logsinthenight | EVENT LOG: ENTER MR SANDMAN (DEFENDERS)

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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?

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Never heard them stated as superpowers. You keep talking like that, you're going to give me a big ego and everyone in Beacon's going to suffer.

( but please do continue, steve. he does like thinking of himself as a superhero. )

You seen any of these things yet? The things that decided to ruin a very nice dinner and make it so I couldn't get myself nice and drunk tonight?

( ambrose hates them just for that reason alone. )

Pacing may not be accomplishing anything, but it's certainly better than crawling up the walls, which is what Crowley really wants to do. They're no closer to waking up the comatose people, they haven't made a dent in the monsters, and everything here is basically fucked.

And, oh, look, this person just brought up his favorite subject.

"No," he hisses. "Sssstill sssssitting pretty up in her little ivory tower, directing all the chaos down here."

Killing them would've meant we got to grieve and move on. This----

[he waves a hand at the people sleeping]

This makes us upset. Keeps us afraid for them, unable to do anything but protect them. It's all about fear.

Crowley's been performing a lot of miracles, lately. Little healings, here and there. Creating small weapons, stopping doors from opening or shutting. It's starting to wear on him in a way miracles never did before. It's this place, he knows it.

But he definitely has one more in him.

From behind a table, he produces a bat---American baseball---with nails sticking out of one side of the top, like a mace. He hands it over.

"Will this do?"

The Soldier may be panicking a little bit. Handler Misty is not at her house. Handler Misty is not at the Invincible. Nor is Handler Misty at any of the other houses, anywhere near the remains of the feast, or the church or general store. If something happened to her while the Soldier was getting everyone else they could get their hands on to safety, first, they will never forgive themselves.

The library is the next place on their list to check. It's brighter inside than anticipated, which means someone is there, but they're too worried to immediately assume it's the person they're looking for. Their own lantern has been shuttered except when checking the ground or inside buildings for sleepers, working off of bonfire, moonlight, and remaining torches, and it looks like they don't need it in here.

Their senses are on high alert, like always in this mess, but teleportation isn't something they're aware Misty can do. So when the sudden sound of breathing and a heartbeat behind them that wasn't there before gets a spin and a gun aimed for said heartbeat. Thankfully, it's just a defensive instinct rather than actual desire to kill-- the spirits don't sound like humans, so unless it's a hallucination, it's not a spirit, and it would rather not waste bullets on potential friendlies-- so there's no trigger-pulling. But Misty still will find a gun in her face for a second or two, there, and behind it the wide-eyed face of her Soldier.

"Crowley, behind me," the Soldier snaps, and that's all they take time to say before the next volley. Being attacked from the sides means spreading its arms, and taking the one on its metal hand's side in the face with another gunshot. The one on the flesh hand's side can take that opportunity to get teeth on the undefended arm, but the hound's reward for that will be the butt of a pistol to the side of the head once latched on, and then an attempt at literally flinging it away in the direction of the green-eyed one. The hounds may be strong and fast, but unless they're also heavier than they should be, lifting and launching something attached to one's arm is just physics.

The water is disregarded, for now. Besides, if Crowley actually obeys, it'll be the Soldier getting splashed, not the demon. "Holy water" won't do much to a mostly-human murder machine.

We--wait, what?

[So much for that razor sharp focus, because yeah. Yeah, three people could do more than one, and maybe if-]

We could split up the shipments? Or, what we ask for? Maybe they'll give ti to us, if whoever it is, doesn't know that we're working together? Does that make sense? I feel like it makes sense, but. So, we could try that? Just, slip it in there between people asking for cigarettes and flowers.

[He sets off down the path to the armory, the sticks dragging heavily on the uneven ground, but it's still easier than trying to carry him in his arms.]

I wish I'd thought about cigarettes, you know? Before everything went to shit again?

[ To say he's never felt anything like this before isn't entirely true. Vanitas has his own brand of healing magic, though its nothing like what someone like Riku would use. He's used it to stitch himself up before, feeding Darkness back into the holes of his body, but it's no Curaga. Maybe he wouldn't be half so scarred up if it was.

But Quentin does his magic and Vanitas feels that unfamiliar prickle of another person casting a spell on him. If he could parse beyond the incomparable anguish of the muscle torn and the snapped bone pushing up through tissue and sinew, he might even be able to pinpoint that the tingle that goes through him is the slowing of the bleeding.

