logsinthenight | EVENT LOG: ENTER MR SANDMAN (DEFENDERS)

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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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You mean fight spirits and talk about wine and accessories to your face? Yeah, he'd like that.

[And he tries to keep his voice level, neutral, but something soft and sappy might sneak in anyway, at least until Quentin snaps his eyes back to the darkness ahead and the rustling of underbrush.]

Maybe once we find shelter? I don't know how your magic works with mine? But, where I'm from, we can combine our magic? Cooperative spells and things like that. Maybe it works with yours too.

Yeah, we're definitely able to combine our magic. Makes it stronger for the most part. Stronger protective spells or offensive spells. That's what we mostly use them for.

( and sometimes for other, more beneficial things. sometimes, a warlock just can't help himself. )

I don't know how two different types of magic will work but we can try.

Oh, thank god. [Quentin lets out the breath that he's been kind of holding, trying to find a way to explain cooperative magic without using his whole tried-and-tested dick allegory .]

We need to practice the same spells. Does yours-- it's not with tuts, is it? You seem to just kind of-- do it. Not like-- I have to work up to it? Sometimes a lot. But. Yeah, we should try that. It can't hurt.

My magic is mostly word based. We can use our hands and sometimes that does help but it's not necessary. You have to know the words to the incantation and be strong enough and if both of those are true, you should be able to do what you need.

( so, it would be interesting to see how their different magics combined. )

Do you use words at all?

Uh huh, yeah. Most of our spells have words? But. It's not in English? And if it's in English, it's in some old dialect that no-one uses anymore. But yeah, we use words for most of them, or some-- some magicians are powerful enough that they don't need them? Eliot-- [He nods back at the sleeper] he can do physical magic, more things around. With his mind and nothing else.

I can't do that. But I can mend things? Little things, and I don't even have to concentrate all that hard on it. It's-- everyone has something they're very good at? And mine is minor mending.

Can you conjure fire? That's a pretty easy spell.

I can. Or, well, I used to be able to but I don't know how well it'll work here.

( because, beacon. )

This place does weird things to whatever spells I try that have anything to do with light. I don't know if fire counts since it can double as keeping us warm and cooking things but I haven't tried.

I can't make it shine like fire, but. There's still heat. A kind of, uh, flicker? Wait, let me show you.

[Moving his hands carefully slow, Quentin works his way through the few tuts needed to make the most basic kind of fireball. The kind that wouldn't burn him, and he's saying the words a lot louder than he usually does. Pronouncing the Old High German with care. Brinnan and a pause before the next tut and Fiur.

A tiny ball of distorted light shimmers dully in the palm of his hand, the heat making the air blur a little above it.]

This? Can you-- we could try making this? Or, the one you know?

( watching quentin do magic is very interesting since it's so different than how he does it. he listens to the words and watches the movements of his hands and waits.

fire does appear though the light that it throws off is dulled. )

I think I can do that, yeah.

( he waits for a minute and then says something quietly, latin falling from his lips and fire eventually curls itself around his hand. it's muted as well but it's definitely fire. )

[Shaking his hands out, Quentin keeps his eyes on Ambrose, on the words and he tries it- copying the his hands and the latin, the weird words almost tripping on his tongue and he can feel his magic reacting but-

So he shifts it up, saying his own spell, speaking his own well-known words but instead of sending the magic in to the palm of his hand, he tries feeding it in to Ambrose's. Sending out tendrils of magic to make Ambrose's fire bigger.]

Can you-- can you feel this?

Whoa.

( so, that would be a yes to your question. )

That's...really cool, man. Nice job. I can feel it. It's — yeah, it's warm. It's really warm.

[It's not exactly like cooperating magic from back home, there's a frizzle of magic brushing up against his own but there's not the same kind of rush of arousal sliding in next to it. Not as much anyway, which is probably a good thing since this is Ambrose and they're not in a safe place.

Maybe he should have mentioned the whole dick-thing before they tried to do this.]

Uh huh. Maybe we could-- if we get attacked? Maybe we can hit back. With this? [he wriggles his fingers, the magic flaring before dying down and when Quentin shakes his hands out, the rest of it dispatches.]

Probably not with fire, though? But. Ice? Water? Maybe we can drown them?

Drown them or encase them in ice.

( fire might be risky because he doesn't really want to set anything on fire and cause more damage than already's been done. )

Little bit of both?

Hey! That might actually work, yeah. Getting them wet and blasting them with ice?

[Having even a hint of a plan of what to do in case a spirit decides to attack is better than none at all, and Quentin always liked to make things up on the fly. A little.]

It'd definitely work on me. I'd bitch until someone shoved a sock in my mouth.

( so, good thing it was going to happen to someone else. )

It's not much of a plan but it's more than we had a few minutes ago.

-- why a sock? That's-- that can't be a thing. Is that a thing?

[Because that sounds gross.]

Uh, yeah. Look at us making plans and- uh, so. If we meet anything, water and then he blast them with ice.

It was the first thing that popped into my head!

( don't laugh, quentin. )

Water and then ice. Deal. We're gonna be fine.

Again- why? Is-- do you gag people with socks a lot?

[Not so much laughing as making a face somewhere between horrified and fascinated.]

Yeah, it's going to be just fine. Everything is just... fine.

No but what did you want me to say? A ball gag? If that's your thing, I can go with that...

( he winks at that. )

Come on, be confident, Quentin. It's gonna be okay, I promise.

Uh. Also not something I'd ever thought about, but thanks? For putting that in my head. It's--uh.

[Quentin just frowns, because-- what? But he's still smiling a little, as much as the general situation allows and huffs.]

Yeah, how could it not? There's two of us, those spirits don't stand a chance.

( yes good, be confident quentin because that helps ambrose's confidence and they both probably need that. )

So, we're agreed. No one's going to kick it unless it's one of those little things because they came after us.

( a stay alive pact and all. )

[It's faking it until he's making it, but it's not nothing. Not the face of attacks they can barely prepare for. The forest is thick, endless and all around them and there's no way to know where or when the next attack will come. The spirits are relentless and there's so many of them.

So. Quentin puts on his bravest smile, rolls his eyes at Ambrose and keeps going. What else are they going to do? Give up? Not ever.]

Yeah, that's right. We're going to show them that messing with us was the worst idea they ever had.

( they were such nerds. you were bringing that out in him, quentin, and he doesn't even mind. )

And hopefully we're not going to die but if we do, at least we'll be leaving good looking corpses.

( but no dying. )

That'll be a nice change of pace? I don't think I left a corpse behind last time I died, and well-- the time before that I was like eighty years old, and not very pretty.

[But it's a moot point, because they're not going to die out here. They're going to kick the ass of whatever monster might jump out at them and live to laugh about it later. It'll be a funny anecdote. Nothing more.

Right?

Right.]

Oh, I'm sure you still had some good qualities even that old. Probably still had your hair, right?

( that hadn't all fallen out, had it? )

I even had a beard. And the hair. Jesus, I'd look so stupid bald.

[He had looked worse, but focusing on superficial crap like facial hair, is better than thinking about what's out there.

He narrows his eyes at Ambrose.]

Maybe you should grow a beard. You're almost as old as Dumbledore, and ancient wizards need beards.

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