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

raylan givens, justified.

[ultimatums]

» 001. FIRST DAY

[ all of this – the place, the people – is a little much for raylan to be taking in at once, so he sticks around wherever he is for quite a while before he moves somewhere else. his lantern doesn't look much like anyone else's, which is aggravating him, since it's the exact same as the horribly out-of-date lanterns that would hang from the ceilings back when he worked the mine. if it's some sort of cosmic joke, then he's not laughing.

the bonfire holds some interest to raylan for some time, a fire in a place that absorbs all other light. besides, it's warm, and he's not alone here; there are plenty of people to talk to. even if he's too mightily pissed off that he's here at all to be initiating any conversation, he cuts a pretty strong figure in his hat and cowboy boots.

later, he finds himself in the invincible, because of course he does. he'll be at the bar as long as he's able, skulling bourbons, mildly less peeved with some alcohol in him, enough that he might be inclined to joining a conversation, if not necessarily starting one. if you catch him in a good mood, though – probably shortly after a refill, he might be more prone to chat: ]

You think everyone around here oughta be taken on face-value? [ he glances over his shoulder, expression not incidentally suspicious. ] Seen some real unsavoury folks skulkin' around in the shadows.

» 002. SECOND DAY

[ apparently people around here don't necessarily need sleep, but raylan gets in a few hours anyway, to kick off his bourbon haze. waking up in the pitch-black is still horribly disconcerting, and he has no idea how long he's been out. picking up his lantern again to go downstairs is another moment of irritation that's set his face back into its ornery scowl.

as much as he'd been complaining of skulkers yesterday, he ends up doing a fair amount of it himself. his first order of business is checking out the general store, which reminds him to an unpleasant degree of mags bennett's store back in bennett county. he doesn't actually want anything from here, mostly he's just looking to say that he looked, so when your character drops whatever item they're thinking of picking up and it rolls against his boot, he doesn't stop before he bends down to pick it up and offer it back. ] Least it's intact. Although I admit I'm a little curious to see how those forest things would get across 'you break it, you buy it.'

[ otherwise, he'll be around, poking his head in various buildings including the church and the town hall. if he happens to walk in on a room that someone's taken for a living space, his brow furrows as he leans in the doorway, one hand on his hip. ] You know there's a whole inn back thataway, right?

» 003. WILDCARD & NOTE

[ feel free to grab him wherever, try to get into his and scarlett's bedroom, text him, push him into a puddle, knock his hat off his head, WHATEVER! i'm up for all of it!

here is the NOTE! ok, so: i really want to keep a bunch of tdm threads going, so if it's my turn on one of them then i'll go ahead and drop my tag in the replies to this post for specific folks! if we have a tdm thread and you want to handwave it rather than keep it going, that's totally fine by me – let me know in the discord or on plurk (crowders)! i'm also absolutely open to multiple threads, if you want to tag in to one of these but i've shot you a tdm thread reply then PLEASE go ahead and do that!

one addendum – just because as far as i can remember i didn't have many threads with raylan as the victim in the chained-to-the-tree scenario from the TDM, i'm not really all that interested in keeping those game canon! but feel free to tag me elsewhere and we can get some cr going. also, if your character was the victim in that sitch, i'm definitely happy to keep that going! ]

@withsadness!

[ultimatums]

[ cont'd! ]

[ raylan can't help the plaintive ] Shit! [ that blurts out of him the second she says that. he makes a face. ] Pardon my French. What'd someone wanna murder you for?

[withsadness]

[She really wants to repeat "Shit" but instead she'll just pout as she looks down at her swinging shoes.]

I dunno...they didn't like me. They thought I was a bad girl.

[ultimatums]

Who's they?

[ for some reason, the image of a bunch of murderous preschoolers creeps unbidden into his mind. it's not very funny under the circumstances. ]

@facelessgirl!

[ultimatums]

[ cont'd! ]

[ the crease in raylan's brow deepens into a furrow at that brief, telling flash of vulnerability, although it means more to him that she'd covered it up than the fact that it had been there at all. clearly, this is a girl who's spent a long time having to be stronger than people expect of her, and not only that, but having to prove it, time and time again. he relaxes in the doorway entirely, not because he thinks she's unlikely to lash out at him still, but because that's something he'd be able to deal with. ]

No. Not a one.

[ briefly, thinking of the afterlife, he'd entertained the possibility that his momma might be here, possibly aunt helen too. but the longer he's been here, the more he's starting to realise he wouldn't wish it on either of them. ]

You wanna come on in? Take a load off? [ it's not overt sympathy, just practicality. they're having this conversation out on the corridor and anyone could be listening, which isn't inherently a bad thing, but – that's not the point. sometimes conversations just don't need to be heard. ]

[facelessgirl]

Me either.

