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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Rosinante Donquixote | OTA

[callada]

1. The Feast

Big parties are a guaranteed way to make Rosinante uncomfortable, so it's little surprise he turns up late to the feast, intent on sneaking a few bites away to eat elsewhere. But he's horrified by what he finds - an entire table of people face-down in food, on the ground beside their chairs, or somewhere in between.

Mary stands out, given her small size and bright golden hair and in a mere few paces he strides over to her and checks her pulse with fingers to her neck. She's alive, and he's grateful. Maybe they all are. He picks her up and looks around at whoever else is around, pulse steady with determination.

"What happened? Did anyone see?"

2. Handful and a half

There's a sort of calm that overtakes him in situations like this, despite the dire situation and the cacophony of spirits out to kill. He doesn't fall once as he sprints to The Invincible. In one hand, a pistol - for the other is curled around Will, draped over his shoulder. The drawstring bag strapped across his chest is full, with Mary's sleeping face just visible at the opening.

"Is the network still up?" he calls out. "Get a check-in started. We need to make sure everyone's accounted for. Who here knows how to fight?"

3. Wildcard

Rosinante will generally be present in and around The Invincible with Mary riding along in his bag the whole time. Find him fighting spirits with his pistol or the last few rounds in Winters' shotgun, resting while cleaning his weapons if there's a spare minute to do so, or injured and clearly in need of some doctoring since he'll undoubtedly end up with some serious scrapes if not worse. Or if you want something else, just let me know at tinylongwing or via PM.

Feast

[paletteswap]

Shocking no one, Kuai isn't a big fan of parties either. Grandmaster of no fun allowed, he hadn't planned on coming to this and was late enough that he too had missed the scene of them all passing out. He's just as unsure as Rosinante.

"No, I just arrived. Is she okay? Are they still breathing?"

Because if they're dead... "Perhaps they've been poisoned."

There's a growling and a rustling from the woods behind them, and immediately Kuai spins around, ready to defend against whatever this new threat is.

[callada]

The growl adds to how unnerving all of this is. The spirits had laid out this feast, hadn't they? That's the only way things of this scale come to be so quickly without any notice. His - formerly Winters' - shotgun is still back in his room at the Invincible, but he always carries a pistol on him these days, and he shifts his grip on Mary, cradling her in his left arm while his right hand flies to the gun and draws it.

"She's alive, for now. Breathing," he replies, then trains the pistol on the next glimpse of movement as something green-eyed darts between patches of cover, likely scoping for easy targets. "We need to get them out of here before this becomes a bloodbath."

[paletteswap]

The creature in the woods is alarming, hadn't there been green eyed monsters before? But Kuai forces himself to look away briefly and take stock of the situation. There's several people passed out on the table, and about an equal number of awake people scrambling to figure out what's going on and checking the unconscious for life signs.

There's another, louder rustling and the crack of a branch as if the creature may have climbed a tree and Kuai reacts immediately, shooting a barrage of icicles towards the noise. One of them may have hit if the hissing, garbled sound is any indication. But it doesn't back down or run away, obviously waiting for an opportunity to burst out and... well attack he supposes.

"The Invincible. Same as the last attack, we can barricade the doors against them." He frowns, he was fond of the forest spirits, but they kept doing things to erode his trust. Though he didn't see any of the regulars around. "There's bound to be more than just one."

[callada]

The Invincible is right. It's the obvious place to meet and hold everyone, and if the spirits come through upper floor windows, they can block off the stairways. He nods in agreement as he slips off his usual pack over his head, quickly tucks the sleeping Mary into it and her lantern as well, and then settles her on his back, between his shoulders. It's a familiar, comfortable sort of weight.

"Maybe Aziraphale - shit." Well, he was going to suggest bringing them to the angel so he could have a look, since the man's healing powers suggest he might be able to understand what's gone wrong, but just as soon as he mentions him, Rosinante sees him asleep at the far end of the table. "Never mind."

