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

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

[ irwin's answer is equally quiet. subdued. ] You're right. Maybe some kinda room with a bunch of torches in it if we can spare them. Enough to give off enough light to pass as daylight or something.

[ he's spitballing here - he doesn't attach much weight to the suggestion when he voices it. it's not long before his thoughts wander back to gene's comment on the relative youth of this place; wade can vividly remember the towering hedgerows that separated each of the many knee-high fields they'd walked through on their way to neuville-au-plain from its neighbors. at some point they'd started as brush, then saplings - but such a thought was almost unfathomable when faced with trees older than anyone in the squad. ]

Europe was beautiful. Never thought I'd be visiting it under those circumstances, though. Would've liked some time to go sightseeing. [ a brief pause, before wade adds with a wry smile: ] Can't say France was particularly romantic. Too much gunfire.

[ he holds his near hand out, index and middle fingers spread in a silent request for a drag on the almost-finished cigarette they've been passing back and forth, then exhales in a short, quiet half-sigh as he turns his eyes to gene's pointed toes. ]

Imagine that feels pretty good after your holiday in St. Vith.

( his voice is soft and wistful, )

Oh, you should'a seen her after the liberation. Plenty'a romance then. Some crazy Maqui bastard actually climbed the Eiffel Tower to put the Tricolore back up, you know? Freehanded it. Just scampered up the side. Christ o'Lordy, them's some lunatic men.

( he didn't see it, but reggie did. he'd died in france, after all, an' held
a curious affection for it forever after. the whole town singing la marseillaise and burnin' nazi flags. must'a been a sight.

wade comments on the position of his feet near the fire, an' he wags them back an' forth. the good leather gleams in the low light, because he ain't so far removed from captain st. amos to shirk his shining. )

Honestly, I can't even remember the last time I had 'em off except to change my socks.

[ wade quietly chuckles at that. ] Yeah, well, you might want to once you get back to your tent so they don't permanently fuse to your feet. [ he presents the suggestion earnestly, glancing down at the impeccably shined boots before resuming eye contact as he relaxes against the long, thin planks that form the back of the bench. ]

You enjoy Paris?

( lord, did he? he ruminates some on the fire, then lifts a hand so's he can rub the back of it across his mouth. )

It's a beautiful city. The sorta place you can walk the streets an' feel the history, you know? ( the ghosts. there were so many, some ages old. ) An' it was as good a place as any to brush up on my French.

I bet it was. I like to think I would've gone back to visit sometime after the end of the war, once some of the damage was repaired, but I don't know. [ Wade shrugs, wistful. The rest goes unspoken: guess we'll never know now. He doesn't make any particularly great effort to move the subject away from the fact that they're both dead; he's gotten comfortable talking about such things, or at least desensitized after living in death's looming shadow. Hell, even before war had been declared - by his second year of medical school it was about as familiar as a coworker. All of this having been said, Irwin isn't out to linger on it, either, so he asks: ] You speak French for long?

INTRO LOG: JULY

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject