EVENT LOG: ENTER MR SANDMAN (DEFENDERS)

[inthenightmods]

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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Comments

[moderatelymaladjusted]

Your ice- [a slight stumble over the words before Quentin settles on-] thing? Can you do it again?

I've practiced something like this with-- [okay, so not naming names because that's a big no-no] I can trap them. I-- there's a shield spell, and I can hold it behind them and then you do your thing. With the ice.

[The noises are louder now, like something stampeding towards them on heavy hoofs, the crisp crunch of branches being trampled.]

Or-- new plan, we run!

[paletteswap]

[He coalesces a ball of ice on his palm, closing his fist to shatter it rather than launching it anywhere.]

An artificial barrier? That would work, to delay them in any event.

[But what's coming at them now sounds louder, larger, angrier. Running would be the smarter move, though he disdains leaving a fight. In any case he throws up another ice wall behind them as they drag Eliot to the Armory.]

[moderatelymaladjusted]

[Hands already up, Quentin throws the Shield Spell at the wall of ice-- which, wow! So cool. And runs.

As fast as he can possibly drag the travois and the heavy weight on top of it, legs pumping and heart racing and behind them, there's the crunch of shattering ice.]

Maybe later!

[the armory looms closer, the whole place dark as if it's been abandoned but Quentin knows it's not. Riku is in there, with more survivors and he keeps throwing up the Shield behind them in an effort to keep them all alive for just a few more minutes.

Just.

A little more.]

[paletteswap]

[Kuai takes a moment to stop and send a barrage of icicles at what's chasing them, the resulting inhuman scream in the darkness indicating he'd hit something. And it wasn't happy about it. But that'd not slowed them down earlier, he's not holding out hope it'll do so now.

The Armory looks to be empty, which explains why it's not being besieged at the moment. Maybe Quentin was right about everyone being at the Invincible and a primary target. But now they'll have their defenses split. Time will tell if this was the right call.]

Get inside, I'll hold them off for a while longer.

[He turns to face whatever is out there, the very air around him starting to shimmer with icy iridescence.]

[moderatelymaladjusted]

[That makes Quentin pause, for just half a second as he looks over his shoulder and watches Kuai Liang make a stand. The air shimmering with pale light in front of him -- magic, or ice, forming and--

this was supposed to be what Quentin did. The last stand to buy time and to it's what he would have done, if he didn't have precious cargo to take care of.

Instead, he keeps moving forward until he reaches the door and he pounds his fists against it.

As soon as it cracks open, even a little bit, he's out of the harness and facing the hoard of spirits charging at Liang and he moves his hands rapidly, his fingers twisting through tuts and the magic flows, like water, from his hands in out--

like a huge shock-wave brushing like hot air past Kuai Liang, slamming in to the spirits like a hurricane.]

Come on! RUN!

[paletteswap]

[The ice seems to swirl around him, condensing into a ball beneath his hand that he smashes into the ground and sends ice spikes shooting up into the air beneath the creatures' feet, sending them hurtling into the air to be struck by whatever blast Quentin had just shot out.

When he turns to look back at Quentin his eyes are briefly glowing solid white, but they fade back to normal as he runs after him and into the relative safety of the armory.]

Impressive.

[And here Quentin had said he wasn't a battle mage.]

[moderatelymaladjusted]

[Quentin tuts through the Summerian shield spell again, a drop of blood sliding down from his nose as he holds it despite the spirits slamming in to it.

Whatever it is, it's big. Too many legs and not enough eyes. Like a spider, if a spider was larger than a Buick and had another spider taped to its back.

Only when he's sure, absolutely sure, that everyone is inside and safe, does he drop it and lean back against the door as its slammed shut.]

Thanks.

[He wipes the blood away and grins. Adrenaline pounding through his veins.]

You, too.

[paletteswap]

[He nods in response, one warrior to another. At least they got Eliot in here safe and weren't torn limb from limb for their trouble.]

Unfortunate they know we're in here now. But there's at least far fewer of them than at the Invincible.

[This place does seem sturdier, more defensible. So there's that.]

I thought you said you were not fighter?

[moderatelymaladjusted]

I'm not.

