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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I heard something.

[It was only a matter of time before more spirits arrived. He had assumed that most would be distracted by the people remaining at the feast, but it seemed that anywhere someone was awake, spirits would find them. They at least had weapons at the ready, even if it seemed likely that they would be outnumbered.]

We need to keep on an eye on the perimeter.

[There was at least some measure of protection with both cottages. He didn't need to be too worried about straying further away to patrol and look for threats. If Ghost were here, maybe he'd have a better chance of finding whatever it was creeping closer. But he didn't need the direwolf to tell him that something was near, the hairs on the back of his neck were already standing on end.]

Do you feel that?

If you mean, do I feel like I'm about to crap myself and-- uh, yeah. Yeah, I feel that.

[Not like he's about to have an unfortunate bathroom accident, but more like how it feels when you're too close to a lightning strike. The static-y feeling of his body knowing something he doesn't.

Quentin leaves the door to the cabin ajar, the dining table leaning against the wall just next to the door and with one final look back, he walks down the few stairs to join Jon on what could have been the front yard if this hadn't been a hellhole.]

We can't. There's no way to keep track of both sides of the cabins, and still stay in contact.

[Quentin was right, but the other option was no better.]

We're leaving one side too exposed. [It was no different than the night the Freefolk attacked the Wall. So much of it was undermanned and unguarded, allowing them to easily enter. If he had time, he could set traps, but would that do any good against these spirits?

As much as he hated the idea of leaving such a large opening, there wasn't a better option. They would have to make do with what they had.

There was something moving in the distance, a shape drawing closer towards them. Fear and adrenaline ran in tandem, giving him at least the strength he needed to move forward. With sword at the ready, he shifted in the fighting stance, waiting for impact.]

Keep your bow raised.

[It's hard to say how big whatever's out there is; small things can make an incredible noise in the forest. But most small things would be doing so on the ground, rustling through dead leaves and twigs. This thing is moving swiftly through the upper branches, as if jumping from tree to tree. It comes closer and closer, and then appears to halt just out of sight. Jon and Quentin can see the tree it's landed in shivering under its weight.

Perhaps it's not something small after all.

There's an eerie silence for a few moments. And then the creature erupts from the treeline, a massive flurry of feathers and teeth. Its dark form blots out the stars as it dives down toward its prey, claws extended.

Only when it's far too close for comfort can the two make out what's attacking them. And then maybe it would be better if they couldn't.]

[Grunting with annoyance and with an eye roll, Quentin holds his bow up to show that, yeah, he's got this. Like he would be anything but ready, mind reeling and he tries to watch everything at once, head on a swivel and hand clenched white-knuckled around the bow.

But the problem with trying to keep everything in his line of sight, is the lack of ability to actually watch anything. It's all just a blur of darkness and too many noises.]

We need to move them together, and--

[His words are cut off with a strangled kind of sound as the spirit dives for them, the large teeth gnashing and the first thing Quentin does, is throw his bow on the ground, twisting his hands through and through the tut for the shield spell.

And he sends a silent thanks to every single person in his place, who'd wanted to see it over the last few weeks, because without that, he would have been dangerously rusted. But not now, and his fingers fold through the simple tuts and the Sumerian Shield shimmers with a dull shine, springing up in the air in front of them both. Quentin keeps his hands up, the shield holding for now.]

Get inside!

[Memories of the hawk controlled by the skin changer are fresh in his mind. One look at this creature's claws and he can feel his flesh ripping apart again, his eye nearly taken save for an odd bit of luck on his side. He doesn't see the shield going up as he rolls to the side, trying to cover his face and keep hold of his sword as well. There's a sense of something happening, a form of magic since his hair slightly stands on end.

He manages to look up to see the shield as the creature moves away, a glint of the lantern light catching in its teeth. Quentin's bow is nearby, tossed to the side and unused. Another quick look at the bird like creature and he's moving to grab at the bow.]

Arrows?!

[Going inside now? No, that didn't sound right. The self sacrificing fool was charging once more into the fray, but at least still positioned behind Quentin's shield.]

You keep holding up whatever is keeping him back. I'll take the shot. I might be able to down him!

[The spirit screams, a long, drawn-out cry like a hunting falcon mixed with an enraged horse. High and low all at once. It clashes with the shield, claws scrabbling at the barrier before it flaps its huge wings and surges back upward.

It circles them, slowly at first, and then a second time much quicker. It tilts down into a steep dive, teeth snapping, trying to get in behind the shield.]

[There's no way he can keep the shield up for long - it's for quick and dirty protection, bot a permanent barrier and when the bird-spirit-thing dives for them again, the shield holds for just half a second before splintering, shards of it shimmering in the golden light of their lanterns briefly before vanishing in to thin air.]

On my back!

[Quentin yells back, throwing himself towards Jon as he twists his fingers together again. Who needs a cabin if they're about to become lunch for this thing - so, he twists them, moving through the Bujold's Sorcerous Nail Extraction. Completely non-verbal and pulling out the nearest nails from the cabin next to him. They're poised in the air, light fracturing across the sharp metal tips and Quentin lets them fly, hammering them at the flying monster and flicking his wrists to push more power into the spell.]

Shot it! Shot it or give me the bow!

[The creature was strong, strong enough that he would tear the cabin to splinters in a matter of minutes. Going inside and trying to hide from it, it'd just lead to their only shelter being torn apart. Those teeth seemed prepared to cut through anything, whether it was magic or flesh, better it be his than Elena's.

He doesn't have time to stare or fully see what it was Quentin was doing. He heard the nails rip free, his first thought being it was the creature. But the sight of the nails flying through the air, aimed directly at the bird made it clear this was magic. Magic, still able to make him feel uneasy even after all of this time.

Ducking behind Quentin, he grabbed the bow, strapping the arrows to his back as he took aim. There wasn't time to line up the shot properly or prepare, it was diving towards them and without a barrier in the way. Jon took one deep breath and let the arrow fly towards its wing, hoping to cripple it to the earth.]

EVENT LOG: ENTER MR SANDMAN (DEFENDERS)

Jon Snow + Quentin (17th)

17th

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Sorry. It was a bad week for me

no worries!

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