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

4b. (Prompto) cw: needles, neck injury

[equinoctials]

While the Armory has proven to be an effective safehouse, it lacks a lot of creature comforts.

Quentin's concerned about their food and water supplies and with good reason. He's mentioned it, and Riku's been making short trips out of the Armory, hoping to scout out opportunities to resupply. All the usual places - the General Store, the Invincible - are blocked off. The paths are thick with spirits.

More often than not, all Riku returns with is raw, natural water pulled up from the river. They have to boil it for a long time to make it safe to drink, into some of it Riku mixes a little of their food, trying to make their meager rations last. The soup is thin, bland, and better than nothing but that's not really saying much.

"Prompto," he says, carrying with him a thermos of the stuff, "Don't push yourself too hard, I'll take next watch. Here," he holds out to him the thermos, "Drink, see if you can get some sleep."

[techtype]

Prompto's mentally kicking himself for not securing more rations while he could, while he was in the town proper. He'd stashed a few canned something-or-others into the armiger when he was in the store, but he didn't think about how he and others wouldn't be able to get back from the armory as easily, or that they'd be there for that long.

At least they have water. And watery soup, which Prompto is definitely not admitting out loud is terrible. There are worse alternatives, but they're not to that point yet.

"Speak for yourself, dude. You're the one taking the most trips outside." But he does take the offered thermos, taking a gulp of the 'soup' inside. Still not that great, but it's something. "I'm not tired, but you're welcome to take next watch."

[equinoctials]

The lesson Riku takes away here is that he needs to be better about preparing for the worst. That means caches hidden around Beacon, maybe. That means keeping more on hand than he personally needs, challenging his own pre-existing standards. There's a lot of things Riku could have, should have done differently.

And yes, he's a terrible cook. If anyone had said so aloud, Riku wouldn't have been insulted, nor would he have blamed them for the opinion. It's not like he ever really learned - it's always been about what just kept him going for the next few hours, next few days, weeks. Priorities are always shifting in favor of what addresses the needs he thinks his friends have right now.

He hasn't cut his hair since the first ferry came in and by now it's reached the length it had been when they all first left the islands, it dusts his shoulders where it hangs from around his ears, in the back it rests between his shoulder blades. Some things just fall by the wayside.

"Worried about me?" he challenges Prompto but not without friendliness, it's in that quirk at the corner of his mouth, the way his posture remains open when he doesn't cross his arms, but puts a hand on his hip and the other flicks at the air near his own shoulder, "Well, thanks, but-"

Everything in Riku's frame goes very still, eyes flicking to a point just past Prompto.

"...Get away from the win--"

It happens fast, an explosion of splintering wood and glass as something smashes through the boarded up window, long and spindly limbs that reach in, then bend and seek to drag back whatever and whoever is in reach.

Needle like and dark, those points savagely dig in regardless of whether the purchase they find is in clothing or flesh, and the person closest is Prompto.

[techtype]

Honestly, Prompto is one of the last people that should be judging anyone for cooking abilities. If anything, Riku can cook better than he can, since Prompto's been relying on either Ignis' cooking--which he currently relies on--or fast food for years before now. He's helped prep a few times, but hasn't yet become trustworthy where fire or sharp objects are concerned.

He can heat up packaged stuff, though, so he's not entirely incompetent.

"A little? You can clearly take care of yourself, I just--I'd be kind of a jerk if I didn't--" Prompto himself trails off, but Riku abruptly cuts himself off, suddenly interested in the window behind Prompto. It had been boarded up as soon as they had gotten their unconscious cargo into the building, and Prompto made an effort to check that it was secure every time he was nearby.

It's still secure, he just checked, so clearly Riku's heard something he didn't.

"What? What is--huh?"

Something breaks through the window and darts in, reaching for him, and he's not quite fast enough to move away before it manages to snag the back of his jacket. Out of reflex, his gun is in hand, but he can't pull off a proper shot to something behind him.

"Oh shit, what is it?!"

[equinoctials]

"Spirit!"

Riku's keyblade appears in his hand with a flash or at least the impression of one, like everything else that isn't a celestial body or the bonfire, their lanterns, or the lighthouse, it casts no light. For a second, he hesitates, not out of fear for himself but because he's looking for options, what he can do to extract Prompto without one of those needle-like appendages from punching him full of bloody holes.

So far, it doesn't appear to have him by the body, just by its clothes.

Riku chooses this: to charge forward and crowd Prompto up against the broken barricade and shove his Keyblade through the opening in the window once, twice until he feels an impact run up the length of the blade and arm, until he hears an annoyed trill on the other side. The legs, or arms, or whatever they are, they loosen.

It's perhaps at the same time, when Riku backs away, intending to pull Prompto with him, and maybe Prompto has the exact same idea. He knows he would.

"Are you okay?" he demands.

[techtype]

Prompto would honestly be embarrassed if he couldn't free himself from some mysterious claw-monster spirit. He could, eventually, and since he can't properly aim at it, he immediately begins trying to free himself from his jacket instead. This is easier said than done, because there's a very real possibility of jabbing the needlelike claws into himself by accident, or it sending another appendage through the broken window to assist.

Riku nearly accomplishes the former, Prompto yelping when he does feel a jab in his back after he's pushed closer and against the wall. And he almost yells at Riku for putting him closer to the danger, but then there isn't anything attached to him anymore.

"I'm...I'm good! I'm...I'll be better over here, away from the window."

He might be dragging Riku, or Riku might be dragging him; they're both pulling each other and that's fine with him.

[equinoctials]

Every attacker expects, he thinks, the attacked to flee or try to put distance between them. Fewer expect to get drawn in, since that goes against what he figures is base instinct for pretty much everybody. He'd deserve a good scolding for the danger it put Prompto in, but as far as Riku sees it, he was already in harm's way; Riku breathes a lot easier seeing him get away from the window, blessedly free of any needle-like appendages for the time being.

Pulled along, Riku's glare lingers on the broken window, the splintered planks of wood he nailed over it once.

"Did it cut you anywhere? Check," his heated question has the weight of experience behind it, when there were creatures - nightmares or things of the dark or somewhere in between - that could seep poison into a person, weaken them, kill them slow.

[techtype]

"I thought you were attacking me too!"

There's more surprise in his voice than anger, since Riku did help him out, and it's not like they had time to plan a strategy for an interaction that only lasted about a minute.

"I don't think so...don't think it made it all the way through the fabric."

He might not know as much as Riku, but he does know about things that can harm with a scratch or even a look. Things with poison that messed with your head and made you forget how to do anything but attack whatever was nearest, poison that threatened to eat away at your body if you moved too much, breath that could turn you into a solid stone statue or a frog. So he's shrugging off his jacket and checking it, reaching up to feel his skin underneath his shirt. His hands come away clean and he shakes his head.

"All good. Thanks. We'll have to board that window back up soon..."

[equinoctials]

"Why would I--?" Riku begins to argue and checking himself a moment later. Oh. Yeah, that makes sense, he really didn't give any warning, and crowding him against the wall and broken window with a weapon in hand doesn't look good. Especially not to someone in Prompto's position.

"..." He exhales a soft puff, chagrined and relieved that he appears to be unharmed, offering, "My bad."

Turning his attention to the window, tense and still, Riku realizes that he can't sense any Darkness but his own. He can sense Quentin, somewhere in the Armoury, his depression hangs around him like a fog. But any malice, any killing drive? The stuff that should reek of Darkness just doesn't seem to be there.

"I think we're in the clear. Can you pass me that hammer over there? I think that can's got nails left in it."