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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Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

_{[The next day, he returns.

Although he's searching for the unmistakable red woman--Melisandre--he means not to give her the wrong impression: this isn't a social call. Or one of those other conversations that seems to happen between someone of the faith and a follower. She reminds him strongly of Cressida that way, having seen Castor and Nix seek Cressida out for direction with their thoughts while she'd listened and shepherded, transmuting her faith into nuggets of wisdom.

That hadn't been his way then, and it's not now. Whatever he might have let show in front of her yesterday was a mistake out of weakness, that's all.]}

Hey. You got a minute?

⟪ Today, she is no longer in her blood-stained robe. She has finished sewing herself a new one, and of course, it is as red as ever. Less fine, arguably – no complicated embroidery, but then, she was not at court, and she was never truly a lady in anything but graciously granted courtesies. ⟫

Of course. ⟪ Again with her calm smile and serene tones, even his quiet approach can't seem to startle her. He has found her at the Church, in her own room – easy to find, that, she was singing in Asshai'i, her voice unmistakable. Untouched by her, and opposed to all logic, there is a small pot on the window sill, and it sounds as if the water inside of it is close to boiling. ⟫ What is it your require, M.K.?

_{[Give him a prize--he'd guessed right on the best place to find her. She seems to be settling in at the church well enough, if the meticulously decorated state of her sleeping area is anything to go by, despite living on top of an unknown bunker with a steel-plated door locked from the inside. He almost can't blame her; the church is an ideal spot to escape the oppressive dark for a while.

At any rate, the maddeningly suspicious hatch isn't why he's here, either. He lingers in her doorway, cleaner than she last saw him after a shower, hair brushed and pulled back in a neater tail.]}

You. _{[In a manner of speaking.]} Your eyes, if you can read.

_{[He's halfway through his request when he finds the source of the bubbling noise. That's... weird. His own eyes narrow, but to his credit he only allows a widening pause between words before finishing.

After living with the Master and Cressida, it isn't the first time he's wandered into a woman's room and wondered what the hell kind of witchcraft is in play.]}

Were you taught?

⦑ He cleans up nice, this boy, and she's glad for it –– for his own sake. There was such a relief after the first bath in Beacon, to wash off the grime of death and the Wall and all that the world has slung at her. It was like a rebirth in its own right.

At any rate, she moves to the boiling water, fetches tea bags (so modern! such a twist!) and two mugs, pours it, sets it down to seep and gestures for him to seat himself on a cushion by the makeshift table.⦒

Sit. Yes, I was taught, and I am happy to help ––

⦑ but first things first. ⦒ Happier still to teach you the way of it, should you be interested now or in the future.

_{[Good, so she's capable of reading as well. It would seem this is not to be a wasted trip.

His eye lingers on the steam escaping from the pot, so much so that he lets a beat slip past in his preoccupation before he moves to shake his head and correct her.]}

No, that's not why I'm here--

_{[--to learn. Waste of time. His biological clock is still set to the fast pace of war and the day-to-day necessities of survival; he's quick to dismiss what still seems an impossible commitment with free hours he doesn't have. Pilgrim had promised to teach him afterward. When there was peace. When there was time for such things. Not this... half-life.

From his pocket he produces an envelope and passes it to her across the table as he bends to take the designated seat.]}

I wanted to get your opinion on this. After what you said before, about being a priestess, I thought maybe you had the education for it. One of the spirits gave it to me in an old building I found in the forest the other day.

⟪ she pushes the mug towards him in kind, but ignores her own in favour of the envelope, notes the symbol on it, opens it carefully –– and reads. the paper is faded, she goes over it twice. the script is unlike the ones she had learned and practiced in essos and westeros, but legible enough once one moves past the way time had taken its toll on it.

for his sake, she reads it out loud –– not that it truly makes them any wiser.⟫

This is the quite the discovery you made. ⟪ her voice rings with genuine appreciation, and her smile is gentle and warm, in spite of the message she'd just read for them both. ⟫

Would you mind if I photographed it? ⟪ she lifts her tablet – thanks for teaching her this one, rafe. ⟫ Just in case some spirit comes to take it back, we might appreciate a... copy. For safety.

⟪ and, a tilt of her head, more focus on this than the letter, really: ⟫ We have a lot of time here, it seems. Of course, there is plenty else to do, but as a priestess, it is among my duties and pleasures to share the things I did learn. To read is the least of it, and should not be a privilege reserved for few.

INTRO LOG: JULY

➤ Day 3

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