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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[ The thing is, it's damned difficult to see Nate climb and leap and probably fall flat on his face while up on the roofs. Not when it's this damned dark all the time. The one thing that gives him away is the glow of his lantern when he gets close enough, some will o' the wisp darting in between chimneys and buildings and in this case, the spires and arched peaks of the church roof. Rafe has come up here once or twice already, wanting the full experience of his new lodging and comparing every inch of it to the one he'd spent almost half his life in back home.

His lantern is looped on a cord tied round his shoulder to give him what little illumination he can eke out of it, which is definitely not enough to stop him rounding a corner of a spire and nearly walking smack into Nate clambering over the edge.

Of freaking course. ]

Why am I even surprised.

[ An exasperated sigh as his shoulders drop, the better to glare at Nate and the intrusion on what he already considers "his". ]

Back off, all right. Get your own roof.

[ He isn't anticipating the company - though at this point he should - and Nate nearly loses his grip on the edge of the roof when a shadowy figure cast in dim light emerges from the darkness cast over the gable. ]

Crap-

[ He hisses, fumbling briefly and pulling himself up and over the side. Maybe it would have been easier to let go and fall a few stories and risk the broken bones. At least there are medics around, and he wouldn't have to listen to the smug voice he's sure is about to give him shit for something else. Dusting his new jeans off Nate huffs a bitter laugh. ]

I didn't see your name on it, Rafe.

[ Rafe arches an eyebrow at the inherent grace and elegance in front of him without bothering to offer any kind of assist. They both know Nate doesn't need it to right himself and he wouldn't accept it even if he did. At least Nate can be grateful as he's spared any smugness because when Rafe answers just sounds... Tired. Very tired.

Still bitter, though. ]

Didn't say it was. Just hoping to keep the building in one piece for a week before it's completely demolished.

[ And going to stay that way for a while yet. ]

...Really?

[ The bitterness is shared. It isn't uncommon for people to open fire on him as soon as he gets within a mile radius, but those kinds of folks tend to be the sort he doesn't want to hang out with, anyway. Usually because they're doing their best to kill him.

Here, at least, he has some small amount of anonymity besides Kyna, Wash, and Rafe. ]

You're blaming Saint Dismas' Cathedral on me and not the people from Shoreline who actually triggered the booby trap?

[ Rafe crosses his arms, wholly unimpressed. ]

I'm pointing out a highly persistent trend where you're concerned. Unless you want to stand there and tell me to my face that's the only site you've had a hand in blowing all to hell.

[ Although it's also yes, he's blaming Nate for St. Dismas'. At least in part. Even if he'd received the debrief afterward, letting him know exactly who baited Shoreline into that particular flavor of stupid. But one Drake was as good as the other, right?

(No, they're really not.) ]

Yeah, okay. Human wrecking ball. Got it.

[ Nate inhales deeply and as he sighs, he represses the eyeroll that threatens to move so quickly it could give him whiplash. ]

I won't knock the church down, I'm just- trying to get my bearings, okay? It's dark as Hell out here.

No, I hadn't noticed.

[ Thank you, Captain Obvious. But again Rafe's tone isn't as barbed as it could be, as it probably should be. It's just brusque and tired, stepped right off a transatlantic red-eye flight. Rolling his shoulders to try and shake it off, leaning back against a spire and looking off to the south. The bonfire is visible, red light washing up between the buildings crowded round it. Everything else is pitch— Save for the lamplight centered on each of them. ]

I'm over here. [ He doesn't bother with a segue. And then before Nate can say something smart-assed about it, some kind of obviously you are, dickhead, he clarifies: ] Not at the Invincible.

[ It's one part staking a claim, one part...disclaimer. Nate isn't one of his favorite people right now and the feeling's mutual, but the town is small enough that they're like as not going to be stuck seeing each other for a while yet. Unless something monumental happens. Least this way, they can be aware of each other. Wolves skirting shared territory. ]

[ Good thing Rafe supplemented that helpful bit of information or Nate would have been a smart-ass, as evidenced by the immediate opening and subsequent closing of his mouth. His lips thin out but only in mild confusion, brow knitting together while he tries to determine if Rafe just has some kind of deep-seated love for cathedrals now after what happened at Saint Dismas'. He never was the kind of guy to put stock in religion when Wall Street made more sense.

Maybe it's just a warning. A designation of territory, drawing a line. Pity that kind of thing only really works when someone owns real estate outright, and isn't camping out on public property. ]

Thought you would've staked a claim there.

[ ~~Called it. Jackass.~~

It's not a recent development, but of course Nate wouldn't know. How even after everything that happened there, how things had ended, Scotland still offered a certain peace. How Rafe kept coming back time and again, regardless of the progress (or lack thereof) finding Avery. Rafe had always rationalized it for the remote location to get away from the people and the business that he couldn't stand, for it being a transit point to wherever he was aiming to go next, but there had been too many hours spent in those ruins for Rafe not to have found a strange sort of faith after all. In God? Hardly, but...in the place? Maybe. ]

You kidding? In that Black Friday rush? [ He scoffs. ] No. Figured there had to be another option somewhere, one with significantly less of a crowd. Hence—

[ A shrug. And then there's just simple practicality winning out. ]

[ Leave it to Rafe Adler to decide that the inn full of peons wasn't good enough, that taking up residence on the only holy ground - that they know of - would suffice. It doesn't stop Nate from his mild confusion about the logistics of such an occupation, though he might have missed something in his initial pass through the church. ]

What, are you sleeping on a pew?

[ There is an awkwardness that builds precipitously in the silence that follows an accusatory question, and Nate hastens to add an amendment. ]

...Not. Like I care, just. Is there a sacristy I didn't know about?

[ Had Nate not tacked on that addendum, Rafe would've likely let it slide— Another smartass comment from a well-documented source, one more offhanded judgment of Rafe and his choices in a long string of the same. But before Rafe can drag himself clear of resigned annoyance and answer, Nate blurts out more words. He hadn't assumed anything of the kind because of course Nate wouldn't give a shit but... Huh.

For a long moment, the silence builds again as he stares — the familiar blank expression while reassessing Nate's words. Eventually: ]

Nothing that large. Just a couple rooms off the nave.

[ Maybe he ought to be a little smugger about finding something the great Nathan Drake didn't, but it's dark as hell and they're both dead and besides, isn't as if they don't both know what the real feature of the church is. ]

Guessing you missed it, checking out the trap door.

[ He tries not to squirm under that dead-eyed stare. Rafe always had a knack for making someone uncomfortable by just looking at them, and that much hasn't changed in the fifteen years between Nate fleeing Scotland one night and their last meeting in life under the ruins of a pirate city.

Nothing that large. Nate raises an eyebrow but doesn't say anything about it. Maybe he expected something different, but he doesn't know what. ]

Yeah, was kind of preoccupied trying to open the damn thing.

No shit.

[ There's no teeth behind the curse. A weird rustic town, a church with zero distinguishing features other than its mishmash design, and a mysterious trapdoor leading to who knows where? Of course Nate was trying to get it open. Anyone with half a brain looking around Beacon should be doing the same — hence Rafe's little discovery. ]

Wouldn't have done you much good though, [ And all right, maybe now he can be a shade of smug. ] It's only got another door underneath and round two's a little more high tech.

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INTRO LOG: JULY

joker's wild

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