They should just go quickly, and he turns to do that, but he spots Will a few seats down and decides he has room to take another. What is he doing here? Hadn't taken him for the party sort. But if anyone needs to be prioritized, it's someone who has the experience and the knowledge to help get them out of the long-term mess they're in. He clips Will's lantern to his belt, slips his glasses into a coat pocket, then wraps arms around his middle and heaves him up onto his shoulder. Being larger than all of the rest of them sure has its advantages.

handful and a half

[saibot]

He'd been watching people scramble to the Invincible for shelter to escape the spirits. This would either become a place they could defend from or ... well, it'd become a tomb for many. It didn't really matter to him as he could easily escape no matter what happened.

He used a portal to step into the building just as Rosi entered carrying people. What is with this place and odd spells that'd fall onto half the population?

"I assume very few will respond, and those who do will probably die as a result of having little skill."

In his opinion anyway. There were very few he'd actually consider apt fighters. His own brother barely making that list.

[callada]

Oh great, it's this guy again. Kuai's brother, who he more or less tries to avoid purely because he has enough to deal with without adding more problems to his list.

"And what about you? Which category do you fall into?" he retorts as he glances at him with narrowed eyes while moving past. The main floor here should be an all right place to hold people, at least for now, until they have defenses organized. Oh, he'll keep talking, because these people need someone to get them whipped into action, but his first priority is to set all this extra weight down. The corner of the room by the jukebox is where he usually stashes the pillow he sits on at the tables, given he doesn't quite fit into the chairs, and he strides over to slide Will off his shoulder and onto the cushion, resting him sitting upright against the wall.

[saibot]

Most people try and avoid him, but truthfully he avoids most himself. He does not have the patience to deal with people and not just murder them all. Which is probably good for almost everyone in town.

"If you doubt my ability for combat, that is a serious mistake. But I have no intentions of saving those too weak to fight for themselves."

Unlike all these hero types running around. He may offer some aid if he deems the person worth keeping around, but if they're someone he'd consider dead weight? Well, too bad for them. He'd probably throw them to the evil spirits himself if possible.

[callada]

This is the first and only type Rosinante can recall himself being labeled a hero of any sort, he realizes. Most of his work has been relatively thankless, aside from the slow climb of military ranks as some form of gratitude, perhaps. He doesn't expect accolades of any sort, and doesn't much think of himself as a hero but rather as someone who simply wants to protect those who can't protect themselves. Completely the opposite of what this guy seems to be interested in.

"Right, so you're in favor of what, exactly. Abandoning everyone who can't fight because they're asleep? Why are you still sticking around?" he asks as he unhooks Will's lantern from his belt loop and sets it beside him. "Why not just run off and do your own thing?"

3a.

[worthallthis]

Patrolling around the Invincible in pairs is smart. It means if someone sees something, they can verify with their partner if it's really there. It means watching each other's backs and having extra arms and legs to fight with.

Patrolling in pairs with someone carrying a little girl in a bag is distracting, though. Even the Soldier can get a little distracted by that face, snoozing peacefully out of the top of a bag,

"You could pass her off to someone else," the Soldier says carefully (and quietly) after their first perimeter sweep. It isn't that they disapprove of keeping Mary safe at all times... they feel that way about a number of people. It's that they doubt being out here is necessarily safe. And protecting Mary while in the middle of a battle seems like it would be a distraction Rosinante doesn't need.

It also seems like a distraction the Soldier doesn't need.

[callada]

Patrolling in pairs is smart, but Rosinante kind of hates it. Years of doing solo work means even though he understands teamwork and is well-trained for it, he's become accustomed to making his own decisions independently. He's effective alone. Quieter. And he doesn't much like being questioned, he's finding.

"She's fine," he replies. Tight against his shoulders, buried in canvas and black feathers, there's no better place for her. If the spirits hit The Invincible by storm and they need to run, he doesn't want to wonder where she is and if she's all right. They've stuck together since the first day arriving in this place and he's not going to let her down.

Yes, there's a risk, he's aware of that. But they're all at risk here. Any moment, a pack of those green-eyed monstrous creatures might come snarling out of the darkness at anyone here. Every rustle of the wind has him on high alert, and in the distance he can hear the howls and rattling snarls of the things out for blood.

