logsinthenight | EVENT LOG: ENTER MR SANDMAN (DEFENDERS)

Entry tags:

EVENT LOG: ENTER MR SANDMAN (DEFENDERS)

EVENT LOG:
ENTER MR. SANDMAN (DEFENDERS)

characters: those who signed up as defenders for the event
location: all around Beacon
date/time: november 16-29
content: the defenders attempt to drive off a spirit invasion
warnings: lots of horror! body horror, psychological horror, gore, violence, etc.. please cw all threads where appropriate! mods will do the same

in your closet, in your head.

It all happens in a matter of moments. Your friends, your companions, and even some people you aren't all that fond of; everyone who took so much as a bite of the spirits' feast suddenly collapses into a comatose heap. Which is bad enough already, but the worst, by far, is yet to come.

Before anyone can really figure out what's happened to the sleepers, the woods surrounding the town come alive with sound. Rustling, screeching, clicking, howling, and under it all, the characteristic hoots and whistles of the forest spirit tongue. But these aren't the friendly creatures that set up the banquet in the first place, and they aren't the familiar faces (or masks) from around Beacon. As they begin to emerge, bursting forth from the trees, these spirits reveal themselves as a horrifying army of terrors. And sprinkled among them, distinguishable by the emerald glint in their sockets, are the infamous "green eyes", the dangerous spirits that appeared once before.

Attempting to talk to these spirits is a moot point, made obvious by their immediate assault on anyone they get close to. They attack with claws and teeth, with limbs far stronger than they have any right to be, and the green eyes, as they are wont to do, will try to get into your head. Somehow, they seem to know what it is that scares you most, and they don't seem too hesitant to use it. It's not clear what they want— are they here to eradicate you? To frighten you? To send a message?

Whatever the case, one thing is very clear: you and everyone else, sleeping or waking, are in serious danger. Are you ready to defend Beacon?

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

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

[All's quiet for the first little bit of their journey, as the bulk of the spirit horde seems intent on the town square. But of course, that doesn't last forever.

In the background of their conversation, there's a sound like brush moving. But there's no crunching of leaves, no snapping of twigs, so surely it can't be anything coming toward them? It isn't a regular noise with a rhythm, just every so often a rustling of branches. Always near.]

One down, three to go. The Soldier doesn't give the hounds much time to regroup after launching them off. The nearest one gets a bullet at point-blank range-- aiming for that gaping open mouth as it lunges for the Soldier's arm; two down, two to go-- then the Soldier drops into a spinning kick to try and launch the other two off. The knife hand spins, too, aiming to at least wound an attacker if possible. It's not spending another bullet until it has a clear shot, but if it gets one from knocking the hounds back, it'll take it.

Still not moving away from the door, fighting just at the base of the inn's stoop. That keeps their back at least a little protected, and the door free from attack. Crowley doesn't seem to be doing anything stupid yet (the attack was actually good; good job, Crowley), so there's only a tiny sliver of attention on him.

[The Soldier nods, and stalks out across the bridge, keeping special attention on the shadows around the distant houses. The circle they're aiming for first is Bridalveil Falls. Misty's house is there, and they're planning to make sure it's secure-- and Handler Eve's house is there, and they're checking to see if she's asleep there, since if she wasn't asleep, she'd probably be causing trouble.

First house, though, is one of the newcomers' homes, which the Soldier prowls around to check the various exits.]

[The creature continues to stumble forward, teetering on the brink of collapse more than once. It's quite unsteady on those long legs, and the swinging pendulums of its huge, clawed hands don't help. The closer it gets, the more the two can hear a strange chattering sound coming from the general area of its... head? Does it have a head?

It certainly has a face, at least, one that is revealed as it steps into their light more fully. The chattering noise is coming from the spirit's teeth.

Once again it stops and wobbles in the wind.

And then, with a horrible shriek, it lowers its head ("head") brings up its claws, and charges straight for them. Straight for Cao Pi, specifically. It's awfully fast; there isn't much time to react.]

"Easier said than done," he murmurs. It sounds like good advice but in practice it's awfully impractical. Rosinante considers himself excellent at focusing on the job at hand, normally. He's disciplined, and understands the need to keep his mind from running away in the directions it used to so often as a child. He's better than that, he thinks. Thought. This place has taught him a few things about himself and he doesn't like them all.

Other than that one comment, though, he falls silent, listening to the breeze in the trees. The spirits, formerly calling out to each other in the woods, have fallen quiet and he has a feeling that's not a good sign. He keeps his back to the wall behind them, thinking more of Mary's safety than his own.

