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

[policier]

Swords and firearms, though I do not possess the latter.

( Perhaps that's not a bad thing, considering the sound may draw more of the creatures to them. While Rosinante is busy collecting bedcovers, Javert moves to take any chairs or furniture that may be of use for a barricade. )

There are blades in my room, should anyone have need of them.

[callada]

Your room? Let's make sure to get them downstairs. Good to know we have backups. I have a pistol and a shotgun but my ammunition is limited.

[Especially for the shotgun. He pats the pistol at his hip to indicate it as he moves down the hallway, then peers into another room which looks to be empty.]

If we make it out of this alive, ask Rastus. He supplied me with mine when I explained that we needed a way to defend against these spirits. I can use a sword but I'd rather not let them get that close.

[policier]

Yes. He was the one who acquired the swords for me. At the time, I didn't know that we would find an armory.

( So it had been a bit of a moot acquisition. Nevertheless, it's something to look into. Javert did have a set of pistols, at one point, before Beacon. Perhaps he would have had them with him if that dolt of a lawyer hadn't run off with them. )

I may need your help carrying them downstairs, if you can spare a moment.

[callada]

Yeah, of course. I just want to make sure nobody's hiding in their rooms as we go before we seal everything off. Which room's yours?

[Moot or not, it's never wrong to have a second cache of weapons given the situations they keep finding themselves in. It's probably high time he started carrying one himself.]

[policier]

201. Perhaps we should separate and meet there when we are finished?

( It may be more efficient that way. It's not as if they are on a tight schedule, but Javert would prefer to get this place fortified sooner rather than later. )

[callada]

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.]

[policier]

( 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?

[callada]

Marines. Military.

[He has to stoop extra low to grab it. Knocks his knee against the doorframe in the process, clumsy as always, though far from the worst he's had here. The pain is jarring but he shakes it off and lifts his end of the trunk, though keeping it low enough for Javert to hold at a comfortable height is going to be a challenge. At least for him it doesn't feel overly heavy, and he'll shoulder as much of the weight as he can while they make their way back toward the stairs.]

Not from Earth, but I'm guessing you are? Most here are.

[policier]

That is correct.

( As he lifts his end of the trunk, he takes the lead, moving backward toward the hallway. It's awkward, but he manages to find the top of the stairs just as well. He glances down at his feet before taking the first step. )

I resided in a city called Paris, and it was there where I worked as police officer.

[callada]

Police, huh? Tough job too. No wonder you're on top of all this, keeping people trained and armed.

[It's a good thing, or they'd be in worse shape than they are now. Things aren't looking particularly great, but at least it's not totally hopeless. They just need to hold the defenses for as long as they can and hope this wears off.

He carefully picks his way down the stairs one step at a time.]

Should be room for this by the end of the bar itself. Keeps it accessible that way.

[policier]

We shall see if it is enough.

( He doesn't wish to lose as many as they did last time. Every person is a resource, and with half of the population asleep, it's going to be all the more imperative that they keep everyone alive, lest they be overrun.

He moves down the stairs just as slowly, and sets the trunk at the end of the bar, right in the spot that Rosinante indicated. )

You must have survived your fair share of skirmishes, too, I imagine?

[callada]

[More than his fair share. It's a wonder he'd survived at all. Didn't, in the end, he supposes - but there were days he'd expected to die far younger than he did.]

I've been up against pirates more times than I can remember. Especially early on, before I became an officer. Training under live fire, I guess.

[Worked though, didn't it?]

[policier]

( It's impressive, to be sure. Not only the fact that he's survived for so long, and through so many skirmishes, but that he honed his skills under such conditions. Javert, himself, learned how to fight when he was a prison guard at Toulon. After a moment of consideration, he asks, )

Have you ever taken part in a siege?

[callada]

At sea, yeah. It's worse there, though maybe it's too early to say that here. But at least the spirits don't have cannons and we're not on a ship that could start sinking out from under us.

[Point is, he knows generally how to handle a situation like this one. How to plan when to hold and when to attack, how to keep track of supplies, how to rotate shifts so people get to eat and sleep and try to stay steady through what might last days or even weeks. But the spirits are such an unknown that it's hard to predict what they'll need. Good thing he's good at thinking on his feet.]

You?

[He doesn't typically think of police as being part of a siege but who knows how things work in other worlds.]

[policier]

No. ( This is unfamiliar territory to him, which is why he's relieved to have someone as experienced as Rosinante around. He may have an idea of what to do, but it is not the same. Someone who has lived through it would know better. )

Before I died, there was an uprising in Paris. A band of insurgents built barricades in the streets, and I was sent to join them as a spy. They battled against the National Guard, though the fighting itself only lasted two days. That is the brief extent of my experience, for what little it is worth.

[callada]

[A spy who admits he's been a spy? That's bold. But perhaps it's because the man didn't make a full career out of it.]

Well, two days behind enemy lines is nothing to laugh at. That must have been hard, though, wasn't it? Fighting against your own companions in order to keep your cover?

[policier]

I cannot say. I was discovered and captured early on, before the fighting even began.

( Being a police spy was not his full-time employment, that is true. It is what came back to bite him, in the end. Javert, himself, is much too honest to be a spy. He readily identified himself as one, once his cover was blown. )

The insurgents there were ill-equipped. They could not last more than two days because their numbers were too few and they ran out food and ammunition. We will not follow their example.

[callada]

Mm, I see.

[But he holds back from offering any real sympathy beyond a nod and a frown. Who knows, maybe he was able to escape with his life after being found out, but more often than not, a captured spy isn't treated with much mercy.]

We won't, and for that reason, we should probably get moving. I'd like for us to get everyone through this without too many losses. I'm going to head back up and help with the others covering the windows.

[policier]

Very well.

( He's just as eager to get back into as Rosinante is, it seems. Even if the situation weren't so dire, Javert has never much cared for idleness. He gestures at the tavern then says, )

I shall stay here and do the same.

[callada]

All right. I owe you a drink sometime, after all this is over.

[But for now, it's back up the stairs. Too much to do to stand around and talk - but later, surely. Even if the man's foray into espionage was as brief as he claims, it's nice to know there's someone else here who's aware of what it takes.]