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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"Javert, Rosinante, Kuai, Cao Pi, Akira, Lunafreya, and Elle. A few of those are not reliable." Cao Pi keeps doing his own thing, Lunafreya is more useful as a healer, and Elle needs lots of breaks. The Soldier is going to try to help enforce those for her, now that they know (a little) about her powers. "Xayah does fly-overs and helps snipe if there's a problem, and the medic person keeps slipping out for supplies." They need to work on that, keep her staying put while letting the Soldier manage supplies. (And that's going to be fun, because they aren't sure they can make themselves talk to a doctor.)

The Soldier focuses back on the question, and finishes, "Crowley is not allowed outside alone. A few others are in the area, and make their own paths, but not specifically around the Invincible. I try to keep track of them." Look, the Soldier is not a leader in any understanding of the word, but knowing where the various resources are is important.

This scenario reminds her too much of home. Altissia in particular, with screaming and death and destruction all around; though far less to do with spirits and more do with a rampaging sea goddess and nearly the entirety of the Niflheim Empire's elite forces trying to kill the Hydraen, Noct, and herself. There's little time to linger on that right now, though; not when there are innocent lives on the line.

She doesn't respond when Bucky tells her to move, she knows better. Knows that they're right, especially as she looks back at the spirit, writing at the end of her trident. It stops moving after the Soldier's dagger hits it, and she knows that this is probably only bought time. It's temporary, because she has a terrible feeling that these things aren't dying, that somehow they're going to come back. They're spirits, after all, and isn't that their nature?

Either way, the jaunt from the cabin to the Invincible is a long, perilous one, and enough time has been wasted. She shakes her trident, letting whatever disgusting ghostly residue fling off the end before she moves again, her grip on Ignis tightening as the next wave of spirits screech and head their way. As she slams her free shoulder into one, knocking it down to the ground, slamming her weapon through it while a leg comes out to trip up a spirit trying to come up from behind. She's no fighter by any stretch of the imagination, but she's doing her best; her brother was the one with the military combat training, after all.

She catches a glimpse of glowing emerald eyes peering at them from the trees, and though she keeps moving, though she's certain the Soldier can see it as well, she calls out, "Be careful, one of the more aggressive ones is watching!"

[ A fluctuation passes through Ellever as he calls her a good person. A nameless, ragged thing, howling no. No, she isn't. So many bad things are happening back home and it's all her fault. If she'd never existed...

But she says nothing, and her face, surprisingly, betrays nothing. It's something that Ellever is used to hiding. ]

I'll try. [ It's a nice smile. Seeing it makes it easier to forget the howling thing inside of her, the Other. ] Harder when everything's trying to kill you. [ Jokes! An attempt at a joke, anyway. ] But I'll try. And you check in, too, okay? If I should, you should.

It's just the growls and snarls otherwise.

[ A feeble attempt at a joke, with an accompanying smile, as Ellever cautiously picks her way around a corner and leads the way. She nods. ]

Yeah, I've only been here since the start of the month, so I guess I am. It's, uh, been an interesting adjustment. What about you? How long've you been in Halloweentown?

[ Lunafreya isn't one to give up hope easily, and she won't do that now, even as the weariness and exhaustion of the last few days tallies up and begins to take it's toll. This isn't just affecting her, after all. It's affecting every single one of them in some way, shape, or form, and like at home, she refuses to give in to despair, especially at a time like this. It's why she offers the other woman a small, reassuring smile. ]

You've been very busy. If anyone needs the rest, it is you. Come, sit for a while. [ Lunafreya is already sitting on the floor, and she pats the space next to her. ] We can rest together, at least for a little while, yes?

[Someone as good as the Asset at hiding what they're feeling. Amazing. Ironically, they might well understand, even if she did share-- maybe not to the same extent but, well. Brainwashed assassin. They kinda killed a bunch of people. They nod.]

I come back here after every patrol and supply run. To eat and clean up, if I need to.

[Which leads to the next most important thing on anyone's schedules:]

Have you eaten.

[Look, making food is soothing, and feeding other people in addition to themselves makes the Soldier feel a little less like they're just plowing through the inn's supplies all on their own.]