Mostly, he's surprised it doesn't hurt more. When Eldin had healed him, it had felt like he was burning from the inside out.

Vanitas hisses through his teeth, his chest heaves under his tarnished breast plate. The stench of blood still permeates everything, copper stuck in his nostrils. This is going to hurt.

It's only pain. How many times did his Master leave him broken and motionless in the desert, expecting him to get back up? This is no different. Vanitas' eyes shine like two gold lamps in the dark when he looks up at Quinten. If this guy didn't do it with his magic, Vanitas would have to push the bone back into his body himself. And he would, but he thinks this will be easier, so: ]

Just do it!

Crowley should obey, of course. It's the right thing to do. But he sees that green-eyed monster getting away, and he can't let that happen. He reaches out to grab his dagger out of the sinking monster, ready to throw it out at the green-eyed monster, when---

He feels another burst of blessed energy, and he jumps away again, but he's not fast enough. Water hits him in the arm, sizzling and bubbling. Even one drop of holy water is enough to destroy him, and he feels himself going, melting. He cries out in pain, in terror. He drops to the ground, curling up in on himself.

Idiot, it doesn't need to get behind you!

[ Though he understands the man's position. Letting it get away, at this point, could put it into a blind spot. It was dangerous enough in front of them. The reach on the arms of this spirit is unnaturally long, longer than the reach of Vanitas' keyblade. He's more than happy to let it's focus go back to its primary target.

Instead of coming close, he holds his free palm up and pulls up on the shadows. Tendrils like vines reach up from the ground underneath it and grab two of the spirit's limbs to arrest it's momentum. ]

[ he's arrived at a relatively quiet moment amidst all the chaos, where there are no serious injuries that require immediate attention, and dana's taken the opportunity to do some inventory. last she'd checked, they were running low on some things that there's been a pretty high demand of, so she wants to see what they've got left before abandoning her post to go on a supply run. if there's even anything left in the store.

her back is turned when he makes the drop, checking on someone laid out on one of the tables, and when she goes back to checking their inventory there's suddenly a lot more to account for. dana stares at the bundle for a moment or two, bewildered, before looking up and around to see where (or who) it might have come from. ]

What's the worst thing that could happen? They tell us no? So, we don't lose anything and we don't gain anything. But, it's not like they'd lock us up for asking.

( asking never hurt anyone. )

I'm not much of a smoker but even I could use one right now. Might take the edge off or at least make me relax. I never thought I'd be fighting so much in my supposed afterlife.

[The Soldier is still standing there, well out of reach but not hiding, watching expectantly-- and warily, but that's a given around anyone not-itself with medical shit around. It's pretty easy to tell they're the one who left it there, considering their gaze goes from the bag of bandages to Scully (her shoulder, not her face) and back again with a kind of pointed slowness.

Are you gonna take that or not, lady, Jesus.]

When one's own recollection is so very different from another's, trying to reconcile the two is dizzying. Riku doesn't know what to make of it, what his mind and heart say while the bruises and other injuries once carried by his body tell different stories, and M.K., another.

Riku has made a habit of keeping M.K. waiting. For a straight answer, for him to return, to satisfy his concerned curiosity. Part of the problem there is that there are a lot of things he prefers to keep to himself, and what he does share isn't given up easily. Everything he ends up telling has the marks of deliberation all over it.

"..." Riku exhales slowly, he can't blame him for wanting to know, neither can he cross over the line he just drew for himself. He said he isn't ready to talk about it, and he means it.

"I needed some time. I wasn't far. Once I could," once his injuries were mostly recovered, it was less about the physical ones than the resiliency on the inside. He needed to be ready to trust himself not to undo everything they had done to put themselves back together, "I came back."

[Cao Pi bristles a little - he's supposed to be the one calling everyone idiots! how dare! - but squashes his reaction in order to focus. This is no time to get huffy. He slides back to the side to keep the spirit hunting him while those rather fascinating powers restrain it, and then it's his turn. It's been long enough since the last time he called on his hidden powers, they should be ready for another go.

Breaking the swords apart again, he sweeps them in a circle to call up the ice shards that rain down as soon as he points one blade at his target. The spirit still lunges at him, but comes up short thanks to Vanitas and takes the hits. If the ice does any damage, it's not obvious, but what's clear is that Zihuan has definitely pissed it off. The limbs not held back still thrash at him and he can't back away fast enough.]