Your room? Let's make sure to get them downstairs. Good to know we have backups. I have a pistol and a shotgun but my ammunition is limited.

[Especially for the shotgun. He pats the pistol at his hip to indicate it as he moves down the hallway, then peers into another room which looks to be empty.]

If we make it out of this alive, ask Rastus. He supplied me with mine when I explained that we needed a way to defend against these spirits. I can use a sword but I'd rather not let them get that close.

Oh, I've been trying not to get to the point of actually touching them.

( he gives his fingers a flick and a puff of dirt around his feet flies up, twirls itself around his hand and then drops again. )

Handy when you don't want to get gross goo all over your skin. Not that I'd mind that, I've had worse but just seems safer to keep some distance between these things.

I hadn't made any plans so...

( he glances back at eliot and then over at quentin again. )

You want some company?

What do you think I've been doing out here, man?

( certainly not making friends with those things. he gestures steve closer and, once he does get close enough, throws up a protective spell to give them a barrier against those nasties. )

And before you say something sarcastic, I've been trying to keep them busy or at least take a few of them down before they took someone else down.

Not to worry, Jason. Allie's knows exactly why they're here, or at least why she is and though at the time it seemed wiser to try and make the insane run from the Inn to the General store on her own? She'd both greatly underestimated the other people who might see her trying to do something this stupid, almost as much as she'd overestimated how useful a broken chair leg was going to be against a spirit. Judging from the look she's giving Masaomi right now, though? She's strongly considering testing its effectiveness on him if he keeps talking.

"If this is you showing off I'd hate to see you on a bad day." Her sarcasm doing little to conceal the panic that threatens to overwhelm her now she's forced to stop and register just how bad this could be.

Nope. Pass on being overwhelmed. She'll turn her head to stare at Jason instead.

"You can fly." Is this the time or place to state the obvious? Of course not, but the other guy wasn't reacting to it and somebody had to.

Unless being able to say that she'd survived for seventeen years could somehow considered a super power? Allie should in no way be one of the people leaving the Inn, but while some people are focused on surviving the next twelve hours, she's a little more concerned with how they were all going to survive the next twelve days.

Had she not seen him around she might have been more startled by his appearance, Allie's mouth settled in a grim sort of expression as she drags her gaze away from the darkness she was peering into, to regard him.

"If it's me carrying?" There's not much of her, as Kol will happily tell you. She's on the small side but with adrenaline and a bag or two... "You've been out there." Reaffirming what he'd said. "Is it possible to sneak around or can they see in the dark?"

"They see better than we can out there. And our lanterns make us targets." The Soldier manages, kind of, by being fast and keeping their lantern closed and relying on moonlight and the bonfire. "I have training for that kind of thing." Possibly not surprising, given their size and, you know, the fully articulated, high-tech metal arm. Most people don't get that kind of thing except for a reason.

They have another bite of lunch, because if there's another supply run in the offing they had better finish refueling, then ask, "Do you want to go out?"

"Get something to pull after us," he says. "We've got tables, we can make wheels. Some of us pull them, some of us defend. Start moving them down, out of this place."

Crowley has other plans instead, of course. Not that Xayah or the human soldier person are behind him. But this person?

"Course. We could always go to the source of the problem and stop it. Wouldn't need to take everyone with us, then."

Crowley looks up at the person helping him with the table. Not a person---he's really just a child, isn't he? Can't be more than seventeen or eighteen, right? Great hair. Children don't belong in Hell, not in Crowley's opinion. No child has ever done anything so horrible, not on purpose. Not without some motivator beyond what people really understand.

"No," he says, very seriously. "No, we're not in Hell. I don't know where we are, but we're not really in Hell."

Purgatory? Yeah, Crowley could bet even money on that. But he's not going to tell the lad that.

"Come on, to the window."

[Crowley picks up a single plank of wood and thinks, briefly, of hitting the man over the head with it.

Nah, that'd be too petty.

Or just petty enough?

You really think you deserve this place? Staying here, you think you deserve it. You said that by the bonfire.

Castiel? Oh---the angel. Right, I met him. Odd one, him. [An angel with all of the players that Crowley has in his life, all living out a very different story. Strange that it seems Crowley will never get to ask him the whole story now.]

We need to figure out how to wake them up.

