logsinthenight | EVENT LOG: ENTER MR SANDMAN (DEFENDERS)

Entry tags:

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?

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

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"We can go there, yes. Do you think those that remain here will be able to hold their own, if we leave?"

She agrees, and she's hardly afraid of the woman who calls herself the 'Keeper'. Robin. She is, however, afraid for their loved ones, should they just leave. But there's only one way to find out.

"If you wish to go, then I will accompany you."

Crowley spares a look over his shoulder. This is going to infuriate the human soldier person and Xayah. They told him to stay put. But, then again, when has Crowley ever done what he's supposed to do? Aziraphale is still asleep, and there's no way to rouse him. This could be their only way out.

"Let's go, then," he says, nodding towards the door. "We can fly. I'll carry you."

He's not the only one who is going to get scolded for this. Granted, Prompto isn't going to freak out on her, but Nyx will. Not that she's seen him since the chaos broke out. It's why she nods her head at him; if they can figure out how to stop this madness at the source it will be worth a few angry shouts in their general direction.

"Very well," she replies before she blinks. "Are you certain? I wouldn't want you to break your arms or your back on my account."

"Has to be safer than walking through the woods with those creatures around," he says.

Besides, Lunafreya can't be that heavy. Crowley's carried far heavier in his time for far longer. He can handle a few miles. The flying spirits, though----that is something he worries about. He doesn't know how he will be able to fight in the air.

"Anything that trident of yours can do?" he asks, stepping towards the door. "Because we'll probably still need to defend ourselves."

"If you are certain. Though you must promise me that you will drop me should I get too heavy or become any sort of a burden," she states, the seriousness reflected in her tone.

Looking at her weapon, she takes it in both of her hands, humming. "At home, it allowed me to call upon the Gods and the aid of fallen kings, among other light based magics," she begins slowly, frowning. "This place has stripped me of that magic, but it is still considered a royal arm and I can still very much stab my way through enemies. I do wonder, though, if I were to use healing magic on these spirits... do you think it could do any sort of damage?"

"I don't know," Crowley admits. "But it's worth a shot, right? Some of the things you least expect affect them."

He remembers his trick with the muzzle seemed most effective against the hound spirits they fought, but other miracles did little to nothing against them. Who knows what a healing spell could do. It could be exactly what they need.

He holds the door for her.

"And don't worry, the moment you're too heavy, I'm dropping you." He would never drop her.

"It is," she replies with a nod. "At home, it purged daemons... perhaps it will do the same to the monsters and spirits here. There is only one way to find out."

And she is going to be absolutely blasting anything that comes hear them with as much healing magic as she can. Between stabs and jabs, of course.

Such a gentleman. Smiling, she walks outside and looks back at him.

"Thank you. And yes, good. I am glad that we are on the same page." She wouldn't fault him for it; heavy is heavy and being air born whilst carrying someone can't be the easiest thing in the world.

Crowley is not a gentleman. He is an evil, nasty, uncaring demon. She'd do well to remember that.

He steps after her and looks up to the darkness of the sky, then over to the darkness of the Lighthouse. He takes a breath, and extends out his long, black wings.

"If I'm holding you, I'll need you to defend us. I can avoid shots at us, but you'll need to keep any flying spirits away," he says. He's certain there won't be many out there. They have to all be focused on the town right now.

He is a gentleman and she will fight him on that until the end of time, thanks.

Part of her brain, the more logical part, thinks of the Bonfire. Thinks that perhaps they should grab at least one torch before take off, or try to. But doing that would waste time, and so she turns to him fully, nodding again.

"I can do that. I promise, anything that comes at us is going to get skewered."

"All right."

He steps towards her and gives her an awkward look. How best to carry her? Lift her up in his arms? Hold her under the armpits?

He opts for holding out his arms.

"Here, you decide how you want to do this, I'll go along with it." That's his experience with most human women in general.

She looks at him, then at his arms, and then him again, a brow arching. Despite the seriousness of the situation, this is... extremely amusing.

"If you are certain. Here," she approaches and winds an arm around his neck gently, swinging herself up into a bridal style position. Her arm immediately comes back to her front so that she can secure her weapon properly.

"Is this alright? Are you comfortable enough?"

"Yeah, that'll do," he says. She's fairly light, and he knows his wings are strong enough to carry himself and quite a bit more weight than she is made up of, even with her weapon.

"Hang on," he says, holding onto her.

He looks in the direction of the Lighthouse, focuses on the light there, and beats his wings, lifting them off the ground. He spares a glance back at the Invincible, trying to see if he can catch a glimpse of the human soldier person, to make sure he's watching over Aziraphale while he's gone----but he has to focus on where they're going.

It's an odd sensation; she's not particularly used to being carried, or flown around, really. She's been in airships a few times, but she's always traveled by foot or by Imperial envoy for the most part. So having these two things combined is a strange sensation, especially once they are actually off the ground.

She's going to have to ask him where he keeps those wings of his. Later, perhaps. When they get home.

"Yes, thank you, dear Crowley," she replies, grip tightening onto her trident. She's hoping that they're not going to run into too much trouble; she's more concerned about what may be lingering at and around the light house, after all. But those green eyed spirits are no joke, and she's not sure just how high they can go. "Here we go."

Dear Crowley. He can't help but immediately think of Aziraphale. Lunafreya really is rather like him, Crowley supposes. She's kind and gentle, and thinks highly of him, though he definitely doesn't deserve it. She's even got a really dangerous weapon, just like Aziraphale did when Crowley first met him.

He flies up, staying as close to the light as he can, but up above the treeline to avoid the spirits. He can't see anything, it's just so dark.

"What's out there?" he asks, "What do you see?"

She's glad that she's going with Crowley for this. This is not a one person job by any stretch of the imagination, and the very thought of Crowley trying to do this alone is something doesn't want to really think about for long. She likes him; despite what he says about himself, there's something about him that reminds her of herself. Perhaps it's the need and want to do something instead of sit around; maybe it's that he doesn't seem to fear anything, either.

She squints in the dark, peering back and forth. It's hard, and she can barely make anything out.

"I see..." she makes a noise that sounds half unsure and half frustrated. "I think I can make out the silhouette of the lighthouse in the distance," she continues, before her head whips off to the right suddenly as a noise catches her attention. "...I fear that we may not be alone up here, did you hear that?"

Crowley spins his head around as he feels something spin past him. Flying spirits, he'd heard. But surely they'd be distracted by the people below, distracted by all the things going on.

He slips a hand around Luna's shoulders to pull off his sunglasses, get a better view of the sky. He doesn't have any way of tucking them away without losing a grip on Luna, so he just lets them fall. They hit something on the way down. Something dark and moving below them. He squints his serpentine eyes at the darkness, at the shape of the Lighthouse in the distance.

"I'm going to make a dash for it," he says. "This isn't going to be fun. Hold on tight."

These things seem prepared for anything, and this is certainly a worst case scenario that is coming a lot sooner than she'd thought. She had foolishly assumed that the closer they got to the light house, the more perilous things would get.

When his sunglasses topple, she does make an attempt to grapple for them, but she misses and they drop; she makes a mental note to perhaps ask Rastus for a new pair for him whenever she gets the chance. What's worse, is that she can see them bounce off of something just beneath them, and she frowns, brow creasing for a moment before her gaze turns back to Crowley. She can hear something absolutely hissing at them as it circles.

"It's alright, you needn't worry about me. Do what you must, I'll try and fend anything off," she offers gently, nodding her head.

"Yeah, right, don't worry about you. I'll remember that one," he says, as though she's said some extremely funny joke. Basically got the human woman version of Aziraphale here in his arms, he does.

Hopefully he can do a better job of keeping her safe than he did with Aziraphale.

He takes off towards the Lighthouse at a sharp dart. He holds onto Luna and soars quickly, feeling whatever is around them start to move in, guarding the Lighthouse from their approach.

Something suddenly hits his wing and he hears a crack as a row of primary feathers shatters on the impact. He tumbles to the left, only just able to keep himself upright.

"I would certainly hope so, dear," she chides gently, because she means it. He needs to worry about himself; he's got Aziraphale to worry about and she doesn't want anything to happen to him. He needs to go home to Aziraphale.