Edited 2019-11-26 23:51 (UTC)

Good call. I'll see you there.

[The schedule could turn tighter at any moment, too, who's to say. Fortifications will be critical, but making sure people aren't locked out to be left to the hands of the spirits is his first priority.

Eventually, having checked a number of the rooms and pulled out a few more things to toss down to the stairs to provide comfort to those asleep, he makes his way to 201.]

The Soldier retrieves their knife on the way past the corpse, not even pausing to wipe the blood off. The spirits do bleed, at least. The connotations of the actual word mean nothing to them, it's just a word, and they at least seem to be injured and die like any other living creature.

They don't even bother, really, with making sure of kill shots. They aren't wasting bullets here, there's too many and the knife if safer when there's potential friendlies on the playing field. They're focusing on plowing a path through and hurling assailants away from their friend-shaped cargo and from Lunafreya. So it might not be so much a new wave as a resurgence of the old one.

At Luna's shout, when they're almost at the bonfire and it's the firelight that reflects the green glow, it says, "I saw. I'm tracking it. Keep moving. We're almost there." Well, for a given value of "almost". They're closer to the inn than to the village houses, anyway.

"Downstairs first, upstairs after," he adds, glad to be on the same page. "We can use bed frames for boards. Or tables."

Shame to pull it all apart but survival is worth the time spent repairing later. With a glance to double-check, he ducks inside to drop off the people he's carrying, while calling back, "I'll set these two down and then we can get started."

No one ringing any immediate bells, as she knows Eleven by no name other than that, and thus less to worry about. Though, "Medic person?" Nothing she's heard of, nobody vocal about such power unless they're quiet themselves.

The work ethic on display here is at least unsurprising. Worrying, but unsurprising. Not worth arguing.

"And how often would I expect visits? Need to know when I'm allowed to worry."

You're an optimist, aren't you?

( nothing wrong with that. )

I don't know if you're right but I hope you are. It'd be nice for this to not be the end of all things.

It's still a name. If you don't like it, you can always change it. So long you decide for yourself, they won't take you from you.

[It takes time, she figures, and this place doesn't offer a lot of it. But he can at least try and see how it goes.]

Sure.

[She takes one of the boards nearby and steps closer, pressing it against the window and wall. Giving him a critical look, she hums.]

'Atall' is a nice name. It means 'fierce'. I knew a Vastayan, tall and broad as a mountain. The family named him "Lind" for he shielded everyone.

[She grips his hand tightly, her thin fingers cold, and keeps herself quiet as they start down the path. She can hear footsteps too near, crunching in the leaves and the wind tugging at her hair, but there's nothing for it but to move fast and hope they aren't noticed.

And if they are . . . she grips her dagger.]

Tell me . . . how do you imagine you'll fare against one of these creatures?

[The Soldier winces. It's better than the full body flinch they get, sometimes, when the subject of names comes up, but it's still visible.]

Please don't try to give me a name, Xayah. I don't want one.

[One nice thing about using a metal fist as a hammer, it's not quite as loud as a real hammer. They bang a nail into the board, but it's not so loud that she can't answer them.]

It's not even Eleven, it's Ellever, so still not someone to know. El and her group are largely over in the village, mun thinks. Misty might have heard Javert's name before, as the Soldier's other current handler, but only in passing.

"I can come by once a day," they offer, skipping right past the whole "medical person" conversation. Doctors make it nervous. "Regular time. At the start of my patrol." Already they're getting ideas about bringing over some hot soup and grilled sandwiches and pasta. She has nothing here to cook with. She needs something warm to eat.

( He feels an emotion swelling up in his chest again — not pride, exactly, but something else. It only lasts for a moment, though, as he watches the Soldier creep inside and follows him, sword drawn. The cabins are not spacious, so there would not be many places for something to hide. As the other man looks around, Javert goes to the woman's side and checks her pulse, just to be certain. )

Alive.

( He breathes, looking around the room carefully for anything that may be out of place. )

[Is your soldier giving you feelings, Javert? Just as well, they have feelings back, a lot of the time.