[ The Unversed is tough, made stronger by all the negative emotion presently all over beacon, but its far from the most powerful thing Vanitas has ever made and despite its supernatural sturdiness is hardly immune to being crushed. The arm comes down on top of it and it flattens under the pressure, exploding outward into a curl of Darkness like smoke. Vanitas feels it lash back into his body, the pain scoring him as much as the little thrill of strength that comes with his magic returning.

Its the sort of thing he's familiar with, though, and it doesn't faze him enough to distract.

Regardless, he's just a little too slow this time, and when the lashing of the vines comes down Vanitas dodges most of them— but one catches him, the unreal weight of it knocks him off balance, and the final one connects across his midsection. The crack of supple wood meeting armor isn't as loud as that lightning strike, but it still echoes, and the tapered edge splits Vanitas' armor where its thinnest at his ribs. The fabric saves him from a bloody wound, but he can already feel the bruise forming.

With a furious shout he pulls on the Darkness and cloaks himself in it. It shrouds his lantern momentarily, and Vanitas almost disappears against their black surroundings when he throws himself forward, flying through the air with his keyboard brandished for his opponent's skeletal face. ]

Crowley can feel the holy energy of the water before he even sees it, and that is the only reason he is able to dodge the stream as it comes at him full force. Even one drop of holy water would obliterate him completely.

"Oh fuck!" Crowley cries out, holding his hands up to keep them away from the water, but leaving him totally vulnerable to the beasts.

He knows his fire doesn't do anything, but maybe his imagination can. He imagines the ground beneath the beasts is suddenly thin, like quicksand, pulling them down.

( Javert isn't paying any attention to him, busy as he is collecting the wood. It isn't until Crowley asks him a question that he stops, and looks across at him with an indecipherable expression. He takes another piece of wood from the pile, then answers, )

Yes.

You think me cruel, and perhaps you're right, but believe me when I say I was far worse, before. I would not have thought twice about your friend up. I would not have compromised.

( Far be it for Javert to spill his heart out to a man he doesn't like, but this? This is simply an acknowledgement of his sins. Javert isn't going to hide them from anyone. )

I've done wrong, and I have done wrong in God's eyes by taking my life. That is why I deserve this place.

[Still she hesitates, just for a moment . . . and finally grabs one thing, a small metal device, and a few idle tools. All fit in a small rucksack, and then she nods.]

All right.

[She doesn't look back, though she wants to . . . but he's right. Rosalind sighs as she steps carefully over the tripwire.]

Come out. I've one last trap to set should anyone disturb the place.

[He gingerly steps over the trip wire and waits for her.

He snaps a finger and a small bud of a camera appears. Were he at anything resembling his full power, it would be a beautiful, multidimensional GoPro camera. As it is, it's just a tiny, black-and-white thing that's going to send absolutely terrible images to his mobile phone. He sticks it on the side of the wall nearest him so he doesn't have to go over any of her trip wires.

He turns the phone towards her to show off the image]

You see? You can keep an eye on it.

( While he takes one cabin, Javert takes the next, walking around the perimeter with his lantern peering into the windows. It doesn't seem as if it's been broken into, and there isn't any movement inside, so it's possible the owner isn't there. Or perhaps they are, and they have simply fallen asleep. Javert doesn't see evidence of the latter, and so, once he finished walking around to the front door, he waits for the Soldier to walk in his line of sight.

He shakes his head, telling him there's nothing there. )

[Well. Rosalind stares for a few seconds, that bizarre feeling rising up in her, torn between calling him out on his sentiment and being too pleased to bother. She steps in towards him, compromising by not expressing either, but rather managing a brief smile, pleased.]

Now there's a decent trick. Why didn't you--

[A long, low whistle, followed by a series of awful clicking noises, cuts her off, and Rosalind grimaces.]

Come on.

Yes. He was the one who acquired the swords for me. At the time, I didn't know that we would find an armory.

( So it had been a bit of a moot acquisition. Nevertheless, it's something to look into. Javert did have a set of pistols, at one point, before Beacon. Perhaps he would have had them with him if that dolt of a lawyer hadn't run off with them. )

I may need your help carrying them downstairs, if you can spare a moment.

Oh hell yeah.

[It comes out incredibly enthusiastic, given the situation they're in and the sound of skittering legs scratching against wood that's coming from the woods. But Quentin nods and gets up.]

Yeah. The woods are-- uh, not really that friendly right now? And-- and yeah. I'd like that.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 18 of 65

EVENT LOG: ENTER MR SANDMAN (DEFENDERS)

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

\o/

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

cw: suicide mention

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject