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

QUICKNAV
comms	\|	network • logs • memes • ooc
pages	\|	rules • faq • taken • mod contact • player contact • calendar • setting • exploration • item requests • full nav

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Blessed be our encounter in the light of the Lord.

⟪ She says it fast, like a reflex, like it is less a phrase and more one word, and it is still in the same startled tone as her initial address to him. Should she reach out to him? He is taller than her, this seems like a ticket to death – well, further death – for them both. ⟫

Could you refrain from dying on the one piece of holy ground we have been granted?

⟪ These things need to be done properly, after all, if they are done at all. Then, she remembers that perhaps this is not the best way to go about this – in terms of it being a first meeting. ⟫

Would you like assistance or is there more foolishness within you?

[ The absolute immediacy of that prayer reminds Nate all too well of the nuns who would catch him fighting in the yard of the orphanage, who would drag him by his arm back to the rooms and give him Hell on behalf of the Lord God Almighty. It only takes half a moment of recovery before she really addresses him, however, and Nate exhales a short laugh. She isn't the first person who's caught him up here, and she probably won't be the last. ]

You know, I hate to disappoint, but-

[ He takes a hot second to assess the width of the opening, pursing his lips and concluding that it is more than wide enough for her to stand where she is safely while he swings inside.

Nate does so, landing on his feet and flashing her a sunny smile as the lantern at his belt sways and flickers. ]

I'm pretty sure I've got a terminal case of foolishness.

It appears to be a defining feature.

⟪ The exasperated tone is neither dignified nor mythical, but it cannot be helped. Half of her is watching him as if she has a hard time predicting what he does next (even though all he does as of now is stand beside her with a cheery smile), the other half wonders if R'hllor could have granted her ten of his making for the battle against the Great Other. ⟫

Is it what brought on your death?

⟪ Never has she been one to beat around a subject, and at least in this world, she won't predict anyone's death as a form of greeting. Little things. ⟫

Surprisingly not?

[ Yes, even Nate is surprised, shocked and aghast.

After living through everything else it seems pretty ironic that death by falling was that way he bit it, but the world works in mysterious ways and maybe it was simply tired of keeping him alive. ]

It wasn't actually my fault, so I guess that's refreshing. I take it you weren't climbing buildings when you...?

⟪ She laughs, no, she had not been climbing buildings, though the entirely nonchalant way with which she turns around to reveal her back –– hair brushed forward so he can see anything but red, red locks –– only to reveal a set of gashes and tears and blood-red staining –– may be off-putting to some. ⟫

I did die high above grounds, on a Wall made of ice. I suppose I cannot judge you as freely as I am tempted.

Holy crap.

[ It's not the kind of reveal he anticipated, seeing as one generally doesn't expect such an intimate disclosure when one has just climbed through a window to greet a stranger, but here they are. He almost reaches out - out of concern, mostly - but catches himself, knowing it's presumptuous and looking aghast. ]

Are you okay, does that- I mean, do you need help with it? [ Nate gestures to the clean cut at his temple. ] Like, bandages or something?

Huh? ⟪ This is significantly more concern that she had expected, and she turns to face him again as if suspected some ulterior motive, though he really mostly just looks taken aback. ⟫ No, the ones which went all the way through are all healed, the rest is just... cuts and slashes.

⟪ So used is she to pretending to be more of an eldritch horror than she is that she expected anything but concern. Fear, maybe. ⟫

It is not the worst injury I have sustained in my time. ⟪ Yikes, now she feels almost a little bad for unsettling him. She likes to unsettle people on purpose. ⟫ Ah... Would you like to see the rest of the church? From the inside?

It's not the worst injury I've seen, either, but that doesn't make it better.

[ Cuts and slashes are nothing to shake a stick at and Nate isn't exactly fond of seeing them on other people - it's different when it's him, knowing what he can and cannot take - let alone very red women with a diction that presupposes better etiquette than his own.

Nate wonders if she needs new clothes. He wonders if she cares. ]

You sure you don't wanna see it from the roof? [ He feigns seriousness, and cracks another smile after a second. ] ...I'm kidding. Yeah, that's fine. I'm Nate, by the way. Nathan Drake.

I was made for fire, not for ai– ⟪ but he already opens up about it merely being a joke, and she does offer him a smile in return for his own, even if there is some degree of relief in her eyes. The Wall had been much higher than the church, reaching a good hundred foot high, but she had not spent much time atop it.

Only when she was walking with Stannis at nighttime, every nighttime, in spite of the darkness and the height. No need to think of it now.

The odd statement of being made for fire might explain, in this comparatively small space, while it feels a bit as if he's standing by a human-sized radiator. ⟫

Nathan Drake. ⟪ The 'Drake' part is a struggle, her rolling, lilting accent having no time to fit into so few syllables. ⟫ I am called Melisandre. I am a priestess, this is why I chose this building. Come on then –– ⟪ and with that,s he heads on down the narrow stairway, lantern lighting the path. ⟫

[ He can tell she isn't a fan of heights. People have a certain look to them, and he'd never pressure anybody into standing at the edge of a cliff no matter how much he personally enjoys the sensation of near-weightlessness. ]

Um- [ Oh, there she goes. ] Okay.

[ Nate trails after her a little uselessly, mouthing Melisandre to himself as they descend the stairs. ]

So...what exactly are you a priestess of?

The Red Temple of the Faith of R'hllor.

⟪ She can half-turn to watch him even as she descends – much as she dreads darkness, her former home has taught her how to navigate in near-permanent shadow, and unlike this place, there had been stricter laws on taking light to them. Most often, those laws could be summarised by 'don't'. ⟫

In Asshai, specifically, though... if you do not recognise me for a priestess of the Red God, I do not suppose you have heard of Asshai, or any other Essosi city. ⟪ Lightly: ⟫ What of you, Nathan Drake? What have you dedicated your life to?

[ Nate recognizes none of that. Not R'hllor, not the Red Temple, not the countries to which she refers. This isn't uncommon, seeing as people come from different places and different time periods, but the complete lack of any context has him mentally filling in blanks with a presumptive attitude he probably shouldn't be adopting. Call it a defense mechanism born of Catholicism. ]

Yeah, can't say I know those countries. Nations?

[ No idea. Maybe she can draw him a map.

At the foot of the stairs and wandering back into the main worship space he contemplates the questions that follow, as they aren't especially easy to answer. ]

I used to chase the mystery of what happened to an ancestor. [ Alleged ancestor. ] I used to chase a lot of mysteries. Solved some, too. Found cities that other people thought didn't exist. Cultures they assumed were myths. They weren't thriving anymore, when I found them. Just bones.

Essos is a continent. The largest there is in my world, with city states and kingdoms and such. Asshai'i is a city, and... shall we call it self-governing?

⟪ She doesn't think it'll be easy to go into detail, but they reach the room with the candles and the pews she's so fond of, and he speaks of what he does in his life. ⟫

An adventurer? Or a scholar? Both?

⟪ She motions for him to sit with her in one of the pews, curiosity clearly sparked. ⟫ Many in my world do not think Asshai is a true place, though there is trade. Some do come to see it, for its powers and its mysteries, but those who come for the purpose often fall to its curses. ⟪ There's a moment of sadness, though. But, on a more 'fun' note: ⟫ Strange to think you might have ventured there, a millennia or two from when I lived. What was your favourite find you made in life?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

INTRO LOG: JULY

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject