INTRO LOG: NOVEMBER

[inthenightmods]

INTRO LOG: NOVEMBER
OLD FAT BOAT

characters: everyone.
location: the harbor, and around town.
date/time: november 1-3.
content: the ferry's back! yay! and it's piled high with goodies! yay!
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.

•••

To everyone's surprise, the ferry does indeed arrive on schedule. Right on time, it comes chugging along toward the beach, though its usually noisy engines are silent. And it seems to be sitting quite low in the water... Hmm.

Unfortunately for those unlucky enough to find themselves onboard, there isn't yet a replacement dock for the one that was destroyed last month. The ferry stops right where it would normally anchor, but then... that's it.

Logistically, there's good news and bad news: The good news is that the ferry is only about 25-30 feet from shore, which is well within the safety of the harbor and is a manageable distance for swimming with an open flame. The bad news? It's... 25-30 feet from shore, which is going to make unloading supplies, er, tricky.

The usual monthly stock has also come in, but, oh, what's this? There's an awful lot in the cargo hold. An awful, awful lot. As a matter of fact, the boat is absolutely filled with food and goods. The storage areas are packed tight, but the bounty spills out onto the decks, and even into the cabins. It's entirely possible that some of the newbies woke up surrounded by potatoes, or with a carton of eggs balanced on them. Maybe even in a pile of Beacon's signature standard clothing. In short, the ferry has become a proverbial horn of plenty.

Where all this stuff came from is one mystery, but another is how to get it all to shore. Better unload it before the weight sinks the ferry again! Just kidding. (Or are we?)

At a glance, the only thing out of place on the ferry is that the door to the bridge is welded shut. Seems a small price to pay for this resurrection though, doesn't it? Besides that one door and all these goodies piled high on the ship, it's almost as if the ferry crash never even happened. Maybe things will be okay after all?

Or maybe the new arrivals will have something to say about that. 🤔

And speaking of newcomers, the tablet and the town have some resources available for getting acquainted with their new situation! In fact, as soon as they're prompted to enter a network username, an app containing all sorts of useful welcome information will launch. Newcomers can always check out the weekly bulletins and the records in town hall as well, and everyone's welcome to get in touch with the NPCs through their inboxes.

ooc.

Hey there, wonderful players, and welcome to In the Night! For this intro log, you are officially without a chaperone. Rastus is back at the bonfire, Will is characteristically elusive, and Robin is, well, you know where she's at. It's up to the veteran residents to fill in the new folks.

As hinted above, it's also up to veteran residents (and newbies alike) to figure out the missing dock situation. Some efforts have already been started to rebuild the structure, but until that's done, the logistics are in your hands! Swim for it, fly for it, teleport to the beach, or maybe use one of the rafts or boats built earlier to shuttle people to and fro. Whatever you do, just make sure you get all the cargo (and people!) off the ferry before it departs.

As an additional note: We will NOT be tracking how you do all of that! There's no need to report salvage efforts to us, as by now, we trust y'all players to make things happen. So long as we see these challenges getting addressed ICly, we'll assume the town came together and figured it out somehow. Nice work, everyone!

DELIVERIES

The following packages can be found in the cargo hold:

• The monthly store restock
  
• A smorgasbord of other items; though limited in scope to the items typically found in the restock/stores, there's an abundance of everything.
  
• And that's it. With the fate of the ferry uncertain, Rastus was unable to order deliveries last month. :(
  
• ...Except for a single box of blueberry Poptarts for Peter Parker.

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

Comments

iv. do you have regrets yet? cw. scars.

[magnitudes]

( Sarissa's moving quick. Too quick to get hung up on details, like how much she would like to not be pulling off her shirt, and exposing the litany of scars across her back. An arrow runs down her forearm, colours swirling around it, and the old injuries on her back are layered over with seemingly countless small tattoos. )

I gotta take a look.

( The accent is broad, thickly Australian, and she doesn't bother looking towards her present company. Her lantern rests on the deck, and as she coils her shirt into a rope, she loops it around the railing. )

Clues are clues.

( And a lack of impulse control is very much... well, you know. Lacking in impulse control. )

[maisel]

Clues are also easier to get when you're not pitching yourself overboard.

[ It's said so fast it's hard to believe it was an entire sentence and not 6 syllables. Midge's gaze flicks from the scars to the strange markings (tattoos?) to the shirt and to the girl, all in the process of about 10 seconds.

She is absolutely taking off her coat, though, to reveal a just as chique 50s dress underneath it. Is she anticipating the other jumping overboard already? You bet. ]

I love Anything Goes by George Gershwin as much as the next person, doesn't mean I want to reenact it. You shouldn't, either.

[magnitudes]

I'm not throwing myself into the water, calm your farm.

( By contrast, Sarissa's speech sounds slow, stretched out, as she hooks one of her legs over the railing, tying one end of her improvised rope around it.

She glances to the woman, peeling off her coat, and holds up her lantern. )

Se-ttle, Jack Dawson. I'll be fine.

[maisel]

My farm is calm. It's the calmest it's ever been. Green pastures, as far as the eye can see. I'm just in the mood to witness someone falling to their death this late at night.

[ She's eyeing the Australian warily, and takes a few steps forward, heels clacking as she does so. She doesn't know who Jack Dawson is, though, so she'll settle for taking a few more steps forward, glancing around, looking for someone to help her get the absolute insane person in front of her down. ]

[magnitudes]

Jesus Christ, I know what I'm doing, okay?

( She checks the knot she's tied and jerks on the impromptu rope to test it, before glancing back out to the lights she saw, and holds out her lantern. )

I saw something out there. Could help figure this shit out.

( Or it could just be her poor impulse control, either or.
And with that, she sets her lantern in her teeth, and swings herself over the side with considerable ease, keeping one arm wrapped around the railing as the other loops the rope around her wrist a couple times. )

[maisel]

[ Does she? Does she really know what she's doing? On one hand, Midge is feeling a little better about what's going on--mainly because she's way too distracted by the sheer monumental force that is this absolutely insane, stubborn Australian.

On the other, she's really wishing she had a glass of wine right about now. ]

Please be carefu-- [ she doesn't finish the last sentence, gasping and rushing forward the moment she sees the other lower herself. ]

[magnitudes]

( Sarissa laughs, shaking her head once she’s got the lantern out of her teeth and back in her hand. Setting her feet against the side of the ferry, she tugs the shirt-rope to test it, and leans out, pulling the rope taught as she holds up the lantern to see. The light makes the heavy scarring across her back and the patterns of flowers and bones and lines to map out constellations clear - but only for a brief moment.

So brief that Sarissa doesn’t get a chance to so much as be a smug bastard about her endeavours, in fact. The shirt rope fails, and Sarissa fucking hurtles onto the water, with the painful slapping sound that betrays an outright belly flop. )

[maisel]

[ Midge would take in all those scars if she had an actual chance--and she will, later, because all she really sees is one complete idiot lower herself down, slip, and she can only get out one thing as she blindly tries to grab Sarissa in an absolute panic: ]

Fuck--

[ Good news: she's got the lantern. Bad news: Sarissa is overboard and she can't actually see that far down. ]

Oh my God--somebody help!

[magnitudes]

( When she hits the water it’s with a painful, resounding slap that she doesn’t really get to process because it’s so fucking cold.
The breath is knocked right out of her, and as she desperately tries to draw air into her lungs. She can’t, she’s just sinking, with her stupid shirt still wrapped around her wrist as she disappears under the water.

As she keeps sinking, unable to move because her whole body feels frozen, glowing— something start moving towards her. Wrapping her around her, and holy Jesus, it feels like Ha fling a raw chicken carcass, bone pulling under the weird glowing flesh, and hhgrrhhr nope.

It’s kind of cool, too. She’d take more time to wonder and be in awe, if she didn’t fall unconscious.



Some time later, and somehow - no one will really see how, mind - Sarissa is unconscious on the deck, soaked through. She’s very pale, breath weak and shallow, and her pulse is weak. Her shirt is still wrapped around her wrist. She’s an idiot, ask her anything. )

[maisel]

[ It doesn't happen right away--or maybe it does, Midge's concept of time is a little skewed when she's panicking. She leans over the railing as safe as she can, shouting, making an absolute fuss--there's no acting, no sarcasm, she's genuinely worried--and when she turns around to try and physically drag someone over she sees--

The Australian? There she is, laying on the deck, like some invisible force has just plucked her out of the water when no one was looking, unconscious and sopping wet. Midge nearly trips over her high heels to dive down to her, hands blindly trying to find a pulse. She winds up awkwardly stooping over the girl, leaning down so her hair brushes the other's cheek.

Okay. Okay, she's breathing. She's breathing! Good. Breathing's good. Breathing's great! ]

Hey! [ She has no idea who she even is, but Midge is still shouting. ] Hey! Wake up!

[ This isn't working. Shit. Midge, still panicking blindly, does the next thing she can think of--she slaps the other as hard as she can, right across the face. ]

[magnitudes]

( The sharp pain across her face makes Sarissa gasp, hand instinctively snapping upwards to grasp the offending wrist tightly. Her eyes are briefly feral and intent, the sting resounding through her cheek.

Recognition is what keeps her from following it with a brutal punch. )

Buy me dinner first, sweet hopscotching fucking Christ.

[maisel]

Don't yell at me, I thought you were dead!

[ So back off, Sarissa, even though it wasn't even a yell. Worry is still etched all over Midge's face, looking not at her scarred and tattooed body, but instead directly at her. ]

You fell, and then you just sort of appeared here! Are you alright?

[magnitudes]

My face ain’t feelin’ great.

( She releases Miriam’s wrist, and glancing down at herself, grimaces a little bit. Like she’s shrinking away from the other woman, almost, as she grabs her shirt and starts to uncoil it, awkwardly tugging it onto her arms. It’s difficult when it’s soaked through, and she makes a face as she ducks her head. )

I’m fine. Don’t sweat it.