[Quentin starts getting Eliot ready. Pulling the sheets off of him and checking him over for injuries. He's on his knees next to the travoir, and he shrugs.]

We all had to learn battle magic. For... reasons? That doesn't really make me a fighter. A defender, maybe?

[paletteswap]

Both have value, but somehow many think that offensive attacks are the priority. If there's no one to protect those who can't defend themselves than all the attacks in the world are meaningless.

Is he alright?

[moderatelymaladjusted]

[Quentin places a couple of fingers against the pulse on Eliot's neck-- calm and steady, like it's been since this whole thing started.]

He's in a coma. But yeah, aside from that, he seems fine. I wanted to a... well, a warrior. Battle magician. Know all the cool spells. And I know some, but it turned out that my Discipline was Mending. Minor Mending.

[paletteswap]

As in healing? Or mending of objects?

[He still doesn't understand how magic works, sorcerers in his world tend to be evil monsters that animate the dead and use the power of souls to fight.]

What prevents you from learning both?

[moderatelymaladjusted]

Objects. Mending of Small Objects.

[Quentin forces a small, wry smile. When he found out about magic being real, he'd been so sure that he was destined for something great. Something vital and important and better.

Mending of Small Objects seemed... small.

It saved the world, once.]

Books, chairs, toys-- stuff like that. Lanterns, maybe. I haven't tried yet, but I think maybe I can do it. It's not that I can't learn, because well, I can. But I am never going to be really great at it. How about you? How did you learn to do that --whoosh! Ice thing that you do?

[paletteswap]

It's my birthright. I didn't learn how to do it, I learned to control it.

[He arches an eyebrow. Whoosh indeed.]

Every skill is valuable in the right situation. Look at where we are now, being able to repair a door that's been broken during an attack might be the difference between defense and being overrun.

But you would rather something flashier and more impressive?

[moderatelymaladjusted]

You're Elza.

[A little awe in his voice before he scoffs, rolling his eyes again.]

I thought-- before all of this? Before magic and before I found out that I had it? I always thought I'd be someone special, you know? And my friends, they are all so... they're the special ones. The Chosen ones. Powerful. Charismatic. Charming. Really good at magic. And I'm just kind of there. So, yeah. I wanted something a little more... flashy. A little more dangerous.

[He could have gone to Yale, sure. And he was smart, he knew that, but being smart and being capable were very different things. And yes, sure, the rest of his friends would call Quentin something else. Something more, but.]

[paletteswap]

I'm what?

[He does not know who that is or he would be very offended right now.]

Ah. I see. Is that how magic works in your world? It is something you have not something you learn?

In any case, I'm sure you do more than just be there. Everyone needs someone they can rely on, no matter what their skill at tossing magical spears or flaming arrows.

[Don't get him started on aphorisms because he has millions of them. A single grain of rice can tip the scales. The smallest pebble can change the course of a river...]

[moderatelymaladjusted]

Nevermind, it's-- if we ever find a way to watch movies here, I'll show you.

[He leaves Eliot alone, he's stabil like this. Still breathing and he has to find some place more secure than the entrance hallway to put him. Maybe some kind of dormitory or a hospital room.

The last time he looked through the armory, he went straight for the weapons and then back out. So, now might be a good time to figure out what they had to work with.]

I think we're born with it? But we need to, uh, practice? And I went to magic school until the world went to shit back home, after that I mostly just--

[Went on quests and ruled Fillory badly.]

Saved things? I know and yeah, I know it takes all kinds of people. Some days, though, I just really want to be able to fly. What about you? Was it easy, controlling all the ice?

[paletteswap]

Ah.

[He has to deal with a movie star on a nearly daily basis which has soured his opinion of movies in general. But hey, at least he knows what they are and has actually seen some. A few. More than two.]

What happened to your world? That seems to be a theme of those I've met here, something cataclysmic happened and sent their world into chaos. I wonder if that's a commonality we share.

No. It took a lot of practice, years of constant training. But it wasn't just me; my grandfather, my father, my brother. We are all cryomancers. I'm the only one remaining, however.

[The lineage dies with Kuai though. As does the clan. The final member and the last Grandmaster.]