[worthallthis]

Sure, she's fine. But will you be, Rosinante, if a spirit tries to take the bag from you while another tries to stab you in the back? The Soldier worries, okay. The Soldier also worries that they will react just as potentially badly to that same situation.

"Okay." At least the tone is flat, rather than obviously dubious. After a pause, they suggest, "You should hide your lantern. We can just use mine. Then you will be harder to hit." Says the guy who usually keeps his lantern as tightly shuttered as possible when outside, or with only one panel open to illuminate just ahead of them. The Soldier will be bait. It's fine. It'll keep Mary (and Rosi) a little safer.

[callada]

A good enough suggestion, so fine, he'll take that one. He doesn't much like having to keep it on his belt over his hip anyway, it bumps around every time he takes a step, but it's important to have his hands free. He pauses for a second to clip it to a loop in the back where it can sit underneath his coat. Still accessible if he needs it, but completely enshrouded otherwise except for a faint glow that makes it through the fabric. His doesn't have shutters, so it's as good as they're going to get - and he's hesitant to put it in the bag with Mary. Too much work getting it back out.

"Suit yourself," he says, as he takes his pistol in hand again and hopes Soldat's lantern will at least shed enough light for the two of them so he doesn't just trip on everything now.

3b cuz i am a greedy rper apparently

[worthallthis]

The Soldier is taking a brief break to reload and refuel, shoveling stew into their mouth quickly with one hand while the other keeps a hold of a knife, and they pace around the edge of the Invincible downstairs room on a mini-patrol even while they eat. Just in case. Even inside the Invincible, it's possible that a barricade could be breached or a window broken open. Constant (hyper-)vigilance.

Seeing Rosinante stagger back in from a patrol outside bleeding makes them put the spoon and bowl down (though not the knife) and jog over to intercept. They wordlessly offer a shoulder for support and a rake over his body to check the severity of the wounds. Refueling can wait. (Not very long, pal. Long enough to help him. Just make it quick before we fucking pass out or something. Fuck off, Sergeant, we're fine.)

finally I have time for this too!

[callada]

Not the first injury during this long stretch of attacks, and likely not the last. The siege, for that's what it feels like it is, has gone past a week now and Rosinante has had little time to do anything but stay awake and help keep the others safe, through regular patrols and helping maintain defenses that get broken down by the spirits. Mud and blood streak his clothing, he stopped bothering with makeup near the time this all began, and he's well aware he looks a mess. And now to add to that, he's got a nasty cut just above his eye where he narrowly missed being blinded, and with how he's walking, it's clear he's got a sprained or twisted ankle of some sort. He's determined not to let any of it keep him down for long, but he knows the value of rest, especially given that the blood running into his left eye from that cut makes vision in the darkness even worse.

His ankle, at least, appreciates the break as Rosinante rests an elbow on the Soldier's shoulder and stands on his one good foot for now. "Over there," he says, nodding to the corner table he's been occupying through this, near where he had set Will. As a whole they've gone through a lot of their basic medical supplies in the last week but hopefully there's still something left of the alcohol and gauze to tape up this cut.

[worthallthis]

There's always torn-up bedsheets for bandages, and Crowley has kindly stayed out of the drinking-alcohol, so they still have some of that. And the Soldier is pretty good at stitching. They lead him over to his table, let him ease down onto an actual chair rather than letting him take the floor. "You need a damn bath. And to wash your clothes," they say, first of all, while giving the cut over his eye a critical look to determine if it does need stitches. "Can hardly tell how much of that is new." Head wounds always bleed a lot, but might not always need a lot of help closing up. It will definitely need cleaning, though.

Ankle will come next. It can wait until potential bloodloss is dealt with. Though they do say, "Prop your foot up on the table, it will help with the swelling."

Wildcard - Injured

[sauntered_downward]

Crowley has yet to leave the Invincible. Color him the least helpful person here, really. He's done a lot of fortifying the Invincible, wandering around the sleeping people like he's totally lost, and staring at the alcohol behind the bar like all he wants to be is really, really drunk. He doesn't drink, though. He just stays awake and watches over the sleeping people.

