logsinthenight | 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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[Their training in tactics obviously came from different schools of thought, but the Soldier isn't going to argue. They made the offer, that's all they can really do. Well, except:]

May I stop by every couple of days until this is over? I can bring supply if you need it.

... If I said no, would that stop you?

[ his inclination is to say no. the monsters don't know they're there. he wants to keep it that way as much as possible. and the more often someone visits, the less likely he can keep that secret.

and yet. ]

[The look he gets back is a little bit dry.]

Yes. Under protest, but yes. Though if I inadvertently lead any spirits here, I will help you kill them.

[That's a compromise, right? Even if they would have done that anyway.]

I'm used to "no" being an answer too many people ignore.

[ he pauses, considering. he knows that they prefer those that were awake-- weirdly. He would have thought they preferred the sleeping targets, but. Maybe they just can't see them as well. Still... Sleeping targets, if discovered, were sitting ducks. Can't risk it. ]

You know if they're communicating at all? I saw that response on the network... So some of them are smarter than your average bear.

[The Soldier doesn't roll their eyes, but they are tempted to.]

I'm an Asset, not a vigilante. I respect orders.

[Even if it's not exactly an order.]

The spirits are communicating. They talk to each other. Their noises are not random. They don't respond to Morse Code, though, like some spirits do. I don't know whether that's because they don't understand it or they don't care.

... God.

It's kind of annoying how called out every vigilante should feel right now.

[ he wishes Peter could hear it. It's amusing to him-- and he knows that he should feel called out too. But... well. He can just tell himself he's an outlaw, not a vigilante. He's supposed to break rules. ]

Anyway, I mean these. I know the normal spirits can communicate in vague feelings. But these used the network. They know actual words.

[The Soldier smiles a bit. Amused, but still grim.]

The tablets translate. We have people here who speak multiple languages, and we all understand each other. So they might not actually speak with our words. The tablets may just understand their language.

[Which, if this wasn't the middle of a siege, the Soldier would want to investigate. Maybe later. Morse Code does well enough, for now, anyway.]

And their music is a language, not just feelings. It is internally consistent. We have phrases, and I have learned a few more words from a contact I have with them.

Huh.

[ he's noting that. if hell on earth ever ends? he should probably take this more seriously. whatever escape they have will probably rely on the spirits.

somehow. annoyingly. ]

Good to know. I might be interested in the rules-- even if my grasp on music is garbage.

It's a little frustrating. I can't use the damn orcharinas--

[They hold up the metal hand briefly, wiggling the fingers to let the light glint off the metal. The fingers don't have enough give to properly cover the holes.]

--so I have to either sing or hope they know Morse. And I don't have the range for all of their words. But a lot of their language is in the tablet.

[ he admires the specs on that arm, curious about who made it, but not entirely shocked. He knows Cyborg exists... and Soldier? Is at least still mostly flesh and blood. ]

Music's the kind of thing I never practiced before.

[ and he knows... it bugs him, but he knows... he's not gifted at anything. every skill he's ever learned has come through sheer stubbornness and determination.

you don't get the rep as the dumb robin for no damn reason. ]

But I'll give it a try next time.

I uploaded a program to the network for learning and translating Morse Code. Some of them know that. Might be easier.

[For now, though...]

Does that mean I can still check in and bring you food?

Morse code I can do. [ tap code, too. whatever code there was-- though it occurs to him that Soldier might not know tap code. He sees "Russia" written all over him-- like a nicer, friendlier, actually helpful KGBeast.

Maybe this is what it was like to be on KGBeast's side. He'll never know, given the man's eternal dedication to overthrowing the government. And killing his brother. No big deal. ]

I'd prefer a rendezvous point. The less signs of life there are at this place, the better.

[The lantern might also give a strange clue, being clearly an antique-- but an American antique. World War 2 vintage, if Jay might recognize it.

The Soldier just nods, looking satisfied but not smug. They can still help, and that's a reasonable precaution to take.]

Just tell me where to meet you, and when.

The harbor.

[ that one is easy enough-- he was already planning on making trips. if nothing else, to pull monsters away. but how often was a harder thing to nail. ]

24 hours. See how the situation looks then?

Twenty-four hours, then, at the harbor. Between the docks and the ruins of the boathouse.

[Since the harbor is a big place, and meeting at either place seemed like it wold feel more like being a target.

And that's really all that needs to be said, isn't it. The Soldier inclines their head, and starts to head back the way they'd come.]

EVENT LOG: ENTER MR SANDMAN (DEFENDERS)

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