that she should have the remaining wounds looked at, but then she asks him if he's a Stark. Again. Boromir's not quite sure if it's getting annoying or comical. At least he's glad that she isn't another of the family; he knows it was painful for Jon and Arya to see him, and that's an awkwardness he doesn't quite know how to handle.

But really? Why does Lord Ned Stark know so many people here when Boromir hasn't even met anyone else from Middle-Earth?]

No, though you are not the first to think it. Why are so many of us from Westeros?

I wish I could say. Most I have spoken to so far were in some war or other, so it cannot just be those circumstances.

⟪ There is a hopeful, horrified thought creeping onto her as he says he has met many from Westeros, and he can watch her wrangle with herself for a moment before she asks.

She doesn't know how to ask the question, at first, but she gets there. ⟫

Whom have you met?

⟪ Can't ask for a specific name, can't curse her champion quite like that. He needs to live on, and fight. ⟫

Edited 2019-07-09 20:13 (UTC)

[He raises an eyebrow at all of this, but he doesn't see any harm in answering. There's few enough of them that everyone's bound to run into each other eventually anyhow.]

Two of Lord Stark's kin, Arya and Jon. [Gondor not having a tradition of surnames, he hasn't made much of Jon being "Snow" rather than "Stark".]

They shall be glad to be reunited. Jon Snow bid me look for his sister in my flames, she was lost to him for years.

⟪ Her King, she thinks, fights on then. Good. The world has need of him, and she must trust in him as she trusts her God. ⟫

Did they tell you what became of Ned Stark?

Only that he had been killed.

[That he was a good man, and died for it. It hadn't seemed right to ask for any more. Not from his daughter.]

Executed. The girl watched it.

⟪ At least so the story goes. ⟫

I did not know him myself, but the king was fond of him –– the true king, not the bastard born of incest who had him killed.

[Boromir grimaces a little. He's not unfamiliar with deaths, or even executions, but it is a cruel thing to have a man's family watch.

And then, well, there's all the other details that followed.]

How is it he is king, if he is known to be a bastard? Born of incest?

Ah, he has been murdered some months ago.

⟪ She doesn't sound in the least bit sad, but then, he wasn't her king. That said, she'll give the explanation an effort, at least because he bears so strong a resemblance to the Starks that he may run into someone with less than kind interests. ⟫

'tis a little convoluted, and the man whose semblance you bear was quite involved in proving the matter. Robert Baratheon was King of the Seven Kingdoms. His Hand, Jon Arryn, together with Robert's brother – now the true King, Stannis Baratheon –– found ample prove that none of Robert's three children were his. They were conceived by his Queen and her own brother. Arryn was killed, Eddard Stark became Robert's new hand, and began the investigation anew, while Stannis returned to his own seat to prepare for the battles upcoming.

⟪ And to not get executed. ⟫

Then, Robert was killed, and I can only suspect that Eddard Stark found what the others before him discovered, and this is what lead to his execution. The Queen Regent won't admit to her incest, of course, and so now there is a line of bastards which need ridding before anyone true can take the throne.

[Jesus Iluvatar Christ]

It has been a thousand years since anyone sat upon my country's throne. The line of kings died out long ago. [Like, maybe that's easier than dealing with all that shit. Except, well.] Or so it is said.

Or so it is said?

⦑ If that isn't ominous a statement. ⦒

When I was a girl, I rather fancied a world without kings, queens, lords, masters. It sounds lovely.

Before I died, I met a man from the North who claimed to be Isildur's heir. He was a part of my company traveling back towards Gondor.

[He says it with a sort of careful neutrality. Once, he would not have, bloodline or not, but Aragorn is a good man. He thinks he could have accepted Aragorn as king.]

But my father is the current Steward, and I know he would not accept such a claim easily. Even if Aragorn has the chance to make it.

INTRO LOG: JULY

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