But there's someone hurt, now. He looks down at sleeping Aziraphale. If Aziraphale were awake, he'd be helping. He'd be wanting Crowley to help. He'd be dragging Crowley along to make sure that people were getting healed, that people were being protected. With a very visible eye-roll and a very audible sigh, Crowley calls out:

"Do you want some help with that, or what?"

[callada]

Clearly, he wants help as he limps in and thuds his back against the door to close it behind him and prevent any spirits from sneaking in. There's a serious gouge that runs the length of one leg - three claws in one long slash from thigh to calf, torn right through his jeans and awfully deep, though he's still managing to walk on it - barely.

"Can you?" he responds, voice coming out as more of a growl than he'd like. His extremely high pain tolerance is clearly being tested.

[sauntered_downward]

The injury looks deep, and Crowley knows his powers of healing have been stunted by being in this place. Not that he's ever been very good at healing. Even when he was an angel, he was always rubbish at those bits. Creating and imagining, that's what he's been good at. Caring and loving? Nah, that's for other people.

All the same, he gets to his feet and grabs a chair, sauntering over to the person.

"Yeah, all right, yes," he says. "I can. Don't tell anyone, it'll ruin my reputation. But I can't have you bleeding all over everyone sleeping."

handful

[policier]

( There's no panic in Javert's countenance either. He's been in far worse situations, moments where he's been threatened with injury and even death, and never once has he flinched in the face of it. He only has his cudgel with him — he doesn't make a habit of carrying his sword around, and perhaps that should change — but it is enough. He will retrieve it once he returns to the Invincible. )

What do you need?

( He asks, walking up to the other man with purpose. Someone else can deal with the network, Javert just simply does not have the patience for it. )

[callada]

[What doesn't he need, really. The situation is not out of hand, not entirely, but it threatens to become so quickly.]

Barricades. The upstairs floors all have windows. Sealing off individual rooms is too much work, so it's better to block the stairs once we confirm the rooms are empty. I don't want anyone trapped up there. We can use the furniture to build barriers - and get all those blankets and pillows down here for everyone who's asleep.

[Take your pick of things to do, really. Once Will is settled safely on the ground floor here, he turns back toward the stairs and gestures for Javert, and maybe others, to follow.]

You're the one who's been helping people train to fight, aren't you?

[policier]

( He seems capable enough. At the very least, it seems like he has a good grasp on what to do. The inn isn't a fortress by any means, and barricading the bottom level seems to be the only way to keep everyone safe. Javert nods in acknowledgement, following him up the stairs. As for the question, he grunts, )

Yes. Once we finish fortifying this place, I have every intention of going out there to fight.

( He isn't the type to stay holed in at one place, and someone's going to need to go out there to search for stragglers. )

Rest

[pure_havoc]

It's still early in the siege but Cao Pi is already dead tired, having been on his feet pacing or fighting or wielding ideas and orders like a club for well over 24 hours straight. Ain't no time for naps but his lantern flickers in disagreement, and that's what has him finally slumping to a seat next to his giant commander pal.

"Tell me you've been in lengthy battles before." Just so he has someone to commiserate with.

[callada]

Early on and he's already got a scrape to show for it, judging by his torn sleeve with bandages lying below it. Rosinante would rather be out there fighting, but he knows all too well that if you keep that up for too long you become a liability, so he's here to catch his breath. He's swung Mary around to his front and she hangs across his chest, breathing steadily. His resting corner of choice is also where he settled Will earlier, who lies sideways on a pillow, back to the wall. They probably make for a pretty unusual trio, and now an even more unusual quartet with the addition of Cao Pi.

"That depends," he replies without looking up. He's more tired than he would care to admit. "How lengthy are you talking?"

[pure_havoc]

"Days." He would go to weeks but there comes a point in any general's life where you learn the difference between a battle and a campaign, and Cao Pi has waged both. Single battles that seem to never end aren't rare but he also never enjoys them. "I have no idea who, here, would be used to this sort of thing if these attacks continue."