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?

QUICKNAV
comms	|	network • logs • memes • ooc
pages	|	rules • faq • taken • mod contact • player contact • calendar • setting • exploration • item requests • full nav

Comments

Crowley | OTA

[sauntered_downward]

1. Pre-Event - OTA

Crowley thinks everyone partaking in this event is stupid. Including---no, especially his dear friend Aziraphale, who couldn't possibly turn down a meal with the spirits.

He should be sulking away, informing everyone how stupid this is, and pouting somewhere, because that feels like the right thing to do. Instead, he's going to be standing just to the side of the feast, leaning against a tree, and all but boring holes into Aziraphale's head, glaring at him to express how much he thinks this is a bad idea.

It's not that Crowley doesn't trust the spirits. He just thinks they all want to kill them, that's all. It would be a funny world if he went around accepting food from someone he thought was trying to kill him.

2. Post-Event, the Invincible - OTA

Crowley isn't drunk at the Invincible, and that's probably a first for him. Instead, he's pacing the floor, looking down at the people they've brought here to try to keep them safe. It's a lot of people. He pauses over Aziraphale, sitting as still as death on the floor, then continues to pace.

"We should get some of the tables up against the windows," he says. "Get a patrol upstairs, make sure nothing can come in upstairs, as well."

Is this Crowley, trying to work together as a team?

It's up for you to decide.

3. The Invincible - The Long Haul - OTA

Crowley isn't leaving the Invincible. More importantly, he's not leaving the side of the sleeping people. He'll pace around them, stopping to sit beside Aziraphale and watch him sleep, before getting up and pacing some more.

As long as he eats and drinks water, he doesn't need to sleep, right? That's what Rosalind said (where the hell is she, anyway?) and that's what Crowley is taking to heart.

He should probably rest. He should probably help the fighters out there. He's going to stay where he is unless you stop him.

4. The Laboratory - Closed to Rosalind

There are very few people Crowley likes in this town. One of them, for reasons that are really beyond him, is Rosalind, and he has no idea where she is. She could be dead for all he knows, but he really doubts it. She's far too clever. When he secures Aziraphale under the human soldier person's careful eye, he heads out on his own.

Where would she be? He goes to the last place he can remember thinking of as her home, that lab of hers.

He moves swiftly, taking flight and landing just nearby.

He waves a hand over the door to try to open it.

"Hello?"

5. Your Wildcard

PM me for your wildcard. We're up for anything.

3.

[worthallthis]

The Soldier raps on the door into the Invincible, back from the latest patrol around the village. Let them in, Crowley: you're on watch for that sort of thing since you're always inside.

Lifting the locking bar and the deadbolt to open the door has the Soldier slipping in quickly, and pulling the door soundly closed behind them. One pants leg is shredded and bloody, but doesn't appear to be actually bleeding. Not much, anyway. Mostly they just look tired. "Thanks."

[sauntered_downward]

Oh, there they are. Crowley wasn't worried. He looks down at the human soldier person's leg and insists to himself that he wasn't worried. He slides the lock shut behind him.

"What did you find?" he asks. "Anything?"

[worthallthis]

The Soldier slings the pack they'd filled with food and items from their own house, and the blanket from Aziraphale's bed rolled up against the top. They thought Crowley might appreciate something that smelled safe, to him. "Made it back to the house," they say. "Got everything I could carry in one trip."

Their boot prints on the floor are a little bloody as they limp towards the kitchen. The bite mark is still healing, and still hurts. "Everything secure here?"

[sauntered_downward]

"So far," Crowley says. He looks at the windows, fortified with broken tables. He looks back at the human soldier person with concern on his face.

"It won't last, not forever." He sounds like a broken record, and he knows this. He still says it: "We have to leave the town. We have to figure out a way and get everyone out of here."

[originallutece]

[It's fortunate that he stops at opening the door. That he doesn't actually go in. Because there's a nearly invisible tripwire that spans the length of the door, just as knee-height, and it wouldn't have ended well if he'd, well, tripped it.]

Don't move.

[It's sharp and loud, as Rosalind steps forward. There's an enormous noise coming out of her lab, a thrumming that sets the teeth on edge, as she emerges from the shadows with a knife. The scent of blood is in the air, and she favors her left arm, presenting her right side first.]

. . . step carefully. I've a number of traps. Don't trip the wire in the doorway.

[sauntered_downward]

[Crowley looks down, snake eyes dilating as he spots the thin wire at his knees. He looks around the room, then back at the woman on the other end of it.

He stays at the door and doesn't advance.]

Why did you come here? Why didn't you go somewhere safe?

[originallutece]

My work is here.