[ And that has her worried. She eyes him and his offer with a scrunched little scowl though, glancing between him and the hallway. If she leaves her room, or this room that she's chosen to stake out, she'll probably lose it. There are far too many people wandering around and not very many rooms. Perhaps he's just asking so she'll invite him to do the same, and she's not about to fall for that. She leaves her arms crossed, nonplussed look on her face. ]

I'm fine. Used to it. [ At least that's not a lie. Arya is used to training, long days spent without sleep, testing herself. Being tested. She hasn't truly failed one yet.

She's not completely in an unfriendly mood though, and she stays leaning against the door frame, gives him a glance up and down, clearly more comfortable than before. Even though she's not letting him in. ] What's the giant hat for?

i cant bELIEVE HOW LONG THIS TOOK ME IM SO SORRY

[ultimatums]

[ well, if that's how she wants it. raylan shifts the leg onto which he's leaning all of his weight, tips his head to one side. it's a good question, actually, and if he thinks too long about why he wears it then he'll probably uncover something about himself he doesn't quite like. ]

Keeps the sun outta my eyes. [ ha ha. the irony isn't lost on him, which is why he's grinning like he just told a real christmas cracker of a joke. ]

@fogey!

[ultimatums]

[ cont'd! ]

If I wanted to be offensive I'd be offensive.

[ not true, exactly, but at least now he knows where he stands. ]

Since you didn't ask, I take personal offence to Clint Eastwood references. Much rather have the Butch Cassidy treatment.

[ it's really a sign of strength that he didn't just try to call five the sundance kid, so. be happy, five! ]

[fogey]

Good to know.

[ zuko voice: i'm never happy. ]

So you admit to being a cowboy impersonator.

@kungfuey!

[ultimatums]

[ cont'd! ]

[ he laughs at first, because – of course he does. it's not much of a laugh, just a snort through his nose, and then he looks up at her and his goofy, half toothy grin shuts off abruptly, eyes narrowing. ]

You're puttin' me on, [ he says, although she doesn't seem like the type, and this whole place is magic, and everyone is dead, and his stupid mine lantern won't go out. so, all things considered, she probably isn't joking. but god, he hopes she is. ]

[kungfuey]

[ It's been a long time since she's seen a reaction like that, the amusement that turns to disbelief. To his credit, he rounded the corner towards acceptance a lot faster than most. In the early days of The Rising even seeing it with their own eyes didn't make a believer out of folks. That's why so many people were dead now.

She doesn't flinch, her gaze steady as she watches him working through it. Her initial response to those words, the raising of her eyebrows in a silent challenge of his denial. ]

A few years back Yellowstone finally blew a gasket. Blanketed the sky with ash. With the ash, came the vampires. We called it The Rising.

[ Her voice lacking the gravity those words should have demanded as she pulls off one of her arm guards. ]

@originallutece

[ultimatums]

[ cont'd! ]

[ he shakes his head, lifting his shoulders in a loose shrug. ] Well, if it's between fried chicken and gettin' your ass shot to death by a SWAT team, I think he figured he might as well swallow his pride. [ a beat. ] And some bourbon. [ ha ha. shit, he is so funny! the funniest man who ever lived, maybe? jury is out, but who's here to say no? ]

[originallutece]

[She is not laughing. She seems a little bothered, honestly, even as she orders another wine (which, like, she's a small woman and that's at least her third, never mind what else she might have had before).]

But-- what was the point at all? Surely he had a, a goal to go to all that effort. And then all it took to make him stand down was food? There isn't a logic to it.

@nonscriptum

[ultimatums]

[ cont'd! ]

[ it's a weird, kind of horrible moment of self awareness to see himself as someone else sees him, the hat and the squint. does he really look like that? he's caught up staring at it for far too long, so when he looks back at nate it's a second before he remembers that he'd asked him something. ]

Uh. Sure. [ good. still a little bit speechless. it's not like he's obsessive about it, not like it's pages and pages of drawings from all angles. there's other people in here. he even recognises some of them. he points at one. ] That Kyna?

[nonscriptum]

[ It's a weird, kind of horrible moment of self awareness to have drawn someone, subsequently forgotten you drew them, and then hand over your sketchbook to the person in question without even thinking about why that may or may not be totally creepy. The silence hangs between them and Nate is just fixing to clear his throat when Raylan blessedly speaks again. ]

Uh, yeah.

[ Thank God, something else to latch onto so he doesn't drown in the awkwardness he cultivated. Nate rubs at the back of his neck. ]

Yeah, I knew her in another place before this. Her and her boyfriend, Wash.

001 » the invincible

[chardismastic]

Kind of a catch-22, isn't it? [ Rafe shrugs. ] If nobody's above suspicion, can't exactly trust your assessment either, buddy.