[She's no expert at building anything, but she's willing to help when needed. So when he instructs her to hold the plank instead of hammering, she does that. He looks like he knows what he's doing and she's not gonna argue it.]

Okay, I'm holding it.

"Whatever you have." It's a borderline demand, beggars really can't be choosers right now and he will literally work with whatever Jason's got. The wind tugs at his long hair, enough to make him glance to verify that it's coming from his comrade and not just nature. Good? Good.

The first rush comes on, smaller and faster spirits clamoring to charge en masse. Cao Pi spins his swords on his wrists, plants his feet, and starts swinging, slashing at anything that comes within reach and subtly diverting them to one side or the other so they don't get at the people at the table immediately behind him. It doesn't take long to notice that they actually seem to be beelining for him, not the unconscious folks, which is...concerning. Especially since there are still larger coming on - larger and green-eyed.

[She picks up one of the people that look more on the lighter side- try as she might, she's not able to lift beyond her body weight. Flying helps but only so much.]

You seem to be good with magic. Think you can levitate the entire table if we stack people on it?

[It would go so much faster.]

"I don't know if it's poison. A sleeping spell?" She keeps her fingers on Aziraphale's pulse to make sure it doesn't speed up or slow down. For now, it feels normal. Is he... snoring? She shakes her head.

"We can't go out there, it's just three of us! Where are the others? Did everyone fall asleep?"

She frowns a bit and nods, standing up, "I can flying and bring in some, but I can't lift anyone heavier than me, just so you know." And she doesn't intend to die here, to these animals. In this forsaken place.

[She doesn't know what's going through Crowley's head but she knows one thing- she doesn't want to see him torn apart by forest spirits. He's still stubborn, adamant to leave. Should she ever try to persuade him anymore? Everything she says seems to fall on deaf ears. Perhaps his plans as a demon worked in the human world, but this is different.

Way, way different.

She raises one finger,] One, the spirits will sniff you out. Two, [she raises her second finger,] I cannot hold your lantern. If you give it to me and leave, you'll die from separation from your light. And three, [she lifts her third finger,] if you go through that door, you won't find me here if you come back.

[The Soldier gives her a small smile, then plucks one of the slightly-bent nails from the remains of the table, straightens it idly with a couple metal fingers, then sets it to the wood and uses the side of their metal fist to hammer it swiftly in as far as it will go. They admit, maybe a little shyly, which feels weird,]

I think I used to build things. Or help build things. A very long time ago.

She's just standing up, struggling only slightly to her feet, as she hears the man's voice. Her gaze flicks over in surprise; he's an intimidating figure, to say the last, but she's seen a lot of those.

That said, he's also relatively familiar.

"Fine. Take her."

She steps closer, waiting until he has a firm hold on Scarlett before she even thinks about letting go. Even then, she's watching carefully, making sure he's not having any difficulty.

"Go. I'll watch our rear."

I could try.

( he doesn't think there's a restriction or a weight limit on his magic but that is a lot of people and he knows he'll have to be careful. )

But, if I accidentally drop someone, you can't tattle on me later.

Absolutely no difficulty. The metal arm hefts Scarlett easily over their shoulder, and pauses there just long enough to focus through the sounds of advancing spirits and other panicked Beacon residents to register her heartbeat. Slow but steady. Asleep, not injured. There's an obvious lessening of tension in his shoulders, obvious relief. This guy cares about Scarlett, that much is at least apparent.

"Thank you," they say briefly. "We have been gathering at the Invincible. Barricades, barred door, blocked windows. I'll take her there." Hope can, of course, come to. They would rather keep her safe, too.

"I'm right behind you."

The only other person she had to make sure was safe was her Uncle, and he was already inside. There were things she could do to help protect them once they were inside, too.

She was impressed by the guy's strength, for sure; he'd picked up Scarlett as easily as her father would have, when he was still alive. The sound of approaching spirits was enough to catch her attention back, though, and she waved him off.

"Go."

She turned toward the sound, back up a few steps as soon as she heard him start to move, her hands moving in a circular motion as she prepared a shielding spell if they needed it. Who knew what these spirits might throw at them, literally or figuratively.

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EVENT LOG: ENTER MR SANDMAN (DEFENDERS)

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