[What could be more important than protecting it? She steps forward, coming close to him, and offers a hand: come in, she'll guide him, just to be sure he doesn't set anything off.]

Why are you here?

[sauntered_downward]

They won't kill your work, they'll kill you.

[He takes her hand and steps over the trip wire, long legs a little awkward as he does so. He really has no desire to step into a house of traps, but if that's what it takes, well----so be it.]

I came here to get you. Bring you back to the Invincible. It's where we've set up a refuge. Food, protection, rest.

2

[policier]

( Javert doesn't dare believe it, at first. He knows Crowley has connections, people he cares about, and some of them may be on the floor there sleeping. But why would he come here? Why not barricade yourself in your house, or anywhere else more fortified than an inn? )

Don't tell me you have a bleeding heart now?

( Perhaps this isn't the time to be taunting him. Javert comes down the stairs with his sword at his hip, ready to fight and defend against anything that may try to force itself through. He levels a flat look at Crowley and snorts. It may not be the proper time, but Javert just cannot resist. )

[sauntered_downward]

[Crowley turns. Oh, it's him. Asshole Frenchman who ordered the human soldier person around and thought he knew everything. One of Crowley's favorite people in the whole town and exactly who he wants to see when he's in this sort of a mood.

Crowley hisses and takes half a step forward, subtly putting himself between the approaching person and the sleeping Aziraphale.]

What the hell are you doing here?

[policier]

I could ask you the same thing.

( He's the one that lives here, after all. It's a bit of a foolish question, but Javert isn't going to do anything to dissuade the animosity in which it's asked. Why would he, when it pleases him so much? He steps further into the room with a haughty gait, not caring for the others that lay on the ground. )

Why the hostility? I'm not the one that brings trouble with me wherever I go.

[sauntered_downward]

You can't possibly think I did this.

[That would be a new one. He almost welcomes this sort of fight, this sort of an argument. It's better than just fighting against an enemy that keeps coming and coming and they can't possibly win. Crowley can best a fight between people. He can't beat these spirits.]

2

[fawcetted]

Steve happens to overhear Crowley, and maybe it's a good thing too. It's possible he'd been looking for something to do, something to occupy his hands and his time.

In all the commotion, he's a little freaked out about those things out there. Their spindly limbs, gaping mouths, green "eyes" — yeah, his glimpse of those terrifying creatures feels way too goddamned much like deja vu, but at least it's a familiar feeling. Demogorgons and Mindflayers had the same effect, and in the end the latter was probably what killed him; he's not exactly reeling to repeat the event, especially if there's a larger group that could (maybe) stop them.

Steve gets to his feet.

"Yeah, okay. These things, they can't just — I don't know — phase through the windows, right?"

[sauntered_downward]

Crowley hadn't thought of that. It's a bad thought. All of these people in one place, it would be an absolute slaughter if the creatures could just follow without stopping. He takes a breath and grips one end of a table, motioning to the person to take the other side.

"Anything can happen here. We're in Hell, remember? They've got all the tricks up their sleeves."

[fawcetted]

"Wait, are we actually confirming this is Hell?"

Probably not the best question to ask at this time, and yeah, there's a ton of proof waiting for them outside if Steve had any doubts ... but. He hates to think that after a pretty non-exciting, the-worst-thing-he-ever-did-was-drink-too-much-and-maybe-bully-some-kids life of less than 20 years, he wound up in Hell.

Yikes. The standards for the Pearly Gates are high.

He moves towards the table, positioning himself at the other end so they can lift the thing up.

"You know what? Never mind. I don't wanna know."

3

[luxoraculi]

Like Crowley, Luna finds herself pacing around the sleepers, not out of anxiety or the need to move, but simply because she is a healer and a healer always watches. She's been popping in and out; doing what she can for those inside and heading back outside to fight off any of those nasty spirits that seem to want to come at them near non stop.

She nearly bumps into the poor man as she's busy using a piece of her own dress to try and wrap the top of her arm where a large gash now resides, though she hardly flinches even as she struggles to tighten the white fabric.

She's noticed things, and she's noticed how exhausted he looks.

"You need to rest. Sit down, take a nap. We've got things under control for the moment. I'm heading back out."

[sauntered_downward]

Crowley recognizes Lunafreya immediately----she was, of course, one of the reasons why he's not limping around in a splint during this. He can't even imagine what it would be like if he was trying to navigate this with a broken leg. He supposes he should thank her. He won't, but he supposes he probably should.

"Nah, I'm all right," he says, eyes drifting down to the sleepers. He hasn't slept since this started, and he isn't about to start now. What if Aziraphale wakes up? What if he dies?

He turns to Lunafreya, glancing at her arm. "Are you---are you going to heal that?"

[luxoraculi]

Luna isn't particularly concerned with her own injuries right now, not when there are so many others who need the attention. She's tried to use her magic on several of the sleepers, Ignis and Noctis included, but they've not stirred and she is growing increasingly more concerned as the hours and days roll on.

"You need to keep your strength, Crowley," she responds, finally resorting to using her teeth to properly tighten her makeshift bandage enough to where she can be satisfied.

With a flick of her wrist, her Trident materializes in her right hand, and she shakes her head. "No, not when I could be using my magic on others far more injured than myself." A pause as she gives Crowley a once over. "Are you injured at all?"

3

[saibot]

"Pacing is going to accomplish nothing."

Not that he was doing much to help the situation either. He was actually surprised people have survived this long in the first place. He figured almost everyone (minus himself of course) would have gotten eaten by now. Not that he wanted everyone to meet their end ... he still needed some of them around to use as tools, he kind of hoped that those he deemed annoying or useless would be culled.

But things never do go the way he wants them to.

"Do you know if anyone has heard from the lighthouse keeper?"

[sauntered_downward]

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."

[saibot]

"Perhaps it is time she was paid another visit. One with those not so keen on helping."

This would be the perfect time. Those who do like her would no doubt be distracted and no one would really notice their disappearance. Plus her death could be blamed on the spirits attacking.

He's not sure Crowley is someone he'd trust to bring along, but he's not sure about that in general with anyone here including his brother. What's the saying? Beggars can't be choosers?

5. Nov 27, Wildcard for post-death

[worthallthis]

At first, when the Soldier wakes up sitting on a pew in the church, surrounded by soft candle-glow, it is very confused. Dying usually means lab tables and cryofreeze and being poked by various doctors and technicians to see how well the reanimation took this time. But there's no one here. And it's a church.

Then after a few blinks, memory returns, and oh, right, they're dead-for-real (unless this is a very elaborate coma-dream, they suppose, brought on by mental trauma caused by the Stupid Target) and then blew up their deceased self and now they're... back. This is a much nicer means of reanimation than usual. So the Soldier holds position for several long minutes, just sitting, just digesting the circumstances they find themselves in. It's not something they do much of, but in this case, warranted. Dying is probably a good time to think about circumstances.

But there's still spirits to shoot and demons to keep an eye on and humans to protect. So they pick themselves up, making unhappy faces at the state of their original clothes (largely ruined, now, to the point where there's really no salvaging either the tac vest or the combat pants), the state of their weapons (missing a couple knives, in need of a new clip in the Glock), and the state of Beacon as a whole. Up until they spot the boxes of ammunition and the note, anyway, which turns the scowl into a smile.

Crowley. That wonderful fucking dumbass. They could kiss him for this. So many bullets. This will last a year, even if they're careless. So they reload both guns, decide to tuck the boxes to one side until they have clothes that aren't more burned hole than material or a bag or something, and tuck the note into one of the few surviving pockets for safekeeping.

Then they stride right outside, fully-loaded Sig Sauer in hand, ready to shoot whatever spirit gets between them and a new set of clothes.

[sauntered_downward]

Crowley isn't worried.

He isn't pacing, isn't worrying his nails, and isn't fretting over anything. Now that it's just him and a sleeping Aziraphale. Xayah's not speaking to him right now because of his insistence at going to the Lighthouse, and now it's just him. Him and----and knowing that the human soldier person could come back at any moment. Could come back, could die again. Could be lost and confused. Could be having a panic attack out there, alone in the church.

It's what makes Crowley decide he has to go out there, has to go out to the church, that concern about the human soldier person having a flashback and panicking. He can't go in the church, of course. But he can go over to it, stand outside, try to peer in, he supposes. See if he can see if the ammunition is there, if it's been disturbed or picked through.

As he starts towards it, he sees the human soldier person step outside. Alive. The breath that Crowley wasn't aware he'd been holding goes out of him with a woosh.

"Psst!"

[worthallthis]

The sound has the gun swinging around in the direction of the bonfire square and the Invincible, and they squint against the light of the fire-- their own lantern is shuttered tight, on their back still but held there mostly by the wire that had been threaded through the original braided twine, as said twine is long gone-- until they pick out the form near the building itself. That's a shape and size and kind of twitchy motion they know well. The gun moves aside, pointed at the unknown dark, and Crowley can probably make out the smile in the light of both bonfire and church candles.

They start the trek across the open space towards him, not willing to try shouting that far and bringing every spirit in the area down on them.

It's also pretty clear that they died in an explosion. Their clothes are in burned tatters, the only whole thing being the boots.