[ Kentucky, meet New York — one drawl to another. The booze isn't anything top shelf by a long damn shot but Rafe can't care right now. Hell, he'd take rubbing alcohol if the smell of it would just burn the rest of it out of his nose. The tang of gunpowder and smoke that doesn't seem to be going away any time soon and leaves a momentary grimace on his face to be wiped away with another shot of rye. ]

Besides. [ A quiet snort at the choice of words. ] Not as if there's anything but shadows in this hellhole.

[ultimatums]

[ raylan turns his head to get a look at him and catches a whiff of him all at once. it makes him recoil just a little, giving himself a few extra chins until he sorts himself out and leans forward again. ] Oh, I'm sorry. [ there's a little affront in it, but mostly it's good-natured, a little ribbing. ] I don't remember signin' up to the buddy system. [ ha ha. raylan makes a face and has a sip of his drink. ] Anyway, the abundance of shadows only makes it that more likely we got ourselves a collection of ne'er-do-wells.

day two ⇢ the church

[rehabbed]

[ One second, Jesse is slumped against the wall on a makeshift bed of mismatched cushions on the floor, in the small cloistering room off to the side of huge main part of the church. He's dozed off — skinny shoulders slouched, legs splayed, a smouldering cigarette pinched between his fore- and middle finger with his hand limp on his thigh. He looks like a junkie that's passed out.

But the next second — the door opening, the voice slicing through the choking hallowed silence: Jesse jolts awake with a startled upright jerk and gapes up at the unexpected intruder for all of half a second, before he's suddenly a scramble of legs and feet shoving himself up off the floor. His feet kick cushions this way and that as he moves; he almost trips, catching himself just in time while confronting the guy with a wild stare. Jesse, dressed in baggy jeans and a hoodie and a close shaven head, couldn't look more out of place in a church if he tried. There's a strange, eerie blue glow in the room — it's coming from Jesse's lantern, an Erlenmeyer flask lantern with a blue butane flame within it. ]

Get the fuck out, yo!

[ultimatums]

Shit, I'm sorry. [ raylan holds up his hands as if to prove he's not armed, and technically he isn't, since his gun is in its holster on his hip. it's none of his business, but this kid looks like a tweaker in a major way, and it's not just the immediate, overpowering paranoia that's kicked in simply by having a guest at the door; there's a wiry underfed energy to him, the way he's thrumming immediately, within seconds. ] Believe the common parlance is to put a sock on the door if you don't want nobody walkin' in on you while you're crankin' one out.

[ it's a joke, probably not one the kid is going to find very funny, but still. if anything it looks like he was sleeping, which seems like an easy thing to have fallen into surrounded by the cool blue light coming from his lantern. ] I'm just lookin' around. You don't gotta get your jimmies all rustled on my account.

001 → invincible

[webshoots]

[ peter opts for coffee — or whatever passes for it here; the taste is — questionable, but it's hot, at least, and that's enough for now.

there's a flicker of hesitation, eyebrows knitting together in a broad approximation of 'what do you mean by unsavoury?' when raylan mentions folks skulking, but it quickly shifts into a quirk of a smile and peter lifts his shoulders into a light shrug. ] You know there's nothing but shadows, right? I wouldn't even know how to skulk, but—. [ a beat, and he holds a hand up — empty — and gestures vaguely in the direction of the windows. 'it's dark: i've probably skulked.'

as for the question—. ngh. ] We're all in this together. [ there's a 'but', there: face value? no, definitely not. peter's dealt with enough unsavoury that for as much as he'd like the answer to that question to be 'yes', he knows that would 1. be stupid, 2. be naïve and 3. stupid. (also: hypocritical.) ] Which means that if we want to figure it out, we're going to have to work together, but it'd be naïve to think that everyone's going to be [ uh— ] open straight away. [ and dead or not, they've all apparently, as far as face value and appearances go, just been through Traumatic Shit. ]

[ultimatums]

[ that's a point, and raylan knows it, but the idea of waiting until someone decides it's time to start fucking everyone else royally up isn't exactly in raylan's wheelhouse. he'd much rather be one step ahead. it doesn't make sense to him that everyone here is a "good person," whatever that even means any more. especially in his line of work, he's seen more criminals go down than well-meaning innocents, which begs the question: where the hell are all the criminals? sure, he's met functionally shitty people here already, but none of them strike him as murderous or intent on stomping on everyone's mildly good time. they have to be somewhere, though. ]

Yeah, excuse me if I ain't wide-eyed and bushy-tailed enough to accept the kumbaya approach. Call it years of intuition. [ for the first time since they've struck up a conversation, he actually gets an eyeful of who he's talking to. as far as raylan's concerned, peter might as well be a college student, his actual age notwithstanding. still, though, he doesn't seem to be talking out of his ass: inexperience is the kind of thing you can usually smell on someone, and whatever scent he's giving off, it isn't that of an ingenue. ] You put enough people in a place where they can do whatever the hell they want without fear of consequence, you're not only waitin' for shit to hit the fan, you're paintin' on your clown makeup while you do it. [ he gestures with his glass of awful bourbon. ] What'd we do to stop 'em? Kill 'em?