And Eve-slash-Villanelle is kind of awful, anyway. She played keep-away with a box and intentionally ran into them and yelled "boo" at them and then laughed her fool head off. She's a brat. The Soldier finishes a quick sweep of the downstairs, then returns to gently scoop Eve's body up, first into a bridal carry, then up over the metal shoulder.]

She's asleep like the others. We should take her back to the inn.

( He is, and he hates it! He's never had friends before, and it's not as if the feeling is unwanted, it's just that Javert doesn't know what to do about it. Regardless of what his competition is, it's nice to know there's at least one person here who doesn't think Javert is a terrible person.

He nods, allowing the Soldier to take the lead as he did before, with the inspector providing support. Before they step out of the house, though, he asks in an undertone, )

Do you not find it curious that the spirits seem less interested in them?

"Oh, I am. Most here are so very fragile. Don't you agree?"

Harassing his brother is what he does. The glare doesn't seem to bother him, though it's hard to see his expression from behind the mask.

"You waste your time on them."

Bi-Han enjoys killing so it all works out in the end. He was an assassin after all, and it's pretty much in his blood.

"Now."

Which isn't much of a warning and if Crowley is paying attention he might see the purplish-black portal appear right under him. If he doesn't move and falls through it, he'll end up outside, but don't worry, Bi-Han will pop right up from the ground in another portal.

Yeah. Giant man-eating monsters. I couldn't make this shit up even if I wanted to.

[ Steve shrugs a shoulder.

This is where things get a little foggy in his memory. ]

It's ... kind of a long story. Last thing I remember, I was crashing my car into this other guy's in order to save my friends; he was controlling that thing. Dustin and his friends called him the 'Mindflayer'.

Ugh, they hate lying about this, but... it's not technically lying if they don't say it's their actual name, right? "You can call me Soldat." If she doesn't know Russian, it's a nice, safe designation to use. (If she does know Russian, it means "soldier", which would be very strange for a name.)

They smile just a bit. A tiny bit. "Scarlett calls me Tinman."

Yes. It makes me think the goal. Isn't to kill us. Or not just to kill us.

[But whatever else the goal might be, the Soldier is only guessing at. They have a lot of guesses, none of which are as paranoid as Crowley's, but also none of which can be proved as better than another.

They pause to let Javert close the door behind them. No harm in keeping random spirits out, while no one's home.]

( He does the same, going from room to room and collecting everything he can, hauling it with him and setting it near the foot of the stairs. He hopes it will be enough. When Rosinante arrives, Javert is already there, strapping his saber to his belt and storing a few knives away in his coat.

The trunk itself is near the door, in the living room. Javert doesn't greet him. When he steps inside, Javert gestures for him to take the other end. And, since he's growing curious, he asks, )

What were you before this?

_{[Darkness is not meant to be a permanent condition. Pilgrim was right about that, in more ways than he could know. And he was right about M.K., too--for someone as strong in darkness as him, even he can't keep his gift active constantly in these conditions, forcing him to take shelter when his accumulating injuries and battle fatigue call for rest. When he turns off his darkness, that's when the aches and pains really set in.

But his energy is waning. He can feel it, each time he reaches for his power. And he can see it, in the flame of his lantern burning just a little smaller every day.

And still, the horrors keep coming. The spirits let up their attack once before, during Robin's less than auspicious debut, but these ones are different. No guarantees they'll do the same now. No guarantees they'll find a way to wake the sleepers up, either. They're holding a wall of sand against the oncoming tide.

They can't win. He knows it, a trickling certainty he finds creeping in around the edges of his mind when he pictures those inhumanly bright green eyes of the spirits. He's so tired of these pointless battles. So tired.

M.K. sits in silence against a wall during one of these rest breaks in the Invincible, swords resting across his knees, not too far the staircase leading to the higher floors but not too far from the boarded up front door, somewhere in middle so that he'll be ready to leap up should he be needed. Sometimes he closes his eyes in the closest to a light doze as he can get while still aware of the softly shifting bodies in the room. Sometimes he watches the man with the man with the metal arm hazard a look outside. He hadn't seemed to sleep much, either, even the spirits had left them well enough alone while exploring the forest.]}

Anything?

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EVENT LOG: ENTER MR SANDMAN (DEFENDERS)

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IV | 22nd