The grip she's got on her Trident makes her knuckles turn white as he takes off, making a bolt towards their destination. As something screeches at them from the left, she spears at it blindly; she knows she got a hit in, because the screech turns into a howl of pain, and she can see it tumble out of the sky. One down... Gods only know how many left to go.

But they're jarred suddenly, and there's a sickening crack. Her eyes widen, and she looks at Crowley again as feathers fly. "Crowley! Are you alright?"

"Something hit me hard," he says. "They've got claws, whatever they are."

He dips them down, then shoots back up as he makes another dash towards the Lighthouse. They can get there, he thinks. They can do it. He's a strong flier, even with an injury. He can make it.

Something barrels into his side, and he takes a dive again, gripping tight onto Lunafreya. He struggles to right himself when he feels something else go for his wings. He flaps at them desperately trying to get them off.

"I'm sorry... I wish we could see better," she says quietly. She'll have to heal him when they land.

She's managed to slap a few of these abominations out of the sky, but there's more than she anticipated. She can't get them all, she can't see them all.

She grunts when they go spiraling again; things are rapidly becoming more disoriented, but she can see things going after his wings, and it makes her shift around enough in his arms to start jabbing, stabbing, and slapping as hard as she can at these creatures; she manages to spear at least one, and she flings it down towards the ground.

"Fuck!" he swears as another thing dives at his wings. He can barely keep himself up in the air at all, much less stable enough to stay flying. He watches feathers fly everywhere, and can feel the wind start to rush through his ruined wings.

"That's it," he pants through the pain of his wings. He can see the barbed wire fence up ahead, signaling they're nearing the uncharted area before the Lighthouse. "Hang on, I'm going to land us on the other side of the fence----"

Something large flies through the air and hits him square in the back. He feels flesh torn from his skin and he can hear the crack of a broken wing. He lets go of Luna with one hand but grips her wrist with his other one to prevent her falling.

He can do this, he thinks, he can still coast them down.

They've learned at least one thing: there are a lot more things in the sky than they anticipated, trying to ground them. She feels claws digging into one of her legs, and she kicks the creature off, trying desperately to focus on poor Crowley instead.

She shoves another spirit away, eyes darting over to the Lighthouse. "I see it! I see it, oh Crowley please be careful, as soon as we are on the ground I will start to heal you--"

Except, there's another hard blow, and the briefest flash of a memory comes to her mind as she dangles by the wrist, Crowley the only thing keeping her from plummeting to the... whatever is below them. The memory of the Crown City comes to mind, of the crumbling building that she was atop. The daemon's screech as it attacked, and falling-- only to have Nyx slide in and grab her wrist, both of them dangling from a piece of debris as the building began to go down, the daemons around them continuing their rampage.

"Crowley, you've got to drop me," she calls out, gasping as something grabs her around the waist and digs its claws in. "Let me go, get to the Lighthouse and take cover so that you can heal yourself!"

Right, she's right. She's right, he should just let her go. She's just a human. He's watched countless humans die. He can just let her go, he can let her go and fight his own way down. He has to get to the Lighthouse. He has to save Aziraphale.

Except he can't. She's totally helpless here. She came up here to help him and he can't just drop her like----well, like some sort of monster. He has to do something. He has to protect her. It's what Aziraphale would do.

"Don't be stupid!" he calls down. "Climb up my arm, I've got you!"

He waves his free hand, trying to throw flame at the thing that s grabbing at her waist, all the while pulling up on her wrist. He's not about to let her go.

This thing on her is going to pull her down, whether or not Crowley wants to let her go or not. She wants what he wants, in the big scheme of things; she wants everyone to wake up, she wants everyone to be okay. One sacrifice for the greater good isn't a bad thing.

"It isn't stupid, it's the truth... Crowley, you have to! You're not going to make it, I will weigh you down. Let them come for me instead!" she's insistent; she doesn't want him to die here, and certainly not like this.

But he's just as stubborn as she is; the thing at her waist hisses and scrambles off at the flames, and she uses her free hand to stab upwards and over his head at something that comes at him from behind. It screams as it skewers itself onto the end of her Trident, and she casts it off to the side.

"Please! Let me go, save the others! Save yourself!"

EVENT LOG: ENTER MR SANDMAN (DEFENDERS)

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

cw: gore

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)