@auspex!

[ultimatums]

[ cont'd! ]

[ he makes a good point, enough that all raylan does is let his lips pull down in a fair enough sort of expression. he's not jaded, exactly, but there's enough of a mishmash of folks around here that he's inclined to agree that it won't take long before someone decides they're done playing happy families in the inn.

strangely, though, raylan's having the exact same thought: if things hadn't gone horribly awry, eugene here would be old enough to be his grandfather. a crazy thing to wrap his head around, and one that doesn't bear thinking too long about since he's looking at gene right now and all he can think is that he needs a decent chunk of sleep and something to eat to ease out that furrow in his brow before it becomes a permanent wrinkle.

the concern is showing on his face, plain as day, and he's conscious of it although there's not much he can do besides accept that it's there, so gene's going to have to do the same. ]

I doubt it. He raised my father. [ if anyone's the rabid dog in this equation, it's arlo givens. just the thought of him makes raylan's lip curl. ] Tells me everythin' I need to know about the man.

[preseance]

( an' that's the crux, ain't it. raylan ain't a man who wears his concern in any clandestine a fashion, an' it's all gene can do to duck his head in acknowledgement of it. he's seen replacements come an' go, youngest of which was sixteen if he was a day an' swearin' up down and sideways he'd turned twenty just last week. war is boys dyin' for men, an' he ain't never lived in ignorance of it.

see.

thing is.

he grew up in the shadow of a hard war and the plain ruin of a generation. his pa was too young — though lord knows he'd tried to enlist an' been turned away, a fact that didn't even come out of the family history until gene showed up in uniform on his pa's own porch — but his ma was there in the dirt an' muck of france as a nurse. she saw the worst of it first-hand, boys drownin' in their own lungs on account of all those awful gasses they used. an' agathine had its share of veterans. lord, but the war turned those men mean. not all of 'em, but. enough. that when this fella speaks like that, he can see the why of it all, an' hurt for it besides. )

I'm sorry for that.

( an' he is. no sentiment has ever passed his lips without bein' meant honest an' firm. but he ain't gonna dwell on it, and doubts raylan does either. so. )

Anyway. You take any longer to try my pie, I reckon it's my constitutional right as a southerner to challenge you to pistols at dawn, fella.

002 -> church and beyond

[voktys]

I prefer holy spaces.

⟪ Most of all, she prefers spaces that do not hold Brienne of Tarth, for she first needs to soothe the girl into some semblance of peaceability over the murder of that foolish ursuper of hers. Least she needs is a price on her head so soon into this new game they have all been tossed into. Least she needs is a tall, blond shadow who resents King Stannis.

And yes, she finds the church pleasant, has made her space within it pleasant as can be – there is a futon in the corner beneath the window, a small, knee-height 'table' that looks more like it had once been designed as a footstool, cushions around it for seating, and this is where she kneels. Her original robe hangs by the bed – she must fix the holes first, clean out the blood. What she wears now is still red, still a dress, and it took her the better part of the night to complete the sewing of it. She must have been at the inn at one point: there's curtains that match the exact fabric there.

At this point, she is tying knots into a red scarf, fashioning it into a makeshift bag of sorts. Only then, once it is done, she looks at the intruder properly, red eyes and all focused on him with an intensity of sorts. ⟫

I was hoping for a visitor. ⟪ She stands at that, unfolds, rather, an elegant, practiced movement of someone who spends hours and hours every day kneeling in prayer. ⟫ You are no coward, are you?

[ultimatums]

[ whatever raylan expected to walk in on, all of this was nowhere on the list. for a second he just stares, taking in the space and its close, stuffy decoration, the overwhelming redness of it that reminds him of being fourteen and terrified and at audrey's bar. he shakes it off.

he's not the type to just barge in on someone all the way, so he makes sure only to linger in the doorway, hand on his hip, periodically checking that even the toe of his boot hasn't encroached over the threshold. this is a lot to take in and he's trying to catch it all one by one – the place, the fact that someone really is living in the church, the fact that she apparently prefers it that way – so he hasn't really taken melisandre herself in all that much. he'll get to it in a second. right now, though — ]

In that case, glad I could provide. [ now that she's standing, raylan takes a proper look at her. wherever she's from, it definitely isn't where he's from. after a pause, he lifts up a hand to take off his hat, the way you should inside someone's living space. ] Well, I sure like to think I ain't, ma'am. [ a coward, that is, although what's to be gained from bravery is a dubious concept at best. ]